“Okay, so…what part of the room do you want to work first?” Deborah asked her. “And we haven’t even looked upstairs yet.”
Melanie stood there flabbergasted. She was so happy she had accepted Brian Belgium’s invitation that she didn’t know what to do with herself.
“So are you feeling it yet?” Deborah asked her before she could get out a word.
“Yup,” Melanie answered, cheesing. She was short with her response to remind herself to keep her cool composure.
Just keep your head screwed on straight in here, and you’ll be all right, she warned herself. And you let them do all of the talking.
The silent act was how she allowed the playboy types to tell on themselves. The more a man said without her response, the more his contradictions became apparent. Then she would carefully pick him apart. So, for twenty-three years, Melanie had remained proudly untouched.
“You know what, let’s go upstairs first to see who’s up there before we make up our minds,” Deborah suggested.
Melanie shrugged, as the guys began to notice her.
“Good God, who’s that?” someone yelled out as she followed Deborah up the stairs. “Hey, come back here!”
Deborah looked back at Melanie and grinned.
“It sounds like someone’s already loaded in here.”
When they arrived on the second level of the spacious and dazzling nightclub, Brian Belgium was right there in the thick of the crowd, taking pictures with the other popular Hollywood players.
Deborah continued to grin. “There’s your guy.”
Brian was taking pictures with Martin Lawrence and Ashton Kutcher. And as soon they stepped into view, Brian spotted them.
“Heyyy, Melanie Morgan. Come on over here. Let me introduce you to a few people.”
He made her feel like a star attraction immediately. Everyone turned in her direction to look, including a few icy-cold, white girls and a couple of cute brownies.
Oh my God, why did he do that? Melanie questioned. He was putting a gigantic target on her for everyone else to aim it.
So, that’s his game, she told herself. He’s trying to overwhelm me. But she continued to keep her cool in unwarranted attention.
Deborah, on the other hand, was ready to lose it. She gripped Melanie by the arm and squeezed her like a fresh orange for breakfast.
“Deborah, my arm. You’re hurting me.”
“Oh, my bad,” she responded and let her go.
“Everyone, this is Melanie Morgan from ahh…” Brian snapped his fingers toward her to fill in the missing information.
“Oakland,” she answered.
“Yeah, Oakland, California,” he repeated.
“And this is my rep assistant, Deborah Gilford, from Talent International.”
“Yeah, T.I.A., I know those guys,” Brian commented. Everything he said was extra loud for everyone to hear him.
Deborah looked as nervous as ever, especially when people began to take in her outfit. She didn’t expect to get that much attention. She had worn the outfit to draw attention. But, to be right in the middle of things, made her feel overdone.
Brian then began to tell the crown and camera guys that Melanie was the next big star. “You mark my words. Black skin is gonna be back in, like the seventies.”
Martin Lawrence and Ashton Kutcher both laughed at it.
Martin said, “Watch yourself now, B. I know you may think you’re black, but you might get yourself into trouble making comments like that. So, you let me say it first. The black joke police won’t come after me for it.” he stated.
Then he gave Melanie a glassy-eyed look of his own.
“And I do declare that Melanie is one of the finest African-American princesses I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen a few back home in the Maryland and D.C. area. But you from Oakland, hunh?”
His look went right through her well-prepared clothes.
Oh my God, this is too much! she panicked. MARTIN LAWRENCE is right here in front of me. And he’s talking to ME!
“Yeah, Oakland,” she answered calmly and smiled.
“You ever think of modeling? How tall are you?” Ashton Kutcher asked her next. He stood out in the height department. He was over six feet.
Deborah looked up at him and was ready to hyperventilate. She couldn’t believe Melanie was getting that much attention from Hollywood superstars.
“I’m only five-five without the heels. So, I’ve always thought that I was too short to model.”
Ashton nodded. “Yeah, they can be pretty anal about the height thing. But your complexion is really beautiful,” he told her.
“Thank you.”
Then the cameramen started taking pictures of her.
Brian told her, “Suck it all up and get used to it, sister. This is how the big stars get roles. So make sure you learn how to smile good.”
By the time Melanie had taken a few pictures, Brian’s celebrity crew had moved on to the next conversation. “Heyyy, Conrad! Over here!”
And like that, the two girls fell from the head of the class to the back of the bus again. Nevertheless, the high of the moment was enough to keep them floating on helium for the rest of the party.
“So, what have you done so far?” another white man asked.
Melanie looked at the older man and felt embarrassed by her impending answer. Deborah jumped in to answer the question for her. It was time to get back to the business of pitching her client in the room.
“Oh, well, she’s been getting auditions for a lot of great new roles all over,” she gushed. “And you know how it works; she’s gonna be the new face of everything in a few years. Look how fast it happened for KeKe Palmer.”
The man nodded and pulled out a business card from his black leather wallet.
“Give us a call and send over her resume and head shots.”
Deborah took his card. “Will do.”
“How old are you?” the older man asked Melanie next.
Deborah jumped on that question as well.
“She’s sixteen to twenty-five, or whatever age you need her to be,” she quipped.
The man looked irritated and frowned for a minute. He wanted Melanie to speak up for herself. “What if I need her to be thirty?”
Deborah got stuck on that question. “Are you serious?”
Melanie read him more clearly. Her representation was getting in the way of him flirting with her. She could see it in his roaming eyes. His eyes were all up and down her body.
“We’ll call you,” Melanie promised him and moved on.
They stopped a minute and stood around the edges of the room. Every few minutes or so, Brian would play a game of peek-a-boo to spot where they were.
Okay, he’s watching me now, but I’m not interested, Melanie told herself. All of the Hollywood hype and roaming eyes had not scored her a job yet.
“Let’s go back downstairs now,” she suggested to Deborah.
“Yeah, it’s kind of died down up here,” Deborah admitted.
They began to head back toward the stairs, only to be stopped again by a younger black man. He was not much older than them, dressed in a classy black sport jacket with a white, button-up shirt and blue jeans.
“So, you’re the next up-and-coming girl,” he commented with a drink in hand. “And you’re from Oakland. I just helped turn a girl from the Bay area into a star a few years ago.”
The young man was boastful with a sly delivery that fit his outfit.
I know his type, too, Melanie read quickly. He expects a girl to jump because of who he is, or what he’s done. So let me at least flatter him.
“Oh yeah, who?” she asked excitedly.
“You ever heard of a singer named Keyshia Cole?”
Deborah butted right in. “Oh, yeah, everyone knows Keyshia Cole’s story.”
“Well, I helped to make her story happen. I introduced her camp to a few people when they were first looking for a record deal. I’m Winston Allen,” he fi
nally introduced himself.
“Oh, yeah, the song writer and music producer,” Deborah stated. “You just started a relationship with BET with new television productions, right?”
He nodded and smiled, happy that Deborah had done her homework.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Melanie had never heard of the guy.
“You’re not from Oakland, are you?” she asked to make sure.
“Naw, I’m from out here in L.A. I just traveled a lot.”
“Can you get me on BET?” Melanie challenged him. Since Winston was so full of himself, she was curious to see how much juice he was able to muster with his productions.
“You want an audition?”
Before Deborah could answer for her again, Melanie responded boldly. “I want a role on a show.” She figured she would match his swagger with some gusto of her own.
Deborah looked back at him to read his response.
“Give me a contact for you, and let’s see what we can do.”
“Give me your contact and we’ll send you whatever you need from our offices. I work for Talent International, and we represent her,” Deborah responded. She even stuck her hand out for a handshake.
Winston shook her hand hesitantly. “Okay,” he grumbled, pulling his business card to hand to her. Deborah was right there on top of him to stop his other intentions.
Melanie smiled and thought, She’s blocking everyone. I may have to take her around with me a little more.
When they finally headed back toward the stairs, Brian Belgium called out to her again. “Hey, Melanie, you’re not leaving already, are ya’?”
“No, we’re just going back downstairs.”
“Well, make sure you see me before you leave, all right?”
Melanie looked at Deborah before she answered. But the agency assistant had no response. She was in over her head with Brian. So, the client was forced to answer him on her own.
“Okay.”
As soon as they reached the bottom of the staircase, Melanie asked her, “So, what was that all about? You won’t help me against him, hunh?”
Deborah shrugged. “Well, I am only an assistant. And I would hate to try and mess things up with a guy of his caliber. So yeah, we really need to ask Howard how to deal with him back at the office.”
Howard Stevens was the Talent International Agency CEO.
Melanie nodded and agreed with her. “Okay.”
When they arrived back downstairs, the club area on the first level was five times more lively. The music was louder and everything. They were blasting Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” featuring Jay-Z.
“Wow, this is where the real party is,” Melanie spoke up over the music. “Upstairs is just the celebrity meet-and-greet section.”
“Yeah,” Deborah agreed. The downstairs area was more aggressive, too.
“Hey, I was waiting for you to come back down,” a guy grabbed Melanie’s hand and commented.
She pulled away from him and cracked, “That’s nice.”
“It’d be even nicer if you danced with me.”
“Sorry, but I’m not here to dance.” Only a few people were dancing anyway.
Deborah then spotted some female friends of hers, standing near the bar area.
“Heyyy, there’s my girls,” she shouted, pulling Melanie along in their direction. “Come on, let me introduce you to them.”
They all got to talking and drinking in the club before Melanie found herself getting woozy. She had rarely drunk at events.
Wow, I think I had a little too much, she told herself. Deborah seemed to be taking her drinks just fine.
“You need another one,” a young white guy stepped up and asked her. He was a blond in his late twenties with a sharp, icicle haircut, standing four inches high on top.
Melanie looked and noticed him. “Heyyy, aren’t you from that rock band, Iron Nails?”
“Yeah, you know my music?” he asked her, smiling.
“Not really, but I recognize your face from the posters,” she leveled with him. “You guys had a concert recently on Sunset Boulevard, right?”
“Yeah, a few weeks ago.”
Then Deborah and her girls noticed him.
“Michael Dekker!” one of them shouted at him, obviously inebriated.
“Hey,” he answered. He raised his drink in hand in friendship.
“When’s the next album coming out?”
Michael moved closer to Melanie while he spoke about it.
“Well, we’re kinda working on some ideas right now, but we don’t have like, a solid date or anything yet. We’re like, still enjoying our last album.”
He added, “We’re working on some new soundtrack stuff for Brian right now.”
“Brian is really big right now?” one of the girls commented.
Michael nodded, still standing close to Melanie. And she was too buzzed to move away from him.
“Yeah, he’s the man right now. It’s just his time.”
When the rock star found another moment to speak to her in private, he told Melanie, “You know he’s gonna have an after-party up at his house tonight in the ‘Valley.’ Are you gonna hang out?”
Melanie looked at him and frowned. “Who’s house?”
“Brian’s,” he told her, as if she should have known already.
“Well, I have to go to work tomorrow,” she blurted out. She wasn’t that buzzed. A late, Hollywood house party was out of the question.
The rock star shook his head. “If you get a chance to be in the in-crowd with Brian Belgium right now, you take it. I mean, you’re in the right place if you really wanna make it out in Hollywood. Brian has the golden touch right now. He even gave me a cameo in his next film.”
So what? Melanie found herself blasting in jealousy. Michael Dekker was obviously friends with Brian, so he would benefit from their relationship. But she, on the other hand, could not be so certain of future opportunities with him.
“How do you even know he’s gonna invite me to his house?” she quizzed.
“Oh, he’ll invite you over. I just know.”
Right on cue, Brian descended the stairs with a real-life entourage surrounding him. He looked around the bottom level of the club to spot everyone he wanted to see before he left, including Melanie. And instead of inviting Melanie by herself, he invited everyone in her area near the bar.
“You guys all going with us?” he asked the entire group.
“Hell, yeaaahh!” one of Deborah’s girlfriends shouted.
Deborah made eye contact with Melanie and was not against the invitation. She shrugged and said, “All right.”
But when they all started for the door, Melanie got close enough to Deborah to ask her, “Don’t you have to be back at the office in the morning?”
She didn’t like the vibe she felt to travel in a big group like that. She didn’t have enough control over it.
But Deborah blew her concerns off. “We’ll make it.” And they exited the club toward three awaiting stretch limos outside. “Remember to go with the flow, like in high school, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything,” Deborah reminded in a whisper.
But Melanie had never gone with the flow in high school. So she was a nervous wreck, while trying to figure out how to back out of it.
To make matters worse, Brian grabbed her hand and pulled her into the first limo with his personal crew, while Deborah and her friends were pushed toward the last limo.
“Ahh, I really need to stay with my rep,” Melanie complained. However, the group of insiders were already pushing her toward the limo door to climb in. Her hesitation was only getting in everyone’s way.
“It’s all right. We’re all going to the same place,” Brian assured her with a grin.
She felt like she was in over her head now. The group acceptance was a hindrance to her individual decisions. But before she could count to three, she was there inside of a deep-seated, stretch limo with a bunch of wild, freaky strangers. She didn
’t even recognize any of them. They were all part of Brian Belgium’s inner circle.
“So, are you guys ready to party all night?” someone asked them all. It must have been nearly twenty people all crammed inside the first car, with the other two just as crowded. Then they began to pop champagne and pass around glasses to pour it in.
Oh, no, I’ve already had my drink limit for the night, Melanie warned herself, shaking her head. So when the champagne bottles and glasses reached around to her, she passed them on. Then she noticed a few of the people sniffing lines of white cocaine into their noses.
Oh my God, they’re doing it right out in front of me! she panicked as the limo drove toward Interstate 405. What if we get pulled over by the cops or something?
She couldn’t believe her eyes and senses. She was in the belly of the Hollywood beast. People then started to kiss and make out, as if preparing for a moving orgy.
Melanie dug for her cell phone in her bag. This is crazy! She wanted to text Deborah immediately and let her know what was going on in there. But before she could begin her text message, a stern stare from one of Brian’s crew members stopped her cold. He read the panic in the girl’s face, as he remained sober in the crowd.
He then looked right at her cell phone. “You all right?” He didn’t look the type of man to ask her twice either. He was an enforcer type, who didn’t need to repeat himself. So she had to get what he meant the first time. And she did. The man was Brian’s protector, and Melanie was the only newcomer who looked suspicious. She was also one of the few black faces inside the limo.
She eyed the stern-faced man and backed down from her phone text message with a slow nod. She understood exactly what he was there for.
Oh my GOD, I can’t even call her now! she realized. She was tempted to do it anyway, but then she remembered Deborah’s last words to her: Remember to go with the flow like in high school, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything.
So Melanie forced herself to remain calm. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. And I shouldn’t have drunk anything either, she chastised herself.