Commitment (74 page)

She listened as Shawn critiqued some of the shots and changed a few, cutting out a couple “booty shots” as he called them, which
Riley
suspected
was
done partly for her
benefit.
A couple
hours into
the
session,
they
ordered out for Chinese food
and took a break to await its arrival
.
Shawn pushed his chair back from the table and pulled her away from everyone else to a far corner of the room where they sat by themselves on a table.

“I
didn’t know
,”
she
admitted. “How much painstaking detail went into this stuff
.
”

“It’s not work if you’re having a good time,” he said.

“A
nd you’re having a good time.”

It wasn’t a question.
He was obviously in his element here, completely in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah but you don’t have to stay for the wh
ole thing if you don’t want to.
T
hese things can go on
forever
.”

“I want to see everything.
I wish I could be here for the shoot,
to
see how it all comes together.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Work on Monday.”

“Yeah, but you’re in L.A.
There’s got to be a good story around here somewhere, just waiting to be written.”

Riley
chewed on her low
er lip thoughtfully.
“Maybe
.”

“I want you to stay,”
Shawn said.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second and
Riley
felt
a
longing twist in the pit of
her
stomach.
He brushed a finger lightly against her nose-ring; a gesture which between them was almost as
intimate
as a kiss. When they first met, apart from their handshake, that was how he’d first touched her.

Almost against her will, her anger wa
s receding
the more time they spent together
.
Holding onto it now seemed to consume more o
f her energy than it was worth, but they had never talked about the underlying problems. It would be foolish to pretend everything was resolved just by time apart. They
’d
missed each other, that was all; but it didn’t fix anything.

“Shawn.”

They both looked up.
It was
one of the
t
wo narrative
directors
—
a young woman named Dana
.
She
had
a
bushy ‘fro held
back
in a headb
and and wore a
N
ehru jacket
with
faded jeans.
She wore no make-up,
but
the
one
clue that she wasn’t entirely
unconcerned
with her appearance
was
her perfectly tweezed eyebrows.
They were arched so high
they
gave her an air of
semi-astonishment
.

“Abo
ut the shot of you onstage,
” she paused, looking at
Riley
.
“I hope you don’t mind
.”
But there was an edge to her voice that signaled that she didn’t actu
ally care whether Riley minded.
“
I know you want the stage to look
slick but
. . .”

“Can we talk about this in a few?” Shawn said
.
“After we eat?”

Dana
pursed her lips.
“Sure, but . . .”

“I
understand,” Shawn
said pleasantly.
“A
fter we eat, okay?
I can’t think straight when I’m this hungry.
”

Dana
gave up and walked away and
Riley
looked at Shawn
, her
eyes silently questioning.

“Long story,” he said.

“Tell me,”
Riley
said firmly.

“This was
long
before I even met you.”

“And I’m guessing it didn’t end too well.”

“It was just a one-
night thing
.”

“Your specialty,” Riley said before she could stop herself.

“
Riley
.”

She looked away, trying to rein in the green-eyed monster that had awakened.
The
streets
were
practically
littered with
his conquests
.
Nadine had
worked wit
h
him
for three years
, she said
.
Was
she
one of them too
? Was she even his type?
Come to think of it, what
was
his type?
No one could be as unlike her as that dancer, Keisha.
And they were both unlike Dana.

“Hey,
”
Shawn
held
her chin
and turned her so she was looking at him.
“
You still
with me
?
What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing
,” she smiled to give him a sense of ease sh
e didn’t quite feel herself, but by the look on
his
face, she could see he didn’t buy it either.

When storyboards were finalized, they drove over to a local studio where Shawn was recording promos for several local radio stations, reading their slogans off a sh
eet that was prepared for him.
After his fifth take doing one radio station’s spot, Riley signaled to Brendan that she was leaving and took a cab back to the hotel to
meet Nadine’s person who was supposed to help her dress
for the event that night.

g

A car was downstairs
waiting for her
precisely
at
ten-thirty
, and
Riley
got in, wondering who would be there to greet
her when she got to the party.
It was going
to be weird pulling up in a big
Lincoln
and getting out on her own, especially in a
n
unfamiliar
city
.
She’d
chosen
a black halter with
a
black
skinny pant
and
gold
Manolo Blahnik
heels
that were obscenely expensive.
 

The
party was
at a spot called The Cat Club. There
was
a velvet rope across the doorway, flanked by two sizeable
men
in black suits
and a banner
with the name of Shawn’s new label
.
Brendan was standing out front, talking to a couple of
rappers
Riley
recognized
even though she was drawing a blank on their names
.
And
a familiar and welcome face—
Chris Scaife.
He was al
l dressed up for a change, in a
soft white
suit and
beige
shirt
.
He
was handsome without his
baseball cap and sagging pants. 

When
Riley
got out of the car, they all turned to watch he
r make her way toward the door.
She hugged Chris first and he
held her
at arms’ length
, looking
her over
.

“
Whassup
, girl
?
” he said.
“You look good.”

“You too.
You
never told me you were coming,”
she scolded.

“Wouldn’t miss it for
the w
orld,” he said.
“
Smooth
get
t
ing his
own label—
that’s huge.”

“Is he inside?”
she
looked for the firs
t time at Brendan who was watchi
ng her interaction with Chris with particular interest.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “C’mon.”
He took her arm and led her away from the others.

“You’re just as bad as Shawn,” she said to him as he guided her through the entrance to the club.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brendan said.

Once
inside,
Riley
was too overwhelmed to
speak
.
First of all, it
was
far larger than the exterior
would have
led her to believe
.
It was
a
warehouse
, with
high
ceiling
s
, exposed duct-work and unfinishe
d walls for an industrial look.
And
there had to be about
five hundred people there.
She could have sworn Brendan had told her it wouldn’t be that big a party.

All over the club, unseen equipment projected the new logo for So Def Records
and Shawn’s image
onto the walls.
In some, he was overblown to superhuman proportions.
Waiters and waitresses in black tie were serving champagne and finger foods expertly wea
ving in and out of the
crowd
. Otherwise, t
he dé
cor was sparse and ultra-modern—
silver chairs with spindly legs and tables only just big enough to hold about
half a dozen wineglasses or so—
were dispersed
all about the room.

F
our
elevated
bars
glowed neon green
in each corner of the club, so that the center of the room was reserved for dancing
.
S
ilver cages
in which women dressed in cat suits moved sinuously to the music were suspended from the ceiling and hung about ten feet above the dance floor
.

Brendan led her to one of the bars
that had been cordoned off as a VIP area and outfitted with much more comf
ortable sofas and plush chairs.
Shawn was sitting with some
one
Riley
didn’t recognize, talking and dr
inking
an amber colored liquid
.
When he saw her, he
extended an arm
and she went over to him, allowing him to
pull her onto his lap, arms
wrap
ped
about her waist.
It felt like old times, having him hold her like this, absentmindedly
but
securely
.
They were enjoying each other but only because they were carefully avoiding the reasons they’d been separated in the first place.

“This is my wife
Riley
,”
he said
to his companion.
“
Riley
this is John Sampson.”

Riley
shook John Sampson’s hand and offered him a brief smile.

“I enjoy your
work
in
Power to the People
,” he said unexpectedly.

“Oh, thank you,”
Riley
said
, pleased
.

“But
I noticed they’ve got you
doing something different now?
I read that piece on women producing
hip
-
hop
.
T
hat was on point.”

“
So you really do read my stuff.
You weren’t just being polite,”
Riley
joked.