Rhythms of Love: You Sang to Me / Beats of My Heart. Beverly Jenkins

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СКАЧАТЬ meal arrived a short while later. While he was enjoying it and looking over some of the lyrics one of his singers wanted on her next CD, a knock sounded on the door, followed by a cheery female voice calling out, “Housekeeping.”

      Taking in a deep breath, Jamal strode to the door and opened it.

      “Morning,” the unfamiliar woman standing on the other side said. She had short spiky brown hair, light skin and freckles.

      For a moment he was caught off guard. “You’re not her,” Jamal heard himself say.

      She blinked. “What?”

      “Sorry. I was expecting the woman who was here yesterday.”

      “You mean Reggie?”

      “Describe her.”

      “Brown skin. About five-three, ponytail, cute little body.”

      The description fit but to make sure he asked, “Does this Reggie sing?”

      “Everybody in Detroit can sing, but girlfriend can sang, as we say here.”

      He smiled. “Do you know how I can get in touch with her?”

      “Why?”

      “I’m Jamal Reynolds, and—”

      “The producer?” she asked excitedly. “I saw you on the BET Awards.”

      Jamal was glad somebody knew who he was.

      “You want to produce Reg?”

      “Maybe, but I need to talk to her.”

      “Hold on.” She moved aside a stack of white towels piled neatly on the cleaning cart and took out a cell phone hidden beneath. “Do you mind if I come in?” she asked him while punching up a number and placing the phone against her ear. “Not supposed to be on the phone. I get caught one more time, Ms. Harold’s going to fire me for sure.”

      Jamal, wondering how anyone could be so animated this early in the morning, stepped aside to let her in.

      “She isn’t answering.” The woman listened for a few more silent seconds then ended the call. “Sorry.”

      “That’s okay. Can I have her number?”

      “No. You may be famous, but I don’t know you like that.”

      He understood, and, truthfully, applauded her caution. “Can I ask your name?”

      “Trina Maxwell.”

      “Nice to meet you, Ms. Maxwell.”

      “Same here. Does Reggie know how cute you are?” she asked slyly.

      He laughed. “We didn’t talk about that.”

      “And you didn’t get her number either?”

      “No. I did give her my card. She promised to call, but didn’t.”

      “That’s because no woman in her right mind keeps a promise to a stranger. You live in L.A.?”

      “Yes.”

      Jamal was accustomed to women hitting on him, and he could see Trina sizing him up. “What’s Reggie’s real name?” he asked.

      “Regina. Regina Vaughn.”

      “Will you let her know how serious I am? All I want to do is to put her in the studio, nothing more.”

      “You must be blind then, because girlfriend is gorgeous, even though she refuses to work it.”

      “No. Not blind. Just professional.”

      “Okay. I’ll track her down and see if I can’t hook you up. Just remember I get to carry her moneybags once she gets famous.”

      “Noted.”

      “Good. I’ll come back and clean your room after you finish your breakfast. Ciao.”

      “Ciao.” A pleased Jamal closed the door. He now had an ally.

      Seated at the piano, Reggie stopped playing in the middle of the song and glared at the reason. “Shana Thomas, why are you singing with the sopranos?”

      The nine-year-old tried to look defiant for a minute, but in the face of Reggie’s obvious displeasure seemed to think better of that approach and looked away.

      Reggie sighed. “How many times do we have to do this, girl? You have a beautiful alto voice, please use it the way you’re supposed to.”

      “Yeah, you’re making the rest of us sing flat,” ten-year-old Alta Wayne snapped at Shana.

      Grumbles sounded from the rest of the twenty-five-member choir of the Madame Sissieretta Jones Elementary School of Music. It was unanimous; Shana was getting on everybody’s last nerve.

      “Okay, settle down,” she warned the grumblers.

      Shana’s twin, Shanice, gave her sister an impatient look. “Quit it, or I’m telling Mama.”

      Good, Reggie thought to herself. Mrs. Thomas wasn’t going to be happy hearing that her joke-loving daughter was cutting up at rehearsal again.

      “All right, let’s start over.” Reggie played the opening chords and the children raised their voices in the singing of “Peace Be Still.” The sweet angelic tones filled the old gym and the purity gave Reggie goose bumps. They were fine-tuning the gospel concert scheduled for tomorrow evening. “Beautiful,” she said quietly as she accompanied them.

      Madame Sissieretta Jones, for whom the school was named, was one of the most famous singers of the nineteenth century and the first black woman to sing at Carnegie Hall. The staff’s emphasis on academic excellence and music had resulted in much praise, but like most big-city schools, it struggled to pay its bills. There were infrastructure issues, too. The old building they were using was in dire need of a new furnace. The staff and parents hoped tomorrow’s fundraising concert would help with the purchase of a new one.

      The choir was in the middle of Kirk Franklin’s “Brighter Day” when Reggie noticed Trina’s quiet entrance into the gym. Trina waved and Reggie smiled in response, but the jaw-dropping sight of Jamal Reynolds entering on Trina’s heels almost made Reggie lose her place on the piano keys. How in the world? Focusing on the faces of the kids in an effort to calm herself, she did her best to concentrate on the music and not on the tall, dark and handsome man standing by the door, but it was hard.

      As the rehearsal continued, Jamal and Trina took seats on chairs positioned a short distance away from where the kids were practicing. Sitting quietly, an enthralled Jamal watched and listened. He couldn’t decide which was more impressive, the voices of the choir or the musical skills of the woman seated at the piano. He knew her name now—Regina Vaughn. From a producer’s point of view, the name had a good sound. Trina had described her as about five foot three, ponytail, cute little body, and that was in her favor, СКАЧАТЬ