Chapter 6
Can you turn me up?” Charlie asked as she stood behind the recording booth, holding onto her belt loops as the engineer behind the table waited for her to sing. “I can’t hear myself.”
“You sure you want to go again? That last layer was perfect.”
Charlie nodded, keeping her eyes closed to stay in her zone as he looped the track.
She was participating in a Teyana Taylor tribute show, and there was no way she could cover such an iconic artist and not lay down her best vocals.
Every producer on her upcoming album knew there were no one-take sessions with Charlie.
She looped her tracks back dozens of times, adding vocals, ad-libs, and sometimes just one single hum until every note had been purged from her soul.
It didn’t matter that this song wasn’t her song.
If her voice were singing the lyrics, it would be right.
Gaslightin’ my emotions, somehow you got the notion, a woman’s better brokennnnn, but nigga don’t provoke meeeee…
She opened her eyes as her lip trembled on the run, and the first person she saw was Demi. His arrival into the studio made her heart leap, and her stomach tighten because she felt these lyrics.
His head fell into a nod instantly as he stared at her through the window to the booth. She hypnotized him with her voice. Every time. It never failed.
We can’t kiss it away, can’t wish awayyyyyy…
Demi shook his head, and suddenly, the music stopped. He leaned in and pressed a button so that she could hear him.
“Run it back, Bird,” he instructed.
“Yo, Big Dog, that was a perfect track,” the engineer protested.
“You can keep the track; he just wants to hear me sing,” Charlie said, blushing.
“Voices like this are one in a million. A nigga just trying to bear witness,” Demi said, voice full of wonder, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s.
My body’s your addiction; your touch is my affliction, I speak you never listen, somewhere we’ll stay consistent…
“Shit’s art,” Demi said, scoffing in disbelief as he fell into his trance. He wasn’t even speaking to the producer. He barely heard the “no doubt,” the man offered.
That’s just like talking to…
CONCRETE
CONCRETE
CONCRETE
Charlie took off over the smooth beat, mixing bravado with a falsetto that gave Demi chills.
“Call her One Take Jake; that’s a wrap,” the man said. “This girl is a fucking star. Why we keep delaying her album by adding new songs? She’s no cover artist. The song we did leak was all over the charts. The hype is there. We need to captilize from it.”
“I ain’t ready to share her yet,” Demi said more to himself than to the room.
He pressed the button and spoke into Charlie’s ears. “Come out, baby.”
She exited the booth and Demi put his hands together in a slow clap.
“You’re the one. You know that, right?” He asked, baiting her as he pulled her into his body. Charlie melted there, her heart on a stimulant called Demi. Narcotic love. The shit that made your neurons send dopamine to your brain. God, this man was a high.
“Stop making a big deal, Demi,” she whispered shyly, smiling into his shoulder as he doted over her.
She loved this nigga. Demi was a gangster and as abrasive as they came, but he was malleable in her hands.
Fucking putty. He was a nigga in love, and he was locked in on this songstress as if their time together was fleeting.
They hadn’t come up for air since they’d met, and Charlie was struggling to find pockets of air in their runaway affair.
It was like a freight train; once it picked up speed, there was no stopping it.
“I got DJ,” he said.
“Oh,” Charlie said, thrown off slightly. “Where is he?” She asked.
“In the lobby. I ain’t want him interrupting the session,” Demi stated. “He’s staying the night. I know it’s last minute but…”
“He’s always welcome, Demi. It’s been so awkward and hard with Lauren. I’m just surprised she let him come. I’m glad things are getting better,” Charlie said.
Charlie knew it would be a challenge to get through the next few days.
DJ hadn’t taken to her at all, and Charlie always felt like she was in the way whenever she spent time with him, like Lauren was supposed to be in her place.
Nothing made Charlie feel like a mistress more than DJ’s rejection.
It was like his presence alone devalued the flawless rock on her left finger.
Love meant nothing where fatherhood was concerned.
DJ was a child who didn’t understand why his family, as he had known it, had been torn apart.
Charlie was the one with the scissors who had come through and cut it to pieces.
She was the villain in his story, and it was hard to get him to see her in any other light.
“I can go spend time with Stass this weekend if you want a little one-on-one time with him,” she said.
She almost wanted him to agree because the pressure of stepmotherhood was pressing.
She didn’t know how to mother because she wasn’t one yet.
She didn’t even know if she had the motherhood gene.
DJ just intimidated her in ways she didn’t understand.
“I want you home. I want him to feel like my home is his home, and you’re a part of my home, Bird.
You’re not an optional part of my life. He isn’t an optional part of my life.
I need my two favorite people to know each other.
I need him to love you like I do,” Demi said.
She nodded, the discomfort mounting as he grabbed both her hands and brought them to his lips.
“Everything gon’ be okay. Put your trust in your man, Bird.
I promise the li’l nigga bad but he don’t bite. ”
She laughed, and he released one hand while pulling her out of the studio with the other.
“Yo, Demi, we weren’t done, man! We still got time left in the session.”
“You work for me; time’s up with my lady. I need her,” he replied without looking back.
He was known for pulling Bird out of her sessions at a whim. Sometimes for impromptu dates, sometimes to deliver gifts, sometimes for lunch because she worked too hard and too long without eating. When Demi wanted to see Charlie, nothing and nobody could distract him.
“You get to have her every night, man; I just need her for a few hours,” the guy protested.
“Can a man live without air for a few hours?” Demi asked, stopping at the door and turning to the engineer with the most serious expression on his face.
“Nigga, you ain’t gon’ die without her!” The guy wisecracked, laughing and shaking his head because he had never seen love so consuming before.
“Need her so bad that I’ll never test the theory, bruh. Air in my lungs is common sense. Charlie and Demi,” he said, pausing as Charlie giggled at her producer’s bafflement. She stood on tiptoes to kiss Demi’s full lips.
“Common sense,” she said, finishing his sentence.
“Say, man,” Demi stated, flooding with a wanting for her as she deepened their kiss.
His face in the nook of her neck as he wrapped strong arms around her petite waist. “I’m lost in this shit with you,” he grumbled against her collarbone.
“It’s okay; I know the way,” she said.
All the man watching could do was admire the connection because he had never experienced it himself.
It was like watching the whitecaps of ocean waves crash against one another at sea or like the colors in the sky going from blue to fiery orange with a purple frame.
It was just mystical and beautiful and he couldn’t help but wonder how moments of time like that existed. God was an amazing architect.
“We out this bitch,” Demi stated.
Charlie waved and then let him lead her to the lobby.
DJ sat scrolling through his iPad, lounging lazily on the oversized couch.
“You ready, my boi?” Demi asked.
“Finally!” DJ exclaimed, an overexaggertion of his wait, making him display a fake annoyance with his father. Demi knew he was only perturbed because Charlie was now beside him.
“Relax, man,” Demi chuckled. “We got the whole weekend, chump. You see Charlie? You better learn the game. When you see a pretty girl, you speak. Got to make the pretty girls feel seen. That’s how you get ‘em.”
“Hi,” DJ offered.
“Hey, DJ!” Charlie said, smiling. “I’m excited to get to spend some time with you this weekend. It’s your rules. We can do anything you want. You have any ideas in mind?”
Demi squeezed her hand discreetly, encouraging her and thanking her all in one motion.
“Anything?” DJ asked, a stubborn half-smile appearing. It warmed her because it was an identical smile to his father’s.
“Anything,” Charlie confirmed. “Starting with a stop at GameStop. That cool with you?”
“Yeah, that’s straight,” DJ answered.
“That’s straight, huh?” Demi asked, releasing Charlie to put his son in a headlock. “Boi, you ain’t cool, talking about that’s straight.”
Demi dragged DJ to the car as they play fought the entire way. Charlie took a long, deep breath.
I can do this. He’s just a kid.
Lauren had seen a lot of men wear a lot of suits in her line of work but never had she ever seen a man hang one like the man she was staring at.
Nyair wore a light grey fitted suit that had to be sewn specifically for him.
No jacket was necessary. He donned a matching grey vest that fit his chest like a bulletproof vest. His white Oxford was rolled at the sleeves, and he pulled at the necktie like he couldn’t wait to get out of his formal clothes.