Chapter 9
It took Charlie half an hour to gather herself and even as she emerged from the bathroom her hands shook a little.
Men who got physical with women terrified her and Demi had done more than a little yoking up.
She could sense his danger. He was a live wire, one that would electrocute her if she touched it, and he both terrified and enthralled her.
She opened the door to the ballroom of the hotel and searched the room for Stassi.
She wouldn’t ruin her night. Her sister had worked hard for this.
Pulling it off meant more business in the future; so although Charlie was over it and ready to leave, she couldn’t bail.
She found Stassi in a booth, tucked away with Day whispering in her ear.
Charlie made her way across the room. She slid in next to her sister, plastering on a fake smile.
“You okay?” Stassi asked, leaning over to whisper.
Charlie nodded.
“They’re about to start a showcase,” Stassi informed.
“A music showcase?” Charlie asked.
“Introducing the new artists we signed to the rest of the company,” Day said.
“You know Charlie sings...” Stassi said.
“Is that right?” Day asked.
Charlie frowned and waved off the attention. “No, not really,” she said, shooting Stassi a look.
“What? You do,” Stassi whispered.
“Stassi, stop,” Charlie said.
Charlie hated to be put on the spot. This event was full of important people. They were going live all-over social media. Charlie wanted to be as far from the stage as possible.
“I’m saying, though, gorgeous? I’m always in the mood to hear some heat if you got it,” Day said, his lazy drawl making Stassi swoon.
“Or are you one of them studio singers? The kind that need a production and the auto-tune and shit, cuz if that’s the case, don’t waste my time. I got enough of them.”
“She’s not some fad singer, Day. She can really sing,” Stassi defended.
“I tell you what,” Day said. “Your sister get up there and blow it down and I’ll contract you for our quarterly showcases. If she fuck up, you got to let a nigga slide for the night.”
Charlie couldn’t even contain the laugh that came from her.
“Bet,” Stassi said.
“Bitch, you putting your pussy on the pass line?” Charlie asked, eyes widening. “Stass!”
“What?!” Stassi defended. “I’m going to win; and I mean, if I lose, I ain’t mad at it!”
The snicker that left Day’s lips infected the table.
Day lifted his hand and motioned for a man that stood by the stage. It was like he was a puppeteer. He and Demi. The grand orchestrators of every other man around him. Demi said walk, niggas walked. Day said come, niggas came.
I wish I had a brain-ass nigga, Charlie thought.
Salutations in the form of handshakes like they were exchanging something on the sly.
“Add Charlie here to the program. She up next,” Day said.
“You want to just slide her in? What about the DJ or the band? They ain’t...”
“I pay you to figure it out,” Day said. “If I figure it out for you, I no longer need you, do I, bruh?”
“She up next. What’s your name, sweetheart?” the man asked.
“Charlie,” she answered. Her nerves were immediately on edge.
She didn’t want this. It was one thing singing in a lowkey bar to ease the weight on her soul, but to do it like this.
.. In front of all these important people…
These industry tastemakers? Charlie was too exposed, but she didn’t want to let Stassi down.
“It’s showtime, baby girl,” the man said.
Day grabbed the champagne bottle out of the bucket and popped the cork, pouring a flute for Charlie. “Liquid courage,” he said.
Charlie took the glass up with her on the stage.
“Why did I do this? I swear I’m going to kill her,” she said
The guy handed Charlie a microphone as she climbed onto the stage.
The lights were hot, or maybe she was just hot, maybe she was melting under the microscope that was the cameras that flashed before her as the room looked at her through the lens of their phones.
Nobody was really watching her live. They were watching their screens.
Filters. They were filtering life and getting it secondhand instead of just being in the moment and watching her. It was kind of sad.
“I’m going to need a stand,” she said into the mic.”
Mr. Figure It Out looked like he wanted to say no, but he moved to get it and handed it to Charlie.
“Hi, everybody,” she said, her nerves ate her alive, and her voice shook. She was better at singing in public than speaking.
She shook her hands at her side. “My name is Charlie,” she introduced. She didn’t know why she had done that. Her name was the last thing these people wanted to know. None of the other showcase artists had bothered, but then again, they had been properly introduced.
“What song to sing?” she asked herself aloud as she adjusted the microphone stand, lowering it to fit her body.
“I’m a little nervous, y’all,” she said. “Can I get a guitar? Is that possible? And a chair?”
“We don’t have all that, this ain’t ya concert, beautiful. Pretty girls always got requests, don’t they?” the MC said in his own microphone, putting her on the spot and drawing a laugh from the crowd. Charlie was sure she turned red. She was so embarrassed.
“Get her whatever she wants.”
She looked to the back of the room where the voice had come from.
Demi stood at the door, staring at her. He wore different clothes. This time, a black Nike sweatsuit and a black Gucci hat. He was so damn rugged.
When she was handed the guitar, it felt like someone had cloaked her in comfort.
“You got it, baby girl, we gonna follow you wherever you go. We got a real musician on the stage,” the lead bass guitarist of the band said, making Charlie feel even better.
She nodded and began playing a simple chord.
“Y’all want to do me a favor and lower your phones?
All I see are lights. I want to see y’all,” she whispered.
Demi stood, stone-faced, and she locked in on him.
“When my mom was alive, she told me to focus on one person in the room. One face that makes you comfortable, and sing to that one person, no matter how nervous you are.” Charlie found Demi.
Despite her anger, he was the one person who she knew would appreciate her set.
Her heart raced as anxiety put a tremble in her voice.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath as she began to sing.
H.E.R., because she had sung the song a hundred times and it was one that she had mastered, nerves or not.
“Set the toneee when it’s just me
And you alone, never lonely-
In the room, breathing slowwwly”
Charlie’s long nails tapped the wood of the guitar, creating a mini baseline as she played simultaneously. H.E.R was always a good choice. Start small. She sat on that wooden chair, one spotlight shining on her, strumming the simplest chords as she went into the chorus.
“I feel so comfortable with youuuuuu.”
Then her eyes closed, and he was there too. Usually, her mom joined her on stage, when she was nervous. She escaped inside her head and her mom would always show up. Tonight, it was Demi.
“Lay your head on my pillow say wooo hoooo,” she sang.
The band joined her as Charlie went into a medley, changing the song effortlessly, skillfully as the guitar led the other musicians in the room naturally.
Ari Lennox.
“I’ve been smok-ing pur-ple azeeee, oooooo-
-all to forget abouttt youuu.”
Charlie was a vibe. Whenever she got out of her head and got in her bag, pulling notes from her heart, she shined. She stood and put the guitar strap around her body so she could focus on the microphone stand, gripping it with both hands.
“Don’t date these niggas ‘til you’re forty-threeee.”
Charlie’s fingers found her strings again and she changed the song. Frank Ocean.
Charlie felt like no one else was in the room. There was an invisible chain that connected them, had to be because she felt him pulling her to him and it took everything she had to stay on the stage.
She was so mad at him, hurt by the rejection of it all, embarrassed by his dismissiveness.
She had opened her aura to him, let him bathe in her waters.
Charlie had put her best shit down on that nigga and he had the nerve to not call her afterward.
When she finished the song, the crowd roared in applause and the bass guitarist stood to give her a hug.
“Thank, y’all,” she said before rushing off the stage. All the confidence that had filled her had deflated as soon as the music stopped. Stassi was still on her feet when Charlie approached the table.
“I secure the bag?” Charlie asked.
Day’s brows were lifted. He was stunned. Amazed. “Fire. I don’t think I’ve ever heard nobody sing like that. Bag secured. I’m a man of my word; but for real for real, I got a record deal for you tonight if you with it.”
“Thanks, but no. That’s not even close to what I want to do,” Charlie said.
“It could be if you stop letting other people control your life,” Stassi said, shrugging as she tried to urge Charlie to take the opportunity.
“Stassi,” Charlie warned. She didn’t like to be pushed. “I think I’m going to head out. You coming?”
“I’ve got to stay until the end, make sure this gets wrapped up correctly, but go ahead, girl. I can call an Uber,” Stassi said.
“I’ll have a driver get you where you got to go,” Day interjected, as he glanced at Stassi for a second before shifting his focus back to the conversation taking place at the table.
The atmosphere was loud. Dynasty Music Group was corporate, but it had been built up by two men from the streets, so the showcase was the hottest ticket in town. If you were somebody you were present.
“Call me when you make it home,” Stassi said. “You going to Mommy and Daddy’s anniversary dinner, right?”
“Hmm… Do I have to?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, you have to,” Stassi said.
Charlie nodded. “I’ll think about it.”