Page 5 of Brown Sugar
“The only thing being killed are my feet… by these metallic boots you made me wear,” I laugh.
“We’ll get you changed ASAP. You know we have to go celebrate, right? Afterparty at the Ice Lounge!”
I shake my head. “No way. Shawn and I?—”
“Broke up,” she interjects. “Fuck that guy. He expects you to cry your eyes out in your hotel suite. Live up to your lyrics, sissy.” She sings a line from the song I just performed, “If you’re gonna step to me, you’ve gotta keep up with me.”
“I really did get the voice in the family, didn’t I?”
I laugh as she shoves at my shoulder. “Good thing I can dress for the both of us!”
“If there’s one thing I love to hear, it’s the laughter of Kiana Baduza and her twin sister,” comes a voice from our left. My manager, Tommy Tocha, steps toward us in one of his infamous velvet suits, his combover game up top stronger than ever. The wispy hairs have been slicked down across his head that’s always reminded me of a bruised melon. He beams toothily as he opens his arms and gives us quick hugs. “Was that the Ice Lounge I heard you girls talking about?”
Amari nods. “Kiana’s coming out to the after party.”
“What an excellent coincidence,” he says, his eyes shining. “You have a very important meeting at the Ice Lounge tonight. We are hiring on more security for you, Kiana.”
“More security?” I ask. “I’m surrounded by an entourage everywhere I go.”
He reaches out to tap my cheek. “Dollface, you must know there’s a difference between security and entourage. We’ve had some near breaches, and the execs are concerned. Meet me in the VIP section. Wear something nice.”
He strolls off like the music big shot he is, aware I’m beholden to his asks.
…unless I want to make trouble at my record label, which isn’t in my plans.
Particularly after the day I’ve had discovering my personal life is a mess and my relationship with Shawn is over.
“It’s cool,” Amari says, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “We’ll still have our fun. The meeting’ll be like, what, five minutes? Then we’re turning up!”
I break into a laugh, unable to resist my twin’s infectious energy. “Okay, fine. You might have a point. Maybe I do need a night to celebrate. Shawn’s not worth my time.”
“That’s the energy I need you to have! Now, let’s go get you changed into something sexy.”
3
TYSON
My phone goes off at the ass crack of dawn. I’m passed out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn perched on my stomach and the TV remote limp in my hand. The game I was watching ended hours ago, replaced by informercials late into the night.
I snort waking up to the jingle of my ringtone, my phone vibrating along with the sound. Who the hell would be calling me before the sun’s even up?
The bowl of popcorn spills onto the couch cushions as I spring up and snatch the phone off the end table.
“’Ello?” I grumble.
“Tyson the Bison! Long time no talk! Hope I didn’t wake you,” comes the sunny voice of none other than Hal Fischmann. The two of us served in the Marines together as infantrymen before Hal was injured and medically separated. He decided to pursue his dream instead: working in the music industry.
We were never close, though he’s made a point to keep in touch all these years, often using my old field nickname.
“Maybe next time don’t call in the middle of the fucking night,” I grumble.
“It’s six a.m.”
“I wake at noon. Why’re you calling me?”
“Straight to the point. No chaser,” Hal chuckles. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you. Exactly why I’m reaching out now. I’ve got a gig for you. Interested?”
I scrub a hand over my face, feeling like death. My head pounds from the half a bottle of bourbon I drank last night and the lack of sleep I’ve been getting. The few hours I got on the couch just now was the most in weeks.