F A L L O N

“Let me take you out and ease your mind,” the deep sound of his voice graced my ears.

But was he serious? We’d just spent hours in the studio, finishing up an album for my newest signee’s debut drop. On top of that, I was ready to shower, curl up in bed, and cry myself to sleep. Going out on a date, mixing business with pleasure, and then having to face the music—literally and figuratively—in the morning was not on my to-do list.

Giveon Reynolds was a fine piece of ass, and working with him did things to me, but I couldn’t. As Elite Tunes’ record executive, fornicating with an artist would be highly frowned upon.  There was no way I would risk it, no matter how bad I probably needed the depression fucked out of me.

“I know that look, and I’m not trying to do nothing crazy, Fallon. I think I have some music that really could help you. It’s shit they don’t want me to play here.”

“By ‘they,’ you mean me?” I asked, tilting the shot glass to my lips to sip the brown liquor. It burned its way down my esophagus before landing in my stomach and leaving me with a slightly queasy feeling. I hated drinking, but I needed it.

“I know you’re too dog, but your boss sucks. You should be able to make this shit pop around here with new flavor.”

“Are you saying I don’t do my job?”

“Fallon, no. I’m just saying that you’re in a position to influence some change around here. I know it’s not just you who makes the decisions, but people listen to you. Let me play you this music, and we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Highkey, I wished someone would throw a few stones at me and put me out of my misery. I was fucking tired, and he was right. I was in a position to make some serious changes, but I was met with resistance and given the impression that there were real restrictions on my newfound role. I probably should never have let Wynter and Summer talk me into going for an executive position.

I didn’t even do well with suits and paperwork. Music was a passion of mine, but just for shits and giggles. It was something passed down to me from my mother, who had been a background singer for some not-so-famous bands in the early 70s. That went down to my twelve-year-old daughter, Augest, who had started her own band. She loved the guitar like me, and wanted to be a singer, but didn’t have the voice for it. Even with a voice coach, my baby was better off strumming strings.

“Fine. Impress me,” I said, giving him the green light.

The pretty white smile that plastered his face made my insides tingle, but that was probably because of the alcohol. I waved down the bartender, and before I could pay, Giveon told him to charge it to his card. Shrugging it off, I followed him outside, and five minutes later, we were on the highway listening to the music he wanted me to hear.

Lying my head back, I got lost in the music. It touched every part of me, especially my heart. I’d been through so much since before Augest was born, and I had to fight every damn day to stay alive for her. It was only for her. With that, I had to keep occupied. Too much time alone with my thoughts had me thinking about the failed suicide attempt at sixteen and how, at thirty-three, it would be a lot easier to accomplish… If I didn’t have a child who needed me.

Anything for Augest Naree.

“You’re crying,” Giveon’s voice pierced my thoughts.

“Music’s really good,” I responded quickly.

“Yeah? But you’re not. What’s up, Fallon?” he asked, taking hold of my hand as he floated through the traffic.

It took a full minute to register that I wanted him to touch me in other places. Giveon was a happy person who made painful music. Well, it was music that touched the soul if you understood it, but it was sellable. I wished that his happiness could somehow transfer to my body.

“You wouldn’t get it,” I responded, easing my hand out of his.

“Then explain it to me. It’s just us.”

“You realize that’s not… smart, right? For me?”

“You’re under this impression that I’m gonna tell your business to the tabloids or something.”

“Maybe. Get some leverage.”

“What do I need leverage for, Fallon!” he chuckled but I could tell there was a little frustration behind it.

“I don’t know, Giveon.”

“Well, I’m a successful artist, my album is selling, I live in a mini mansion, drive what I want, eat what I want, fuck who I want. What exactly do I gain from exposing you when you’re the only one in the company willing to hear this unleashed stuff? Plus, I’m just not that type of nigga.”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, hoping to ease the thoughts running through my mind from looking at his gorgeous face. He wasn’t my usual type: dark skin, locs, hood through and through, but I was so attracted to him. I could sense that beneath the happy and ready-to-work exterior, there was a demon who could get my mind off my sadness for a bit.

“Okay,” I stated. “Pull over.”

“Huh?”

“In that garage, pull over.”

“If this is your way of asking for sex, I’m good, Fal.”

He kept driving, and I pretended like that wasn’t what I was asking for. I didn’t do rejection well, so it was best for me to just keep quiet and enjoy the vibes that I was getting. In reality, I want it to be in my bed and smashing the tip of my G-spot vibrator against my clit. I wasn’t really a rose girl, but I wasn’t opposed to using that to make me cum either. It would actually be great if he was the one to make me cum.

G I V E O N

Fallon was quiet for the rest of the ride, and I let the music play to fill the silence between us. It wasn’t beyond me that the electricity between us was on full force. Any man in his right mind would want to fuck her and of course, I did want to. The issue with it was that I could sense the depression all over her. I had two older sisters who had gone through severe episodes of depression when they were younger, so I knew exactly what she was going through. I truly wanted to play my music for her in hopes that it would help her process her feelings.

She was a black woman holding a high executive position in a company that wanted to focus more on the white artists. however, she wasn’t the one to fully let everyone just get what they wanted. She had made sure they created a space for me and a few other black artists in the company and made sure that we were taken care of. I didn’t want to jeopardize that, but boy, did I want to explore her. I just couldn’t be the thing that broke her.

I’d battled with my own lane of depression briefly, which got me into making my first mixtape, but since then, music became an outlet that “cured” me. And because it was such a help to me, I wanted to be helpful to other people. The label wanted me to be on some Bryson Tiller/Brent Faiyaz type shit, but I liked acoustic music and instruments that people didn’t really use in their music. I could tell that Fallon really liked what I was playing for her, and it was making her a little bit more emotional than she probably wanted it to be. My goal was to create a safe space in music for whoever needed it.

“I don’t want you to take me continuing on to be some type of rejection,” I started, “because on another day, I would fuck you anywhere you wanted me to. But I know you’re dealing with some shit, and I just can’t fuck with whatever healing you need to go through.”

“I thought that was the reason you wanted me to ride with you?”

“The music and my dick are two different methods of healing.”

“Yeah, so I’m only worthy of one and not the other?” she asked.

“Do you really wanna mix business and pleasure?” I chuckled, passing the exit I was aiming for to have a little bit more time with her.

She was quiet for a while, and I let that be it as I drove for another twenty miles or so. It wasn’t until she looked at the clock and saw that it was close to midnight that she finally asked to be taken back to her car. I was sure she had sobered up a little and would be okay to drive, so I did as she asked. Her phone rang on the drive back, and she answered in this sweet, soft tone. From the other side of it, I could tell she was talking to her daughter, promising that she would be there within the next hour unless she wanted to stay at her grandmother’s.

“Your dad’s? It’s almost midnight… Well, it’s not the same, Augest. You don’t live with him… What do you mean? … Is he there?! Put him on the phone.”

She was pissed and I remained quiet to let her handle her shit.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Gus? Why are you even there at this time? Oh yeah, she called you? I’m sure she did. Whatever. She can stay there, but bring my daughter back home by Friday… MY daughter. I don’t give a damn how you say it. I’m the primary parent. When you’re ready to—what the fuck do you mean full custody? Are you fucking stupid, Gus?” she laughed, but I could tell there wasn’t shit funny. “Okay, do you. You can talk to my lawyer. Have my fucking kid home by Friday!” she hung up.

“So…” I said after a few beats.

“I wanna fuck, Giveon. If you’re not gonna do it, take me back to my car and I will handle shit elsewhere.”

I knew that she was frustrated and that she was going through some shit that could probably use some stress relief, but the thought of her fucking with someone else didn’t rub me the right way. I thought about it for a second as we got closer to the bar and her car, and I just said fuck it.

“I’ll help you relieve the stress, Fallon, but be careful what you ask for. I don’t want you stalking me or acting crazy.”

“What? You think you got some magic dick?” she laughed.

“The way I’m gonna make love to you then fuck you? Absolutely.”

“Okay, so why can’t you just normal-fuck me and leave all the love and shit outta it?”

“You seem like you need all of it. I got it to give, but only for tonight, beautiful.”

Or so I thought...