Chapter Three

• MAKUA •

Heat rushed through my body in waves as my feet padded against the ground, jogging through the park as fronds brushed the exposed skin of my ankle. Orange leaves fell and scattered across the path, ushered by the late fall breeze.

I rushed down the path, pushing my face cap further down to hide myself from being recognized.

My head bobbed the sound of SZA's Low, blasting from my headphones in a futile attempt to keep my thoughts at bay. With people loitered around the streets and the crowded route I took for my morning run, I still felt the paranoia creeping in at every turn.

Be careful.

Chiara's words had relentlessly played on in my mind for days. It was barely a week since the whole ordeal and nothing had happened. Harper had barely spoken to me since she ditched me at the station, only sending an 'im so glad you're back home and safe' text the next day. She hadn't messaged about my album release schedule, meeting, anything.

Meeting Ramiro had been my one and only ticket to creative freedom. He was well known in the industry and if he'd put in a good word for me, I wouldn't have to eat shit out of the executives' hands or beg them to push out my music. If only he hadn't—

I stopped in my tracks and slouched, bracing my knees as my breathing increased. Shit. Shit. Shit. I couldn't say 'is' anymore when referring to him. Only was. He was dead. The tangy smell of blood and the image of his body, haunted me. I could see his face whenever my eyes shut, bloody and sinister.

And yet, the world was moving on like nothing had happened. No single magazine or tabloid reported it. An influential figure like him just vanished into thin air.

Then what would happen to someone like me?

My eyes darted across the street, the sidewalks, the cars driving by and stopping around me. It felt like someone, something was watching me, out of sight and subtly.

God, it was on record that I was with him. The last person to see him alive. Would I be a target?

I didn't let my thoughts fester further, I completed my jog back to my apartment and shut the doors behind me like I'd been chased. Once I was sure the locks were all in place, I let out a sigh and moved to make myself some coffee.

Looking back at it, though the process had been long and rewarding, I never imagined that I would live in an apartment on the upper east side of New York again.

Life had once been vibrant and easy-going, wealth and assets being the last worry on my mind when daddy was alive. But he wasn't now. And staring at a semi-luxurious space like this again, coffee in hand and content settling at the bottom of my heart, felt like things were easing back to the way they were.

The landline beeped and brought me from my thoughts. Green light flashed with a slew of new messages. I walked to the phone - and said a little prayer in case - and played the first message.

"Makua." Aunt Kemi's voice. My body stiffened at that. I knew what was to come, but i let it play regardless. "It's been the third week in a row now. I'm sure you're not leaving under a rock there. I've called and texted you, what is your problem? do you take joy from seeing your siblings sent home from school because of fees that you can easily take care of? Are you that evil?"

The beep cut her next words short, and I stared at the receiver in awe. She was someone that could most certainly leave me speechless at any point. Three years had past since my parents were killed. My younger siblings left under her tenacious care, while i'd been stuck here in college. With no way to go back home or survive alone.

I remember the frantic manner in which I begged my aunt for assistance. Pleaded that she send me some money or arranged for me to fly back to Nigeria to attend the burial. But she shunned me. Told me I was lucky to have been left alone in a foreign place. And cut contacts with my siblings and I.

Now that my name was buzzing here and beyond, she wanted me to send more money than i'd sent the last time for fees that I'm sure she was just fabricating. God, I needed to make it big time to get the two of them out of there. I could only hope she wasn't mistreating them.

I picked the receiver and took a deep breathe, about to contact her when the line started ringing. One the screen, it flashed Harper's digits and I answered quickly.

Harper's words stumbled out as fast as the receiver reached my ears, "Please tell me you're free right now and planning to come in today,"

"Didn't plan to. Why?"

A pause from her line didn't ease the tension as she said the next words. "Mr. Norton is asking for you."

•••

Echo records was a sight for fucking sore eyes. Anyone would have killed to be able to step past the lobby with an all-access card, walk past the barricades of checks and scans - all the while the security team smiled at them. Being able to even step into an elevator in the building required a level of clearance, and I was lucky, to most, to even have it.

If it were years ago, I would kill to even get a guest pass and take a tour around. But knowing what I did now, the glam and hype of the place didn't have the same type of appeal anymore. Especially when I was being summoned.

When the elevator doors to the executive floor slid open, I made a conscious effort to pray to the lord to keep me in check. Fingers curled and knocked against the doors to office, A golden-plated sign reading: Kyle Norton, glistened from the overhead lighting.

"Come in," was all I heard and no prayer was too small to make again as I took a step into the room. The delicious scent of coffee and cinnamon tingled around the room. The walls were lined with certifications and awards from various artists in the company.

The blonde-haired tyrant sat at the far end of the large room behind a desk, while Harper and some other members of my team were seated around him. Louis, my stylist sent me a look as I approached which was the least encouraging.

"Makua." Kyle drawled, flipping a file closed and smiling brightly. If I didn't know any better, I would have swooned from the way his accent coated my name and rolled off his tongue. "It's been so long, I've missed my favourite pop star. Take a seat." He gestured to one beside Harper - who looked like she was being held at gunpoint.

"How have you been?"

"Great." I could hear the sarcasm in my voice so I added softly, "I hope you've been okay."

"Just fantastic." His smile widened, white teeth on display. He turned his gaze to Harper. "I hear you applied for the December Album rollout, I wasn't aware that the album was done already." - because we didn't want you to fucking sabotage it. "You could have let us know on time, it's barely two months to the time, we'd need more time to promote."

The tension in the room could be felt just by looking at the faces of everyone present. From my producer, Steve, to the directors and co-writers who were all assigned to me since I got here. We worked tirelessly to create songs, take photoshoots for the rollout and make promo content. All authorized by the executive we were all under. The dumbfuck smiling and feigning ignorance behind his desk.

Everyone's eyes zeroed in on me but no one dared utter a word, silence falling around us. I blinked back the tears threatening to fall. I should be used to this by now. It wasn't the first time my application had been rejected or sabotaged.

Kyle's smirk curled and He leaned against his seat in satisfaction. His eyes never left mine. We stared at ourselves and the pressure sizzled against the conflicting atmosphere.

"Who is taking the December rollout?" I hated the way my voice quivered as the words left my lips. He wasn't worth having another breakdown for. I wouldn't let him sight a single tear.

"Hayden," He leaned forward, the wicked grin widening with each movement. "Her debut album is our top priority for this quarter. Hopefully, you'll be given a chance by the next quarter or by this time next year."

Harper placed a reassuring hand on mine, her grip tight as my fingers flexed against my side. Hayden just arrived a few months ago, with two singles and barely any buzz around her name. Yet she was getting a debut album release before me.

I stood before the losing control of my emotions, bidding everyone a quick farewell and storming out of the office. Despite Harper's pleas for me to calm down, I couldn't stand to watch Kyle's daunting look.

I took the stairs down, quick on my feet until I was sure that I would get some privacy. I let the tears fall then. Quiet sobs racked through my body and I slid to the floor, leaning against the metal railing. I could just hear my fanbase loitering every social platform once the announcement would be made, questioning my team and I for all the promises we made for this roll out.

Years spent cultivating an audience for the moment I dropped this, watching every interaction with them blossom only to be met by disappointment. I teased unreleased songs, promised that it was only a matter of time. I could only stall for so long.

Call this number if you run into trouble later, and I'll handle it.

I dug my hands through the pockets of my jeans, I thought about calling that number for days. But Chiara's words made me steer clear. She must have had a good reason to warn me about her own brother but then again, I didn't have much of a choice.

Looking down at the card in my hand, the only thought that ran through my mind was the possibilities.

Ramiro might have been my first ticket but what if the universe had provided a solution staring right back at me? I'd be a fool not to take my chance.

So, I typed the number and dialed without a second thought. One ring. Two rings. Three.

Maybe this was a bad id-

"Hello." A deep, husky voice rang through the line. Thick with a foreign accent I couldn't quite place.

The words lumped in my throat, letting silence ring through until he spoke again. "Who's this?"

"Makua," Silence again. So I took a deep breath. "I think we've met before. You left your card with me and asked to call if I ran into trouble. So I'm calling now. I think I need your help."

I heard him sigh into the phone, silence lingering on the line once more. I bit my lips, antsy and worried. What if he wasn't the one? I hadn't even asked who it was.

I drew back, about to cut the call when his voice came through again. "Send me your location. I'll come meet you right now."