Demi swiped a hand down his goatee. It was lined so sharp it could have cut him. He hadn’t expected her to confront him, only to sing.
He approached her, scratching behind his ear in a spot that didn’t itch. He was nervous about her reaction and nervousness was a new friend; they weren’t well acquainted.
“So, who are you?” she asked when they stood face to face. She smelled edible, like she had bathed in vanilla extract. Up close, she was blinding. It wasn’t just her locs that were golden. Her skin, it was 24 karat. It was him who closed his eyes this time, before blinking away to look at the waitress. She was a bit dimmer. He could stare at her straight on just fine.
“I’m just a man that wanna hear a song,” he said.
“My set is over,” she said. “Come back next Saturday and get it for free like everybody else.” She turned away from him and bent down to begin wrapping up the microphone.
“I’m paying for your time now. Seven days is a long time. I might not make it,” he answered.
She stood and turned to him, a bit taken aback.
“Ten thousand dollars?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.
He nodded.
“You do know you could probably get Mariah to sing you the damn song for ten bands, right?”
He felt the smile but didn’t show it. Tongue on the inside of his cheek. He glanced off to the waitress.
“She always this difficult?” he asked.
“Don’t answer that, Shayla!” Charlie said, with a warning finger. Shayla. Yup. He had some assumptions about a Shayla; but a Charlie? The pretty queen with the defensive demeanor, he was stuck on her. He was drawing blanks. “Bringing weird niggas over here for me to sing.” Charlie sighed. “I wouldn’t even feel right taking that amount of money. Thank you for the compliment, but no.”
Word?He thought. He was pleased. Extremely fucking pleased.The good shit ain’t never for sale. You just got to admire it from afar and wish you could have it.
“I respect it.” The average woman would have sung while taking her panties off for that amount.
“You really gon’ make us beg for that ten thousand dollars, Charlie?” her guitarist asked.
“Tim!” she shouted, mouth falling open as the band gave her a hard time.
“I got a thousand for the three of y’all too if I can get that song,” Demi said smoothly. He was applying pressure in the form of Benjamin Franklins.
The band pulled out their instruments and Charlie huffed as she folded her arms across her chest. “Noooo!” she whined.
“Girl, just sing!” Shayla, the waitress said. “Fine-ass man asking you to do what you do every weekend for these cheap-ass niggas in here.” Shayla bent down and picked up the tip bowl, shaking the loose change at the bottom.
Demi took a seat and removed a heavy wad of money from his pocket. He placed it in the center of the table. Charlie grabbed the microphone, rolling her eyes. Oh, but when she opened her mouth…
I am thinking of youuuuuuu
In my sleepless solitude tonight
If it’s wronggg to love youuuuu
Then my heart just won’t let me be right
Demi leaned forward and put his elbows to knees as he lowered his head, rubbing the top of it as his eyes closed with her. He met her there... in the dark.
When he looked up, her fists were bawled at her sides as if she were fighting for this song as she belted the words.
I GIVE MY ALLLLLLLLLL
“Tsss,” he pushed a breath of disbelief off his lips as his body went cold. Goosebumps. This girl gave him goosebumps.
She moved her hand like she was directing her own orchestra, and then she snapped pretty fingers and shook her head. She had no business singing in this club. She was a star.
