Craig gazed down at his computer. “It was a lot for you to perform the day of…well, you know.”
Yes, Shauna knew. Attempting to do a full concert on the same day she buried her mother sounded crazy. If that statement went for an apology, she would take it.
After a deep breath, she did her own damage control with her manager. “The time away did help. I got to do something I hadn’t done in a long time: focus on me. Now I’m ready to get back to work.”
Craig grumbled in that manner that made Shauna cringe.
He stood from his desk. “Audiences are fickle. Stay out of the spotlight and they forget about you. I can only post so much on social media before they figure out that it’s not you.”
Even virtually, Craig spoke for her. Shauna released her hands and spoke her mind. “Are you saying the fans don’t care about me?”
“I’m saying it’s hard to keep them interested without new material.” He sighed loud enough to be annoying.
“But I recorded so many songs. What happened to releasing my album?” She wouldn’t have been able to promote it, but lots of popular artists released work without promotion and did well. She could have been one of those people.
Craig lowered, then shook his shaved head. Her heart slowed its beat and she felt a heavy pressure on her shoulders, the same pressure that had crippled her spirit.
Come on, girl. Breathe. You are not weak.
“It had been a while since you had a release before you committed yourself.” His dark skin seemed murky now, especially the more Craig spoke to her.
“Stop saying I committed myself.” She folded her arms. “Going to Peaceful Acres was the greatest thing for me.”
His bushy eyebrows drew together.
“It was the first time I took time for myself where the paparazzi didn’t follow me. It was a vacation without all of the sand and surf.” Maybe if she said it enough, that line of trash would sound plausible.
“Thanks to your sabbatical, Universe Records dropped you. Radio stations stopped playing you. The only video of yours on YouTube that’s getting a lot of play is the one from your last show.” He wrung his hands together. “The memes alone will drive you crazy.” As soon as he made the statement, he flinched. Like he needed to cover up his mistake, he kept talking. “The fans stopped writing.” He tapped his fingers on the desk.
She shook her head hard enough that the back of her neck ached. “That’s not true. I still got fan mail. They cared.”
Her fan mail that used to be delivered by the truckloads could now be brought to her by one carrier from his satchel in a single trip.
Shauna exhaled and eased back into the chair. “Besides, I shouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone. Rock stars do crazy stuff all the time and get a pass. Since middle school, I have been homeschooled and tutored, so I didn’t do the typical rebellious teenager stuff. I have been working hard since I was fourteen. I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink. I don’t go out to parties. I need to be cut some slack here.”
Craig sighed, then lowered his head again. If Craig thought her sabbatical made her soft, he had another thing coming. Forget what the doctors had said about her making some significant changes in her life. No, Shauna needed to keep on track like she hadn’t missed a beat.
He stood from his desk and planted himself in front of her. He brought his hands to his hips. From under the brim of her hat, she spied his knock-off Rolex watch and simple gold wedding band that glowed against his dark skin.
“What happened to all of your good jewelry?” She flicked his watch.
“This is part of what I wanted to tell you after your last show.” He covered his watch with his hand as he regarded her. “Your accountant ran off with half of your money and fled the country. We tried to get your attorney to sue the bastard, but she was in on the scam too and took off with more of your dough. Then you had all of the other people in your employ.” He brought his hand up and ticked off people on each finger. “Your personal chef, your masseuse, your stylist, your acupuncturist.” He snickered. “The reason you got six months in that place was because each time they asked for money, I fired someone you employed until there was no one left.”
“Not even my vocal coach?” The person who had been with her before she signed her first record deal would never leave her, right?
“He was the first to go.” Craig shook his head. “I don’t mean I fired him. He left on his own as soon as you, um, went away.”
She rubbed the back of her neck to relieve the strain and to keep her hands occupied. When her fingers brushed against the coarse, balled hair underneath her braids, she brought her hand down.
“I can’t even afford to hire someone to style you. You have no money. Nothing. Nada. Zippo.” He made a circle using his index finger and thumb.
She gritted her teeth, snorted like a bull, then spoke. “What about you? You could have gone off and represented some other hot up-and-comer.”
He put his hand on top of her shoulder. It was the first personal touch she’d had since being away. She relaxed, but kept her gaze on him.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” His already deep voice dipped down to a lower octave. “I gave up my pay months before you went in. I hired my own lawyer to go after the bastards but they made sure to have ironclad contracts. I saw the writing on the wall and I tried to tell you but, well, you know.”
Yes, she knew she hadn’t listened to anyone. As one of the hottest R&B artists out there, no one had bothered to give her any bad news except for one thing.
“I also sold my house, the cars, the jewelry. Delores and I don’t mind the comparably smaller house. She says there’s less to clean, especially since the maid stopped coming by three times a week.” He chuckled again but this time it was meant to ease her mind.
She reached forward to pat his hand, but stopped herself. The old Shauna wouldn’t have shown this much compassion. Chantel Evans threatened to come out, and she didn’t need her old, insecure self with her overwhelming need to please rearing her timid head. Like Craig used to tell her, “Release your ghetto fabulousness.”
If she showed a softer side, Craig would probably worry that she couldn’t be that hit maker again. From everything he had done for her, she knew he expected her to do great things again. Shauna wondered if she could deliver.
“And the restaurant?” Shauna remembered when Craig had bought the place for his wife because it was Delores’s dream to own her own Southern-cuisine restaurant.
He smiled. “I don’t care if I have to dig ditches to keep that place going. Delores has more than earned her right to have Dee’s House.”
It was nice to see a man so supportive of his woman’s goals. It would have been nice to have someone supporting Shauna instead of using her, like her record label.
She scanned Craig’s much smaller space. Bright white paint covered the walls, and it didn’t match the expensive items he’d brought into the room. As soon as her gaze settled on his shelves and she caught a glimpse of her Grammy awards, she raised herself from the chair and strolled to them like a magnetized pull.
When she stood in front of the gold trophies, she stared at them. They reminded her of her old self. Her confident self even if the confidence stemmed from a lie, a fake persona.
She put her hand on the plate and ran her fingertips over her engraved name. A shiver crept up her back as though she had touched a tombstone.
“With no money and a crooked accountant, your taxes hadn’t been paid. When the IRS sold your house and all your possessions while you were resting, I couldn’t bear to let them sell those.” Craig stood behind her. “I didn’t have enough money to buy