I grinned. “Tell Candy I said hi.”
“Naw, she needs to focus on my nails. Anytime she hears your name, she’s fucking blushing and shit.”
I’d never been in his office with him alone. Some beautiful woman was always doing something to him in there—giving him a shave or pedicure, massaging his back, or feeding him grapes. He relished in the attention and the feeling of being adored like royalty.
“Anyway,” Midnight said, “I’m glad you’re doing good, baby. Kings should live like kings.”
I shook my head. “What’s up?”
“Heard the tracks from the new chick. Simone’s her name, right?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to make money, baby.”
“Yeah.”
“Which ones are you going to use?” Midnight asked.
“Probably all three.”
“This will be a hot album. Very grown and sexy. Something you would have to smoke a fine blunt to and sip on brown liquor. High-end, of course.”
“Of course.”
And then Midnight did his thing that Jason used to call the pimp pep talk.
“Gio baby, I expect nothing but greatness from you, and you repay me with greatness. While these other guys are bopping around half-naked on videos, we’re doing the money dance. This album will add diamonds and rubies to your throne.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Leaning back in my chair, I lifted my feet and placed them on my desk, waiting for the inevitable question to come. “Just go ahead and say it.”
“Motherfucker, when are you going to record this album with her? Why is she still in New York and you in Utah? Either you should be there, or she should be in those damn white mountains.”
Closing my eyes, I rubbed my head. “We’re still building that connection.”
“Building a connection?” Midnight snorted. “She already wrote three hits. You need to replace Jason. That’s a sad fact. I know it hurts, but God has given you a replacement. Get her on the team.”
“I’m not ready to have her in the studio yet.”
“Look, she might not be Jason. He was Picasso with the lyrics and layering of sound. But give her a chance.”
“No, it’s not that. I agree. She’s just as talented as Jason. Maybe even more. She could be a legend.”
“Then when’s she’s coming out?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “We’re still building a connection.”
Silence came next.
“What, Midnight?” I asked. “Just fucking say it.”
“Building a connection? I don’t understand one word you’re saying. What’s up? Are you okay, man? I know Jason’s death hit you hard—”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you need me to come up there?”
“No.”
“Maybe, you should wait a while before making this album or—”
“I’m fine.”
“Then what’s the hold up, baby? Fly her up, get her in the studio, lay these tracks, let’s make this money, and reshape the world. Have you been meditating?”
“Of course.”
“Your head’s good?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Listen. Kill the spirit and the body dies. Kill the body and the spirit creates other bodies.”
“Thank you, ghetto guru.” I laughed. “I said I’m fine. It’s not Jason’s death. I’m not having any more nightmares. I’m at peace. Really.”
“Something is up. I can feel it. What’s the hold up, baby?”
“Why are you pushing me on having Simone come out here?”
“I need that money, baby. My wife needs a pink private jet to match my blue one, baby. My mistress been begging daddy for a Patek Philippe watch. You know that motherfucker cost 1.3 million? Apparently, she can’t tell time unless the numbers are surrounded by diamonds.”
I shook my head. “And what does your side chick want?”
“A side chick doesn’t want for things. She’s just happy to be on the team.”
My next words dripped with sarcasm. “I don’t know why I never get you to write my love songs. You’re such a romantic guy.”
“My love songs would be too real. They wouldn’t make us any money. People like to lie to themselves. But stop getting off the topic. What’s up?”
I let out an exasperated breath. Midnight had been a second dad to Jason and me. There wasn’t much we could keep from him.
You better not laugh, Midnight.
I told him the truth. “I’m scared that if she comes here, I’m going to have sex with her.”
Of course, he laughed for several seconds. “You’re afraid to fuck her?! G-fucking-O, the cock star of the decade is afraid to have sex with someone.”
He coughed and laughed some more.
“Thanks, Midnight. I knew you would be a soothing ear in my time of need.”
“Baby?! What’s the problem? Just fuck her and then record these hits.”
“I think she’ll be a distraction.”
“She’ll only be one if you allow it. And since...well...since you’ve moved to Utah, you’ve been fucking disciplined. I can’t believe you’ve been there for so long. What the fuck is in Utah but white people and snow?”
“I am white, and I do like snow.”
Both of my parents were Italian. I had an olive-brown tint to my skin, black hair, and blue eyes. When I’d entered the rhythm and blues genre, everyone tried to talk me out of it, figuring I would do better with pop.