Rhythms of Love. Beverly Jenkins
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friends.”
They were in stride once again.
“From the day we met at her mama’s beauty shop. We even share a birthday. March 18.”
“She thinks the world of you, and your voice.”
Reggie went silent for a few moments. “I think the world of her, too. She thinks I’m wasting my gift.”
“Please don’t punch me, but I agree with her.”
“That’s because you don’t know how much money I lost the last time I said yes to someone like you.”
Even though Jamal was so cold he could no longer feel his ears, he stopped again and stared. “Trina never said anything about another producer.”
“Good for her.” And she struck out ahead of him.
Once again, he had to hurry to catch up, all the while wishing he was riding in the warm interior of the hired town car that was slowly trailing them. “When was this?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Who was the producer?”
“Man named Wes Piper, or at least that was the name he used. One day he was there, the next night he was gone.”
Jamal knew hundreds of people in the business but had never heard that name before. “How much did you lose?”
“Almost four grand. Most of which belonged to my grandmother.”
He didn’t know what to say, so for a while they walked on silently. “What if I offer to cover all expenses for demos and studio time?”
“No, thank you. I’m going to teach music.”
“But—”
She stopped in front of a small brick house. Its bright porch light illuminated the front door, showing three small panes and the old-fashioned sitting porch. A beat-up green Escort was parked in the driveway. “This is where I live. Thanks for the company.”
And, to his dismay, she slowly headed up the stairs. As she pulled open the outer storm door, he said, “Hey, wait.”
She turned back.
“You didn’t let me make much of a pitch.” He watched her study him for a moment and again wished he knew what she was thinking.
When she finally spoke it was not what he’d been expecting. “Good night, Mr. Reynolds.”
She disappeared inside.
Sighing his frustration, Jamal walked over to the car where the driver stood waiting beside the opened door, and got in. He’d never been so grateful for warmth. As the driver drove them away, Jamal realized this campaign to get her into the studio was going to be a whole lot harder than he’d initially thought, but at least he knew some of what he was up against. If and when he thawed out, he’d try to figure out what to do next.
Reggie watched the car drive away before she slid the shade back in place. As she hung her coat in the closet, she freely admitted that both Jamal Reynolds and his offer were tempting but she wasn’t risking her future on either one.
She found her grandmother in the kitchen washing collards at the sink. “Hey, Gram.”
“Hey. How was the rehearsal?”
“Interesting.”
“Meaning?”
Reggie told her about Reynolds’s visit.
“You should have invited him in. I would have like to meet him.”
“No, I shouldn’t have. You want help with the washing?” Reggie hoped the question would change the subject. The greens were to be part of the potluck dinner served tomorrow after the concert.
“No, I’m fine. You sit and tell me about Mr. Reynolds. Trina says he’s quite fine.”
Reggie froze. “When did you talk to Trina?”
Her grandmother transferred a large handful of dripping collards from one water-filled portion of the double sink to the other. “This afternoon. She called to confirm my hair appointment for Saturday, and to let me know she was taking Mr. Reynolds over to the school.”
“And you didn’t call to warn me?”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re my grandmother,” Reggie said, outdone by this well-meaning but making her crazy conspiracy.
Gram’s answering smile resonated from her heart. “I am your grandmother, and I’ve watched you grow and blossom and get beat down by life and pick yourself up again. Dorothy, it is time for you to put on your ruby slippers and step onto the yellow brick road.”
“Great. Now, I’m getting The Wizard of Oz.”
“If the ruby slipper fits.”
Reggie gently bounced her head on the tablecloth before raising it and asking, “Et tu, Gram?”
Her grandmother laughed. “Yes. Me, too.” Her next words were serious. “Reggie, sometimes God, the universe, fate, whatever you want to call it, sends us a door that we’re supposed to open and walk through.”
“And you think that’s what Reynolds is?”
She nodded and said, “It’s possible.”
“I can’t afford another scammer.”
“True, but can you afford to see where this leads so you don’t spend the rest of your life wondering what if? Has he asked you for any money?”
“No. He offered to pay for the demos and the studio time himself.”
“Then case closed, at least for me. You get to make the ultimate decision of course, and I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to even think about putting your heart and dreams back out there again.”
“No kidding,”
“Even so, it’s time for you to gather up Toto and get ready for the Emerald City.”
In spite of the silly allusions, Reggie knew her grandmother was right. She was also correct about how hard it was for Reggie to consider resurrecting her dreams. Granted, she’d been younger then, only seventeen, and hadn’t known that someone you trusted could rip the heart right out of you. Now, at twenty-seven she was well aware that life could run you over in the street and not care, and she didn’t want that to happen to her again.
Gram took a seat at the table and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll support you either way.”
“I know.” Gram, whose full name was Crystal Vaughn, was the world’s leading cheerleader of her granddaughter’s dreams, even when Reggie didn’t know she had any. Crystal had also supported the music dreams of her daughter, Brenda, Reggie’s mom. But Brenda’s had ended on the point of a needle in a fetid room in Copenhagen when Reggie was twelve.
“So, is he really as fine as Trina said?”
Reggie gave her grandmother a look. “You need to quit.”
“Come on. Answer the question, girl. Is he?”
“Yes, Gram. The man is fine. Quite fine, in fact.” She chose not to mention the sparks that had seemed to flare between them because she was certain nothing would come of them. She and Jamal were from two different worlds.
On the way back to his hotel, Jamal finally thawed out enough to raise his arm and check his watch for the time. He could easily make his flight home, but the challenge of Regina Vaughn made leaving town out of the question. Instead, he put in a call to his assistant, Cheryl, in L.A. She promised to take care of the flight changes and to get an extension on his hotel suite. Always grateful for her sunny disposition and amazing efficiency, he ended the call. Now, he’d be able to plot his next move. But first, he had