Michael was proud of his latest designs and he knew the critics would love them too. They were sophisticated and fresh. His clothes always looked comfortable to wear and the fabrics and colors were to die for. As the song WHO’S GOT GAME? sung by the beautiful Stephanie Jeannot and Ryan Love set the tone for the runway, Michael laughed to himself as he listened to the lyrics:
Who's Got Game? Somebody tell me?
Stephanie: Well he thinks he does.
Who's Got Game? Somebody tell me?
Ryan: Well she says she does.
Stephanie: If you do then you don't need nobody else.
Ryan: If you don't, don't even try to play yourself.
And there was no doubt in Michael’s mind that he’s definitely Got Game.
Sitting to Michael’s right was Tony, sipping a glass of blackberry brandy and smiling with contentment saying over and over, “That’s the shit man, that’s the shit! I definitely gotta get me a pair of those pants with the jacket. Dayum that’ll look good on me.” “You think everything looks good on you man, I bet your bedroom walls are full of pictures of you,” Jay-T chimed in. “How did you guess man?” Tony laughed as he downed his drink. “Cause I know how you be, man. You spend more time looking at yourself in the mirror than looking at chicks,” Jay-T said like Mr. Know-It-All as he shook his head. “What you jealous dawg? You just mad cause I ain’t looking at you, is that it?” Tony teased him as he poured himself another drink and blew a kiss in Jay-T’s direction. “You better get the fuck out of here man. I don’t play that faggot shit man,” Jay-T laughed. “Sure you don’t, that’s why I always catch you watchin me,” Tony said with an air that sounded like there was more truth than joking to his statement. “Suck on my left nut son and knock yourself out,” Jay-T said as he tried to end the conversation and focus on the show. “You wish. You wish!” Tony said, determined to get in the last word.
“Can you believe these guys?” Michael said to Layla, his secretary. “They’re like kids,” Layla said as she smiled that smile that showed all of her pearly white teeth. Layla was beautiful and classy. Michael didn’t know why she was wasting her time working behind a desk when she should be on a stage singing her ass off. But Layla said she wanted to learn the business end first and then the performing aspect of her life could begin later. She said she wanted to learn from the best and even offered to work for free for the first 6 months. Yeah, she was good, and Michael quickly snatched her up and put her on his payroll. He loved having smart women around him, who had a sense of humor and could hang with the boys. Layla continued, “I keep telling you, you need to pay me more for babysitting, because these two are a handful,” as she pointed to Tony and Jay-T, who quickly feigned shock and immediately went to her and laid a big kiss on her cheek. “But you know you love us Layla and you wouldn’t have it any other way,” bragged Jay-T. “You better stop. Now you got me all wet,” Layla complained with a sly smile on her face. “I know. I have that effect on the ladies. I can’t help it,” said Tony. “I meant my face you fool! You’re so silly,” she laughed as she got up and headed toward the door. “Where are you going?” Michael demanded, almost hating to see her go. “We’ve got company. Denise just texted me from the front desk. I’ll be right back,” Layla said as she left the room.
Jay-T and Tony both looked at each other and then swiftly at Michael. Suddenly the front door burst open and in stepped Bobby sweating profusely as if he had just finished racing up a flight of stairs. “I tried to call you Michael, but your phone must be off,” Bobby said nervously and out of breath. “Call me? About what?!!!” demanded Michael. “We’ve got company,” Bobby said as if he had swallowed something whole and couldn’t say just what it was. “Man you better spit it out quick, because I’m about to lose my patience!” Michael said trying not to raise his voice as the music suddenly stopped and one of his models, Javier stood still, drop dead gorgeous, bare-chested in a pair of black leather pants with a floor length black fur coat exposing his muscled eight pack abs that only he could get away with and still look masculine. Nobody said a word. No one dared. Then the door opened again. This time everybody looked at the door as three white men in dark suits stepped in and one of them said, “Michael Cavaughn.”
No one said a word. Tony mouthed the words, “Oh shit!” They didn’t look like models, that’s for damn sure, Tony thought to himself and if they were they had definitely gotten off on the wrong floor. Anyone who knew the brand name Michael Cavaughn knew it represented fashionably young, fly and sophisticated men and none of these qualities applied to the three men dressed in drab shades of gray that clouded the room. Jay-T couldn’t agree more, but he sensed something more sinister in their stance and it was written all over his face. Jay-T couldn’t hide it even if he wanted too. Tony tried to clear his throat to distract Jay-T, but it didn’t work. Jay-T had that awful look on his face that said, “Dayum, mama said there would be days like this,” and with that thought he slowly sat his black ass down hoping he could disappear in the soft chocolate leather sofa that welcomed him with ease.
“Who’s asking?” Michael said defiantly as he rose to his feet, his heart beating ever so rapidly that he had to swallow to stomach what was about to come next. “NYPD,” said The Man with a mouth that reminded you of a recently fallen governor of New York State, as he flashed his badge and revealed two rows of pariah teeth awaiting it’s prey. “What can I do for you officers?” said Michael calmly as if he were about to ask them if they wanted to stay for dinner. “You’re under arrest for assault and battery of Mr. Stogie McKnight.” “Ain’t that some shit?!” said Michael with a crooked smile. “Is that what he told you? That I assaulted him?” Michael just shook his head in disbelief and said, “Once a pussy always a pussy.” “I’m just here to bring you in Mr. Cavaughn,” the lead detective said. “You can tell your side of the story to the judge, but I’m warning you, Mr. McKnight has witnesses.” “I’m sure he does. I’m sure he does,” Michael said sarcastically. The two other detectives made their move to handcuff him, but Michael protested. “Officers, is this really necessary? Handcuffs? I’m a public figure. I have my reputation to protect,” Michael pleaded. “I’m sorry, it’s regulations, but if you want you can carry your coat in front of you to hide the cuffs, but…” the officer was cut off by Michael. “Now we’re talking. I can do that. Thanks. Bobby, hand me my coat,” Michael commanded as Bobby swiftly handed him his coat. No sooner was he cuffed and covered fashionably in his cashmere coat did Layla enter the room to report, not missing a beat, “Michael I’ve phoned your attorney and he said not to worry. He will meet you at the precinct station.” “Thank you Layla. And don’t forget to call Mariah for me. Please contact her before she hears about this on the news,” Michael said fully confident that this matter would be settled swiftly and amicably. “Oh, course. I’ll do it right away,” Layla said as she left the room, taking all the air with her.
“Oh, shit!” Tony mouthed the words again. Jay-T just looked up at him not knowing what to make of what was going down, but he prayed to God that He would intervene and make this nightmare go away. Bobby looked like he was about to shit on himself and something in the room smelled like he already did. The detectives must have gotten wind of it too, because they looked at each other and quickly left the room with the lead detective leading the way as the other two officers followed with Michael Cavaughn between them.
“That’s the shit man, that’s the shit!” Tony said as he poured himself another drink.
To listen to the song WHO'S GOT GAME? click here.
To buy the CD or MP3 with all the songs mention in the novel LOVING YOU click here.
