Chapter 8
Samari: He invited me to his house.
Ree: You're going.
Samari: Yes.
Ree: That wasn't a question, sweetie. I meant, YOU ARE GOING.
Samari:
Samari: And why the fuck you yelling at me???
Ree: Because it’s necessary and don't act like you don't want to make beautiful music with that man.
Samari:
Ree: Stop rolling your damn eyes. You know you want him to have you sing in soprano.
Samari: I'm an alto.
Her voice was a low rasp, deep and sultry.
Ree: Hoe, I know what your voice sounds like, which is why I said singing in soprano. He'll hit that thang just right and have them octaves high pitched.
Samari:
Ree: Roll your eyes again and I'm pulling up.
Samari: Okay, okay. I'm done but I'm not trying to have sex with him.
Ree: Girl…
Samari: Can I get to know him first before you pimp my coochie out?
Ree:
Samari: Staaawwwpppp
Ree: Okay fine. Get to know him before I put your coochie up for auction, but let’s be clear, it is going up for auction. It's been too long and I'm not trying to have a ten year old while you have a ten month old.
Samari sputtered a laugh, rolling her eyes in real life.
Samari: So my womb is up for auction too, I see?
Ree: I'm working with limited options here.
Ree: And if nothing else, maybe he can help with your fuck ass label.
She hadn't told Ree about the offer he’d made about helping with Cobra and she wouldn't until she felt Asao really could.
Samari: Maybe, but I'm leaving now. I'll text you later. Kiss my baby for me.
Ree: Okay I just checked to make sure your location is still shared. It is and you better text me first thing in the morning unless he's still fucking with your vocals.
Samari:
She locked her phone and raked her fingers through her hair, checking her appearance in the mirror one last time. Samari was dressed casually in jeans, Kamren Taylor sneakers, and a matching tee. Not trying too hard but still cute while being sexy.
Asao lived only twenty minutes from her.
But by the time she picked up the order she’d placed at Carver’s and made it to his house, it was almost ten.
He greeted her at the door dressed in sweats and no shirt, smelling like a perfect blend of bergamot and orange ,which leapt from his body and smacked her in the face, almost making her reconsider being at his place.
Don't sleep with him, Samari.
Wait, who said he wanted that?
Him, the way he’s devouring me with his eyes.
"Come in," he murmured, stepping out of the way. She paused, taking him in once more.
"You sure? You look like you're ready for bed and not company."
"Or I'm ready for bed with my company." He winked and stepped away from the door, returning as he yanked a tee over his chest. She hated that she’d mentioned his attire because bare chested Asao had been a nice visual.
"Better?"
She nodded and stepped inside, pausing a few feet from him while he locked the door. She lifted the bag which he collected and brought to the kitchen. She followed, watching as he unloaded the contents. His turkey sub and her sweet potato fries.
"I assume this is you?"
"Yep, thank you." He pushed them across the counter since she remained on the side lined with wooden stools while he was inside the kitchen. She watched as he unwrapped the kraft paper and inhaled his first bite.
"These shits are the truth. You tried it before?"
She shook her head. "No, I usually get Italian."
"Wanna try?"
She grinned as he smiled but took a bite instead of extending it to her. "No, do your thing. Looks like you're enjoying that too much."
She pulled open the rolled bag made of kraft paper that held her fries and reached across the counter to grab the cinnamon icing before lifting onto one of the stools.
"You eat there a lot?" he asked, turning away from her to open the refrigerator.
"No, I cook more than I eat out but I like their food when I'm feeling lazy. I used to perform there too, so I really like the owners."
His eyes lifted as he leaned into the refrigerator. "Word, I've never seen you there. Not performing. I have water, soda, and Henny."
"Water is good."
He removed two bottles of water and a soda, moving toward her. He took one water and a soda, giving her the other.
"I've only performed a few times. It was right before I was signed then I went on tour. After my tour, things were bad, so I stopped performing altogether, but I still go see Charlie and May every once in a while."
"They're good people," he said with a smile. Shit, his smile.
"They are."
"You said things got bad after the tour, what happened?"
She shrugged. "I was supposed to record another album but it never happened. They kept giving me excuses. I got frustrated and asked them to let me do it on my own since they wouldn't pay for it, but Cobra refused. A few months after that they had a new artist."
"Nefatari."
"Yep. She can barely sing but they took my sound and gave it to her."
"Y'all are not the same."
"No, we're not. I can actually sing but she lets them sexualize her. I wouldn't. I wanted it to be about talent. They wanted it to be about visuals. Sex sells."
"So the fuck does talent." Asao looked angry.
"Not with Cobra Records. And my deal was bullshit. They gave me two point four million when I signed but…"
"You blew all that on budgeted shit you didn't even use."
"Yeah. And my royalties are shit. Something about me being new so my percentage was only five percent, but the way they explained it, I should be making more. I wrote all of my lyrics, my album went platinum, and I had a fifteen-city, sold out tour. My last check was for six grand. The most I've ever gotten was twelve and that was sales, streaming, and money from the tour combined. The only reason I’m still surviving is I had a hundred thousand from my advance that they said I didn’t have to pay back. "
"Damn, they fucked you."
"I had a lawyer go over the contract for me. They told me it was good. Explained everything in detail."
"What firm?"
"Mitchell and Drew."
"Cobra pays them. They knew it was a bullshit contract."
She lifted a fry to her mouth and lowered it when he said that.
"What?"
"Mitchell and Drew. They work for Cobra but discreetly. He used to hire them straight out. Have them come sit with you in the conference room but they got sued for that. Now they pay firms under the table to do their dirty work, convincing artists that their contracts are solid."
"But I picked them."
"After they asked if you had someone to look over the contract, right?"
Damn. How did I not know that?
"The day they presented the contract, I was on my way out.
The receptionist told me congratulations and asked if I had anyone to represent me.
When I said no, she pulled up a list and gave it to me.
There were three on the list. She said all of them were entertainment attorneys and a few other artists had mentioned using them.
That was a setup, wasn't it?" She sighed.
"Yeah, they pay all three I'm guessing but there's no way you would have known. They've gotten smarter about fucking people over."
"Sometimes I feel like this isn't meant to be my journey. It shouldn't be this hard. All I want is to do music and be left alone," Samari mumbled.
Asao frowned hard, shaking his head as he placed what was left of his sandwich down and rounded the counter, nearing her.
"Nah, that's not what we're gonna do. If music is what you want and I know it is…
" He wrapped his finger around her wrist and she felt something intense spike through her when his thumb brushed over the clef inked below his touch.
"Then we're gonna figure out how to make this shit happen, the right way.
Easy doesn't make hits, Samari. Easy is for the people who want quick money with no intention of existing beyond their next chart appearance.
You want easy or you want to change the world?
Make people feel, leave something great that will be legendary? "
"Are you rapping to me?" She smiled softly and he returned it.
"Nah, just speaking from the heart. Saying to you what I would want to hear if I felt myself losing that thing that drives me."
"Thank you."
He smirked arrogantly. "But I could turn that shit into something dope and let you lace it with your beautiful voice."
"Maybe."
Make music with Asao?
The thought had her pulse racing. She could see the two of them making something amazing. His lyrics and hers. Her mind was already racing with ideas. Nothing, however, paired with the way her heart raced from how his eyes lingered on her.
"Come on, I want to show you my studio." He shifted his hand so his palm slid against hers and their fingers laced together. With a gentle tug, she was following him through his apartment.
It was nice, a newer model than hers but less lived in. The furniture appeared to be new, black microfiber sofas, soft gray tables a few shades lighter than the planked, distressed wood floors, and bare walls. There wasn't much else that added to the space.
The room he took her to, however, completely contrasted the area they’d just left.
One wall was lined with album covers, the others had plaques and photos of Asao on stage, in the studio, and in clubs.
There was a mic surrounded by pop filters set up, a soundboard, and black lights illuminated the space.
Thick, cozy, dark rugs covered the wood floors and there was a sofa in the corner that looked soft and cozy, similar to an oversized bean bag.
"I take it this is where you spend most of your time?"
He glanced at her over his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, most days, I eat, sleep, and work, which means I'm in here."
"That's why the rest of your place doesn't look lived in but here…" Her eyes swung around the room. It was cozy but slightly cluttered, with shoes, a few articles of clothing, and big pillows on the floor.
"You trying to say my shit is dirty, Samari?" Asao teased.