Page 92 of Just Like Summer

“And his ghostwriter. Anyway, how are you? How’s the family?”

“Everybody is good. You got a spot open for an interview with us after you lock down the youngest black female A&R?”

“You know there’s always a spot open for y’all. El Jefe has that main sponsorship for the gala?” she countered.

“Sign and sealed. Can I get a vinyl of AyeZee?”

“I can work on it. I’ll figure out the track list and send it over to Ro for pressing. Even though I think he’s going to be the one to outbid everyone.”

“Oh, for sure. You know he got deep reverence for the greats,” Indigo said with a chuckle, looking over at Cairo who was locked in. “That’s C4?”

“That would be the one and only,” Kamilla spoke coyly.

“That steal the moon shit is genius. I’m not telling you what to do, but if I were a record label looking a solid producer, that’s the nigga, on hood.”

“On Azul,” Kamilla replied.

Indigo gave her a half-knowing smirk before standing. “You’re going to his afterparty, right?”

“I’ll be there. Tell Taj I said hi.”

Every artist Cairo locked into, she sent CiCi a list. So far, there were three possibles. She would talk to all three tonight at the afterparty and watch how they behaved when they assumed they had traction. El Jefe didn’t need another RowdyRedd, that was fact.

thirty-eight

Watching Kamilla behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses became an infuriating pastime. In the small break between Sound Stage on day one, and maneuvering through this afterparty, he researched who she was now. Newly appointed Assistant A&R of El Jefe records. An impressive resume of working side-by-side with Haddon. No personal imprint on social media, only work. Images of business trips, an established relationship with the Gallalucci brothers, their industry associates, and other business people. Five years and she’d worked her ass off. No wonder she didn’t want what was strained between them on front street.

He could respect that but tomorrow wasn’t coming in without a conversation between them. No way he could be this close to her; smelling her, seeing the little ass she’d gained in the last five years switch around this VIP section without one.

That sandy brown skin glistened underneath the tent light. Whatever moisturizer she’d used and that backless crocheted ombre tangerine dress was putting him in a trance. Even though she was beautiful in a t-shirt with wild hair, that fucking dress was maddening.

The artist he spotted earlier, East Way P, was under the same trance she had him under. The possessiveness in his spirit wouldn’t allow him to stay put. Nor would the tiny glimmer on the hand she hid from him earlier. She was two glasses of champagne in. Even with the bubbly, he knew she wouldn’t drop her professional demeanor.

Grabbing a champagne flute from the passing waitress, he floated into her space. Kamilla sensed him before she saw him. Her shoulders hiked and her head tilted.

“For you,” he coolly spoke.

Politely, she took the flute and offered the same manufactured smile from earlier. “East, this is C4. Grammy-nominated producer who did Ekho’s last album.”

Cairo slightly cringed at the introduction but allowed her that one. He extended his hand. “What’s up, East? Your set was dope.”

“I appreciate it,” East Way replied, accepting the handshake. “Kamilla, was telling me that producer matches happen in places like this for the hype competition on Sunday.”

“I’ve been hearing the same thing. Your sound is dope. Where you from?” Cairo asked, forcing himself to be more sociable than he liked but there was a task at hand.

“Port East. Sixth ward Azul,” East shared. “Crazy I’m here, for real. I just got out a couple months ago. My loc put me on to this. He still in prison out there.”

“I see,” Cairo stated, noting how with every exchange Kamilla floated further and further away. “Any other producers trying to get at you?”

East swayed his head. “Not yet. You trying to do that steal the moon magical shit?”

Cairo chuckled. “Listen, I’ve been out a week and I’m trying to catch my wind.”

“Azul to Azul, let’s make that shit happen,” East spoke.

“Aight, tell you what, enjoy this afterparty. Peep the scene, after sound stage tomorrow, get up with me. I got my equipment here.”

“On Azul? No bullshit?” East tried to hide his excitement. “Nigga, do you know who you are?”