Whirlwind

12

[Riley]

The tips of my almond Red Hot Rio coated nails tapped against the wooden table top as my eyes wandered around in search of Leslie or Donovan. Lunch hours at The Dutch were typically far from chaotic but on this rather gloomy Friday I assumed everyone was in need of a shaken cocktail coupled with a few oysters just as I was. That or my anxiety was running rampant allowing me to believe there were more people here than usual. I know for a fact that I had been sitting here for at least fifteen minutes and this room as well as the patrons in it were starting to close in on me. I hated tight spaces and crowds and I struggled dealing with them without the company of my friends. They should've been here by now. Leslie should be here with my medication while Donovan should be here to give me his infamous back rub to calm my nerves. Leave it to colored people to be late to lunch meetings they scheduled themselves though. If I had a panic attack right here at this moment they'll definitely be catching all the blame as well as the tab of alcoholic beverages I order to help me cope with it.

"Ma'am would like to order a drink while you wait for your guests?" My eyes shot up at the dirty blonde haired waitress who I'm sure was being polite with her offer but my now growing paranoia saw it as an insult. She must've checked the time just like I was and assumed my guests had stood me up or I never had any coming in the first place. But if I knew these negros well they'd walk through that door, one after the other within the next five minutes. Either way I'd take up her bid for a beverage.

"Actually yes. I'd like a Diamond Cutter and if it's not a problem can you add a little extra Vodka."

"Sure thing! Anything else with that?"

"Add a Captain Lawrence and a cup of water please," I smirked hearing the mellow voice coming from behind the waitress and I. Donovan had broken my record. He made it here less than a minute after I mentally made my revelation but Leslie probably wouldn't. "Oh yeah, she meant add the exact amount. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Don't come in here changing my order like you're paying for something." I shot back snidely.

"You don't need that much Vodka at one in the afternoon." He positioned his jacket on the back of his seat then looked up at our waitress who waited to make sure we were both content with our orders.

"That's all ma'am, thank you." She smiled with a slight nod then walked away as Donovan sat down in the seat across from me.

It was obvious from his heavy breathing and the bags under his red eyes that today was a hard-hitting day for him as well as the week as a whole. Conversations between the two of us were scarce as of lately due to his heavy schedule as an A&R for a division under Columbia. I understood all too well how that went hence why Leslie set up this lunch date and the two of us agreed to it.

I wasn't responsible for finding talent and marketing it as he was but I knew how labels worked. I knew how strenuous it was to get their attention and stress how a certain sound would not only get the attention of listeners but make everyone money. That was the real dispute though, money became the priority instead of the authenticity of the artist and music they produced. With hip hop connoisseur being Donovan's middle name, he always made it his duty to bring that old school sound back but with a twist good enough to draw the attention of the youngsters today. The job seemed so simple to him but became a hassle when the label didn't feel the same as he did. They didn't think his artist would be mainstream enough to bring in revenue. Let's not forget to mention the different personalities encountered on a day to day while working in this industry. No matter if you're a songwriter, producer, the artist or a person behind the scenes, this all becomes a handful.

"So how are you?"

"I'm still not the next L.A. Reid so you can guess how I feel." He expressed while grabbing a menu from the center the table top. "Why'd you all choose a restaurant in Soho knowing that I'm coming from Midtown? That drive was hell."