Chapter 21 #2
My relief briefly made me forget that my feet were on fire. Barbara was beaming at me for once, so I tried my luck again. “I would love to work with you on an exclusive style feature.”
“Absolument!” Serge snapped his fingers, beckoning his petite greyhound of an assistant, who sped over. She and Von worked out the details of a lunch in our office, then Barbara led him away to meet DJ Cassius and Latika, who’d just walked in.
Within thirty seconds of Serge’s ponytail disappearing from view, I was sitting down with my heels off, holding a fresh drink.
Sinclaire’s incredible five-octave range and prepared set of Billboard #1 hits gave me a few moments to gather myself.
I was so grateful for the break that I was initially annoyed at the feel of warm arms hugging me from behind.
Then I looked down and saw Teresa’s signature white nail polish.
I yelped and turned to kiss her cheek, pulling her, along with Sofie and Denyse, who were standing behind her, into a group hug.
Sofie had brought her man, MC WhiteHot, so I fist-bumped him as well.
“Chica, this party is fire!” Teresa hollered, but I was looking past her to one more person I hadn’t greeted in their group: Derek.
While his party gear—black leather pants, a fitted black polo, square-toed boots, silver jewelry—was less lawyer and more music artist, Derek had grown a neatly trimmed beard, which took his look in a more serious, grown-ass man direction.
Slipping on my shoes, I stood up and, without thinking, reached out my hand, which he kissed as if I were royalty.
“So, you are the queen of this little shindig,” Derek said, looking around, impressed.
“My team might say that I’m more of a despot,” I yelled back. My inner bookworm high-fived my use of that word, but the supposed queen of the shindig cringed at my geekiness.
Derek just laughed. “After all the help you gave me with that gang assault case, I know you’re not really cruel. Maybe we can split the difference at czarina.”
I could feel my girls’ eyes boring holes into my skull as they watched the exchange. At that moment, I realized that Derek was still holding my fingers. I yanked my hand back and stuck it in my pocket, gesturing with my other hand toward the banquette. “Make yourselves some drinks and hang.”
Von emerged from the dance floor and was motioning for me to follow him. “Barbara,” he mouthed, pointing across the room. There would be no rest.
“I have to spend some time schmoozing with my boss,” I told my crew. “This whole area is mine, so you guys are good here. I’ll be back.”
I downed my drink and started to walk toward Von, stumbling after two steps.
WhiteHot caught me and winked. I winked back gratefully, squared my shoulders, and took a deep breath to get myself together.
I needed water and some time off my feet; instead, Von and I threaded through the crowded dance floor, air-kissing the friendlies and dodging the assholes.
Then I felt a hand firmly grab my ass. I whipped around and came face-to-face with JJ, grinning wickedly.
I couldn’t afford to react, so I pressed my lips together and shook my head, gently pushing him away, even though I was tired of avoiding him.
“My friends are in my banquette,” I told him quickly.
“Go say hi and I’ll be over in a sec.” I took a sharp breath at the mental picture of JJ in his fresh whites chewing the fat with Derek in his all-black outfit.
That was a lot of masculine energy in one place, but it was too late to pull back the invitation.
He put a finger under my chin, his signature move, but pulled it away before I could swat it away. “Okay, babe. Don’t keep me waiting,” he replied.
Von led me through the crush to Barbara and the power brokers she wanted me to meet.
I must have looked a little worse for wear because he slipped me a bottle of water instead of another drink.
I swayed again, grabbing Von’s arm for support, hoping no one noticed.
But Barbara’s keen eye caught the whole thing.
“We good, newbie?” She leaned forward so her forehead was nearly touching mine and spoke low in my ear. I could smell the whiskey on Barbara’s breath, but she seemed totally sober and steady. “I’m about to introduce you to my connect at Warner Music, so I need you to be on your A game.”
“I got it, Barbara. Don’t worry about me,” I told her, trying to enunciate so she wouldn’t process how buzzed I suddenly felt.
After shakily glad-handing several potential advertisers, I heard a disturbance near the DJ booth.
Even over the dancehall mix the DJ was playing, I could make out angry shouting and wildly waving red-clad arms. Von and I looked at each other; it was MC RedHot.
He was known for provoking many a party brawl.
“You get security and I’ll go see what’s up,” I told Von and took off toward the fracas. The raised voices led me to my own banquette, where I saw RedHot standing over WhiteHot and my girls.
“I repeat, what is this muthafuckin’ poser doing here?
” RedHot was yelling at my friends, who were frozen in place, unsure how to handle the unreasonable fury of an entitled rapper.
His ire was directed at WhiteHot. RedHot was a much bigger star, but WhiteHot was recognized as a better lyricist—plus he’d come up with his rap name first. Years ago, a music critic called out RedHot in Vibe magazine for biting WhiteHot’s name, launching a bitter feud.
“Yo man, it’s all good. Let’s just chill.” WhiteHot was trying to take the high road.
“Bitch, who are you telling to chill?” RedHot was apoplectic. “What I want you to do is take your ashy self and your washed-out woman out of this party.”
That’s when I knew everything was going left because WhiteHot did not like Sofie’s name in anyone’s mouth. All of a sudden, Barbara appeared at my side. “What the hell is MC WhiteHot doing here?” she fumed.
“I invited him along with his girlfriend—she owns a music industry hangout,” I replied, understanding that I’d somehow screwed up and not wanting to confess that Sofie was my girl.
“What were you thinking, Nikki? Those two in the same room are a disaster waiting to happen.”
“In my defense, I had no idea MC RedHot would show up.” My slurred words undermined the already unconvincing message.
“So … you didn’t think the party would be good? Because RedHot shows up at any decent event in the city. Never mind now. Just get WhiteHot out of here.”
“But RedHot is the one who started acting crazy!”
“So? We need RedHot’s cred more,” Barbara insisted. “I want WhiteHot out.”
At that moment, RedHot swung on WhiteHot but missed. Before he could swing again, Derek jumped between them. “Guys, it doesn’t have to go down like this. We can all still enjoy the night.”
Barbara dug a sharp elbow into my side, so I reluctantly said, “Actually, I’d like for you to leave, WhiteHot. I’m so sorry, it’s just too much drama.”
Derek frowned in confusion, while my friends stared at me, stunned. “Are you for real?” Sofie asked me incredulously.
Teresa chimed in, “Yeah, that’s pretty uncool, Nik.”
Only WhiteHot, recognizing that there was no win, gathered his white leather jacket to leave. We’d known each other through Sofie for years and I considered him a friend—which was likely why he was leaving calmly, and why it was especially hard to watch him do so.
“I’m out too,” Sofie stood and grabbed her purse.
“Me too,” Teresa said as Denyse nodded vigorously. “How are we supposed to stay and party after you freakin’ kicked out our friends for doing nothing?” She caught sight of Kiara surveying the scene from a safe distance and rolled her eyes. “Have fun with your new crew.”
Under Barbara’s watchful gaze, there was no point in trying to explain.
Teresa’s ideas of right and wrong were unyieldingly black and white.
There would be no easy convincing her in that moment that my boss had given me no choice, that I was still getting my bearings in a world that had already been biased against me, and that I couldn’t afford to have both Barbara and MC RedHot mad at me.
So I had to watch my crew file out angrily.
Only Derek stopped on his way to the door to give me a quick hug.
“That seemed complicated,” he whispered. “Hope you’re okay.”
Seeing the crisis defused, the DJ put on a West Coast mix and the crowd rapped along with Ice Cube: “Today, I didn’t even have to use my AK. I gotta say it was a good day!”
As I sat down in my now-empty banquette, the dense room tilted and spun; I could feel the humid air vibrating along with the pounding bass line. I tried to get my bearings and process what had just happened, but my internal compass was as impaired as my balance.
I wasn’t alone for long as MC RedHot and his crew swarmed the space.
They waved Sinclaire and her friends over.
Von came back, then JJ showed up as well.
Since I couldn’t leave my own party, I gave in to the raucous energy.
Rounds of shots were passed around until I no longer cared that everyone I actually loved had left.
I no longer cared that RedHot was gloating.
I no longer cared that the whole venue could see JJ’s hands around my waist. The last thing I remember clearly was climbing on top of the table to gyrate in front of JJ and MC RedHot as the DJ played Missy Elliott’s “Hot Boyz.”
In that moment, the thrill of dancing on top of the table at a cover party for my magazine, in front of the biggest rapper in the world and the most powerful producer in the game, engulfed any other emotion.
I let myself feel like the queen of all I surveyed, never once considering that maybe the right word was despot after all.