Plus, it would kill my grandmother. It would kill her to know that I had danced in strip clubs and worked as an escort to keep from sleeping on the streets. Escort. Classy name for hooker. I didn’t always have sex with the men. Some of them were old and lonely and couldn’t get it up no way, but every once in a while I took a job that paid more money. Those jobs were the ones that paid the rent. Jobs with men like Cig.

  My phone rang. It was Cig. He ordered me to get my yellow behind upstairs. I was hoping he wouldn’t miss me, but I guess it hadn’t been enough to embarrass me with the video the other day and talk crazy to me at the photo shoot today. He needed to do some more tonight.

  Like an obedient slave, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood to get dressed. The sooner I got there, the sooner I could leave.

  I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, put my hair in a high ponytail and slid on a pair of flip-flops. My hand was on the doorknob when I heard the noise. Gunfire. Two shots so loud that I was certain it had come from somewhere close. I ran into the bathroom and climbed into the tub. I lay there for what I know was twenty minutes before I heard a knock at the door. I was too scared to get up and get it.

  “Benxi!” I heard Yasmin’s voice cry out. She banged on the door. “Open up!”

  I climbed out of the tub and raced to the door.

  Yasmin ran in. Tears and mascara streaked her face. She looked a mess.

  “What happened?”

  “Cig got shot!” She went to my nightstand and picked up the remote. She turned on the television.

  I didn’t believe I’d heard her. “What?”

  Yasmin moved in front of the television. “I want to see what’s on the news about it.”

  I walked closer to her, put my hands on her shoulders, and made her face me. She looked like she was in shock or something. “Yasmin, were you at the party?”

  She nodded. More tears erupted and fell down her cheeks. She moved from my grasp and started scrolling through the channels.

  “Is Cig dead?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I need to get the news. What channel is it?”

  I took the remote and found Fox 11. Then I went to the bar and grabbed a bottle of water. “Sit down.”

  Yasmin dropped her bag and did as I said. I handed her the water and kneeled in front of her.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know what happened. It was crazy. Some guys knocked on the door. Cig and Boo and ‘nem went outside. And then, like five minutes later, we heard gunshots. One came through the wall. It was crazy. I hid under the bed. Everybody was trying to hide.”

  “Where is Cig?”

  “They took him to the hospital.”

  “Was anyone else shot?”

  Yasmin shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She looked over my shoulder and squealed. “Look, it’s on the news now!”

  I rushed for the remote and turned the volume up.

  Reports were that two gunshots were fired at the Maxstar Hotel, causing a fatal injury to CoCo Records music producer, Columbus Isaiah Graham. Graham was known to many in the industry as Cig.

  It has been confirmed that Graham, a resident of Atlanta, Georgia, and his team were in Los Angeles to film a music video. Members of his production company were attending a gathering in Graham’s suite when the gunmen arrived. No one else was hurt. At this time, the police have no suspects. Columbus Isaiah Graham was thirty-seven years old.

  Yasmin wailed. I stepped backward and fell on the bed. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t move. Cig was dead. Cig who had threatened me less than an hour ago. Cig who was holding me hostage to his label. A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it. I was determined it would be the only tear I would shed for him.

  Columbus Isaiah Graham was dead. My secrets were going to the grave with him. I was free. God had finally come through for me.

  Chapter 17

  Benxi

  I was anxious, but it wasn’t the kind that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. My life was about to change. I was free to sign with Mekhi’s record label.

  I knew it might be a mistake to go with him, because I was as attracted to him as I was to the music. I’d heard you weren’t supposed to mix up business with pleasure. But I also knew that business was the main reason he was interested in me, so I had no choice but to kick things off this way. My voice was my in. I needed an in because I was falling in love.

  I’d never been in love before. I was scared, but I decided if I was going to be in love, it might as well be with him. Like me, he was good looking, smart, and successful. And like me, he’d made his money the old fashioned way. He’d earned it working hard. But the most important reason I wanted to be with him was because he hadn’t judged me about the Elder. There hadn’t been even a tiny hint of anything but sympathy in his eyes. Even after I told him about the money, he still behaved like it was just a part of my past that I didn’t need to feel guilty about. I liked the way he set my mind at ease. It was the complete opposite of what I expected.

  I reached for my cell and dialed Mekhi’s number. It was late in Atlanta, but this couldn’t wait.

  “B, hey, what’s up?”

  “I got your text messages. Sorry I didn’t call, but with the shooting and all...”

  “Yeah, I was worried about you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  My heart melted. He sounded like he meant every word. I believed him. No one could tell me Mekhi Johnson didn’t really care.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Things were already crazy. They got crazier with the press after the list was released.”

  “Congrats on your Grammy nominations. I’m really, really happy for you.”

  My heart skipped. I could hear the genuineness in his voice. I had been nominated for three Grammys. The list of nominations came out a few days before Cig died. Even though he was evil to me sometimes, he was proud I was nominated. But it didn’t matter now. He was gone.

  “I’m calling because now that Cig is gone, I want to sign with you.”

  He was quiet for a few moments. “You for real?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t play with you like that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Vegas. I’ll be back in Atlanta in a few days. You can set up the meeting or whatever you gotta do.”

  Mekhi was silent again. Probably pumping his fist or muting the phone so he could holler. I was about to ask if he was still there when he spoke. “I’m excited about us working together. This is going to be great.”

  “I’m counting on it. All of it,” I teased and then I asked, “You aren’t dating anyone are you?”

  Mekhi chuckled. “Here we go.”

  I frowned. “That model, Zane. I heard y’all was a couple.”

  Mekhi chuckled, but I didn’t hear a real laugh. “It wasn’t serious. We were passing time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is she in Miami or Atlanta?”

  “New York I think. I really don’t know.”

  “Okay. I don’t like messiness and I could use a favor.”

  Mekhi chuckled again. “What’s that?”

  “An escort for the funeral.”

  Silence on the other end.

  I looked down at my feet. “Not a date. Just a friend. I really don’t want to go by myself.”

  He was still quiet.

  “Mekhi?”

  “No, it’s cool. I wasn’t planning to attend, but I can do that.”

  I frowned. “You weren’t going to attend?”

  “I didn’t have any love for Cig.” His voice was hard.

  “He has some homeless artists,” I teased.

  “I’m no longer producing rap music. You were the only person on his roster that I was interested in.

  “So, okay,” I sang the words a bit. “I appreciate you taking me even more then.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Sooo, he was lying. I could tell it would not be his pleasure, but I got excited about the yes anyway. “I know a funeral is not a date, but I think we both felt a little something in Tampico.”

  Mekhi was silent yet again. I wished I had Facetimed him so I could see how he was reacting.

  “I won’t deny that, but I’m taking Benxi, my new artist to the funeral of a mutual colleague. I spent that time in Tampico with Bonita Jones.”

  “If you say so.” I clicked my tongue. “I’m cool with you taking Benxi.”

  “You know I’ve been meaning to ask you how you came up with that name.”

  “My daddy’s name was Bennie and my mother’s name was Xenia.”

  “That’s righteous.”

  “Yeah, I’m deeper than I look. I’m not a real blonde.”

  Mekhi laughed, and this time it was a real laugh. I loved the sound of it. I closed my eyes, remembered his touch and his scent. I wanted him. Cig’s funeral was an excuse to get with him.

  “I know it’s late. I’ve got an early photo shoot with Essence.” I climbed into bed and pulled the comforter over my legs.

  “I’ll text you about the meeting,” he promised.

  “A’ight. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  “Benx...”

  My stomach filled with that fluttery feeling his voice caused.

  “Thanks for giving me this shot.”

  “Don’t mess it up.”

  He chuckled. “Not a chance. I’m in this to push us both up to the next level. It won’t take much because we’re almost there.”

  “Almost theeere,” I sang. “My heart was on the edge of something new and wonderful.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” I could hear the smile in his voice. “It’ll be the first song we record.”

  “I’m with that.” My own smile was so big it nearly cracked my face.

  “Goodnight, Benx.”

  I pushed the end button on the phone, smiled, and sang, “Almost theeere.”

  Almost in love.

  Chapter 18

  Mekhi

  3 Months Later

  I smiled and camera lights flashed and popped in a musical rhythm all up and down the red carpet. The Grammys were over. Benxi strutted in front of the media carrying her three statues. One was for a collaboration she’d done with a rapper named, New G, but the other two were all her.

  The Grammy nominations propelled Benxi into a larger spotlight. She’d been well-known in her market, but now everyone knew her name. The potential for three Grammys also pushed sales up so much that one of her songs had been certified Gold. Gold certification eluded new artists. Music pirates stole their ability to rack up the numbers.

  I was determined Benxi would make platinum status. All she had to do was keep her head, work her brand to the fans, and release strong albums. I had her on the latter. The music was my job.

  I was her date for the evening and for that reason I was getting mad attention. Most of the reporters knew who I was, but I had swooped in and signed Benxi after the death of Cig and before her stock went up with the Grammys, so I was a man worth talking to as well. The announcement by United Music Corp about their investment in my label was no small story either.

  “So, Mekhi, I think it’s safe to say that you might be one of the other big winners tonight.”

  I waited for the camera to flash and then answered the question.

  “Airamas is excited about everything that’s happening for us right now. Benxi and I already have a few of the songs recorded. We’re looking forward to releasing a single or two before the album releases.”

  The reporter’s eyes widened. “So we’ll get a preview before the album drops in June.”

  I kept the cockiness I felt out of my voice. “Oh yeah, the tracks are almost ready. Her fans want the music, need the music, and deserve the music.”

  “And you don’t want to make them wait for it,” the reporter added.

  “Not for a second longer than necessary,” I replied.

  Benxi joined me and brought a new wave of camera flashes with her. She did a good job balancing them, but I could tell she was struggling to hold all three Grammys.

  “Let me help you with that weight.” I reached for one.

  “I would have brought a shopping cart if I knew I was going to be this blessed at the end of the night.”

  Good Girl. She said the line just as she’d rehearsed it. We never expected that she would actually win all three of the awards, but just in case...preparation was in order. UMC hired an image coach to work with her on her brand. Between the image coach, the vocal coach, studio time, and dance lessons, she was working constantly.

  “This is my time,” Benxi said in response to a question about her admirable work ethic. “I’m fortunate enough to be living the life I dreamed about as a little girl, so I don’t mind putting the work in.”

  Done with that reporter, we walked a few steps. Benxi stopped and pivoted again. With each photo, the cameras ate her up. We met the top-dog press in the media waiting area. Benxi had a slot of time pre-scheduled with a reporter from Rolling Stone. The first questions were about her awards and then the conversation shifted to her plans with my label.

  “Mekhi, you shared on FMZ that Benxi’s music would be going in a different direction. How about a little about what’s happening behind the scenes at Airamas Records?”

  “We’re writing lyrics and working on a distinct sound and unique flavor that’s going to propel her to the next level. United Music Corp has invested a lot in what we’re doing. Our new studio is state-of-the-art, so we’re expecting to put out some state-of-the-art tracks.” I looked at Benxi. “We’ve got the songs, we’re getting the studio, so we’re almost there, right, Benxi?”

  “Almost.” She jutted her chin forward as she fixed a smile to my inside joke. She replied to the reporter, “I’m looking forward to everything Mekhi and UMC has planned for me. I trust my new team completely.”

  I squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear. “I’ll let you finish this. I’m going to holler at Timba before he leaves. Make sure to talk about your fans in every answer.”

  She nodded and released my hand. I handed the Grammy statue to one of the program staff that had been assigned to assist the winners.

  I worked the room a little. I had artists looking at me with interest and reporters from magazines and blogs trying to steal sixty-second interviews everywhere I turned.

  When I was done, I found the restroom. I took care of my business, and just as I finished washing my hands, Zander walked in.

  “I would run into you in the pissiest spot in the building.”

  I smirked. Pulled a paper towel and dried my hands. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Zander. You got something to say.”

  “Something to ask.” Zander’s expression was hard. “Was this your way of getting back at me? Using my sister.”

  I sighed. Here we go with this again. “You know me better than that.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know you at all.”

  “No, I didn’t know you.” This time it was my tone that carried the venom. “Or Cig.”

  His icy glare softened for a few seconds. He pretended to believe I had messed him over, but I suspected that was an act he used to mask his own guilt about what happened at CoCo.

  I continued, “Your sister was sick long before New York. Maybe even before she met me. I can tell you how I know that if you want the truth.”

  Zander took a few steps toward me. He folded his arms across his broad chest until the sleeves of his tuxedo stretched at the seams. “Zannia was fine.”

  He looked like an angry rhinoceros. But I knew he was more like a defiant kid who didn’t want to hear the truth.

  “Have you found her?” I asked.

  He didn’t respond, which meant he hadn’t. Zander was big on bragging about the things he did right.

  “I feel bad about the fact that you can’t find her,” I paused, “but you need to deal with what’s real. If it wasn’t me, it would have been some other guy in the middle of this.”

  “But it was you.” Zander stepped again, taking more of my space. He was close, but far enough back to not push the limits on respect. “You like a bad penny – trick dice – a sock with a hole in it. You keep showing up when nobody wants to see you.”

  We held a contest of wills as we stood there staring at each other. Zander’s Adam’s apple moved up and down. He shook his head, walked to a urinal, and unzipped his pants.

  We had nothing else to say to each other. I left the restroom.

  Benxi and I stepped into our limo. She continued to wave to fans and reporters as the driver pulled the vehicle away from the curb. A bottle of champagne sat perched in a bucket of ice between us. While she scrolled through her social media pages, I popped the cork and poured two glasses.

  She raised one of her Grammys and took a selfie. “Best female performance. Cig would have been proud of this.”

  “It was nice what you said about him in your speech.”

  She lowered the trophy. “I lied. I mean, I’m not glad he’s dead or anything, but Cig...” her words trailed off. “He was turning into a bad man.”

  I took the statue out of her hand and replaced it with a glass of champagne. In seconds, her eyes shifted from being filled with joy to clouded with sadness. I figured at that moment she was thinking about Pastor Davis and all the other bad men in her life.

  “Cig was always a bad man,” I said. “But just because he was a bad man doesn’t mean he didn’t occasionally do some good things.”

  Benxi pushed her back into the plush seat cushion. She looked like she was draped in a year’s worth of exhaustion, or maybe it was her thoughts about Cig and everything she’d been through to get here – in this car— with those trophies – on this night.

  She raised the glass. “What are we toasting to?”

  “What do you want to toast to?”

  Her tone was melancholy, but she tilted her head playfully when she answered. “A long, prosperous, successified, gargantuan future together.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll toast to that.”

  We clinked glasses and took sips.

  My phone vibrated. I reached into my jacket for it. A text message read:

 

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