Chapter 67: Drummer Boys Spin More Plates

We have two new minor characters in this chapter...but only one is a fan cameo! See if you can guess which character and which regular commenter she reminds you of!

Bodie, three hours later, upon awakening in his Sacramento hotel room.

"Jaz-min!" I bellow, hopping around, trying to force a second leg in my twisted jeans.

She throws open the double doors to the bedroom, and stares at me, cocking her head while I curse and nearly stumble. She's completely ready, looking gorgeous and professional as always, in shockingly crisp white pants, Loubiton suede sandals, and a flowy beige blouse that is slit from the sholders to the bands at her elbows, allowing her toned, tan arms to peak through.

I stop hopping, sensing her calm composure.

I sit and pull my jeans on. "I take it from your demeanor that we're not late for the bus?" I gesture at the clock. Morning press, if there was any, was over hours ago. We should be having our breakfast on the road by now.

"Oh, we're so late we missed the bus," she says playfully. She tosses a small something, at me and I catch it automatically. "Now you have to play catch-up from here to San Francisco."

The item in question is a key fob with an arrow-like symbol on it. I grin. "We got us a McLaren for the day?"

"Yeah, you don't have one of those," she winks and saunters out. "Hurry up, boy. I'm starvin'."

She saunters through the suite, picking up her LV bag and donning her MK sunglasses. She doesn't really care about the designer stuff—she crafted this style at Marianne del Marco's advice, who told her "when you negotiate with LA players, you have to smell like money if you want them to trust you with theirs."

But I like it. All her designer accoutrement is understated, none of the splashy logos. She's as class act. And there is something incredibly alluring about a polished woman who saves all her secret sin for her lover's bed.

She tilts her sunglasses down. "Are you coming, Rock Star?"

"I'd follow you anywhere," I assure her.

There is nothing in this suite but the clothes she left me to put on, my sunglasses, and the shit that fills my pockets.

We stroll out the front like we famous.

Oh wait. We are.

There are a few people hanging around by the car that I take for regular folks—one is a dad indulging his little kid who is smiling big and pointing at the red machine. I admire the car myself as I open the door for Marley.

A woman in a hoodie and jeans pulls a professional camera from nowhere. With a tough New York accent she yells, "Bodie, did Arabella dump you because you cheated on her with your road manager?"

She shoots as I ignore her. When I don't reply, the woman says to Marley, "Weren't you his sobriety companion just three months ago, Dr. Watkins? Did you get your promotion to tour manager by fucking your way there?"

I walk toward the chic and she backs up, still snapping pictures in my face. "Are you going to assault me, Bodie? Maybe that's why Arabella dumped you?"

I stop in front of her. She's frontin' like she's bold, but I see her hands shaking as she tries to steady the camera. This girl looks barely twenty-one and she is definitely not as brave as she's trying to be. She's either a little crazy or a little desperate. She's brunette and earthy, a little like Kat but darker. Yet something about her reminds me of Ashlynn, when she followed Trace to LA.

"I haven't seen you before," I say calmly, reaching out slowly, lowering the camera so I can look at her face to face. "What's your name?"

"Vicki."

"You been doing this long?"

"Not really. My last gallery opening tanked," she shrugs. "Gotta pay the bills."

"Let me give you a little tip, since you are new. You don't have to be an asshole while you do this job," I say very quietly to her, as I take a picture of her face with my phone.

"You know what, Vicki? Some paps? Some bloggers? We work with them for mutual gain. But now you've meandered onto my shit list on your very first trot around the Soundcrush track. You might try working your way off it at the show tonight. But keep this kind of stuff up, and I'll mention you as problematic to my publicist. And to Matt del Marco, who is a close personal acquaintance of mine, as I'm sure you are aware. You definitely don't want to be on his shit list if you want to make money off the LA scene." Her eyes widen and I turn from her. I shout back at her, gesturing to the father and son. "And watch what language you yell. This is a nice place. There are little kids around."

The dad gives me a terse nod as he pulls his son inside.

I slide behind the wheel and fire up the McLaren. Loudly, but slowly I inch forward.

She follows us as I ease out of the circular drive. "Hey Doc Gorgeous? Can I get a back stage pass for the show!?!?"

She's got sticking power, I'll give her that.

Marley takes her sunglasses off and sits up on her knees. "I'll take your card." Marley leans toward her, giving her a good shot as the girl scrambles in her pocket for her business card. Marley examines it and whips out her own, to exchange with the girl. "I'll check out your blog and you can ask me for favors again later, if you play more nicely."

The girl grins and keeps shooting as I throw an arm onto the back of Marley's seat, and she and I give each other a long gaze. For the camera, of course.

"Did you just recruit your own personal pap to break our relationship to the press positively?" Marley smiles at me.

I grin back. "For us. For Dharma artists, too, maybe. We'll see, won't we?"

When we get out on the open road, I wind out the whip and Marley laughs and scolds at the same time, but she enjoys it. I relish the hell out of it. It's been more than a minute since I felt like I was completely in control of something, even if it's just a hot ride.

On tour, I get managed by a dozen people, including my woman. Even on stage I'm at the mercy of Trace's play list and Leed's whimsical showmanship—always attentive to when I need to lay down a lu-dub to one of his jokes or a build a cymbal splash to accentuate one of his stories.

Not to mention my life on the DL, how I get manipulated by Daemon, Connor, and even Varrick.

After awhile, I bring the ride down to a speed that won't get me arrested and I take Marley's hand. "Thanks for this."

"You're welcome, but I'm still starving," she smiles.

"Wanna stop there?" I motion to the tall sign of chain diner visible at the next exit.

She wrinkles her nose. "No. I want barbecue. Then butter pecan ice cream."

I give her a speculative look. That might be the first time I've ever heard Marley definitely lay out a personal preference for food.

"Barbecue, huh? Then ice cream? You gotta a real craving or something?" I tease.

She gives me her mom look. "Don't start."

"I'm just sayin'...that's kind of weird for you, Jaz..."

She shakes her head. "I'm not pregnant, Bodie.I'm just developing an imperial approach to selecting lunch, thanks to the influence of you rock stars."

I laugh. "Ok, ok. I can see that."

A few moments of silence.

"Are you sure, though? Like, you're not late or anything? You didn't crave barbecue or ice cream with Darius, did you?"

She slaps my pec but her voice is softer as she says, "I'm sure, Bodie."

"Ok."

"It's totally not the right time—"

"I know."

"Do you? Really?"

I rub my stomach and look over at her. She looks...troubled. I wonder if I'm giving her a Daemon vibe.

"Yes, I really do. And not just because of all the crazy thug bullshit. The truth is...I like the idea of a baby with you, but I think it might be my guilt driving that. Like...I want to make up for last time. And I want things to be less complicated. I want it to be like...all we have to worry about is our family. But it ain't like that and trying to pretend like it's like that ain't gonna make it so."

"No, it's not," she agrees. "Plus, you know...I kind of like the way you and I are right now..."

"You mean the way we front like horny teenagers but also parents whose only kid has now learned to leave us the hell alone when we are in bed?"

"Yeah."

"I like that, too. I just get this weird baby thing in my head sometimes. The truth is want a lot more time with you and Darius. I don't want to share you with a baby yet, and I don't want him to feel...pushed to the side, you know?"

She beams at me. "That's my worry, too. He's never been the center of a family before. I don't want him to lose that too soon."

I take her hand. "Don't worry. Soon enough he'll be the one pushing us to the side. The kid is practically grown, in his mind."

"Yes, but being intellectually mature is not the same thing as being emotionally mature," her mouth pulls down but then she lightens. "Take you rock stars for example."

"Ha-ha." I rub over her thumb, wondering if I should prepare her. "You know though, sometimes kids take big leaps all at once..."

She frowns again. "Did he...say something to you..about tonight?"

"Yeah...but it's not what you think, if you think he and Gwen are going to mess around." I shrug, "Well, they may mess around a little, but I don't think it will go very far..."

"Then what is this big leap you are talking about?"

I smile at her. Darius is opening for our opener. Three songs. One of them he wrote for Gwen. But he wants to keep it a surprise for him mom, too. "It's a surprise. For Gwen. But I think you'll like it too."

"Moms don't like surprises when it comes to their kids."

"You'll like this one," I promise.

"Hmmmphhh," she sulks.

"Get on that phone and find us a barbecue place, Doc Gorgeous. Now you got me cravin' some pulled pork..."

————

San Francisco is the last originally scheduled show of our tour—although Matt and Trace and the promoters have already added three weeks of dates, hopping us back across the country. Still, Skid Marcs had planned a big tour wrap party and and many of their LA connections have had the San Francisco trip on their schedule for months, so the party, like the show, must go on.

When we get to the venue—an outdoor stadium— I see many of our VIP guests are already milling around backstage. All the Skid Marc's wives. All of Strut. Riley. Dev and Bridge. Even Mac's rap collaberator and Dev's associate-if-not friend, D-Thrills. Mason Moran, the new head or A&R Alt rock at Colossal, and a bunch of his counterparts—A&R guys in pop, R&B, and rap. Even the new president of Colossal—Angelo Moran—has come out to see us.

He's got a drink in hand, which I guess is the official opening to the almost-end-of-tour-party. When the President of your label pregames, you know it's all good.

My old pal Ariadne is here and I'm happier than ever to see her. "Addy-Rod-Nay!" I yell, tossing a cheerful arm around her as Marley hurries away to huddle with Boss Hawkins and the party coordinator.

"Clayton," she responds with an evil sneer. I guess she thinks if I reinforce a nickname she doesn't like, she can call me by my real name that I don't like.

"Nuh-uh-uh," I waggle my finger and tap her lips. "You know you gotta call me Bodie, just like everybody else, girl. In fact, only nicknames between you and me, Addy."

She shakes her head at me. She pretends to hate Leed for the drunken pronunciation of her exotic name that has now stuck as her nickname, but secretly she loves it. Okay, she hates it, but I think she's flattered to have acquired a nickname. Makes her feel officially a part of SCIC.

"How's your summer with Strut going?" I ask.

"It's been an education. I've learned how radio stations and tv studios work, seen the inner workings of really loud clubs, learned all the popular high end brands that get celebrities photographed and also how to eject fanboys from suites when they fail to...meet expectations. Also I learned how to post bail in your American justice system, " she grins.

"Sounds about right for a press tour with Row and her homies," I laugh. My attention, however, is focused on the red-head that Ariadne has brought with. A planned introduction. At least on my part and Ariadne's. I'm not quite sure what's she's told this girl.

I elbow Ariadne. "Don't be rude. Introduce me, Addy-Rod-Nay."

She rolls her eyes. "Bodie, this Evangeline Kouris, my cousin."

"Your cousin you've been keeping under wraps," I wink, reaching out my hand, "I've seen your Youtube channel, Evangeline. You're a talented singer and songwriter. I'm very impressed."

"Thank you," Evangeline blushes, but she shakes her head in an acknowledging way—her unforgettable flaming mane shimmering around her shoulders-as she reaches fluidly to shake my hand.

Damn, she's got it. That allure that draws people in. Just like Darius. Just like Bells. Well not exactly like Bells. Bells is over the top. You can't help but notice her. Evangeline's allure is more subtle and mysterious. But the real test is her stage presence. That's what separates a Youtuber in a highly controlled environment from a top level performer.

"You haven't tried out for any talent shows?" I ask, casually. I'm wondering if I'm actually the first industry type to get a line on this artist.

She shakes her head. "I've been too busy...with my studies, you know."

"But you just graduated?" I already know the answer, of course.

"Yes."

"Plans?"

"I studied music," she shrugs with a smiles. "I have dreams of following my passion, just like any other musician."

I smile back, broadly, gesturing to the piano already on stage."What if I told you I could be your fairy godmother?"

She looks at Ariadne then me. "What? Now? I thought there would be a...more formal...audition?"

"Evangeline, there is nothing formal about being a recording artist, but you're right, this is an audition," I wink at her, leading her over to the piano. "Andy!" I shout as I make my way off stage and head out to the pit.

"Yah boss?" he calls from the sound board on a slightly elevated platform halfway back in the arena. "Let's get her balanced. Evangeline—play that one with 20,000 likes on your Youtube Channel, please."

As Evangeline begins to sing, I see Mason Moran swing around and look at me, then at the girl. He and his buddies wander out to where I stand.

"Dibs," I tell them.

They laugh. I laugh.

Of course I know there is no dibs in business. Evangeline being here at the same time they are is quite intentional on my part. Hell, I want them to court her for a contract. I need to her to see, she's got the chops, because I'm not quite sure she believes it yet.

She's exceptional. A maturity in her voice beyond her years. Soulful and smart lyrics.

If Arabella is my Miley to get my label started, Evangeline is going to help me walk the airwaves back to women in alt rock. She's like a bridge...my Sara Barielles. Eventually I'll find my tortured artist—my Tori Amos—but Evangeline is going to be my lovely harvest moon—the mysterious auburn contrast to Arabella's give-you-a-third-degree-sunburn-starlight.

By the time she's finished her original song, pretty much everyone in the backstage has made it out front, where the sound is best. Three-quarters of Skid Marcs, plus most of their touring extra's—all their female back up singers and their saxophone player— is watching, and all of Soundcrush and Strut. Darius and Gwennie. Most of the crew, except for the ones busting ass to finish the set.

I know I'm not wrong about the girl when Angelo Moran and Matt del Marco wander out and come to stand by me.

Angelo takes a sip of his drink and side-eyes me. "You aren't fucking around about your vanity label, are you? Honestly, Jamison, I thought it was just some bullshit to devil Colossal over the way we've handled your personal conduct clause..."

"It's not about that. It's never been about me. It started because of the way Arabella's contract was handled."

"That was not me," he assures me.

"You inherit the reigns, you inherit the responsibility," I tell him.

He says nothing, but drinks.

Evangeline finishes the song and everyone claps.

"Hey, Evangeline, that was incredible!" I yell as I clap hard and whoop.

She smiles demurely, adjusting a little on the bench. "Shall I do another?"

"Yeah, but I want you to try something with a little more soul. Show me your diversity. And come out front. At the mic."

She looks reluctant to leave the comfort of her piano bench. "A capella? I'd rather..."

"Mac! Help a girl out?" I yell, swinging around.

Mac has situated herself in a spare chair at the back of the sound tent, and is nursing Lennon. She looks around for Skid Marcs' touring keyboardist—who is absent— then shrugs at me helplessly, "Let Darius," she suggests.

"Yeah, no problem! I can play for her," Darius shouts, eager to show off his skills in front both Gwen and all these industry types.

Shit. Well, this isn't how I wanted this to play out. I want more time to teach him about this business before he gets thrust in the spotlight. But the way Darius is looking at me? All eager and hopeful?

Goddamn. The kid's never gonna have less pressure and more opportunity to show his artistry than this. And he and Evangeline? They could do a real number up there together.

"Yeah, okay," I tell him. I walk with him to the stage and introduce him to Evangeline.

"This kid?" I slap him on the shoulders. "He's in my Dharma stable, too, if he doesn't go another way," I look at him and he looks at me and I realize...he already knew that, but he's just been waiting for me to tell him so. "But I just want to give his voice a little time to solidify into its full range," I say, more for him than her. Then I pull up a YouTube video and show them about ten seconds of the song I want them to perform.

Evangeline nods confidently. "I can do that. Can you?" she smiles at Darius.

His eyes go big. "Sure, I can play it, but..." he looks at me then out at the A&R guys, "You want us to do it like that? A...duet?"

"Yep. Except...you do you...not him. You're just as good, but edgier. Don't imitate. Sing it like Darius Jaymes, not John Legend, okay?"

"Darius Jaymes?" he says.

"Yeah, I think maybe you should go with that." I turn toward my new Gem. "You, my dear, need only one name. Evangeline." I trace my hand across the sky, as if her name were already on a marquee and she laughs a little nervously, but she stares at the space my hand vacated, like she's picturing it perfectly.

"Ok," she says. "You ready, Darius?"

Marley is sidestage, on the phone. I walk over, grab her hand and pull her around, so that she sees Darius at the piano. "You are going to want to see this," I tell her, leading her down the stairs. Trace is passing me with a wink.

"What we got?" he says to Darius, leaning down to look at the lyrics pulled up on his phone. "Cool. Tig?" he yells sidestage. "My Gibson?"

A mic'ed acoustic appears as Trace sits down unobtrusively at the back of the stage on my drum platform and starts to slap a rhythm on his guitar body. Darius nods in time and then plays an easy accompaniment as Trace improves a little backing sound.

Evangeline, maybe not used to singing with anyone but her own accompaniment, lets them play a few measures. "On two," Trace encourages her. " One, two, one—"

Velvet attitude pours from her throat. She's so damn good. I get so lost in her sultry vibe that Darius' verse takes me by surprise.

He's a little bit Legend and little bit Chris Brown. (Say what you want about the man but he got mad pipes.)

It's hard for me to see everything I want to see at once. Evangeline, Darius, the Colossal guys reactions and most of all, Marley. She's seeing him with new eyes...eyes sharpened by her new job. Her face keeps shifting between motherly pride, Doc Gorgeous acumen, and something a little like dread.

She looks over at me all unguarded in awe and love and pride, but I squeeze her shoulder. "Your son is an artist, in case you didn't know," I murmur in her ear, reminding her that we are among more than family. She's the one that's going to have to field off these Colossal guys.

She turns her gaze back to Darius, but she nods understanding.

When they finish, Gwen jumps up, cheering and yelling and clapping. She runs over to Adam with long hair flying and jumps on his back, wrapping around him, still clapping. "Did you see that? My boyfriend is a star!"

"Woo-hooooooo, Darius!" She screams, right in Adam's ear. He winces and grabs her hands, forcing them into slower claps. "Dare-eeee-ussss, Dare-eeee-ussss, Dare-eeee-ussss!" She yells along to Adam's forced claps.

On stage, Evangeline is graciously pulling Darius up from the bench and clapping for him. He bows at her and claps. And they give each other a one-handed hug as Trace fades off the stage.

Wow, both these kids have such easy grace. They belong in the spotlight.

Adam looks over at me. He's only pretending to look grim. His eyes are shining with...potential.

"I want to produce, he mouths to me.

Which one? I mouth back.

Both.

I shake my head. "Naw," I shout across at him. "You gotta come through on that other album first."

"Working on it," he winks at me. "I swear. Sent her six songs."

Moran walks over to Riley and I watch carefully as SCIC quietly congratulates Marley and me on Darius' "audition."

Finally Riley and Moran walk over. Moran's pale sexy vampire countenance revealing nothing. "Riley says he's not involved in your Dharma label."

"Nope. He hates Avery Thompson."

"Who doesn't?" Moran rolls his eyes.

"Me, I guess. He's my business partner."

"Forget Thompson for a minute. Who's the kid?"

"His name is Darius. He's thinking about Darius Jaymes as a stage name." Marley gives me a sharp look but then a sly smile.

"Where did you find him? He's not on my radar."

"He's homegrown, Prez," I grin. "Atlanta born and raised."

"Alright. Obviously you are good at recognizing talent. And obviously, you've bounced back from your bender in Thailand," he gestures at my bulky phsique. "Here's the deal. You fulfill all your obligations to Soundcrush to the rest of the band's satisfaction, I'm gonna clear your slate on the personal conduct issue and overlook this Dharma distraction of yours."

"That's...not the position I thought you were gonna take on that," I say, mildly surprised.

"My own son's been to rehab twice. Once in high school, then after his divorce," he gestures at Mason. "He's back on track, just like you. As far as the Dharma thing goes...everybody needs a hobby," he shrugs. "Mine is sky-diving. Maybe yours is a vanity label."

I laugh at Moran. Of course his hobby is sky-diving. Vampires can't fucking die, even if their shoot doesn't open.

"So that's it? We're good, me and you?"

"Not quite. There's the matter of the lawsuit against Ms. Burns for breach of contract? You want her, you have to buy her contract from us."

I groan. "How much?"

"One-point-five."

"One, but this is not a verbal contract until I talk to Arabella, because she's gonna pay half or you can sue her and I'll move forward with Evangeline."

He smiles at my new ruby red gem. "You will do well with that one. I'm glad you found her. God knows you'll need a back up plan if Arabella is your front-runner."

"Bells is a work in progress but she's gonna get it together."

"Hmmmm..." Moran shrugs. He puts out his hand. "Very well. Talk to Arabella. Let me know if I can expect a buy-out offer."

I shake his hand. "Will do."

He doesn't release. "One more thing...I want the kid."

I laugh. "Darius? He's not ready."

"No, but my R&B team can get him ready. Vocal training. Dance lessons. I can put him with the best songwriters and producers. I'm willing to develop him...invest a lot of money in him. I'm that certain of the return. You can't compete with an offer I could make him."

I shrug. "Not now, no. But in two, three years...when he actually is ready? Maybe Dharma will have the same resources."

Moran gives me a pissed off grin. He looks over at Matt, who raises his eyebrows and walk over.

"Can you believe this kid, Matt? I'm bendin' over backwards not to fire his ass for a year now and he's playin' hardball with me over undeveloped talent?"

Matt laughs. "This one? He makes Trace look like a kitten. His balls are made of titanium. But if you're talking about signing the kid up there, you're missing a key piece of information, Angelo."

"Ah," Angelo nods dismissively. He looks to Riley. "Are you representing him? Who do I have to talk to, here?"

"Me," Marley says coolly. "I don't think we've met yet, Mr. Moran," She puts out her hand. "Marley Watkins."

He gives her the vampire smile as he gives her a swift sweep. "Also known as Doc Gorgeous. Your reputation already proceeds and your colorful moniker suits perfectly. So Riley's letting you manage Darius personally?"

She returns his smile. "Darius is my son."

Something has finally surprised Moran. He blinks and laughs. "I...wasn't aware. I am, however, aware that Bodie and you are recently involved...is that tenuous arrangement still...current?"

"It's not recent and it's not tenuous," I say, putting my hands on Marley's shoulders. "It's real. We bought a house together in Atlanta."

Moran looks between Marley and me. He knows when he is shit out of luck but the guy doesn't give up. Ever. That's why he's the best.

"Hmmmm," he grimaces. "Well, think about this, Dr. Watkins. You've already mixed business and pleasure. Perhaps it would best to keep some degree of separation where your son is concerned. My interest in Darius is real," he gestures quickly at his A&R guys, and one separates from the herd, and joins us. A seriously good looking black dude with diamond earrings. He holds out a hand to Marley, giving her his best charm. "I'm Donovan. A&R, R&B. I'd love to talk more with you about how we could work with Darius."

Marley shakes his hand. "I'm happy to hear all you have to say, but my son is thirteen and he's not ready to be thrust into celebrity limelight."

Donavon looks at Moran. Moran looks at the stage. "I might be persuaded to entertain a slow development for the long term. Darius," he calls. "Can you play something else? Just you?"

Evangeline looks a little uncertain. "It's okay, girl," I wink at her. "I don't need to hear anymore right now. Get your self a victory drink and I'll join you in a minute. I'm more convinced than ever that you and I need to have a serious talk about your future with my label."

She beams and smiles. Adam winks at me and slides towards her. "I got it, boss." he says. And just like that, Adam becomes Dharma's unofficial A&R guy. Evangeline seems like the innocent type. She'll be eating out of his hand by the time I make my way to them, I'm sure.

"Darius, can we hear something else please?" Moran pushes. Wow, he really wants to see what Darius can do. "Something more upbeat?"

Darius looks at Moran, then me. I nod. "Go ahead."

"Wel..." he says. "I have this song that I wrote, but I'm saving it...for something special."

Moran laughs. "Playing for record executives is not special enough?"

"No sir, not for the song I have in mind. It's for my girlfriend and it's for the show tonight. Soundcrush is going to let me open, before the opener..."

Gwen puts her hands over her mouth, covering her squeal.

"Way to ruin the surprise, D," I sigh as Marley slaps me on the pec.

"Well then, play something for me, Darius!" A very familiar voice calls from the side of the arena. A half naked Arabella struts toward us as she sticks her tongue out at Darius on the stage.

"Hey you," she says to me, her eyes scrunched in concern as she hugs me like Marley isn't right there.

"What are you doing here?" I say, automatically disentangling myself.

She doesn't answer. Marley gives her air kisses.

Arabella kisses back. "Nice shoes," she says to Marley.

Arabella rubs my arm. I eye Marley, waiting for her to take Bells hand off, but instead I swear I think I see her nod encouragingly at Bells.

I blink, wondering if I took some drugs I can't remember.

"I need to talk to you," Bells says to me.

"Uhhhh...in the middle of something, here, Bells..."

"No, go. Speak with Arabella. That way we can get Colossal's business with her settled. I'll just stay and listen to the kid."

"Naw—"

"It's okay, Bodie, if you need a word with your artist," Marley smiles at me. I frown at her.

What the hell is going on with her? The last thing she ever wants is for Arabella to get me somewhere private.

Moran is already talking to Darius like he's under contract. "Darius—" he yells. "I believe you owe Miss Burns a song?"

"Sure, Mr. Moran. Now that you mention, I've been messing around with a cover for my YouTube Channel. It's perfect to dedicate to Arabella."

Darius glares at Arabella who is tugging me by the hand. I resist, drawing my hand a little violently from hers. Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about what song Darius might be planning to dedicate to Arabella.

He settles at Mac's keyboards. He fiddles with the programming to produce a synthesized drum sound and records a few measures on her loop station. He switches to a synthesized bass and records that as well, merging them together. Finally he adds some whimsical keys over it and leaves it playing. The last loop he has to fiddle with, shaking his head as he tries out sounds, and discards them.

"Nope, sorry, hold on," he says calmly, trying out a few more sounds. "Yeaaaaahhhh," he says, finally finding what he wants, a tinkly glass sound. He adds the loop and it all comes together.

"Goddamn, he's like a young black Ed Sheeran," the R&B guys breathes, giving Moran an huge smile, who remains expressionless.

"Naw that ain't his vibe. He's gonna be hotter than Ed," I scoff. He's my son, after all.

Just like he's illustrating my point, Darius struts towards Leed's mic and grabs it, pacing restlessy like a rapper.

"Hey Andy, maybe drop some autotune on me? Not that I need it, but just 'cause it sounds good on this one," he says. Andy laughs and says, "You got it, boss..."

He stops midstage, holds his hands open toward Gwen. "Yo G, I got a real special song for you later, but Imma play this one for Bells because Mr. Moran asked me to. This one I would never play for you, but it's just the track for her. I think Bodie would agree."

I cross my hands and give him the wave-off. "Don't throw your shade and says it's mine."

"Why not? I'm standing in your shadow, right?' he grins and makes a chirping beat in the mic, then begins to sing.

Roxanne

Roxanne

All she wanna do is party all night

Goddamn, Roxanne

Never gonna love me but it's alright

She think I'm an asshole

She think I'm a player

She keep running back though

Only 'cause I pay up

Arabella flips him off with a high-thrust hand. Row, who is a known Arabella hater, hollers and drags Gwen on stage with her. They become Darius' back up dancers. I think Adam is going to have a stroke when Gwen starts to slither herself all over Darius as he grins and busts down his track cool as fuck, with a casual hand on her hip as he gives her a lusty look.

Roxanne

Roxanne

All she wanna do is party all night

Met her at a party in the Hills, yeah

She just wanna do it for the thrill, yeah

Shorty drive a poodle with no top

But if I throw this money she gon' drop, aye

She don't wait in lines if it's too long

She don't drive the whip unless the roof off

Only want to call when the cash out

Only take the pic when her ass out

At the "ass out" line, Row turns around and bends at the waist, hiking her short shorts, showing her ass cheeks.

Matt and Riley groan simultaneously and then glare at each other.

Darius makes an exaggerated show of leaning over Row and pretending to look at her butt, then making a shocked face. Gwen grabs his chin, turning his face toward her and backing him away from Row as he continues to sing. He dances casually with Gwen, gesturing at Row as if she's Roxanne in the song, giving her eye rolls and sneers as he snuggles up to Gwen, getting incrementally closer as they dance. Everyone is cheering at their antics, and Darius has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm a liar.

He's ready to own a stage. I'm just not ready to let him. I catch Matt's eye and he reinforces my sentiment.

Too soon, man, he mouths to me. Too much, too soon, he repeats.

I nod. I lean forward to Marley. "You should talk to Donovan. But don't agree to anything beyond maybe some voice and dance lessons, okay? And only if they are a good faith comp. Absolutely no recording contract yet. Not because of Dharma, just because...he needs a little time ...and we need to talk about this..."

"Of course," she mumbles. "I'll hear Donovan out. You have other business. Evangeline. Arabella."

"I swear I don't know what Arabella is doing here."

"I know," Marley says cryptically. "Maybe chat with Evangeline now? She doesn't deserve to be overshadowed, she's great."

"Yeah, I'll make her a verbal offer and introduce her to Bells. They are the Yin and Yang of Dharma, now."

She turns to me with a brilliant smile. "That's a perfect marketing strategy for them."

"I know," I scoff. "Your man ain't stupid, you know."

She kisses me quickly and then claps and cheers as Darius finishes his cover. He blows Arabella a kiss. To my surprise she isn't furious at Darius for the unflattering song. She blows a kiss back then turns, slapping her own ass. He shrugs at Bells and collars Gwen, giving her a quick peck and a genuine look of adoration.

"Hey now!" Adam yells.

Gwen glares at him and hugs Darius back fiercely. He rocks her, but his eyes focus on Moran.

Moran gives him a nod and lifts his voice. "I'd put you in talent development today, but you're a minor. It's up to your mother."

Darius' vision snaps to Marley. She holds up her hands. "We'll talk about it. There's a lot to explore and think about there."

Darius looks to me. I give him a calm encouraging nod and he seems satisfied. He looks at Moran.

"Thank you, Mr. Moran. It's an honor to perform for you, anyway."

Moran nods. "The pleasure is all mine, Darius. Don't worry. You'll get there. I just hope it's on my label and not Dharma," he grins.

I somehow find myself being led away by Arabella again, with Marley giving me a wink as she ushers Donovan toward the backstage drinks.

This is the weirdest day I have had in a long time. But at least it seems like I'm moving some shit forward.

Finally.

Such a busy chapter! So many things happening. And you know how I love the performance chapters! I was so happy to give Darius a little stage time with the incomparable Evangeline, who I bet will be a much bigger star than Arabella.  Right, Val? Wink!

Oh, everybody knows that  Tik Tok song featured in this chapter right?