Sing Your Pleasure. A.C. Arthur
knew she did love her big sister. For all that seemed different between them they were connected by a sisterly bond. As for her parents, well, that was another story entirely. But, as promised, she would call them later. After all, she was the responsible and mature sister, the one always expected to do the right thing.
She only prayed the right thing was going to dinner with Akil and the rest of the team when what she really wanted to do was teach the superproducer a thing or two about basic hospitality.
Chapter Three
Shula’s Steak House wasn’t exactly what Charlene had envisioned for a dinner to meet the team that would work on her CD. Something a little fancier had been her thought. But this was just as well. The dark wood floors and contemporary dining room she’d been escorted to made her feel a lot more comfortable than a dimly lit place with candles and lots of clinking crystal would have.
Not that Shula’s was slacking any, no, not at all. Located in the Miami Lakes district it had topped the list on the Miami Herald’s Best of South Florida, easily defeating the trendy Prime 112 and Manny’s Steakhouse. All places Charlene had been to in her trips to Florida and a ranking she happened to agree with.
Another surprise to her was that Akil had driven his own car to the restaurant, arriving just a few minutes after her with a tall, slim lady by his side. His bodyguards, two tall, beefy men she’d seen at the house when she was leaving, walked in looking all around the room right behind him. While her reaction to the fact that there was a gorgeous woman with Akil shouldn’t have been mentionable, the momentary envy toward the woman for her small waist and long legs gave her a jolt. This wasn’t new, she reminded herself. The supermodel look was more than popular where she came from and even more so in the music industry. And this woman fit the bill.
She had to be close to six feet with Akil only surpassing her height by about three or four inches. The dress she wore—or more aptly the swatch of material that covered her small, pert breasts and hugged every other inch of her from her shoulders to the upper part of her thighs, was fire-engine red and whispered sex with every step she took. Her skin was fair and coupled with her long dark hair gave her an exotic look.
Self-consciously Charlene brushed her hand over much heavier breasts and down past her thicker waist and meatier thighs. Taking slow, deep breaths, she tried not to acknowledge how much of a cliché this woman really was. She was exactly the type you’d expect to see on the arms of an NBA or NFL player, a rapper or, yes, even a superproducer like Akil.
She was so absorbed in the couple walking toward the table in the private dining room she hadn’t even heard the door behind her open and close or the people who had obviously entered approach.
“Hi, Charlene. It’s great seeing you again.”
She turned at the touch of his hand on her shoulder and stared up happily into the smiling face of Jason Burton, the A&R rep who had first heard her sing in the karaoke bar.
“Hi, Jason. I’m glad to see you,” she said with more enthusiasm than she probably should have. But it was true, she was glad to see him. Glad and hopeful that he’d be a buffer between her and Akil and his arm candy.
“Ace, my man. You made it,” Jason said, standing and gripping Akil’s hand in a shake.
He hadn’t changed much from when she’d seen him earlier this afternoon. Well, his clothes were different. He now wore black pleated slacks and a matching jacket. The gray silk shirt that molded against his muscled chest and abs almost matched the color of her skirt. He looked cool and comfortable, yet still powerful and important. Something about the air around him, the ambience of control, made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
After the handshake Akil reached for his date, pushing her closer to the chair where Charlene sat as if to tell her to sit there so he didn’t have to. On the inside Charlene bristled but on the outside she found the strength to smile. “Good evening, Akil.”
“Charlene,” he said curtly, with a simple nod. “This is Serene Kravitz, head of Artist Development. Serene, meet Playascape’s newest R&B artist, Charlene Quinn.”
Reaching her hand up and shaking the other woman’s wasn’t as hard as Charlene thought it would be. Once she got over the fact that the other woman seemed to be drinking in the sight of her much like a lion would its next meal.
“Nice to meet you,” Charlene said with a polite smile.
“Likewise,” was Serene’s response before she dropped Charlene’s hand and walked around to the back of her, then to the front again. “Okay, I see what you mean, Akil. We do have our work cut out for us.”
What was she talking about? The calm that Charlene had fought to obtain was quickly slipping.
“Yeah,” Akil said, clearing his throat. “Let’s take our seats, then we can get started.”
Serene sat to one side of Charlene while Jason sat on the other. Akil sat directly across from her. They were in a private dining room so there was no one around them besides the waiters who had come out to fill their water glasses and set up buckets of ice with bottles of champagne sticking out of them.
“Where’s Five and Seth?” Jason asked.
Akil shook his head, picked up a napkin and sat it in his lap. “I told them we’d see them in the morning. We don’t want to overwhelm her tonight.”
“But I wanted Seth to see her and maybe get an idea of her range tonight.” Jason looked as perplexed as Charlene felt.
“Her voice is all right. I don’t think we have to work much in that area.”
Akil looked at her then, his dark eyes piercing as they found hers and held. Charlene wanted to squirm under his scrutiny, felt like slipping right out of that chair and running from that room. What was it about his glare, the intense edge to his looks, that stirred her?
“It’s the other that we need to work on right away.”
His words were like icicles scraping over her skin. “The other?” she asked before she could think of whether or not it was wise.
“Image and presentation, dear,” Serene said, extending a long, diamond-clad hand to pat Charlene’s. “That’s what I do. My job is to plan your career, spearhead promotion and publicity. I create the best image for Playascape’s artists and present them to the world long before the CD even hits the shelves, unlike other record labels that have downsized Artist Development to Product Development, which promotes artists heavily in the beginning of their career then stops abruptly. At Playascape we’re more interested in the long-term planning.”
So she wasn’t his woman. Charlene could breathe a sigh of relief on that one. This little aspect of the business that she’d explained was new to Charlene. While she knew the ins and outs of singing and a little about recording, the workings of the back end of the music industry wasn’t her forte. So Serene was like a publicist and stylist all rolled into one? Charlene had a feeling she wasn’t going to like her.
“We’re doing that now?” Jason asked.
“I think that’s the priority,” Akil responded tightly.
“The priority’s always been the music.”
“You know we work with the complete package at Playascape. And we don’t take any shortcuts.”
Suddenly she could see exactly what Akil meant. The “big picture” was her. Her appearance, to be specific. He didn’t seem worried about her voice because he’d already heard that, no doubt. What he was worried about was her look. Did she look like the singing stars hogging the charts these days? To that the answer was a resounding no.
Glancing down at her gray pencil skirt and white blouse, cinched at the waist with a thick black patent leather belt, she didn’t see Beyoncé’s tightly honed curves and blatant sex appeal. Lifting a hand to her thick hair lying on her shoulders in heavy curls didn’t bring to mind the short, sexy