“Do you have a particular song in mind?” Davidson asked them.
Reggie glanced Jamal’s way.
“I do.” He set his briefcase on a table and withdrew two printed scores. “This is the song the company wants the applicants to put on the demo.”
She and Davidson silently reviewed the lyrics and score. As they did, Jamal watched them share a look of what appeared to be shock. “What’s wrong?”
“Who wrote this?” Davidson asked.
It was impossible not to hear his accusatory tone. “Maurice Jones.”
“No, he didn’t,” Reggie countered. “This is Kenny’s song.”
Jamal froze.
She went over to the piano and began to tap out the notes.
As they listened, Davidson stared at the score in his hand. “This is almost a clone of the original. I ended up slowing down the tempo and changing some of these lyrics, but this is my song. I swear it is.”
Jamal shook his head. “That’s impossible. Jones has been writing for years.”
Reggie played the song through and got up from the piano. “It doesn’t matter. This is one of the songs Wes Piper left with when he disappeared ten years ago.”
Jamal could see the fire in her eyes. “Can you prove it? Do you have a copyright or anything that might back you up?”
“We were teenagers, Jamal.”
“That mean no?”
Davidson stared at him tight-lipped for a moment then looked away.
“Then let’s get this demo started.”
* * *
It took Gina only six hours to lay down the tracks. Jamal had been in similar sessions that had taken days and more. In the booth, she applied herself in ways he rarely encountered. She sang the soprano part first and followed it with the alto and tenor. Davidson was such a wizard on the soundboard, Jamal wisely stood back and let him work. Because of their shared past, Davidson knew her in and out. He coaxed notes out of her Jamal didn’t even know she had. He handled her gently most of the time, but got on her when it became necessary and she took the criticism well.
At the end, she was exhausted. She had to work the next morning, so Jamal sent her home in the car to get a well-deserved rest while he and Davidson stayed behind to finish mixing the tracks. The stolen song issue silently loomed over them like a dark cloud but they didn’t let it keep them from doing what needed to be done, which was to make a demo for Gina that would blow the judges out of their chairs.
At one point during the long night, they took a break. K.D. swiveled his chair around to Jamal and asked, “How long have you and Reggie been together?”
Jamal had nothing to hide. “Not long.”
“Be good to her. She was the most precious thing in my life, but I didn’t know that until it was too late.”
Their eyes met.
“She’s tough, funny and rare. Treasure that.”
Jamal nodded solemnly and they went back to work.
The demo was done at dawn. Davidson’s skills were all Regina had promised Jamal they would be and he was completely satisfied with the finished product. He shook Davidson’s hand. “Great working with you. We could use a man with your mad skills out in L.A.”
“Thanks, but I’m tied here. I have a wife in school and two daughters.”
“If you change your mind, give me a call. Here’s my card.”
“All I want is credit for that song.” But he took the card.
“I know.”
They assessed each other and came to the conclusion that they liked what they saw.
“Take care of yourself,” Davidson told him. “And remember what I said about Reg.”
“I will.”
Jamal stopped by Reggie’s modest home on his way to the airport. Her grandmother let him in and greeted him with an affectionate hug, which he returned genuinely.
“Is Gina here? Demo’s done.”
“Very good. She’s upstairs. Let me call her.”
Jamal would have preferred to go up and see her privately but knew that wouldn’t be respectful so he waited for her to come down. Upon seeing him, she gave him a warm smile. Her grandmother went back into the kitchen and they walked into the living room. He took her in his arms first thing and gave the kisses he’d been wanting to savor since her departure from the studio. “Demo’s done. I’m on my way to the airport.”
“Right now?” she asked, drawing back to look up into his face.
“Soon as I finish kissing you.” He noted the tiredness in her eyes. “How about I put you on my payroll so you don’t have to work so hard?”
She put a gentle finger against his lips. “You know I’m not going to do that.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he countered. They’d talked yesterday about the details surrounding her trip to L.A. She and her grandmother would fly out on Thursday, the day before the audition, spend the weekend at his guesthouse, and fly back Sunday in time for Gina to report for work Monday morning. Today was Tuesday so they’d be apart only a day.
“I’ll miss you,” she said.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
“Jamal, is there anything you can do about Kenny’s song?”
“No. Even if I was convinced you two were right, and I have to say I’m not, you don’t have any proof.”
She didn’t like that first part. She’d hoped he’d believed her.
“You’re probably going to have to let this go.”
“I can’t. Even though he and I aren’t together anymore, he should get the credit. It’s only right. Will this Jones be there when I audition?”
“Not sure. Why?”
“Because I want to get a look at him, see if it’s really Piper.”
“And if it is?”
She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
“Why am I suddenly scared?” He tried to keep the moment light, but inwardly wondered how far she planned to take this and what impact this might have on their future together.
“Don’t be. I won’t embarrass you. Promise.”
Looking down into the face of the woman he wanted in his life for the rest of his life, he could plainly see her displeasure. In truth, he just wanted this whole stolen song thing to go away. “I’ll call you when I get to L.A. And plan on us making love as soon as I see you.”
“Be safe.”
They shared a parting kiss and he was gone.
Reggie sighed. The logical parts of her knew that Jamal was right. If she and Kenny had no solid proof that the song was his, nothing could be done. But her heart wanted Jamal to have an open mind and to at least consider the possibility that she was telling the truth. That didn’t seem to be the case. And for her that was a problem.
CHAPTER SEVEN
California looked like Detroit. Seated in the backseat of the limo, Reggie peered out the window at the passing landscape. She’d seen a few palm trees on the edge of the airport property, but the gray asphalt streets, telephone poles and the industrial area they were driving past could have been home. She supposed first-time visitors like herself expected California to be Tupac thumping in the background while movie stars paraded up and down the street with the paparazzi in hot pursuit, but the view for now was just plain old ordinary.
“Reminds me of back home,” Gram said while gazing out the window on her side. “Except for the palm trees.”
“And no snow.”
“Weather’s wonderful, though.”
And it was. They’d both been struck by the balmy temperature when they walked outside the terminal after retrieving their luggage from baggage claim. The warm weather was almost surreal after leaving the still-chilly Michigan. A member of Jamal’s staff had been there to meet them, an older man named Patrick Wilton. Dressed in a sharp, navy-blue suit, he’d taken them to a beautiful, black town car. Once they were all settled, he’d gotten in behind the wheel. According to him, Jamal was presently stuck in the studio but would see them later. Reggie was disappointed but shook it off
. Shaking off the idea that the song she was supposed to be singing at the audition was in reality Kenny’s was harder to do.
With Mr. Wilton driving what he estimated would be about an hour’s drive, she and her grandmother helped themselves to the small buffet of sandwiches, pastries and beverages provided and settled in for the ride.
On the highways, Reggie read signs for Inglewood, Culver City and Santa Monica. She saw more palm trees, lots of strips malls and a handful of Walmarts. Soon however, the scenery changed and she was craning her neck to see out of her grandmother’s window as water came into view. A huge, crystal-blue body of water, without a doubt the largest she’d ever seen, revealed itself so spectacularly, both of them were stunned.
“Oh, my goodness,” Crystal whispered with awe.
The driver’s voice came over the speakers. “Ladies, welcome to the real California. That’s the Pacific Ocean on our left and we’re driving the famous Pacific Coast Highway.”
From her seat on the right side of the car, Reggie could see cliffs and strips of beach and wished they were driving south to north instead of the other way around so she could have an unobstructed view. The road wound back and forth like something out of a car commercial. Mountains and scrubby vegetation led down to dangerous cliffs fronting the ocean, where surf crashed against the shore. The view was spectacular. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she said.
“Amazing,” Crystal agreed, eyes glued to the scenery.
Reggie felt as if she’d entered another world. There were no strip malls or hamburger chains or bus stops, just a grand magnificence that seemed ageless and designed to touch the soul.
Patrick’s voice asked, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Reggie responded. “Definitely nothing like this in Detroit.”
The gray cliffs rose and fell, sometimes hiding the water from sight, only to drop low enough a few feet later to put the vista on display once more.
“I could learn to like this,” Crystal said.
And Reggie agreed.
Mr. Wilton added, “Traffic is light this morning, but sometimes there’re so many cars out here, it takes two hours to drive what should be a quick forty-five-minute trip. People come from all over the world to take in this view.”
Reggie could see why.
He continued, “Some mornings, fog rolls in, and you can’t see your hand in front of your face, let alone drive. But then it blows off and the ocean sparkles like God’s jewelry box.”
Crystal said, “How poetic, Mr. Wilton. You made this retired English teacher’s heart skip a beat with that description.”
“You taught English?”
“For thirty-eight years.”
“I’m a Shakespeare buff.”
“Really? Favorite play?”
“Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Poor Bottom.”
“Bottom was an ass.”
They both fell out laughing.
Reggie grinned and shook her head. She got the joke. The character, a man named Bottom, had been turned into an ass by the magical creature Puck. It was an eye-roller of a joke, but Patrick’s wit was a pleasant surprise. Very few men in her grandmother’s circle were as well-read as she.
The two of them launched into a discussion of Othello and Reggie raised her hand. Gram said to the driver, “Hold on a moment, Mr. Wilton, the granddaughter has her hand up.”
Reggie thanked her with a nod. “Before this discussion gets too deep, I have a question, Mr. Wilton.”
She heard his amused voice say, “Shoot.”
“Where exactly are we going?”
“Mr. Reynolds’s residence is in the Santa Monica mountains near Malibu.”
“Malibu? Where all the celebrities live?”
“Yep. Mr. Reynolds is quite a celebrity in his own right, you know.”
Reggie knew that, but Malibu!
Crystal and Mr. Wilton went back to their discussion, but the overwhelmed Reggie stared out the window amazed.
Eventually, their car turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and onto a road with a sign that read, Private. No Trespassing. The road was paved, narrow and snaked up and away from the water. A short while later, another turn put them in front of an open pair of large iron gates that reminded her of the intricate ironwork she’d seen in New Orleans during a family reunion many years ago.
There was a guard station and the uniformed man inside stepped out. Reggie watched the guard wave the car through. Mr. Wilton drove on. She and her grandmother shared another impressed look.
Finally, the house came into view. It was a large sprawling brick beauty with a wide circular drive out front. Jamal’s home had two stories and the entire top floor was glass. Now she was really blown away.
Mr. Wilton drove past the main house and around a bend to a smaller dwelling made of the same brick and glass. Large cacti stood tall in brightly colored pots on each side of the door. The car stopped and Mr. Wilton hurried around to open their doors.
The air was fresh and sweet with the tang of the ocean. Reggie looked around. The silence echoed over the beds of poppies, tall fat cacti and the rest of the gorgeous setting.
Crystal cracked, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”
Reggie grinned. “No, we are not.”
Mr. Wilton appeared amused by their assessment. “This way, ladies. I’ll walk you inside, then come back and get your bags.”
The outside of the guesthouse may have appeared small in comparison to the main dwelling, but its interior was large enough to hold the entire Vaughn house back home and still have room to spare. The high-ceilinged foyer led to an expansive living area. The kitchen with its stainless steel appliances, granite countertops and gleaming tile floors looked like something off HGTV.
After following Mr. Wilton up the stairs to the second floor, they were given a choice of the rooms. It didn’t much matter to them which one they picked. All three rooms were elegantly furnished and had glass walls that offered a breathtaking view of the sky, the hills and the ocean.
Gram turned to Mr. Wilton. “Your boss is going to have to call a SWAT team to get me out of here when it’s time to come home.”
“I’m sure he’d say stay as long as you wish.”
He left to get the bags. They took a moment to explore the bedrooms, adjoining baths and the media room down the hall, and then stepped out onto one of the outdoor balconies connected to each room.
“This is amazing,” Reggie said, looking out at the incredible scenery.
“I’m not kidding. I’m not going back to Michigan.”
Reggie didn’t believe that for a minute. “And never see Mr. Baines again?”
“Who?”
“You are not right.”
They shared a laugh but Reggie understood. It was a beautiful setting. The quiet alone was enough to make a girl not want to leave. There was no silence in an urban big city, not even at night, but out here it had a presence she could almost reach out and touch.
Speaking of touch, she’d dreamed about Jamal again last night. They were making love and she was wearing the strand of pearls he’d given her at the hotel. She’d awakened damp, breathless and filled with need. The wanting had been with her all day and she couldn’t wait to make the dream a reality.
However, he never showed. He did call later that night as she prepared for sleep in one of the magnificent bedrooms.
“Baby, I’m really sorry. I’m hung up here, mixing these tracks. See why I can’t keep a woman?”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I understand. Disappointed we’re not burning up the sheets, but I’m a music person, too. I do understand. Believe me.” She debated bringing up Kenny’s song again but decided not to. No sense in ruining the moment with an argument.
“I don’t, but it’s nice of you to say so.”
“If I was angry, you’d know.”
“Like K.D.’s song?”
“Yes, so let’s talk about something else.”
There was silence as the issue of the song hung unspoken between them. Instead they talked about the flight, chitchatted some more and then he said, “I need to get back. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Where’s the audition being held?”
“Right here.”
“Where’s that?”
“My studio. It’s on the property, so I have no excuse for not showing up.”
She grinned. “Exactly.” Her tone changed as she said to him sincerely, “Even though I’ve been kicking and screaming about all this, and Kenny’s song, thank you for sponsoring me.”
“My pleasure. With the emphasis on the pleasure.”
“Go back to work.” She laughed. Her unsettled mood vanished in response to his teasing.
“Yes, ma’am. Sleep well, baby.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She closed her phone and floated off to sleep, refusing to let her worries keep her from getting a good night’s rest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The entire world seemed to be encased in fog when Reggie awakened the next morning, but by the time she, Gram and Jamal finished breakfast, the sun had broken through. Gram had accepted Mr. Wilton’s invitation to spend the day sightseeing while Reggie was at her audition. After their departure, Reggie looked over at Jamal seated on the other side of the table. His eyes held so much heat she was surprised her clothes hadn’t caught fire. “You shouldn’t be looking at me that way.”
“And what way is that?”
“Like you want to eat me up.”
“What if it’s the truth?”
Flames of arousal licked at her senses. “I’m supposed to be singing in two hours.”
“So? You’re not dressed yet.”
True. She had on shorts and a short-sleeved top. “Stop tempting me.”
He stood and walked over to her chair. He took her hand and wordlessly coaxed her to her feet. Taking her into his arms, he brushed his lips against her neck. “I just want to give you a quick welcome to Malibu.”