Jazzy

I twisted my steering wheel to the right, guiding my car to the curb. My head bobbed in time to the beat of the song streaming from my phone’s speaker. The song was rough, the beat raw and very unpolished, and I loved that the most about it.

As soon as I parked, I picked up my phone to double-check the artist’s name.  

“Okay, Cleu,” I said to myself with a nod. “Not bad.”  

But not profitable either. I could just hear my label execs mumbling that during a pitch meeting with me trying to sell them on this song.

It had potential, and I could hear its potential in every verse, bridge, and chorus, but I knew it wasn’t enough.

Still, I made a mental note to check out more of their music when I had the time, because I knew they had to have it… that thing that didn’t make me skip their demo the moment it started up on my phone’s music playlist.

I moved my eyes away from my device’s screen and peered through my passenger-side window.  

Harmony Brew Café. 

I was here because I was invited to a private music showcase that was being hosted by a friend of mine, Ryder Wallace. He promised he would have some acts tonight that would be perfect for Voltage. And as the label’s Senior A&R, it was my job to scout and sign talent. Sometimes, I’d get a demo I couldn’t stop playing. But often, I found my talent in person at open mics or showcases like the one Ryder was hosting tonight. That was the easy part. The struggle came when I had to convince my label’s execs to sign those talented artists.

God, I hated having to convince.

I stretched my neck high enough to check myself in my rearview mirror, blotted my lips together to renew the color of my red lipstick, fluffed my curls with my fingertips, then pushed open my car door, grabbing my saddlebag on my way out.

My eyes scanned the area the second my feet hit the concrete.  

Rose Hill.  

I’d heard of this place a few times but had never been.

So when Ryder told me he was hosting the showcase in his hometown, I told him I would be there.

Besides my curiosity, Ryder was the go-to guy for hip hop and R&B hits. He had a gift with his pen. That’s why when he told me he had some acts tonight he was sure would blow me away, I didn’t hesitate to accept his invite.

I checked my phone again for the text he sent with the venue’s name, anchored my head back to check the sign overhead, then pointed my bejeweled sandals in that direction to head inside.

It was a beautiful night in Rose Hill. Only a few days into the summer season, and already I was grateful for the warmer weather.

The streets were clean in Rose Hill, the buildings tall like Manhattan but more compact. It was lovely, a nice change from the bustle only a few miles north of here.

The moment I pulled open the front door of the cafe and stepped inside, the scent of coffee greeted me at the door.

The space was cute. Quaint, laid-back. Straight ahead was a tiny stage with a live band setup. Guitar, drums, and of course, a solo mic stand and mic at the center of it all.

“Jazzy!” I heard to my left.

As soon as I focused that way, the first thing I saw were braids and tattoos headed toward me. I smiled, turning to face Ryder as he approached me, arms already outstretched.

I’d known Ryder for seven years. We’d met at an industry party where he talked my ear off about what’s missing in R&B today and how he was hoping to fill the void. He made good on his word too—starring on a hit music competition show, recording a hit album that was the perfect example of just how much of a visionary he was. I trusted his ear, so I knew he would have talent tonight that would justify me leaving Manhattan to sit and listen to.

“Mmm,” I moaned in our embrace. “You smell single.”  

He chuckled, stepping out of our hug. “Then smells can be deceiving.”  

“Very good boyfriend response.” I smirked. “Where’s your bestie girlfriend?”

He gestured with his chin at a table full of people. “Over there with our friends.”  

I followed his line of sight, spotting his girlfriend, Kelli, and her braids and bright smile. “Yeah… I wouldn’t be able to stay friends with her either.”  

He tossed his head back in a laugh.

When word got out that Ryder was finally with his best friend he loved bringing up in conversation throughout the years, I was happy for him. For them both. Though I didn’t know his girlfriend well, I knew Ryder had a lot of love for her, and I could respect that.

“So…” He clapped his hands once. “I got you all set up over there at your own table.” He pointed a few feet in front of us. When I looked where he gestured, I noticed a table of familiar faces and arched a brow.

“Let’s get you seated and comfortable,” he added. “Everything should start in the next ten minutes or so—”  

“Why’d you put me all the way over there?”

He inhaled a deep breath and didn’t let it go until he asked, “All the way over where?”  

I smirked.  

“I’m just… you know.” He chuckled nervously. “I’m just putting you in a place away from the drama.” 

I folded my arms. “What drama?”  

He sighed. “Jazzy.” 

I gestured at the table of familiar faces. “Oh, you mean away from Kai and ‘em?”  

He shoved his hands into his jean’s pockets.  

“Is that the drama you’re referring to?”  

“Look.” He bent his long legs at the knees to be at eye level with me. “Tonight ain’t about all that, aight? I got a few A&Rs in here and everyone has been cool since they got here.”  

“They’re also not infamous rivals with a shitty-ass label. So…”  

“Jazzy—”  

“I think I’m just gonna go over and say ‘hi’ or whatever.” I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m gonna go do that.”  

“Jazzy,” Ryder whispered.  

But I had already decided I was going.

Ryder was like a lot of people who got nervous whenever I was in a room with anyone from Dope Records… especially a particular person who will remain nameless right now.

But a quick scan showed me he wasn’t even here yet.

“Well, well, well,” I said as I approached, gaining the attention of the table. “Look who we have here.”  

Present was Dope Records’ Senior Director of A&R, Kai Avery, his wife Maven, and her good friend and producer, Alexis Hamilton. Maven and Alexis weren’t really associated with Dope Records, but because Maven was married to Kai, Maven and Alexis had worked quite often with Dope Records artists. So we can go right on ahead and consider them a part of Dope Records too.  

The demon label. 

The enemy.

“I didn’t know Senior Directors of A&R attended such functions,” I sassed. “Are you lost, Kai?” 

All he did was release a scoffing laugh.  

I focused on the ladies. “Maven, Alexis, you two look as beautiful as ever.”  

They both giggled. 

“You look beautiful too, girl,” Alexis said, smiling.  

“Mm-hmm,” Maven chimed in. “As always. Love your sandals. Love your style.”  

I smiled, lowering my attention to my sandals then focusing on Maven again. “Aw, thank you, beautiful.”  

I pointed my attention on Kai again. “Did you catch that, Kai? Your wife says she’s in love with me.”  

He barked a laugh, Maven and Alexis joining in on the humor.  

“How does that make you feel, Kai?”  

“Jazzy,” he voiced as he got the last of his humor out. “Don’t start with me tonight. I’m just here to listen to some up-and-coming artists and chill with my wife and our friend. Every other A&R in here came over, simply said hello—”  

“And kissed the ring? Bowed before industry royalty?”  

He shook his head before dropping it back between his shoulders.  

“Girl,” Maven started. “Will you leave my man alone?”  

“Never.” I batted my eyelashes, and that made her and Alexis laugh.  

“But for you, I’ll think about it… but no promises.” I pulled out the chair at their table. “There are no off days in war.”  

And we have been at war for a few years now. Not Kai and I. The guy, who again, shall remain nameless.

The world knew Dope Records and Voltage Records as rivals. The labels were pit against each other because we both predominantly had a roster of artists known for their hip hop and R&B contributions to music. So naturally, when you share the space with a label as big as theirs, comparison is sure to follow. Music fans have been comparing Dope to Voltage so often and for so long, everyone knew us as rivals—although we have never confirmed that on either side.

My beef with the label was really my beef with the guy who… yes, shall still remain nameless.

“You know, Jazzy,” Maven started, tossing her dark, long hair over her shoulder. “I’m obsessed with your tattoos.”  

I peered down at my sleeve of tats that were a combination of flowers and quotes. “Did you hear that too, Kai? Your wife said she’s also obsessed with me.”  

They all burst out laughing.  

“Baby, please stop talking to her and trying to redirect her energy,” Kai said to Maven. “None of it will work. It never does with her.”  

“He’s only here tonight because Wes couldn’t make it,” Alexis informed. “So let this man live, please.”  

With that news, I sighed with relief and relaxed a little more in my seat.  

Wes.  

That was the man with the name that should remain nameless, and I was happy to hear I wouldn’t have to share the air in the room with him tonight. There is a God.  

Wesley Bishop. Dope Records’ Senior A&R and my lifelong arch-nemesis—at least these days. Oh, and unfortunately? My best friend’s big brother.

“So, that’s why I didn’t smell trash when I walked in,” I replied, sitting back in my seat. “Makes sense now.”  

Maven snorted. “I really can’t believe you are still at war with that man and Dope.”  

“In this life and the next,” I told her with a smile. “I’m consistent like that.”  

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Kai spoke next, a bright white smile standing out against his rich, dark skin. “Because that’s the kind of energy I’m looking forward to working with.” 

“I’m sorry?” I blinked hard. “Work with?”  

He smirked. “Mm-hmm.”

I pointed at him but moved my eyes to Maven and Alexis. “Did y’all let this man sniff something before he got here?”  

Alexis laughed.  

“Y’all laced his weed, huh?”  

“Nah, baby,” Kai said. “I’m as sober as a nun with a clarity that’s about to give the people what they want so they can give us what we want.”  

“Aight, everyone,” Ryder said behind me and on the tiny stage in the café. “The acts will be ready to take the stage in the next five minutes. Hang tight.”  

I turned back to Kai. “What the hell are you talking about?”  

“You’ll hear about it real soon.”  

My brows wrinkled. 

“I’m meeting with your execs in a few days,” he informed. “It’s about a new show.”  

“A new show?” I questioned.  

“Yeah, a collaboration between our labels.”  

“Oh, you are definitely high right now.” I hollered a laugh. “Stop playing with me.” 

“Not a play, an offer.” 

“More like a setup.” I squinted my eyes and peered at him through the slits of them. “Are you trying to broker peace on the air? A music industry Hunger Games? Have you gone mad? What is this?”  

“It’s about BSMM.” 

I tilted my head to one side. “What about it?”  

BSMM, The Brooklyn School of Music & Media, was the high school that gave me my start. The only school I’d ever attended as a homeschooled child who had only seen the inside of her parents’ home office from preschool age to eighth grade. It was the only high school I knew I wanted to go to because I knew I wanted to work in music and media one day. It was one of the few places that felt like home to me other than my actual home. I cried like a baby on graduation day… that’s how much I loved that school.  

“It’s shutting down,” Kai announced.  

“What?!” My voice echoed around the space, bouncing off the walls. “You lying.”  

“I’m as real as real can get, Jazzy.”  

My shoulders slumped as I sat back in my seat. “How? Why?”  

“Low funding, low enrollment for the past few years. Low everything, honestly.” Kai sighed. “They’ve been struggling for some time and kept it to themselves. There’s not much interest in people wanting to get into the back end of music and media anymore.” 

“Wow,” I whispered. 

“But I have an idea.” Kai leaned forward in his seat. “I’ll just need your participation in the idea when the opportunity presents itself.”  

“And what’s the opportunity, all-powerful Oz?”  

He smiled, leaning back in his seat again to drape his arm over the back of his wife’s chair. “You’ll see.”  

“Aight, y’all,” Ryder said into the mic on stage. “First, I wanna thank y’all for coming out here tonight to listen to some of the best new talent you’ve heard all year…” 

As Ryder commanded our attention on stage, all my mind could think about was Kai’s bomb.  

BSMM was shutting down. That school couldn’t shut down. It was one of the few—if not the only—music media schools left in Brooklyn. A lot of us label execs went there for high school. Running the school’s record label or managing the school’s radio station. It was home, and hearing this news gave me the damn sads.  

As just an idea, working with Dope sounded like a hell I didn’t want to willingly sign up for, but damn, I was willing to do anything for that school… including share space with the enemy.  

Because Lord knows I’d have more fun ripping my lashes off one by one than to sit in any room with Wesley fucking Bishop. But again… for BSMM? I’d burn my pride. Just a little… maybe.

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Author’s Note: There were a couple of cameos in this episode. Below are the stories these characters originally appeared in. Covers below are linked except for From Friends to Forever…

The City of Rose Hill

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Ryder Wallace

*From Friends to Forever is a Brookelynite Daily serialized story

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Kai & Maven Avery (neé Young)

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Alexis Hamilton