Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Joseph wanted me to remove everything from his apartment that weekend.
Even though I wasn’t ready, I moved through his space, throwing my clothes, toiletries, and books into unglamorous plastic garbage bags.
I ran my hands across the cool marble counters in the kitchen, the pebbled leather of the B I thought about staying until Joseph got home, greeting him at the door naked, and earning his forgiveness the old-fashioned way.
Then I saw a note attached to the mirror in the master bathroom: “Nicole, I was pretty upset at Chakra, and I had one awful sleepless night. Then I thought about your total disregard for my opinions and disrespect of our relationship. And I realized that we would have been a miserable married couple. So, thanks for helping me dodge a bullet. Good luck with whatever it is you’re doing with your life. ”
With that, Joseph delivered the coup de grace to our relationship.
I took one more look around the apartment that had been my second home for the past year, placed my set of keys on Joseph’s coffee table, and left, closing the door firmly on all the self-doubt and indecisiveness of my twenties.
Still, the pitiful walk down the hall toward the elevator, lugging four heavy bags, reminded me of my equally miserable expulsion from Park Ave Pub.
“You did this,” I told myself while I struggled to the corner to hail a cab. As I unloaded the contents of the bags into my little studio apartment, each jacket, dress, and book felt like a rebuke.
I’d been so busy at work that I’d forgotten that my lease was up in a couple months.
Usually around this time of the year, I’d be in my landlord’s office, begging him not to raise the rent.
But now I didn’t want to stay in my studio one day longer than I had to.
There were too many memories gathered in the corners of that place.
I planned to call a real estate agent first thing Monday morning.
But as the tsunami of tasks and problems (handled at most other magazines by a staff three times the size of Sugar’s) crashed over my office, I couldn’t focus on anything but the professional triage that had come to characterize the start of my weeks.
Plus, I needed to clear my plate because Kiara was bringing a new PR client—a young R&B artist—by the office to give an acoustic concert for NuVoices staffers at lunchtime.
Kiara sounded excited about working with this singer, so we rolled out the red carpet.
We hired a local caterer to deliver food and ordered flowers, a tablecloth, candles, and colorful paper plates to warm up the black leather and steel conference room.
At 12:30, Kiara swept into the NuVoices office looking so red carpet–ready (minus the makeup that she never wore and didn’t need) that she almost eclipsed her client.
Her hair was plaited in two thick braids so long they brushed her ass, lovingly encased in a white miniskirt.
There were only a few inches of skin between her mini and a pair of white suede thigh-high boots.
A demure black turtleneck and a white shearling coat made her outfit somewhat appropriate for a midday business appointment.
In contrast, her client had more of an all-American vibe.
Even her name—Betty Brown—evoked backyard barbecues, college football rivalries, and a pouf of pink cotton candy at an amusement park.
Betty’s burnished butterscotch skin, copper-colored eyes, golden corkscrew hair, and Jessica Rabbit body were causing some neck-snapping.
But with her baggy cargos, cropped hoodie, and Jordan high-tops and a speaking voice so soft she had to introduce herself twice, Betty initially gave off shy tomboy.
The staff of NuVoices was packed tightly in the conference room, taking every available seat and lining up along the walls.
Betty tuned her guitar and warmed her vocal cords.
I soon found out that what I’d mistaken for shyness was preperformance “energy-gathering,” as she later explained.
After a plaintive version of Prince’s “Adore,” Betty had our full attention when she launched into her own repertoire: a sweet, lilting song about first love, a gritty song about a bad breakup, a melancholy song about fitting in as a biracial girl.
The culturally attuned crew at NuVoices, notorious for making snap decisions about whether something was hot or not, didn’t move for the full half hour that Betty sang.
When she was done, the thunderous clapping only stopped after Betty put her guitar down, pressed her hands together in front of her, and bowed a few times.
As she got ready to be interviewed by Decode, Bella, and Sugar staffers, I pulled Kiara into a corner to talk.
“Girl, she is it!” I exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders.
“Isn’t she?” Kiara grinned back at me. “Eternal Records is throwing everything at her—it’s going to be a huge marketing push.”
According to JJ’s tutelage, this meant the label was trying to make her into a star.
I had an inexplicable tingling, a warm excitement, a gut feeling that they would succeed.
“Kiara, I want Sugar to be the first magazine to give her a cover,” I said in a rush.
“I want to give her a style makeover that will make the fashion world pay attention. And if we can time it so the issue comes out right when the CD hits stores, I guarantee this will be huge—for both of us.”
As I said this, I prayed Barbara wouldn’t be too furious.
Betty was a complete unknown, so we had no idea how she would sell on a cover, which was a huge chance to take on the issue that would come out halfway into my six-month trial.
But if I was right and Sugar was the first magazine to crown the next R&B phenom, it would make our reputation.
Plus, the issue could piggyback off the label’s marketing efforts to drive sales.
She paused, so I wrapped an arm around her waist and entreated, “Come on, girl. You know Betty’s not going to get another cover until she proves herself. The other magazines that might eventually put her on their covers are too big to take a chance like that. Sugar can.”
Kiara nodded but lowered her voice and whispered, “Listen, she played at Groove’s office last Friday.
They said they needed the weekend to think before they could decide what kind of coverage to offer her.
” Kiara and I both looked back at Betty, who was handling all the attention like a pro already.
“The single is going out to radio in July and the label is pushing for an early August release of her full album,” Kiara continued.
“It’s short notice, so I’m looking for something big. ”
“Great!” I exclaimed. I was already mentally picturing Betty’s makeover for our cover.
“I haven’t booked my August cover yet. I need to put that issue to bed soon so we’d have to shoot her and do the interview next week.
But I know we can make this happen. You know there’s no way Groove can offer you a cover that fast, so give me the exclusive. ”
“Exclusive?” Kiara’s head tilted to the side. She loved me, but this was her job and she needed to figure out what was best for her client.
“If I give Betty a cover, I don’t want her to do any interviews with Sugar’s competitors until after my issue is off sale.
” Every monthly magazine hit the newsstands on a different date, usually at least two weeks before the issue’s official month.
If another magazine’s September issue had an early on-sale date, it might overlap with Sugar’s August issue and cannibalize our newsstand sales.
“Groove or someone else can do an October cover. And the offer is only good until tomorrow morning because I have to nail down a cover ASAP,” I replied.
I loved Kiara, but this was my job too, and I had to figure out what was best for my magazine.
Kiara and I grinned at each other. “I’m liking EIC Nikki,” she said. “Done! I just have to clear it with the label, but since this is our only firm offer, I can’t imagine they’d object.”
“Great! I can’t wait to tell Barbara. She’ll be excited,” I replied, mentally crossing my fingers that this risk would be worth it.
Barbara had bobbed her head appreciatively during the performance but disappeared into her office right after.
Regardless, I knew she’d hear about the August cover before the day was over, and all I could do was hope that she’d be able to see my vision and not fire me on the spot for ignoring her cover directive.
Also, Alonzo would be furious if he had intended on offering Betty a cover.
Groove’s next several cover subjects had likely been booked but he’d be enraged that someone else got the scoop on a major new artist—more so if it was me.
So, I’d be making the target on my back even bigger.
“Perfect,” Kiara said decisively, shaking my hand. Lowering her voice again, she said, “On to more important things: How was dinner with Jerome?”
I shook my head and widened my eyes. “Girl, it was totally fine until Joseph showed up, drunk as hell and wanting to fight.”
“Tell me they did not throw down in the middle of Chakra.” Kiara gasped, eyes wide too.
“Damn near. Joseph knocked over my drink and was making a scene. I had to drag him out before he got his ass beat since half of urban music was there that night.”