Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 42- Stacy

Club Diesel looks like it's gonna be the shit.

Set in an ideal location in the heart of Beale Street, the multi-level club has décor that's a combination of class, funk, hip-hop, and techno. There are numerous cocktail bars throughout the club as well as numerous dance floors. The owner has clearly dropped a mint into the place. Everything screams money.

"Don't be nervous," Kalief reminds me for the millionth time while the band sets up for sound check.

Frankly, he's the one who looks nervous. "I'm good."

"Good. We really got to knock this audition out of the park. I mean really nail it 'cause we need to make this money bad." I frown.

"Why? What's the problem?"

"Uh? Oh. Nothing. I'm just saying." He shrugs.

"You're not saying much of anything. Don't tell me that your ass has been—"

"Whoa. Shhh. Shhh." Kalief looks around to make sure that no one is listening to our conversation.

"Will you calm down? You're letting your imagination get the best of you again. Ain't nobody been doing nothing. I'm just saying that we gotta pay the band and catch up on our studio bill. That's all."

"How much is the job paying?" Kalief's left eye twitches. "Don't know yet. Everything is still negotiable."

"Uh-huh." I roll my eyes and tell myself that it's not worth getting into a fight. I'm tired of arguing.

He steps up and tries to get me to look into his lying eyes. The thing is, he thinks that when he makes eye contact, he looks earnest. He doesn't. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Kalief, go on with that. You've forgotten who you're talking to and I got to get ready." Of course, he won't let it go.

He always takes it as a personal insult when he can't convince me that his lies are honest. "I'm serious," he says, looping his arms around my hips and dragging me closer.

"C'mon, baby. You know that I got your back. Everything I do is for you—for us. Just have a little faith in me." I wish that were true. I'm so broken inside with so much bullshit that I can't even fake this shit no more.

"C'mon. Give me that smile," he presses.

"Kalief." I look around and see the band in position, tinkering with their instruments and waiting.

"They're ready."

"I'm not moving until you give me that smile," he insists. I cut him with a look, but he keeps grinning like a fool until those damn dimples hit my weak spot and melt my resolve.

I smile.

"There it is." He grins and kisses the tip of my nose. "All right now. G'on." I squirm and push out of his arms. I'm already hating myself for giving in— again.

"A'ight. I'm going." He smacks my ass and then shuffles off the stage.

"She's ready, y'all. Let's get this show on the road."

Jase, my keyboardist, shouts, " One ... two . . . three!"

The band plays the opening of Aaliyah's "I Care 4 U." I close my eyes, block out the world, and let the music take over. I've lost the use of my heart . . . Instantly I'm connected to the music and lyrics.

The song reflects every bit of my love for Kalief, even though in my heart of hearts, I know that this love is doomed. As the music's tempo accelerates, I open my eyes and find Kalief's steady gaze on me while he sits in a U-shaped leather booth with four other men. I wish, like countless times before, that he truly heard what I was trying to say to him. It's a lot to hope for.

Hey my baby...
Why you lookin' so down?

A man leans over and whispers something into Kalief's ear. He smiles and then gives me the thumbs-up.

three minutes later, we end the song and I step away from the microphone with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

"Thanks, guys," Kalief tells the band as he practically leaps onto the stage, clapping.

"Baaaabeeee," he coos, arms outstretched. "You did it. I knew you would."

Nodding, I fold my arms. "How much?" He ignores the question and my body language and pulls me into his arms for a sloppy kiss between my chin and cheek.

"I knew that they'd love you. We got the opening-night gig! Who's your daddy now?" I glance back out to the table.

The four men whom Kalief was huddled with have climbed out of the booth and are walking away. "Which one of them is Diesel?"

"Uh, he couldn't make it today."

"What? But I thought you said—"

"He had some pressing matters to attend to, but his man Beast said—"

"Beast? What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"What difference does it make? The man has the authority to green-light the entertainment for opening night and you're it, baby."

"And the money? What's the pay?"

"Let me worry about all of that. Okay?"

"But I thought you said that this Diesel had all these music connections?"

"He does—and don't worry. He will be at the club opening night. And when he sees you, you're gonna knock his socks off."

"Uh-huh. I don't know why I keep listening to this bullshit."

"No bullshit. Trust me. Everything is going to be perfect."