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Authors: Janine A. Morris

BOOK: Drama 99 FM
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Chapter 10
S
ereeta used her key to open the door to Corey's home; she saw two of his cars in the driveway, and she wasn't sure if he was there or not. She was coming by to get his bags ready for the next few games on the road, and she had to be done within an hour and back to the stadium to put his press suit in the cleaners.
As soon as she stepped indoors, she noticed the place was a mess. She looked around and noticed pillows from the couch on the floor, the magazine rack knocked over, and chairs and cushions all over the living room. She figured Corey had had company over the night before, and she hadn't been invited. She walked farther into the house and noticed some articles of clothing in different parts of the house.
How wild did the party get that everyone forgot stuff behind?
Sereeta asked herself. She left everything right where it was; her job duties didn't include being a maid, so she wasn't about to create any expectations on his part.
She walked through the living room and the family room and made her way up the staircase. As she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted feet and legs in the bathroom ahead. She stopped at first, thinking it was Corey and not wanting to surprise him while he wasn't fully dressed. Having heard her steps, the person poked his head out of the bathroom door, and Sereeta realized it wasn't Corey. It was one of the guys from his team, but Sereeta didn't know his name—he didn't play that much.
“Hi, there,” the guy said.
“Hi,” Sereeta said as she slowly took a few more steps down the hall.
“Darnell,” the guy said.
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Darnell. What's yours again?”
“Oh, Sereeta. Nice to meet you . . . again,” Sereeta said, trying not to show her discomfort.
Lemme find out Corey is with that down-low stuff,
Sereeta thought. She was mad she had stumbled upon this guy brushing his teeth in the bathroom after having spent the night at Corey's house. This was one of those big secrets that would be hard for Sereeta to pretend she didn't notice. Although Sereeta was definitely uncomfortable, Darnell didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by her presence. Sereeta continued past the bathroom and down the hall toward Corey's bedroom. The door was cracked a bit, and Sereeta could see that one of the lamps was on inside. Once she pushed the door open, she instantly noticed a half-naked woman lying in the bed. Sereeta jumped.
“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Sereeta said.
“Oh, no problem,” the young lady said as she pulled the sheet over her body.
Sereeta didn't know if she should leave or continue with her assignment.
“You came to join the party?” the young lady asked Sereeta after she noticed she wasn't leaving the room.
“Excuse me?” Sereeta said.
Just as she was waiting for the lady to respond, she heard a voice coming from the other side of the room.
“Who are you talking to, Kyleea?” said a young lady coming out of the master bathroom.
Sereeta looked her up and down and noticed she was in a robe—looked like it was Corey's robe at that.
“Oh, hi,” the chick said.
“Hi,” Sereeta said.
“I'm Bianca,” the girl said.
“Hi, I'm Sereeta. Corey's personal assistant.”
The girls giggled.
“Aren't you lucky,” Bianca said.
“I guess,” Sereeta said. “I'll be right back. Can you excuse me?”
Sereeta stepped out and down the hallway. Darnell was still in the bathroom washing his face. Sereeta put it together now; Darnell wasn't ashamed of being caught in his boxers in Corey's house because there were plenty of women to go around in the Cox mansion.
Sereeta took out her phone and called Corey.
“Hi, Corey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just got to your house to pack your bags, and you still have guests in your bedroom; I'm not sure if I should do this later.”
“No, no. Tell them to go downstairs to the living room, or have Darnell get them out. I need my bags here on time, and I need my suits here now; the on-site cleaners can't take the players' clothes for same-day service after one PM.”
“OK,” Sereeta replied. “So just ask them to go downstairs?”
“No, tell them. Listen, Sereeta, you got to get that stuff here. There's no time to be shy.”
“OK,” Sereeta said.
A bit angered by the fact that Corey was getting a bit smart, especially when he was the one having orgies in his house, she headed back into the bedroom.
“Bianca, Kyleea . . . I'm sorry, but I have to take care of some things in here. Would you ladies mind sitting downstairs for a while or going into the guest bedroom for now? Darnell is out there.”
“Who is Darnell?” Kyleea asked Bianca.
“The one I was with—Corey's teammate,” Bianca answered.
“Oh.” Kyleea giggled as she scooted off the bed.
The two of them took their time as they began to gather some of their things and head out of the bedroom.
“Thank you, guys. When I'm done you can come back up.”
Sereeta didn't bother to see where they went—downstairs or into the guest bedroom. All she wanted to do was pack Corey's bags and get out of there. She didn't even want to know exactly what had gone on last night between Corey, Darnell, and whoever else was over.
Sereeta began packing some tracksuits and jeans out of Corey's drawers and closets. He had instructed her before as to what exactly he liked to pack for road games and how much of everything. This was only his second trip she had packed for him, but she already had a grasp on what she was doing. She took the three pairs of 7 For All Mankind jeans out of the closet and placed them in his bag, tucked everything to the side, and closed the bag. She filled the front pouch with his socks and wristbands, put his boxers and wife beaters on the other side, and zipped the bag completely closed. She grabbed suits and things off closet hooks and then headed downstairs with his bag and clothes in hand.
Once she got midway down the stairs she began to hear the giggle of one of the females. Sereeta rolled her eyes and continued down. She reached the living room and saw one of the girls lying on top of Darnell, kissing his neck with her left hand in his pants. The other young lady was sitting close by with a big grin on her face. Darnell looked over and saw Sereeta standing there.
“You finished up?” he asked, speaking over the girl whose face was buried in his neck.
“Uh, yeah,” Sereeta said.
“OK, tell Corey I'll lock up and be at the stadium in an hour.”
“OK, will do.”
The lady stayed in action during their exchange of words, as though Sereeta's presence had no effect on her little porno movie. Sereeta turned away and headed toward the door; neither girl said good-bye, and neither did she. Sereeta was grown, so it wasn't as though she was naive that things of that nature actually happened for real—and not just in the music videos and movies—but to witness it firsthand just threw her for a loop. She had to ask herself what these chicks were doing that to themselves for—they couldn't possibly understand how gross they looked. Sereeta wondered sometimes if
she
was the one missing something—maybe they were the smart ones, and she was the dummy. Besides, she was the one working like a slave to earn her check when all they had to do was open their legs.
Sereeta hopped in the Suburban Corey had provided her for the day. The driver turned back and said, “To the stadium?”
“Yes,” she replied. She instantly pulled out her cell phone. Within a few moments, Reyna was on the other end. “You wouldn't believe what some girls are willing to do just to be in these guys' presence,” she blurted out as soon as Reyna said hello.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just left Corey's house, and these chicks were in there with his teammate, and it was just disgusting.”
“What were they doing?”
“Well, while I was there, not so much, but last night and before I got there, who knows.”
Before Reyna could inquire more, Sereeta's phone beeped. Sereeta looked at the phone and saw it was Corey.
“Hold on,” she told Reyna. “Hello?” she said to Corey.
“Hey, you on your way here?” he asked.
“Yes, I will be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“OK, great. I am also going to need you to book two flights.”
“OK,” Sereeta said as she pulled out her pad.
“Both from JFK to Cleveland—one for Bianca Watts, and the other for Kyleea Jones. If you need any of their information, call Darnell at the house—he will have it.”
Sereeta couldn't believe what she was hearing.
“OK, I'll get right to it,” she responded.
“Alright, I will see you soon,” he said.
Sereeta hung up and clicked back over to Reyna. “Girl, I have to go. I have to go book flights for those two skanks I was telling you about.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I guess they want them to continue pleasuring them when they get to their next game in Cleveland. So let me go book these flights before he calls me with something else.”
Reyna laughed. “OK, talk to you later.”
Sereeta took the airline number out of her BlackBerry and called Darnell to get the ladies' information. She had already told herself she wouldn't talk directly to the chicks—she didn't want any part of what was going on.
Chapter 11
T
he high-waist jeans and button-up top were far from the most fashionable outfit in the place, but Madison felt confident. Her gold stilettos and exposed cleavage added the touch of sexy she needed, and she was good to go. She walked around the room looking for Polytics or Neil to let them know she had arrived, but neither of them were anywhere to be found.
The room was huge, almost resembling a giant Manhattan loft. Off to her left behind her was a large glass wall that separated the room from the studio. From the open area you could see directly into the studio where all the equipment, speakers, and microphones were. There were a few couches and tables scattered along the wall, and there was a bar in one corner of the room. It was a new studio Madison hadn't been to yet—most of the listening parties she attended were at Sony Studios. She wasn't surprised that Polytics would want to use the new and “exclusive” Hit Factory studio for his listening event.
Madison was happy she had managed to keep her commitment with Jamahl and still make this event as well. She had accompanied Jamahl to the dinner, but she just let him know she had to leave early “for business.” At times like these she was thankful he was usually understanding about the fact that she mixed work with pleasure so much. Not that Jamahl could really complain, as many times as he had left her out to dry at an event or something.
She went toward the back hallway where a couple people were standing. She spoke back to the few familiar faces that shouted, “Hey, Madison,” as she walked by, but she felt no one was worth stopping for a formal greeting. She made her way toward the back and noticed a crowd of people in the studio. Madison glanced around to see who was inside. She recognized a lot of label executives and press people. After a few seconds she caught eyes with Polytics, who was already looking back at her. He smiled to let her know not only did he see her but that he was happy to see her. Madison smiled back.
Within seconds he was making his way toward her—he along with several people's attention were heading her way. Madison remained calm and still, but for some reason she was feeling nerves in her stomach. She was definitely not used to feeling nervous—she usually made people nervous. When he stopped in front of her, she looked up at him with a smirk.
“Hey there, sexy, I'm so glad you were able to make it,” he said as he reached over to hug her.
“No problem.”
“As promised, the party is waiting on you. I didn't play one song yet.”
“Well, I don't have a lot of time, so let's get to listening.”
Madison was doing a pretty good job of playing it cool, but on the inside she was trying to monitor her every word and action. She didn't want to give off the wrong vibe or make any mistakes that could imply the wrong thing.
“Let's,” Polytics said. He took Madison's hand to direct her to the studio control area.
Madison was taken aback by the hand holding, and she instinctively grabbed her hand back. Polytics stopped in his tracks to see what the reaction was about. Madison felt the discomfort from the attention they were attracting.
“I can walk,” Madison said when she saw his perplexed look.
“OK,
sooorry,
” he replied.
Madison bucked her eyes at him to signal
Well, go ahead.
He began to walk again, and they continued down the hall to the studio. Neil, along with a few other people from the label and management, were already sitting inside.
“Hey, there, Maddie!” Neil shouted as soon as he saw Madison walk in.
“Hey, Neil,” she said as she gave him a hug.
“Aren't we looking hot. Big plans tonight?” he said.
“I am coming from a dinner,” she responded.
Madison was hoping he would leave the topic alone, so she instantly began to make her rounds around the room to say hello. Once she was done greeting everyone with a hello or a hug, Polytics pulled out a large cushy chair for her to sit in. She quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone reacted to Polytics's chivalry—if that was even what it was. She started to wonder if she was the only one overanalyzing anything. Polytics could have just been messing with her that day, and here she was acting as if they were ex-lovers or something. She began to feel stupid, like she was playing herself for even thinking that all her paranoia or discomfort was necessary. Polytics could have any girl he wanted—he was at least five years her junior, and he was probably not interested in a program director from New York when he could have an exotic video chick every day of the week.
Madison finally managed to calm down and relax. She sat back in the chair, finally enjoying the moment and the sucking up that came with her job. A few moments later, Polytics's new single, “Broken Rules,” was playing through the oversize speakers in the studio. Madison looked through the glass to see the crowd's reaction. She liked to use this as a part of her decision making to see if a song was a radio-friendly track. Madison and the others could see clearly all the guests and staff working the event outside the studio control room, and everyone watched how they received the music they were hearing. Heads were bouncing along, and feet were tapping; one or two people were even rapping along. There were also those cats who had gotten ahold of a leaked record from the Internet or were heavy enough in the music business to get an early copy, and they wanted the room to know they were “ahead of the game,” so they rapped every word very hard.
“This beat is hot. Who produced this? Dr. Dre?” Madison leaned over and asked Polytics.
The music was loud, and it was hard to hear over it, but Madison had leaned over close enough to hear his response.
“No. Actually, it's this new cat I mess with. His name is Elly,” he replied.
“Oh, OK. Sounds like a Dre beat.”
They were basically yelling over the track, but their voices were completely drowned out by the music, so they had to get pretty close.
“Yeah, I have heard that before. This track is about how I don't care what the rules say—when I want something, I am going to go after it.”
Madison had been watching the crowd with her ear close to Polytics's mouth, but as Polytics spoke those words, she could feel that he was staring directly at her. Madison turned to verify, and sure enough, he was looking her dead in the eye.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked.
“I'm not a big trier. I'm more of a doer.”
Madison gave him a look. For a moment she forgot about not wanting to show any interest. After she'd convinced herself he wasn't obtainable, subconsciously, she must have become intrigued by the challenge. Before she could reply, the music faded out, and the next track began to slowly fade up. With the music lowered, Madison wasn't willing to speak for fear of being overheard, and she found this awkward silence the perfect chance to brush off what he was saying.
As the volume got louder, she kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Last she looked, he was still looking. The new track came on, and it had an R & B hook.
Oh, brother,
Madison thought. The words
“I enjoy the moments that are shared by we, because when I'm doing you I am doing me. All that sexiness on top of me, I now know the definition of ecstasy”
Madison wanted to comment on, but she didn't want to open that can of worms. Instead she just sat there, swaying her head to the music like most of the people on the other side of the glass were.
“So how do you like this one?” Polytics leaned over and asked her midway through the song.
“I like it. It's different. I like how you have the Caribbean undertone to it.”
“This one was for the ladies. I have a lot of hard songs—I wanted to do something a little softer.”
The music was loud, but Madison could've sworn he had damn near seductively whispered the word
softer.
“Yeah, I think it's best you mix it up when you're a new artist so you don't turn away any particular audience.”
“Exactly,” he replied as he turned away.
The next track began, and Madison began to ask herself just how long she would stay and what could be her most tactful exit. She was uncomfortable for sure, yet the last thing she wanted to appear as was weak and impressionable. Madison had been around the block, and she knew the games men played. She knew it wasn't impossible that there was a bet going around, possibly between Polytics and his people. The last thing she wanted to be was some test or topic of some mix-tape record.
A couple tracks went by with no real conversations. People were just bobbing their heads, tapping their feet, and rapping along to the familiar songs. Madison got comfortable and was enjoying the album. She had to admit Polytics was a talented artist and had a bright future ahead of him if he played his cards right.
“So what you think?”
“I think it's a hot album. You have quite a few single options, and that's always a good thing.”
“What you think the next radio record should be?” he asked.
“I hate to give that advice because then you think I'm obligated to play it.” Her look with her words told him she was well up on all the tricks.
“Not at all, nothing like that. I just figure who better than the queen of radio to help choose my next radio record.”
“Well, technically, I would be choosing your single—most songs that make the radio will have a video and promotion to support it.”
“Understandable. Now, which record do you think that should be?”
“How about I take the album home, listen to all the records, and tell you which I think should be your singles?”
“I like that idea. Can we do that tonight?”
“I didn't say
we
would take it home, I said
I
would take it home.”
“Honestly, I'd love a detailed critique of all the songs, along with why you choose the singles you choose.”
Madison just gave him a look. He was asking to come to her house, and she wasn't sure just how to take that.
“I'm not sure about all that. I don't mind giving you the feedback, but I'm not too comfortable with you coming to my house.”
“I respect that,” he said.
Madison could sense that he wasn't feeling her shut down, and although she wasn't trying to be cold, she just felt that—considering his tone—the decision was best. “How about we go back to the station and go through the album there?”
“Cool, that's fine with me. I wasn't trying to get in your bed or anything.”
Madison blushed, a bit embarrassed by his comment. Was it all in her mind, or was he interested in her?
“No one said all that, but my place is a little personal. This is business.”
“Whatever, yo.”
Madison sensed his street side showing; she was surprised he had actually gotten a little attitude, as though he hadn't understood where she was coming from.
“You want to do this or not?” she asked. She was a bit intrigued by this guy who didn't seem intimidated by her in the least bit. But at the same time, she wasn't trying to let him get their relationship twisted. He needed her—she didn't need him.
“Yes, I said we can do that. As soon as this is done, you want to just ride over together?”
“Sure, why not?”
Within the next thirty minutes, a lot more guests had begun to show up. Polytics got on the microphone and announced that the album had two more tracks to be heard. He thanked everyone for coming, informed them it was unlikely he would be around when the event was done, but he would be having a platinum party very soon. The crowd laughed at his blatant cockiness and applauded him for all he had accomplished thus far. Some people, realizing they weren't going to get a chance to meet or chat with him, began to gather their things. Polytics and his crew began to chat about the plans for the evening, and Madison began to gather her things as well to head out.
“Where are you going?” Polytics asked as he noticed Madison preparing to go.
“Uhh . . . home,” Madison said with a sarcastic undertone.
“I thought we were going to the studio to listen to my album.”
“I heard you guys making plans, so I figured you changed your mind.”
“No, planning for after our session,” he said.
“Oh, OK. I can spare an hour or two.”
Polytics continued to make plans with his team as to when and where he would meet them later that night. Madison checked her voice mail as she waited for Polytics to finish up. Once she finished, there had been no message from Jamahl, so she hung up and looked around to see where Polytics was. When she turned around, he was signaling for her to come over. Madison
slowly
walked over to be sure to eliminate any idea he might have had that he was in control. Once she arrived to where he stood, his security team escorted them out the back entrance.

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