Chapter Two
“What do they mean my sound is too sweet?”
Karlie Knightly swept her shoulder-length curls out of her face. She crisscrossed her long legs on her king-sized bed in the Marlton Hotel.
Karlie had wanted to rent an apartment, but her adopted father, Neil Jameson, convinced her to live in the hotel. That way she would not have to cook or worry about housekeeping with her coursework load. She had stepped into the luxurious building resplendent with rich burgundy undertones and had fallen in love. Though the rooms were small, she loved the crown moldings, brass fixtures, and the private marble bathroom. The onsite restaurant and café added to its appeal.
She clutched a printout from a quack blogger who was gathering clout. Her debut song, “How Great Thou Art,” had released to not-so-stellar reviews. According to this twit wannabe reporter, Karlie’s voice was nothing like her “dearly departed mother’s.”
In fact, Brenda Northeimer called her sound “too sweet, saccharine, and filled with fake sentiment to grasp the raw emotion needed for a song like that.”
Try losing your mother and see how you would feel.
Karlie grabbed several tissues from her nightstand and blew her nose. She knew she could not sing like her mother did. She was not trying to. She was her own person. Karlie crumpled the paper and tossed it against the wall. It landed on the herringbone wood floor with a thud.
Karlie strolled in her bathroom to throw out the soiled tissues and wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her almond-shaped face, so much like her mother’s except Karlie had honey-colored eyes and slightly fuller lips.
Brenda Northheimer did not know what it was like to be left alone because cancer had reared its head and torn her life to pieces. Five years had passed, but that did not stop Karlie from wetting her pillow at night for a mother who she would never see again.
Neil and his wife, Myra had taken her into their home and hearts. Their daughter, Addison, Addie for short, whom she adored, was the sister she never had. But Karlie missed her mother. Tiffany Knightly was irreplaceable.
Karlie’s cell phone buzzed. She jumped to retrieve it from her computer desk, hoping that it was her boyfriend, Jamaal Weathers. She had texted him earlier, but he still had classes, and then had step rehearsal after that.
It was not Jamaal. It was Brian.
Ugh, why didn’t Brian ever give her advanced notice? He just popped in whenever the mood struck. Karlie wiped her face. Since she lived on the second floor, she knew he would be at her door any minute. She scrambled to make her bed and picked up the crumpled paper. She was about to throw it into the trash can when she heard the knock.
Holding the paper in her left hand behind her back, Karlie opened the door. “Hey, Brian.”
“Hey, yourself, Sweet Cheeks.” He squeezed her cheeks and entered her small space.
Trying to be discreet, Karlie tossed the paper into the trash can, but Brian zeroed in on her action.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” Karlie replied, shooing her hand and moving away from the can.
Brian squinted his eyes. He was not buying her act. He bent his six-foot-five frame and pinned his light brown eyes on her face. “Your eyes are puffy. Have you been crying?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Brian studied her before walking over to the trash can. He reached in and picked it up.
Karlie lunged toward him to get the paper out of his hands. “What’re you doing? You can’t just come in here and rummage through my trash!”
Brian held his arm above her head.
Karlie jumped to get the paper. “Brian, give it to me. You’re so juvenile.”
He swayed it out of her reach. “Considering it’s the only thing in the garbage, I wouldn’t say that was rummaging. In fact, I was only searching for a piece of paper to stick my gum in.”
“You’re such a liar, Brian Oakes,” Karlie said. “You don’t have any gum in your mouth. You’re being nosy as usual, and this is a severe breach of my privacy.”
“Whatever.” Brian unrolled the paper.
Mortified, Karlie tromped over to her bed and plopped down, not the least bit comforted by the plush Duvet covers.
Brian’s head moved from left to right as he read the contents of the article. With a frown, he walked over to sit in the chair by her computer desk.
She saw his brow furrow and his lips curl and knew that he had gotten to that part.
“Who writes this trash and gets away with it?” In a fit of rage, Brian shredded the paper and hurled it back into the trashcan. “I hope you don’t believe any of that filth written solely to gather a following of people who have nothing better to do with their time.”
Karlie’s eyes widened. Brian was so articulate. He had an artful way of manipulating words. He would make a great journalist, or was it attorney? He had changed his major four times already.
He jumped to his feet and in two strides sat next to her on her bed. With a gentle touch, he placed one large hand under her chin. “Karlie, I hope you didn’t let that get to you. Fat Brenda is just doing her job. She’s stuck doing that because she’ll never have your figure, your finesse, and your future.”
“Great alliteration,” Karlie said with a smile. She shrugged. “She wasn’t the only critic though—and she’s not fat. Other reviewers said I had no right singing ‘How Great Thou Art.’ They said I hadn’t been through anything. I have a silver spoon in my mouth. Blah . . . blah. . . blah . . .”
“Let them talk,” Brian said. “Karlie, they don’t know you. They’ve forgotten your pain of losing your mother. Because they don’t know better, they feel your being stinking rich is the solution to all your problems.”
Karlie winced. It was true that she didn’t have to struggle financially, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have struggles. When Winona Franks had approached her about launching her singing career, Karlie had fought tooth and nail. Winona had been her mother’s friend and longtime manager. Winona was a business whiz and under her guidance, Tiffany had made more money than she knew how to spend. Winona was ready to take Karlie under her wing.
Karlie agreed to do the well-known song as a trial to get her feet wet. Never had she imagined how much the rejection would hurt. Never had she realized how much she wanted it. She wanted to sing.
“Come on.” Brian stood. “Grab a jacket. Let’s go get you some ice cream.”
“I don’t know if I feel up for ice cream. Why don’t we just go downstairs to the Espresso Bar or even Margaux?” She especially loved Margaux’s alcove. The floral hangings gave the place cozy warmth.
Besides, she had another reason why she wanted to stay close. Karlie didn’t want to miss Jamaal if he decided to check in on her.
“Why? Is Jamaal coming over?” He raised his eyebrows.
Brian could be so astute at times it was scary. Karlie gave him a playful slap. “Shut up. It’s not what you think. Get your mind out of the gutter, Brian. We’re saved. You know that.”
He looked heavenward. “Yes, I know. But you guys have been dating since you were fifteen. That’s a long, long time for a couple to be abstinent.”
“And your point is?” Karlie arched her eyebrow.
She and Jamaal vowed to remain celibate until marriage. It was difficult, but they knew they could do it—with God’s help.
“You mean to say Jamaal hasn’t tried anything in all these years? And you’d better not lie to me because I’ll know.”
Karlie squirmed, not wanting to stretch the truth but not wanting to confess either. Instead, she attacked. With her nose in the air, she said, “Not every man behaves like a Neanderthal like some people.”
“Ouch.” Brian grinned and stepped back. He held up his hand. “Take it easy, young one. I meant no harm.”
“Don’t call me young one. You’re only two years older than me. Twenty-three is not old.”
“Yes, but I’ve been through a lot.”
That was true. Brian had grown up with two parents who made him feel as if he did not matter. As a result, he had been a juvenile bordering on delinquent until Karlie’s mother had rescued him from himself.
Karlie touched his arm and gave him a squeeze. “Yes, Brian, but you’ve turned your life around.”
He looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
For the first time in their six-year friendship, Karlie felt awkward. This strange tension had been happening between them of late, and she could not explain it. Not that she was trying too hard to figure it out.
She drew a deep breath and grabbed her sweater from the back of the chair. Maybe going out would not be such a bad idea. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go to Yooglers. I’ll text Jamaal and tell him where to meet us.”
Yooglers Frozen Yogurt was located on 791 Broadway and was a quick seven-minute walk.
He smiled. “Yooglers sounds good.”
Karlie noted Brian’s pearly whites and felt a small shift. What was happening here? How come she never noticed that Brian had such a beautiful smile before? In fact, he was fine. Super fine.
Confused by her sudden thoughts, Karlie distracted herself by putting on her sweater. They exited her building on Eighth Street and walked toward Broadway and made a left.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jean jacket. The March air felt nippy. Spring was taking its time arriving this year. She and Brian made small talk but concentrated on navigating their way through the busy streets of Manhattan. It was a few minutes shy of nine p.m. when they arrived.
Brian held the door open, and Karlie breathed in the smell of cookies, candies, chocolate, and syrups, not to mention yogurt. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“What are you having this time?” Brian asked.
Every time Karlie went to Yooglers she tried a new flavor. So far, she had had seven of their forty-six different flavors, ranging from Cappuccino to Snickerdoodle.
“I think I’m getting the Fudge Brownie Batter this time,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Glancing around the orange and green establishment, she was glad there were only a few customers.
Brian headed toward the huge cow on the wall, near the entrance to the play area.
“Don’t even think about touching those balls. They were meant for six-year-olds not a six-footer.”
He executed a U-turn and grabbed a container. Brian chose the French Toast yogurt before trailing after her to get toppings. He piled his cup high with brownie bites, crushed chocolate mints, cheesecake bites, and marshmallow sauce.
Karlie stuck to just the yogurt. They strolled to the counter to weigh their yogurt and paid for their treat before finding a table.
Brian scooped a large spoonful of his concoction and popped it into his mouth. After he licked the spoon, he said, “As much as I hate to admit it, Karlie, I think Brenda what’s-her-name has a point.”
Karlie plopped her half-eaten yogurt on the table and glared at him. With careful enunciation, she asked, “What do you mean ‘she has a point’?”
“Whoa. Hear me out.” Brian held both hands up. “What I mean is that your voice is beautiful, but it lacks an edge—it lacks the haunting tone of someone who has experienced some things.”
“You’re contradicting yourself,” Karlie replied. “What about all that talk back at my place, when you said . . .” She looked around and lowered her voice. “What about when you said that losing my mother is tough and all that.”
“Yes, but you’re the quintessential poster girl.” Brian took another scoop of his treat. He pushed Karlie’s yogurt back toward her.
After a couple seconds, she dug in. “What’s wrong with being a good girl, Brian?”
“Nothing, but it’s boring,” he said. “No one cares about the good girl. You’re a yawn. You’ve got to get some edge. Do something crazy—out of this world—you know, let more people notice you. Get to know you. You’ve got to get out of your mother’s shadow. You can’t be Tiffany Knightly’s daughter. You’ve got to be you—Karlie. Who is she anyway?”
Karlie’s mouth popped open. She did not know how to answer. She was still searching for her identity. “I’m—I’m me.”
Brian yawned for effect. His point hit home.
Karlie used her spoon to flick a dollop of frozen yogurt toward his left cheek.
He laughed, swiped at it with his thumb, and tasted it. “You need to do some crazy stuff and post it to YouTube. You know like Miley Cyrus twerking all over the place.”
Twerking was the name of the dance move where young ladies jiggled their rear ends in a sensual, suggestive manner.
Karlie splayed her hands. “You can forget about that. I’m not twerking or doing all that crazy nonsense. I’m a church girl, and I like it.” She folded her arms in stubborn protest.
“I didn’t mean for you to shake your booty and post for the world to see—although, I would like to see that.” Brian grinned.
Karlie wasn’t amused.
He hoped to redeem himself. “Karlie, all I am asking is when are you going to stop being and start living?”
Karlie knew her eyes were wide. “I am living.” She slid her chair away from the table.
Brian leaned over. “You need to try things—mudding, parasailing, snorkeling—you know, atypical adventures for a black woman.”
“That sounds crazy. I’m not trying to kill myself. You should know me better to even suggest that.”
“I do know you better, which is why I’m suggesting you step out of your comfort zone. You won’t be killing yourself. You’d be living. And stop looking at me as if I have horns on my head.”
Karlie propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “I’m looking at you that way because your idea is borderline certifiable. How do you propose I do all these adventures? I’m in school, or did you forget that pertinent fact?”
Brian finished his yogurt. He reached for hers and ate it. “Like the use of the word pertinent, by the way. But, I digress.” He tossed the empty containers into the trash receptacle. “I’ve already thought of that, and I have a quick and easy solution.”
Karlie leaned in to hear his option.
“You need to take a semester off.”
Her mouth hung open. “You must be out of your mind. My dad would hit the roof if I fixed my mouth to tell them that. He’s not like your dad who was cool with you taking a year after high school to backpack through Europe. He has plans—I mean, I have plans for my life.”
“Aha. Your own words betrayed you. You are operating off everyone else’s plans and expectations.” He waggled a finger at her. “You, my friend, are a people pleaser.”
Karlie wondered what was wrong with doing the right thing. Brian made her sound boring. “I’m not pleasing anyone but myself.”
Brian waved his hands dismissively. “You’re in denial, Karlie. You’re all about making everyone happy. You need to do this and shake things up a little. Neil would be fine with it—eventually. We both know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, just as your mother did.”
Neil and Tiffany had been best friends. Tiffany trusted him with all her secrets and with her past pain. He had been the last person to see her mother alive.
Karlie could not believe she was even continuing this conversation with Brian. Nonetheless, she asked, “And what about Jamaal? There’s no way he’s going to take time off from school, and I’m not about to do this by myself. So, noway, nohow.”
“Yes, way. And I’ll tell you how. I’ll take a leave myself. I’ll be with you.”
Karlie narrowed her eyes. “And what about Charlie, or Nikki?” She hid a smirk.
Brian shrugged. “They know the deal. I have a no-commitment clause with all my women.”
Karlie shook her head at Brian’s dismissive tone. “I don’t understand how you manage to convince two adjunct professors to date you at the same time without pulling each other’s hair out.”
He patted his stomach. “It’s my duty to spread love in the world.” Then he got serious. “Say the word, and I’m all yours.”