I don't know how I find myself in these predicaments. This is just plain old embarrassing. I currently own one third of one of the top up and coming record labels in the business right now. I am a good looking African American man who stands a very well put together 6-1, 234 lbs and I have the financially power to hire some of the best security on the market. Yet here I am hiding underneath my desk. My heart began to quicken as I can hear the commotion going on outside the heavy oak and steel door.
7 Months Ago: Manhattan, New York
Possibly the most important part of my job is actually not making records but rather smoozing, kissing ass and building relationships in the industry with people who do. For instance tonight was a party for music industry legend Clive Owens at the extra exclusive nightspot Sparta. I think he turned 200 or something; I wasn't really here to deal with Clive. I was talking to up and coming R & B singer/songwriter Neyo about his upcoming album when I saw her across the room.
It must have been fate that locked eyes with each other at the same time. She was in conversation with some industry insider whose name is not really important at this moment and time. I could tell that she wasn't really paying her associate any attention because she kept looking back in my direction. I guess Neyo turned mind reader because he said, "Man if you don't go over there and talk to that girl I will."
Respectfully pardoning myself I began to make my way through the crowded nightclub to her. I was a few feet away when I saw another man walk by and hug her. I guess I lost my opening; hey he who hesitates is lost. Moving laterally toward the bar, I ordered a beer. However just I reached over to pay, a smooth golden brown arm slid past me and paid the bartender for me. Swinging around I was about to thank my benefactor when I realized it was her. Dressed in black midriff exposing black tank top, tight blue jeans and black high-heeled boots was Mariah fucking Carey.
Much to my own surprise, I managed to eek out a thank you. We exchanged introductions and a few pleasantries and she invited me to ultra-exclusive VIP section downstairs. Heading to the kitchen we got in an elevator and went downstairs.
The VIP was more of a set of quiet set of secluded rooms. While the music upstairs was so loud that some places there you couldn't hear yourself think, each room down here had it's own stereo system that allowed whoever was in the room to control the volume.
Mariah told me that some people preferred to have their parties down here because with all the action upstairs it was easier to get privacy and get to know people down here. However few people get access to the rooms. Pulling a key card from inside her top she slid it through the slot by the door and held it open for me.
Raising an eyebrow at her, I asked "Hey isn't that my job. I am supposed to be the gentleman."
Giving me an almost apologetic smile she said "Don't worry, I'll let it slide this one time."
Entering the room, I looked around and saw it was hardly inhabited all. Just about 10 people who are so rich I can't even admit their existence in the room without having a 7-figure attorney near by the time I finish this sentence.
The room was mostly a clash of red, black and gold with an almost Indian motif going for it. Inside of regular couches, chairs and tables there were possibly the expensive looking loveseats I have ever seen in my life.
Closing the curtain around our love seat we sat together and began getting to know each other. For about an hour the only interruption we had was a waitress to refill our drinks and offer us food. I was about to order another beer when Mariah spoke first and ordered a bottle of Moet champagne and fruit. I never really was a big fan of someone ordering my food for but this is Mariah fucking Carey. Who am I to be difficult?
The more we talked the more it was obvious that we were attracted to each other, despite the fact that we both had very different personalities and lifestyles.
We spoke about the music business and she admitted to me that usually she doesn't really pick her tracks and usually her A&R (a record label's artist development department) and her assistant just chose production that they think she would like or sound good over and let her work with that. If she doesn't like it the track gets scrapped or the producer gets fired. This was weird to me because I prefer my artists to be very hands on and be very involved with the production process. Mariah offered to have her people get in contact with me and maybe we could work on something together. I was just about to agree when her cell phone rang, she sweetly smiled at me and put it on vibrate.
We were talking about our exes when the subject of her ex husband music mogul Tommy Mattola came up. She was telling me a humorous story about the time he tried to cook for her when they first met and almost burned down her kitchen when she started to tear up.
I knew first hand that no matter how long you have been apart from someone for a period of time those feelings you thought were long dead and buried could still hurt like hell.
Sliding over close to her, I gave in to the compulsion to hold her close and let her cry against my chest. When tears decapitated she looked up at me and there was something in her eyes that made her incredibly irresistible to me. We were almost magnetically drawn to each other. We were merely inches away from each other's lips when a waitress came over and interrupted us and alerted Mariah she had a family emergency.
Getting up, I walked her to the black SUV that her hulking man mountain bodyguard was waiting by. She promised to call me later tonight when everything calmed down and kissed me on the cheek and climbed into the truck.
As the truck sped off into the night, I realized I fucked up because the whole time we were together we never exchanged phone numbers or email addresses. While it would not be difficult to get my information from her record label, I doubted she would go to any extra lengths to get into contact with me.
Climbing into my black Navigator truck, I headed to the Queens,New York studio that my labels owns. One of my artists an aspiring R &B singer 29-year-old Ava Prince was working on her album during the graveyard shift. Say what you want about her pop R&B style, ever since that girl signed on the dotted line she took any and every opportunity to get in the studio and work.
Sometimes I could check the log book to see who was here and see that she showed up to work on her album from midnight in the morning to dawn, then she would go home, get her daughter ready for school, sleep, take care of her child, perform at a club and then head back to the studio later that same night. Her work ethic seemed to be contagious because I was too wired to go home and sleep, so I went to the office of the studio and began to fine tune my marketing strategy with Ava's album to be release during the same time a few of her guest appearances on other people's albums would hit the mainstream market.