Chocolate and Italian Wine (Music and Mayhem Book 1)

Chocolate and Italian Wine

By Lili Porter

1

Karisma Montgomery stood clutching Goldust’s sixth Grammy of the night, the flashes sparking out from the dark theater and the red sequins on her strapless red Versace dress shimmered under the intense lights that were above her. Karisma was an exotic beauty, with a cinnamon dusted skin tone and long raven hair that was flat ironed and smooth as silk that evening, tucked behind her ears. She was polished and glamorous, her lips full and painted a matte red. The large, almond shaped chocolate brown eyes, which were her best feature, were heavily rimmed in black eyeliner with a perfect bat wing to give her a sophisticated elegance that reminded one of old Hollywood glamour. When Karisma wanted to be noticed, all eyes were on her. She had that type of presence.

The smile didn’t leave Karisma’s lips as she patiently waited for the wild applause to die down and for her industry peers to be seated. She looked over to her fellow band member, co- lead singer, co-writer, and cousin, Chris. More than anyone, Chris had been instrumental in making everything happen and looking at him in that moment gave her an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.

Chris caught Karisma’s eye and was grinning at her, their eyes locked. There had been countless long nights where they’d sat eyeball to eyeball, filled with anxiety and plenty of disagreements. But that was over, and they were receiving these awards now, real and tangible evidence of their efforts. They had done it, again! For the fifth consecutive year Goldust had won the coveted Album of the Year.

The four other members of the group all stood on stage, as well, and each of them held tight to their miniature gold and brass phonographs. Tessa, their cousin and background singer, bounced excitedly as the crowd went crazy. Clutching her award, she held it high above her brownish blonde head, pumping it wildly in the air. The crowd loved it, and she loved the crowd.

Goldust was the number one musical group in the world and quite unique. All six members were cousins and not one was over the age of thirty. Tessa walked up to the microphone first. “Eight years, it’s been eight years that we’ve been in this business, and we are so thankful to all of you. And I know I can speak for the rest of us when I say how grateful we are to our very own writing team of Chris Adams and Karisma Montgomery.” Tessa paused and everyone cheered. “Twenty-one songs making it to number one on the Billboard charts!” Then she took a step back, clearing the way for Karisma to step up to the clear glass podium so she could talk next.

Karisma looked at Chris and he nodded, letting her know that she should speak. She smiled at him and looked out into the sea of thousands of artists and fans. “This is amazing,” she gushed. “Again, we’d like to thank the good Lord for all our blessings.” She raised and shook her Grammy. “And, to any and everyone who had anything to do with the making of this album, we appreciate you so much. To all our loved ones, thank you for putting up with us this past year. To our wonderful fans, we love you so much. You are the reason we stand here! Thank you!” She waved, and so did the rest of the group as they exited the stage together.

Backstage, the six band members gave each other hugs and kisses, as the MC closed out the show. Immediately, they were descended upon by their handlers. They were escorted to a back room to speak to the media for photo ops and quotes about their successful night. Six awards was huge, their largest achievement at the Grammys thus far. As cameras flashed, and members of the press fired off similar questions stated a million different ways, Karisma and her fellow members of Goldust answered them all with graciousness and humility. Todd, the drummer, and Chris were always entertaining when dealing with the media and they loved it. The others had fun with it, but Karisma always longed for it to be over with as quickly as possible. That evening she felt tingly, and somehow she knew that the night held a tender promise of something more.

***

“The interviews are finally done; let’s get to the party,” Karisma encouraged.

“Yeah, time to have some fun, baby,” Tessa said, shaking her body like she was Shakira and smiling brightly.

The group piled into the white H2 limousine and headed over to the Goldtone Record label party at The Hotel Beverly Hills. The label was theirs and it was their way to continue the legacy they started long after their stage success ran its course, which was inevitable considering the industry. Six members, six equal shares of Goldtone Records.

Upon their arrival, a large crowd was standing outside the hotel, waiting to get a glimpse of the members of Goldust. The first thing they saw was Karisma’s long, shapely leg, which was revealed from the slit on the side of her gown. They went wild with applause and catcalls echoed out from all directions.

“I am soo ready for this!” Mikki, the group rapper and background vocalist, said.

When Tessa stepped out of the limo, she announced, “I’m getting drunk tonight.” “
Tessa!”
excited fans yelled.

“You already drunk,” Todd said. “I ain’t mad at cha, girl, ’cause I’m buzzin, too.” He bumped her arm lightly with his.

“I am not drunk,” she said, a little too excitedly. “I only had three cosmos. What are you, now? The pink panties police?” she asked, looking at him sideways, before she grabbed a hold of his arm to keep from stumbling.

“Naw, sis, have a good time, but watch yourself. Ya feel me? Where is Mike tonight?” He was peering at her through his long dreads now.

“He’ll be here later,” she answered. Once she stepped onto the sidewalk, Karisma said, “It’s our party. And it’s been a long six months. Let’s just have fun.” She looked at them both. Todd was nodding. Tessa glared at her.

“What?” Karisma asked, looking at her older cousin cautiously.

“You know what,” Tessa said.

“Don’t start with me, Tessa. We all want you to have a good time, okay?” Karisma sighed.

“Think Ray will show his face tonight?” Tessa asked, fully aware of the response she would get.

“Really? You thinking about that ho? Hopefully he’ll take his ass to a party he was actually invited to,” Karisma snapped.

“When have you known your ex to ever do what he should? If he can get close enough to whisper in your ear, he’ll be there,” Tessa said.

“If that asshole shows up tonight, I got somethin’ for him,” Todd said, nodding.

 Thaddeus, also known as Ted, the bass player of the group, said, “Security knows that should Alleged show up, he is to be shown out.”

“Whatever, y’all,” Tessa said with a wave of her long, perfectly polished, nailed hand. She folded her arms across her small chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Karisma asked.

“He’s an ass, but like you said, this is our party. We ain’t got to make a scene, Karisma.” Tessa started to walk ahead.

“No show, no scene,” Karisma called out.

“I know that’s right!” Todd exclaimed.

“Kari, you sure he’s not coming? We don’t need that kind of press,” Chris said, stepping up with his supermodel girlfriend, Alize at his side.

Karisma looked at Chris, one of her closest friends, and arched an eyebrow. “He’s not invited.”

As Karisma walked the red carpet toward the hotel entrance in her brown waist length fur coat with the other members of Goldust, a large roar went up. Against the backdrop of fans screaming their adoration, the flashing lights of the paparazzi’s cameras clicked incessantly.

“Karisma! Look here!”
Someone shouted as a camera bulb went off and various cell phone bulbs, all high in the air, trying to capture an image of success.

“
What kind of fur is that, Karisma? Mink?”
another paparazzi yelled. The flash of cameras nearly blinded her. She knew there would be much talk of the coat in the press tomorrow, but she didn’t care. She was Karisma Montgomery. She led, everyone else followed, so she didn’t answer.

Nearing the open glass doors, Karisma felt anxious. This was odd because she was really excited about the party. It would be a full night of crazy fun. She’d made sure of that. Since Goldtone was Goldust’s own label, they owned, operated, and distributed their own music. They answered to no one. Because of that, and several acts that they had brought on, they’d become multi millionaires. Well, Karisma and Chris had. They also owned the rights to the multi platinum songs they sang. As co-writers, they made more money than the rest of the group did. But while everyone enjoyed spectacular wealth, it was Karisma and Chris, the heart and soul of Goldust, who brought in the lion’s share of the income.

As the Goldust entourage moved closer to the entrance, the atmosphere became electric. All eyes were on them, but everyone was looking at Karisma.

“We love you, Karisma! Ted! Todd! Mikki!”
Karisma had to close her eyes briefly to the bright flashes of light. Female fans were screaming for Chris, the other sex symbol of the group. With his hazel eyes and dark wavy hair, he was sex walking. Six feet one inch of masculinity, his full-lipped smile was bright and white.

“Chris, when are you returning to the studio?”
someone shouted.

“Soon,” he called out in the direction in which the question had come from.

 Karisma posed and smiled for them all, throwing up the peace sign as the cameras snapped away. Wolfe, her bodyguard, cleared a path for her with a swipe of his big hand. Six foot six inches tall and two hundred eighty pounds of hard muscle; Avi Wolfe was a bear of a man. She would often say that he was as big as a refrigerator. He posed an intimidating presence. Bald, with skin the color of tree bark, he was good looking once one got past the ever-present scowl etched in his face. Tonight, Wolfe was in rare form.

“Back the fuck up!” he barked in a deep baritone voice. One of the paparazzi had gotten too close to Karisma’s face. He held her by the elbow.

“Karisma!” Someone in the crowd screamed her name shrilly and she turned in the direction of the sound. Several red roses were launched in her direction and fell near her feet. Wolfe immediately tucked her under his arm protectively as hotel security moved in the direction that the flowers were thrown. He hurried her into the building, nearly carrying her as her feet left the ground.

Once safely inside, Karisma saw that many of the guests were there. She briefly looked around, loving the work that Adrian Lacy, the elite party planner to the stars, had done with the room. It was spectacular. Illuminated by oversized crystal chandeliers, the golden room shimmered. There were miniature edible replicas of a Grammy on the dessert tables. And the reserved tables were covered with golden silk tablecloths. Twenty-four karat gold rimmed china plates were placed on top with gold and white napkins, folded like flowers on each plate. The centerpieces were tall Austrian crystal vases filled with gold and white roses and surrounded by twinkling votive candles. Karisma saw cell phones out with people taking selfies to post on Instagram and Twitter to music fans all over the world. She breathed in. Suddenly it was too much and so overwhelming; she needed a breath of fresh air to collect her thoughts and prepare to go in to the exclusive, invitation only, party and greet her peers and industry executives that had been a part of her journey.

***

One guest in particular stood out amongst the many. In the corner, leaning up to the bar and drinking a whiskey straight up was Giampaolo Montovani, who was called Paolo by most people. He wore a Dolce tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and black bowtie, ruby red studs and cufflinks, and he looked like he had just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine. His red soled, patent leather shoes were shined, making them as reflective as a mirror. His skin was a smooth, dark olive, his hair was shiny, thick, and coal black, his beard close cut. It was hard not to be drawn to his masculine beauty and men looked on with envy, women with lust filled eyes.

Paolo watched as Karisma entered the room, noticing how she drew the attention of many people, just as he always did.
She was exquisite
, he thought. Something caught his attention in the distance and he glanced over. His brothers, twins Davit and Daniel, were calling him over. They wanted their drinks. He walked over and sat down. The three were all undoubtedly handsome and it was clear that Paolo was the one who had the authority over them all.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be at FutureShock’s party?” Davit asked Paolo.

“You know why we’re here,” Paolo replied, not looking at Davit.

“We know why you’re here, not us,” Daniel said, dryly.

Paolo smiled, taking another sip of the dark liquor from his crystal lowball glass. They thought he was mainly there to find out the secrets of Goldtone’s success and yes, he was interested in it. After all, they had consistently beaten out FutureShock’s artists. Just that evening, their two most promising stars, Billy Wedge and Oliver the Poet, had lost to them in their categories. Despite that, this evening was truly about one thing and it wasn’t his label, it was about meeting the beautiful Karisma.

Paolo had followed Karisma’s career for quite some time. He was a big fan of hers, finding himself quite mesmerized by her voice, as well as her body when she moved around the stage, owning it. He felt silly, actually. He feared nothing, considering who he was. But the thought of meeting the longtime object of his desire, one of the most photographed, most beautiful women in the world, scared him to death. That’s why he never attempted to meet her when he’d gone to her concerts or in their mutual circles related to the recording industry.