Sun, 05 Jan 2025 19:55:36 -0500WeeblySun, 10 Apr 2022 17:56:46 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/love-and-the-business-the-triangle/chapter-twoTaylor
Everyone thought that my mother’s money was my money. My mother was well established before I ever released a single though. My mother was a very silent part of an elite circle, which was how she met my father in the first place. She was so quiet about everything she did, she even convinced my father that they should elope. She knew that his family would never accept her, and to save him the heartache of their disappointment leading to their wedding, she told him they would be better off running off and marrying in secret. She really took one for the team because her own family was livid that they weren’t a part of the process. She flashed an engagement and wedding ring in her mother’s saddened face and moved into a luxury apartment with my father in New Jersey.
My mother, Katherine Marie Thompson went from a determined law student to a mother committed to her brief stint in media law, who eventually settled into being a professor at Columbia. Katherine earned her own. She did not need Taylor Marie Thompson-Silverstein or Max Silverstein’s money. She had no problem letting go of Max when his family overwhelmed him with judgement for their marriage. Katherine had no problem packing me up and moving me into a modest two-bedroom apartment in Montclair, New Jersey, where the two of us lived until I was twelve. When I turned ten, both of my parents started to take my musical abilities seriously. I had always enjoyed putting on shows around the house. I wrote little rhymes and performed them. I couldn’t stay still so Katherine put my in both gymnastics and dance. I could move, I could write, and at ten I was showing proof that I could harmonize. In that case, Katherine switched out my gymnastics classes for singing classes. At twelve I recorded a minor hit. When I was fourteen, Max had officially started Silver Records, and by the time I was sixteen, he signed me under the strict stipulation that it would not be revealed that he was my father.
“I don’t want to be accused of nepotism,” he said to my mother.
“And your mother doesn’t want the world to know her son was once a nigger-lover,” she responded.
“Katherine, I have never used that word—”
“But your mother has.”
Max sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Are we gonna sign off on this or not?” he asked.
“Oh we can sign,” said Katherine. “You can also wear the fear of nepotism on your sleeve, but I need you to know in your heart your real reasons. I am against the idea of nepotism. Taylor is talented, and she should be successful based solely on that.”
“I’m never gonna go back and forth with you Katherine.” Max looked down at my face. “Taylor, do you wanna be signed to Silver Records and receive the benefits that you see these other artists getting such as promotion, studio time, artist development and all of those things?”
I nodded my head eagerly.
Katherine signed my contract, and I was legally bound to my father’s company without people knowing that I was his daughter.
These were some of the things that ran through my mind as I sat in my walk-in closet turned music room and wrote song after song to build an album that would establish me as an independent young adult woman. Q-Note made it a point for me to understand that my maturity and blossoming was not just about my sexuality, but it was about all of my experiences as a whole.
“Girl you’re not a woman because you’ve learned to suck dick,” I mumbled to myself. “Shit… you can’t even admit who you’re fucking. That needs to change.” I picked up my phone and looked at the disguised texts from Sekani. I was trying to fight my way out of this image hold, but dealing with Q-Note as one of my main producers was confusing as hell. On one hand he was helping me map out a whole plan to prove my independence, but on the other hand he was controlling who I dated. Who did he think I was having these experiences with that I was writing about anyway?
I started thinking about the other things that changed in my life. I finished high school. I bought and drove my own cars. I hung out in clubs and attended more industry parties on my own without my mother or a chaperone. I was waking up every day and making all of my own choices, except for when it came to my career and who I dated. The things that mattered the least to me came easily. However, my career and my love life were on my mind twenty-four-seven, and those were the things I had to fight for. I closed my eyes and smiled as Sekani’s face donned my inner eyelids. This was exactly what everyone did not want. I was falling in love with Sekani Smith. That was brand new too. I had never been in love before. I opened my eyes, and the words started to flow. It came out like a poem, with no real melody. I didn’t worry about that. I knew a melody would come. I zoned out as I wrote. The zone felt so good, I didn’t want to leave it. It was the first time that feeling all of my feelings felt good.
When I got to the end of the song though, I knew, I would have to reveal my relationship. It didn’t make sense to hide that level of love and happiness. I thought about all of the “Black love” posts on Instagram that so many celebrities participated in. I wanted to be a part of that. I wanted to post the kissy pictures and videos too. Q-Note was thrilled about me revealing that I had grown up. He and Silver Records were just going to have to accept that Sekani Smith and I were in love.
*****
Later that night, I did something I didn’t do often. I laid down in bed to simply watch television. It didn’t last long though. My mother came in and sat on the edge of my bed. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“You seemed to be in Lala-land during dinner.”
I almost blushed. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“What’s his name?” my mother asked.
“What?” I laughed.
“Or what’s her name?”
I laughed harder. “There’s no her.”
“But you’re not denying there’s a him.”
I rolled my eyes. “How much do I have to tell you to get you to leave me alone?”
“Just confirm that there’s a somebody, and it’s not Q-Note.”
“Oh my God Mom, absolutely not.”
“That’s pretty exaggerated.”
“Ugh, believe me Mom. My relationship with Q-Note is founded on music, and has since developed into a sibling-type thing. We legitimately do not see each other any other way. He has three kids with his girlfriend, and he even showed me some rings that he was thinking to propose with.”
My mother nodded her head in approval. “Okay,” she said. “So he’s like a big brother.”
I nodded back. I had to throw her a bone though. “But yes Mom, I’m seeing someone.”
“And?”
“And when I feel like it’s serious enough, I will make it official and bring them to the house.”
“Them? So it could be a her?”
“It’s not a her. It’s a him.”
“Okay,” she shrugged.
When she left the room, I started to imagine what it would be like to bring Sekani home. The more I thought about him, the closer I felt to being ready to introduce my man to my family. I tried to imagine my grandparents’ reactions. Truth be told, they were easy. My mother would be the issue because it was highly likely that she knew who he was. She was up on new rappers in the game. I took a deep breath as I settled under the covers, and stared inattentively at the television screen. My mind went back to Q-Note and my father. They were the bigger issue. What could they do about it though? I was the artist. They needed me. What was a label owner without artists? What was a producer without artists?
I rolled over on my side and called Sekani.
When he picked up, I could hear loud music playing in the background. “Taylor, whassup?”
“Hey… nuthin much. You in the studio?”
“Yeah…”
I heard a woman’s voice cooing, “Kani, you tryna hit this or what?”
“Just a minute,” he barked. “I’m on the phone with my girl.”
The woman giggled in the background.
“Who’s that?” I asked instinctively.
“I don’t know. Some chick Trak Killah brought up in here.”
“Oh… but what is she talking about?”
“Whatchu mean? You called to talk to me or to worry about bitches in the studio?”
“I’m just sayin, I heard her ask if you tryna hit. What is she talking about?”
“She talking about some shit they smokin…”
“Oh.”
“So whassup?”
“Um… I was thinking, maybe you can come over for dinner with my family one day soon.”
Sekani chuckled. “You serious?”
“Yeah.”
“You was so worried about who knew we was dealing with each other. Now you wanna bring me home to meet the family and shit?”
“Yeah. I mean, I was thinking, like at the end of the day, I’m grown. There’s nothing Q-Note or Silver Records can do about us seeing each other.”
“Okay… so why don’t you bring it up to Q-Note about us doing a track together?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I mean, honestly, he might go for it, depending on the track. Silver Records is the bigger problem.”
“True.”
“It’s the whole fraternization policy.”
“I mean I think it would make more sense that artists that are dealing with each other could work together. It might show that one doesn’t affect the other y’know?”
“Maybe.”
“Aight, well maybe you should hit up Q-Note about a track for us.”
“It needs a concept. I honestly haven’t given that much thought with all the work going into my album right now.”
“You’re smart, you’ll think of something.”
“You about to hang up?”
“Yeah… I got work to do. Call me tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay… yeah.”
My dreams were crazy that night. First I dreamt that I brought Sekani home for dinner, and my father popped up. My father never ate at my house. In fact, since I was sixteen, he never even came near my house. In the dream though, he was there sitting happily at the dining room table with my mother, and my grandparents. Sekani walked in and my father erupted. He cursed him out and fired him from the label. Sekani yelled a barrage of curses back at him and stormed out. My mother sat back and folded her arms. “Serves him right,” she said. “I don’t know what made him think he could date my daughter.”
“I feel like this is the same thing Dad’s family did to you,” I said to my mother. “This is why I don’t have a relationship with them now. I have two more living grandparents that I don’t know at all.”
“It’s not the same thing… it’s not the same thing… it’s not the same thing,” both of my parents repeated.
In the next dream, I was in the studio with Q-Note. He was telling me he had someone for me to do a track with. I looked up towards the door and in walked Sekani.
“I thought this was against policy and all that,” I said.
“What is?” Q asked. “It’s not against anybody’s policy for y’all to work together.”
“Well there’s more going on than that,” I admitted.
Sekani nodded for me to continue.
“We’re seeing each other. Matter of fact, we’re in love.”
Q-Note shrugged his shoulders. “What can I do?” he asked. “You grown now lil sis. You do what you want.”
When he said that though, Sekani’s skin started to change. It became scaly like a snake.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said running his hand down his arm. “This started this morning.” When he turned to look at me his tongue darted out at me like a snake, and just as I ducked, I woke up gasping for air.

Sugar
I was nervous meeting with Taylor Thompson, and I wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t intimidating. She was just a little girl who got on my nerves. I hoped to have some time to calm my nerves as I entered the studio. I heard the sixteen she wrote for the track and I had to admit, it was good. Maybe that’s what made me nervous; the fact that I had to give her credit for something. I would also have to give Q-Note extra credit for his good ear. I entered the studio to find Taylor sitting on the boards, and this new rapper Kani sitting in Q-Note’s chair in front of her. They were just talking, but the energy in the room told me that I had walked in on something. Taylor hopped off the boards, and Kani spun around in the chair, both of them nervously greeting me.
“Hey,” I said eyeing them through my sunglasses. I was also actively controlling my mood. I wanted to avoid a perceived outburst, so I took half a Lithobid. I wasn’t ready to go back on my meds completely, but I knew I couldn’t rely on willpower alone to tame the beast.
“Q-Note is running a little late,” Taylor said as she cleared her throat.
“And is Bow Wow here running the session?” I asked, gesturing towards Kani.
Kani rolled his eyes. “I’ma get outta here,” he said as he hugged Taylor hesitantly.
They both looked like if I was not there it would have been more than a hug. If they were secretly dealing with each other, why did it have to be a secret? Oh… Max’s fraternization policies, I answered the voice in my brain with the other voice in my brain.
Taylor and I sat down in chairs across from each other. She whipped out her phone and immediately gave the screen all of her attention. That was fine with me. I wasn’t that pressed to talk to her either. In fact I was slightly bothered that Q-Note wasn’t there to be a buffer between us.
I couldn’t stop myself from asking though, “So you’re fuckin Kani, huh?”
Taylor’s eyes shot up. “No,” said her mouth, but everything else screamed yes.
“Max always eventually lightens up on the fraternization policies. It’s really no big deal.”
Q-Note walked in asking, “What’s no big deal?”
“Nothing.” Taylor and I both said at the same time. As we made eye contact, I knew my assumption was right.
“Okay,” Q-Note said, as he got settled in. “Alright, let’s get started. I’ll let you guys hear what I did. You can make any adjustments you need to make to the lyrics, and then you ladies can get in the booth. Sound good?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Taylor.
“Yeah, we can do that,” I said as I removed my sunglasses and jacket.
Q-Note’s tweaks to the music were great. I knew that he would know what to do. I knew I could trust him to add and raise the right sounds. Looking at my lyrics, I mentally noted where I would adjust my pitch to the music. I didn’t want to admit it right away, but I was getting that feeling in my bones when I knew a track was going to be fire. Visions of young girls vibing out to it in drop top convertibles played in my mind, and I smiled to myself. Even with Taylor’s touch, this shit was gonna be a summer hit.
I went in the booth and belted out my notes. This is where I was grateful that I had not fully went back on my meds. There would be a period of physical adjustments for one. The side affects were always a doozy on my stomach. When I cut the pills myself though, nothing lasted too long. I was able to let loose in the booth and nothing diluted the emotion that came with the lyrics that poured from my soul.
“Ghaaa damn!” said Q-Note ink his best old man voice when I exited the booth.
Taylor was clapping her hands. “I wish I could sing like that,” she said.
“You sing,” said Q-Note.
“Nah, Sugar be sangin! We all know there’s a difference. Y’all sure y’all want my lil sixteen on this?”
“Hell yeah,” said Q-Note. “I know y’all don’t quite hear what I hear yet, but now listen Taylor… do not hold back. Make every syllable heard. I don’t care if you’re popping p’s and bussin b’s. These are top of line mics, they can take it all. Besides, I know what to do if I have to take any of the edge off at all. But go in and go hard Taylor like I know you can.”
Taylor took a deep breath and stepped into the booth.
I watched as she adjust the headphones, and counted off in her mind. When the beat dropped her tone completely changed from the little Taylor Thompson I was used to hearing on the radio. Suddenly I was hearing a young woman laying down the law on this track. Its All Mine was going to be a banger, and I could feel its magic boiling in the room. After that one take, Taylor stepped from the booth and shrugged her shoulders.
“Not bad Small Fry,” I said to her, unable to stop my softening towards her.
Her childish grin returned.
Q-Note turned to wink at me as if to say, “told you so.”
Taylor and I took turns going back and forth in the booth throwing in ad-libs and what not. By the end of the session I was exhausted, but feeling accomplished. Q-Note took out a bottle of Hennessy, and I frowned a little.
“What? Bronx-nigga-shit?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I responded.
“Well thats what’s here. I don’t have any champagne for you classy ladies, but I think we deserve to sip something to celebrate.”
“No thanks,” I said, thinking that my meds had most likely completely worn off by this time. I didn’t need any triggers.
Taylor accepted a little, but I could tell she wouldn’t have chosen it herself.
“I was thinking,” Q-Note said.
I rolled my eyes again.
“Nah,” he said, catching my drift. “Don’t even make that face. We really did some shit today, and it was all my idea. I know we can keep it going.”
“See this is exactly what I don’t need!” I barked. “This is my project! I don’t need no Henny-drinkin Bronx-nigga tryna take over my shit. Just cuz you had one good idea, don’t mean you’re about to rearrange my whole fuckin album.”
“Pipe down shorty,” Q-Note said, setting his drink to the side. “I don’t know what the fuck type of time you on, but this ain’t about ya ‘I Am Woman Hear Me Roar’ album, this is about career moves. Why don’t you listen before you go off the rails?”
“Listen for what? All you mutha fuckas got one thing on your minds with me!”
“Sugar I don’t even know whatchu talkin about.”
“I wanna hear Q’s idea,” Taylor chimed in.
“Of course you do, you baby pick-me.”
“What?” Taylor gasped.
“You’re so willing to follow through with all his lil corny ideas, just like when he suggested Malik get on your Giggle track!”
“The song was a hit though!” Taylor yelled back in my face.
“Bitch I will break ya lil bird neck if you don’t sit the fuck down!”
“Who the fuck you talking to Sugar? Have you lost your mind?”
“Lost my mind? Lost my mind? Don’t you come at me askin if I lost my mind! I’m tired of mutha fuckas doin the most!”
“Alright!” Q-Note yelled as he came between us. “It’s been a long night. Y’all can just call it quits for now and go home. I like what we did here. I don’t wanna lose the energy. Before shit gets crazy, I’m saying everybody should go home.”
“Yeah, I’m outta here,” I said gathering my stuff.
“I need to talk to you,” Taylor said to Q-Note in a low voice.
I didn’t know if it was about me or Kani, and I kind of wanted to know but I was feeling hot and agitated. I knew I wanted to get back to my hotel room and chill. I barely said goodbye as I called my car to get me back to my luxury room in Manhattan.
*****
Once in my hotel room, I called Malik. I didn’t know what else to do. I argued with the driver all the way to down to the Hyatt. I had this feeling like everyone was determined to work against me suddenly, and treat me like I didn’t know what I was talking about.
“Hey baby, how was your session?” he asked as he answered.
“It… it…” I bursted into tears. “You have to come here!” I cried.
“What happened Sugar?”
“The session was good!” I hollered. “The song is so good and I know, I just know its going to be crazy this summer! But Q-Note wants to take over my album! He’s trying to ruin it!”
“Did he say that?”
“No! Why would anybody admit they wanna ruin somebody else’s project?”
“Sugar, the song with Taylor came out good right?”
“Better than good,” I sniffled.
“Okay then, how does that equate to Q wanting to ruin your album?”
“Because he’s trying to take over!”
“Okay, okay… I’m gonna come up there. Gimme a few hours okay. Matter of fact, I’m gonna call you back in a few minutes, but I will definitely be there in a few hours okay?”
“Okay…”
I took all of my clothes off, climbed into the big comfortable bed, and buried myself deep as physically possible in the middle of the mattress under the layers of covers and the comforter. Still my body felt unsettled and I fidgeted. I threw the covers back and ran into the bathroom. I turned the shower on and up to the highest temperature. I stepped into the piping hot water, and only when the most sensitive parts of my skin burn, did I turn the temperature down a little. I wanted the burn, but I wanted it at a bearable sensation. I cried in the shower as the most random thoughts plagued my mind. Why wasn’t Malik just there with me already? Why was Q-Note trying to change my album? Why did Taylor have to actually sound good on my song? I know I’m losing it somewhere, but where? These are things that are legitimately bothering me. I should call my mother. No. She’ll talk to me about my meds. Where is my father? What father? I didn’t have a father and I wished that I did. I could call Max, that’s it. Max was the closest thing I had to a father. I could call Max. No. No. No. Max was totally against me having complete control of this album. He would not hear me out.
I sat down on the floor of the shower and cried uncontrollably. I just wanted the feeling to stop. I felt like I was running ahead of myself and I couldn’t stop myself. How did I make it stop? Medication. Medication was the only way to make it stop, but it would also stop my creative flow. I thought about I sang in the booth earlier that day and a smile emerged through my tears. I kept replaying my own voice in my head as I sat on the shower floor staring up at the water sprinkling down on me. In that moment I also realized my locs were getting soaking wet and not only would it take a while for them to dry, but they would have to be retested being that my hair was super fine and curly and unraveled easily. I didn’t care. That was a problem for the next day. For the moment I had found safety in the sound of my own voice replaying in my mind, so I stayed there for as long as I could.

Malik
I called Q-Note to find out what had gone down in the studio. Something told me to have my shit together and be ready to head up to New York. I had been really tied up in writing for a few other artists. I was trying to meet deadlines, and I felt like I wasn’t keeping up with anything but work. I felt bad for allowing Sugar to do a lot of traveling on her own, but the truth was, I didn’t write that well around her. She was a distraction. When she was manic I had to take care of her. When she was chill, I felt like I was constantly trying to reach the real Sugar. I needed to find a better balance between Sugar, work, and family. In the meantime though, I had to find out from Q-Note exactly what went on in that studio. Nobody else knew for sure that she was bipolar, so I prepared my ears for Q to go off about my diva-girlfriend.
“Malik, sup boy?” Q-Note’s voice came through my car speaker as I embarked on my six hour drive.
“Aye man, you tell me. Sugar called me crying hysterical man—”
“Look,” Q said sighing, “I was about to make a suggestion and she just popped off on me.”
“She said you were trying to take over her album.”
“Pssshhh, not at all. I wasn’t thinking about her album. In fact, I wanted to suggest something sort of on the flip side.”
“Uh huh…”
“Yo, when you hear this track man… these girls really did some shit in here. The shit is so fire. I never wanna brag my nigga, but I been on a roll, know what I’m sayin? I haven’t had a flop in a minute. This shit they did is something else. The shit is so hot and its so them, I’m good with being a seen an unheard producer. Know what I mean? Like, I’m cool with my name being in the credits and nothing else. I’ll collect my royalties from the backroom. I don’t need to be ‘dancin… all in the videos’ and shit.”
I laughed at his Suge Knight reference.
“You get what I’m sayin though right?”
“Yeah man, no doubt.”
“Anyway though, once they laid the track, I had an idea for Sugar. I was gonna suggest that she—”
“Suggest or insist? Cuz you push Q.”
Q chuckled. “I know. I probably would’ve insisted after suggesting. But I didn’t even get to suggest. I just wanted her to do the hook on one of Taylor’s tracks. Taylor is working on her album too. Me and you spoke about this before. They’re both really on the same wave, and really my nigga, they about to run summer. Like summer is their’s this year. The crossover between them is really gonna change the game out here.”
My mind tumbled the ideas over as I listened to Q-Note and focused on the road. His idea made sense to me as well. I had to clean up the mess between him and Sugar though. I looked at the time on my gps. I was going to call her back directly after this phone call just to keep her stable, but when I got to New York, I was gonna have to really talk her down and get her to at least heavily consider the idea of singing the hook on a Taylor Thompson song.
“While I gotchu on the phone,” Q-Note added, “I hope you don’t mind if I vent a little bit.”
“Uh… I guess.”
“Really, I know we don’t always talk like this but I just got hit with some other shit and for now I don’t know where else to go with it.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, literally like as soon as Sugar stormed out of the studio, Taylor hit me with some shit.”
“What’s the deal with you and Taylor?” I blurted out.
“Huh? Whatchu mean?”
“I mean, y’all work together a lot.”
“Same way Timbaland, Missy, Aaliyah, and a few others constantly worked together with no intimate ties?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry bruh. I didn’t mean…”
“You’re not the first to ask. For the record though, your lady has made it well-known, tonight even that she is not happy that you’ve worked with Taylor as well.”
“I know, I know.”
“Taylor is very kid-sister. Know what I mean?”
“Most definitely. So what happened?”
“On that same exact note my nigga… I think she disregarded some advice of mine and I think she’s fuckin that rapper Kani.”
“What?”
“You heard right homeboy.”
“Well where did that come from? Kani is a lil wanna be gangster.”
“Shit, don’t I know it. But as soon as Sugar bounced, Taylor asks me about her and Kani doing a track.”
“So that means they fuckin?”
“Well… just as we start talkin about it, cuz y’know I had my questions and shit, she texts the nigga and he comes through. He was here in another studio.”
“And this all implies that they’re fuckin?”
“Look I knew she had a thing for him when they cross paths in here before. I told her little ass to stay away from him. Talented or not, that lil nigga ain’t shit, and ain’t gon be shit for a long time. Taylor is fresh meat out here and I don’t think she realizes it cuz she’s really been on the scene for a lil while now. But now that she’s twenty-one niggas is gunnin for her harder than they ever were before. We all know, all it takes is one.”
“Yeah but we also know how creativity works. Taylor just might have to have some shit happen to her to create something epic.”
Q-Note was quiet for a minute. “Yeah… yeah,” he finally said. “You might be right. I mean the shit is gonna fuck with me mentally if I just watch it happen. But you have a point.”
“She gon do what she wanna do either way dog.”
“Yeah, that’s true too.”
“You really ain’t stoppin nuthin.”
“Yeah…”
“So whatchu think of them doin some shit together though?”
“Its whatever. I mean it could work. He’s hot right now. The album she workin on about to be hot. It could work.”
“Then let it do what it do my man.”
“Say less bro. Look, I’m sorry about Sugar. I didn’t mean to set her off and have you caught up in nuthin. You know how she turns up though.”
“Yeah no doubt. Let it go. I’ma talk to her. I’ll hit you back after I do.”
“Aight no doubt. Take care bruh.”
“You too.”
*****
By the time I was able to let myself into Sugar’s room, she was sound asleep under the fluffy white comforters. Sleep was a good sign. Even if she was completely naked and her hair was damp, and the shower was still running. I took my clothes off and stepped into the running water to rinse off. It was hot surprisingly. I then proceeded to rouse her and dress her in some cozy pajamas I found in her bag.
“You’re here,” she said groggily looking into my eyes.
I nodded. “I’m here. You can go back to sleep.”
She slumped back down onto the bed and I did the best I could putting her long locs into a bun so that I wouldn’t be tangled in cold damp ropes as I slept.
In a few hours she was up, ordering room service and asking me if I was hungry.
“I’ll have some French toast,” I requested before properly saying good morning.
After brushing my teeth, I sat down on the bed next to her as she scrolled streaming services with the remote in one hand and Twitter with her phone in her other hand.
“Q-Note is already promoting the song,” she said without looking at me.
I was glad that she brought it up. This made it easier for me to mention Q’s suggestion, like it was my own. Although when she was manic she thought everyone was out to get her, she was still more inclined to listen to me. “I mean, the best thing to do is drum up some talk right? I’m sure he’s already mixing it down. If you don’t use it as a debut single, it should be an immediate follow up. Did you have anything in mind for a single?”
“Not really.”
“I think you should really consider it.”
She rocked her head from side to side as if she was literally throwing the idea around in her head.
“Since it wasn’t so bad working with Taylor, what about collaborating with her one more time?”
Sugar rolled her eyes.
“It’s a bag Sugar. Why don’t you do a hook for her?”
“Just because we worked well together once doesn’t mean I suddenly like her.”
“Since when you gotta like somebody to work with them? And last night obviously proved that shit really don’t matter with y’all. The Black girl magic still happens.” I nudged her and she swatted my hand away. “Think about it. From what Q-Note told me, y’all are very much on the same wavelength right now. Takin charge of your own paths. I think y’all can take home every music award there is by the end of this year with what you’re doing and these collaborations. I’m not saying make a girl group. I’m just saying, the girl makes hits. The two of you together is like a sweet and savory mix, y’know?”
“I guess.”
I laughed to myself knowing I had her mind going.
The food arrived, and Sugar went about serving me my food at the little table by the grand window in the room that opened up to a view of majestic skyscrapers.
“I was thinking,” Sugar announced, “or I was wondering… or maybe no, maybe I do mean thinking. We should have a baby after this album drops.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “A what?”
“A baby.”
I looked at her face and I could see that although her body and mind were free of meds, she was dead serious.
“A baby. What makes you feel like after this album comes out is a good time for us to have a baby?” I had to tread lightly. It didn’t seem wise to say that I was far from ready to be a father. I also had a lot of questions about her mental condition, and whether or not it was a safe idea for her to parent.
“I’m a multiplatinum artist. I have Grammys and I’m not even thirty yet, but I will be thirty soon. I just feel like it’s the next step in my life.”
“You don’t feel like you’re skipping a few steps?”
“Like what?”
“Like marriage maybe?”
“Do you wanna marry me?”
Fuck. She got me there. I loved Sugar, there was no doubt about that. Manic Sugar was hard to be with, and medicated Sugar was hard to reach, but somehow I loved what was underneath it all. I just needed breaks. Regular and frequent breaks. Marriage meant no breaks. I swallowed hard before answering. “One day.”
“One day when? You think we’re gonna live forever? We’re not getting any younger.”
“But we are still young.”
“Well I don’t wanna be an old mom either.”
I sighed. “This is big Sugar. I don’t think it’s a split decision, like hey let’s make a baby on this day. Babies need things. Babies grow up, and then they need even more things and there’s so much other shit to consider.”
“Like if they’ll be born with bipolar disorder?”
She said exactly what I was thinking, but I had an out. “Or Down syndrome.”
She sat back in her seat, quiet now.
“When certain shit pops up in your family, genetics is something we really have to think about. We don’t know which way these things can go, and I’m not just talking about bipolar disorder. And not to sound fucked up but that’s a chemical imbalance. Your mother isn’t dealing with it. What if it’s something your father dealt with.”
“You know I don’t know shit about my father,” she quipped.
“I mean you do at least know enough to put you on the right track to some genetic research.”
“I don’t.”
“Sugar…”
“I know you think I’m being dramatic, but I don’t know anything about him cuz I don’t even know who the fuck he is.”
This was news to me. Sugar and her mother were always really vague on the topic of her father but I thought it was just some shit they didn’t want to talk about. I assumed he walked out on them. Now she was telling me she had no idea who he was. “Your mother never told you anything about him?”
“Nope. She says the story and his existence is a waste of time. The only good that came from it was me and nobody reminisces on the empty lot before something grand was built there.”
I sat back in my seat now.
“Look, we don’t have to have a baby. I can have a baby without you.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say no Sugar. I just said we need time, and there’s a lot to be considered.”
“Yeah… Down Syndrome, marriage, and whether or not my nonexistent daddy gave me bipolar disorder. Heard you Malik.”

]]>Sun, 10 Apr 2022 17:39:55 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/love-and-the-business-the-triangle/chapter-oneMalik
It was time to return to reality. That day after Sugar’s writing binge and meltdown, I drove back to my own place in Virginia. Her mother was with her so I knew that she would be fine. Sometimes I needed a moment to breathe, away from her. I had my own responsibilities.
I hit the remote for the garage door when I pulled up to my house, and I could see my older brother Maurice tinkering with a Mustang. He leaned over and shook his head at me when we made eye contact.
“How are you working in here with the door closed?” I asked as I stepped out of my Benz.
He shrugged. “I see you found ya way home though,” he snorted.
“I know where I live.”
“I don’t know why y’all just don’t get a place together.”
“You just tryna kick me out my own house.”
“Nope. Wherever you go, I’m comin too. I mean really, you-you need to just stay right here and leave that crazy girl alone. But you grown. Do you.”
“If Ima do me, you can’t come with me if I move out.”
“Yeah, see Mommy won’t-won’t like that.”
We both laughed.
Maurice had Down Syndrome. Our parents took care of him until he put his foot down and demanded that they let him go. He was the oldest of our parents’ three children. I spent a lot of time on my own on the road with managers, and my little sister went away to college. With that Maurice felt a way about being the oldest but still home. The compromise was that he lived with me. It worked out for everyone because we were really close.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and sighed. “She’s a lot, man.”
“Can’t be worse than living wit me.”
I shook my head. “It’s totally different man. It’s her brain, it’s her moods. She needs her meds to keep her in control. If she doesn’t take her meds it’s like everything she’s feeling bubbles up and spills out like lava.”
Maurice stretched his eyes.
“You would have to come with me if I got another place big bro.” I grinned. “You’re the only one that can help me deal.”
Maurice grinned. He knew I would never leave him.
After a quick shower and a long nap, I awoke to Maurice standing over me adjusting a button down shirt.
“Hey,” I said to him groggily.
He smiled. “I just wanted to know what you think of this look.” He stepped back a little so that I could see the full outfit.
“Looks good,” I said as I eyed him from head to toe. “Where you goin?”
“I have a date,” he announced.
That woke me all the way up. Maurice went on dates every once in a while, and each date put me on edge. Although he was older than me, I felt like the big brother. I felt like I had to protect him. He met women around his age at social programs that he sometimes joined for high functioning adults with special needs. Most recently though, he had started using a dating site. It took a lot for me to completely release the reins when it came to that. I helped him create his profile and downloaded the app to my phone so that I would get his alerts, and I could monitor his activity. I completely bypassed the free version of the site, as well as the lower end memberships, and paid for platinum membership. I needed profiles to be completely available and to have access to background checks.
“With who?” I asked.
Maurice grinned a little harder. “I met her on the site.”
“Okay.” I waited for more details.
Maurice looked around like he didn’t know what I was waiting for.
“Tell me more Moe. What do you know about her? Why didn’t you tell me earlier you had a date tonight? Where y’all going?”
He shuffled his feet a little before answering. “Well,” he scratched his head, “her name is Mercedes. She’s the same age as me. She has a job, she works with kids like me, like us… like with special needs.”
“Mercedes huh?”
Maurice nodded his head.
“She’s special needs too?”
He nodded again.
“How long you been talking to her? And why didn’t you tell me about her before?”
“I been talking to her for about a month. I thought you knew, since you log into my account.”
I realized I hadn’t been keeping up with the notifications coming in from the dating site. He looked excited and confident about his night. I thought about the few details he had given me. She was the same age as him and although she was special needs as well, she was high functioning enough to have a job with children. “So where y’all going?”
“The movies.”
“How you gettin there?”
“I’m gonna get a Uber and pick her up.”
I looked him over once more and sighed. “See you later man.”
He almost always took women to the movies on first dates. Thats what made him comfortable. We had two home attendants, one of which only worked part-time at home during the day, and the other who accompanied Maurice when he went out or traveled. Both of them knew how to keep an eye on him without making him feel like he had lost his independence.
I dozed off for another hour, and when I finally fully awoke, I decided to eat something. The way my stomach rumbled as I reheated a pasta dinner left in the fridge by one of my rotating chefs, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. When Sugar was wired, she didn’t eat, and I found myself operating on the same emptiness because I couldn’t focus on anything for myself when she was having a manic episode. Halfway through my stuffed shells, lobster, and steamed vegetables, I noticed the missed calls and texts on my phone. The majority were from Sugar. I wanted to read the messages. I wanted to call her back and talk to her, but she drained my energy in ways that when in silence, I questioned my love for her. I also had my own work to do.
What the public didn’t know about me was that I wrote songs for a lot of artists. Although I was on the scene, performing and dropping albums through my teen years, I didn’t have strong mainstream popularity. The songs I wrote, a lot of times hit for others though, and that’s what kept me around and paid. I went down to my mini studio to tune out the world, and tune into my work. A few hours later I could hear Maurice arriving back home. He didn’t come down to look for me, so I figured we could talk about his date later. I stayed focused on laying down some of the ideas brewing in my head that only made it as far as the Note app on my phone. When I was finally done, I had one song written that I could shop around, and two ideas that needed work. That satisfied me, and I went back up to my room to call it a night.
I couldn’t sleep without knowing that Sugar was okay though, and I needed her to know that it mattered to me that she was okay, regardless of how much she stressed me out.
I hit the FaceTime button next to her name and waited for her to answer. “Where are you?” she asked, surrounded by the darkness of her bedroom.
“Home.”
“Oh… I need you Malik, why did you go?”
“You don’t need me Sug.”
“Yes I do,” she was on the brink of tears. The brink is where she lived. Sugar never cried.
“You’re fine Sugar.”
“I’m not fine. I’m not okay. I need you here with me.”
“You don’t remember telling me to get out?”
There was silence.
“Early this morning, you told me to get out Sugar. So I left. I had work to do anyway.”
“When are you coming back?” Sugar didn’t apologize either.
“I don’t know.”
“Then I’m coming out there.”
“We both have work to do and we can’t work in my studio together at the same time. Stay there, work on your album. I’ll stay here and write.”
“You know what I need to work better though, don’t you?”
I already knew what was coming. She turned on her bedside lamp so that I could see her naked bronze skin, her nipples peeking out between her locs.
“Did you finish your songs?” I asked, not falling for the bullshit.
“Malik, don’t play with me,” she barked.
“I’m not.”
“Then stop talking about work and songs…”
“Sugar, we’re artists. Thats what we do.”
She sighed and shut the light back off. “You got somebody over there with you?”
“What?” I laughed. “Sugar why would I call you on FaceTime if somebody was over here?”
“Wow…”
“Wow what?”
“Its not that you wouldn’t have anybody over there, but you just wouldn’t call me on Facetime if there was.”
“Sugarbird, I know you don’t need it as much as I do, but I need to get some rest, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Calling me Sugarbird won’t get you over.”
“Get me over what?” I laughed. I knew that all of what was happening was a result of her not taking her meds, and I could’ve been angry at her for that, but I wasn’t. I didn’t have enough energy to be mad. So I laughed.
“It’s not funny Malik. You think calling me Sugarbird, I’m just gonna let you hang up without telling me when you’ll be back or why I can’t come over there.”
“I told you, it doesn’t make sense for you to be here. My studio is too small. It’s not like we haven’t tried to work like that before. Lemme get some sleep. I’ll let you know tomorrow what I’m gonna do.”
“You know I can’t sleep without knowing.”
She wouldn’t sleep even if I was there. She was manic. “You’ll be fine. I don’t want to be rude, so I’m telling you, I’m hanging up.”
“Alright Malik.”
“I love you Sugarbird.”
“You don’t, but okay…”
“You don’t love me back?”
“I love you more.”
“I’m hanging up. Talk to you in the morning.”
“Bye.”
*****
The next morning my manager was on the phone. “Aye Malik, where you at man?”
“In my bed…”
“You’re supposed to be—”
“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and raced around the room grabbing things to get ready. “I’m supposed to be at the station, I know.”
“Well you have a few minutes, there’s some other folks here doing interviews. But that doesn’t mean take your time.”
“I’m not, I’m not, I’m on my way.”
I took a thirty-second shower, barely lotioned my skin, and jumped into a brand new tracksuit. I grabbed my jewels and rushed out the door, without the chance to talk to Maurice about his date. I was at the station within fifteen minutes, and went straight into the studio. I didn’t have time to prepare for this interview, so when the dating questions hit I didn’t have a rehearsed answer.
“So Malik, when you and Sugar Evans just gon come right out and say y’all a couple?” asked the obnoxious male host.
I laughed.
“You don’t have to answer that,” said the female host.
“Yes he does,” said the male host, “no stipulations were put on this interview. Whassup with you and Sugar Evans man?”
I glanced at my manager who only shrugged. At this point, it really didn’t matter. People had seen us together in a number of places. We never confirmed nor denied a relationship, we just ignored the questions. I was following Sugar’s lead on it initially, but somehow I knew it didn’t matter to her what I said. Just as my mind said her name, the buzzed my phone.
“Oooh that’s her right now!” said the male host.
I hoped that my chuckle didn’t come off like I was blushing. I declined her call and quickly texted her that I was on the radio.
“Y’all together,” the male host went on. “Ain’t no denying it now. She just called your phone!”
“Whatchu want me to say?” I asked. “Why y’all ask the obvious?”
“Wait is this an admission?” asked the female host.
I threw up my hands.
“We have a caller,” she said.
“Good morning,” I heard Sugar’s voice coming through.
The male host laughed loud and hard. “This can’t be really happening right now! Is this happening? Is this Sugar Evans on the phone?”
“The one and only,” said Sugar.
“Sugar did you call to clarify your status with Malik?” asked the female host.
“I called to let him know that he was free to clarify it himself. G’head Malik,” said Sugar.
I laughed. “You givin me permission?”
“Naw, naw nuthin like that,” she laughed.
“Get to it man!” said the male host.
“Yes,” I said, “yes we’re a couple. Sugar Evans is my lady…”
The studio roared with cheers.
I shook my head laughing.
“I gotta go,” said Sugar, “I was just calling to say good morning, and tell Malik on air, ‘I love you sweetheart. It is what it is.’”
“It is what it is,” I repeated our saying back to her.
Sugar hung up and the interview continued.
“So,” said the male host, “not to be a jerk or nuthin, but now that Sugar is off the phone. Whassup wit her man? Is she crazy like they say?”
This was exactly what I didn’t want. “I don’t know. I don’t know what ‘they’ say and it doesn’t matter what ‘they’ say.”
“Yeah but the word is that she’s a diva,” the male host probed.
“Crazy and a diva are two different things and there are very few women who are not considered divas in this business.” I nodded towards the female host. “I just heard you give very precise details on how you like your coffee to the new intern. Is that diva behavior, or are you just being specific about your wants and needs? I don’t subscribe to the idea of a woman being crazy, a diva, a bitch, or difficult because she’s straightforward about what works for her and won’t just settle for whats handed to her. Sugar is my lady… I don’t know anything about the crazy or diva part.”

Taylor
​While my father met with his executives in a board room, I waited patiently in his office to discuss the urgent matter that he called me for, which I was sure was the song I had recently recorded with Q-Note. Waiting in his office was like waiting to be chastised by the principal. No one, not even anyone at the label knew that Max Silverstein of Silver Records was Taylor Thompson’s father, my father. No one knew of his dissolved marriage to my mother. To the public my mother and I were buried like the rest of his mysterious past. My family had been sworn to secrecy, and I barely had any involvement with the Silversteins. I think they liked it that way. In real life, Max Silverstein was Dad to me, but to the rest of the world he was a Jewish music mogul who kept a close watch and tight rein on his artists; particularly Sugar and mines. I didn’t know what the rest of the world saw when it came to me versus Sugar, but I knew for a fact, Sugar was doted on, way more than I was. Sugar’s one on ones with Max Silverstein were meant to calm her down, keep her on track, and make her feel cared for. Taylor’s one on one’s were meant to keep her in her place as a child performer.
After walking several unconscious laps around the office, I stretched out on the plush leather couch that was off to the side. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to break away from Silver Records, and be an independent artist. I wanted nothing to do with the pink and purple bubble gum image they had created for me. I wanted to be free and sophisticated with room for a little ratchet. I tried to think of female artists that I could emulate, but only Jill Scott came to mind, and she wasn’t necessarily ratchet, but she had a really free sexual side to her.
My eyes popped open at the sound of Dad clearing his voice. “Napping?” he asked.
“Daydreaming, fantasizing, imagining,” I admitted.
He walked over to his desk and hit a button. The sounds of my recent cut filled the room. I winced a little at the sound of my own voice saying the word pussy. Dad couldn’t take it either. He hit the button again.
“Taylor, what the fuck was that?”
Initially, when I got his call for this meeting, I had all the balls in the world. I was gonna march up in his office and tell it like it was. I was not a child. I was a woman. I had a few experiences under my belt, and I wanted to express that. The feeling that came over me as I sat on the couch in my Dad’s office though was not one of courage. I was nauseous. I cleared my throat. “It’s a song I did with Q-Note.”
“No shit. Since when do you do this kind of shit?”
I clasped my lips together, praying for my balls to drop.
“You know what the deal is here. You know how this business works. What I don’t think you understand though, is how stunts like this are looked at in the business, and how this affects the label.” He carried on and on and I was lost, no longer really hearing the words clearly.
I gritted my teeth, and forced myself back into the frame of mind that I had left the house in. “Let me do my own thing or I tell everyone I’m your daughter.”
Dad froze in the middle of the office before slowly turning to look at me. “You’ll what?”
“Let me do what I want to do or I will tell everyone, I will make a public statement that you are my father.”
“We have an agreement Taylor.”
“Well I don’t agree anymore. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“What is this woman’s prerogative shit your spouting? Did your mother put you up to this?”
“She didn’t hear the song either, so no.”
Dad huffed. “But she’s putting some kind of shit in your head. I should call Q-Note up here for recording the song in the first place. I knew letting you work with him frequently would be a problem. Lance Mack would never do anything as dumb as this.”
“You have male artists on this label talking about murdering whole families in cold blood and I can’t talk about the joys of sex? Does that even make sense?”
“It makes sense because it’s what makes me money. Little girls in pink barrettes giggling over crushes and having sleepovers, gangster rappers causing mayhem, and soulful female r&b voices going on and on about how badly men treat them. That’s the business here at Silver Records. That’s the business you were born into by default. Don’t come in here threatening me with some empowerment speech you stole from your mother. This is why we couldn’t stay together. She was more worried about being empowered than the bottom line.”
“You couldn’t stay together cuz she’s Black, your family hated her, and nobody thought it would be good for your image in the business.”
Seconds of silence lingered, pretending to be minutes.
Finally, “Taylor, record whatever you want.”
“And you’ll release it.”
My father’s face twitched. He didn’t expect that response. He thought I was a fool. “We’ll talk about it,” he said.
“I’ll be talking to social media about who my daddy is then.”
“I’ll release the material Taylor.”
“Under my name, as my song.”
Max Silverstein was defeated.
I stuck my hand out for a shake. I wasn’t even sure if that solidified the agreement, but since I had come to the office half-cocked without a written agreement, I had to use other avenues for him to see that I meant business.
My father shook my hand, and I left the office ready to create more raucous in the studio. But first, I had to do some other shit.
*****
A high pitched shriek escaped my lips as Sekani pulled my hair and simultaneously smacked my ass from behind. He thrusted into me, propelling me forward, and then snatched me back again by my hips. This man was a whole beast, and I enjoyed every detail of our sex. Our situation was a secret that would not only piss off both my parents, but Q-Note as well. Although it happened frequently, my father was not a fan of fraternization amongst label mates. It certainly didn’t help that Sekani was a nerd turned street kid when his parents split up. No one knows what he felt he had to prove, but his teen years were spent sticking up unsuspecting middle class workers until Q-Note found out he had a flow like none other. Lance Mack was skeptical about signing him, but my father jumped on the opportunity. My mother always warned me to stay away from all those “lil street niggas.” Q-Note saw the gleam in my eye at Mack’s Lab and tried to shut it all down, but I had my ways of finding out what I needed to know, and doing what I wanted to do.
Sekani flipped me over on my back, but when he leaned down for a kiss, I turned the tables on him and pinned him to the bed. I had some tension to release, and I was going to ride him until I let it all go. I could tell by the focused look on his face that he was trying to hold out and not cum before I did. For that reason, I slowed down just enough. When I was ready though, I let go, and so did he shortly after. Minutes later we lay sprawled across his bed, passing a joint back and forth. Sekani’s phone rang. Someone was trying to FaceTime him, but he ignored the call. My paranoia kicked in.
“Not gonna pick that up?” I asked.
The phone started to ring again, and Sekani held it up for me to see that it was Q-Note calling.
I twisted my lips. “He’s not gonna stop calling till he gets through either. Call him back regular.”
Sekani looked at me.
“He doesn’t have to know I’m here.” I lowered my voice as if they were already on the phone.
Sekani swiped, and jumped into a conversation with Q-Note about ad-libs.
I dozed off, but was awakened by the sound of my own phone buzzing nearby. It was Q-Note. I looked over at Sekani and nudged him as he too had fallen asleep. “Why is he calling me?” I asked.
Sekani shrugged.
I picked up on the last ring. “Hey, whassup?”
“You’re late.”
Time had clearly flown by faster than I realized. I jumped up and scrambled around for my clothes.
Sekani sat up. “What?” he half yelled, half whispered.
Without answering, I continued my conversation with Q-Note. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I lied knowing I was double the amount of time away.
“Yeah aight,” said Q-Note. “Don’t waste that Silver Records money. Mack’s Lab is taking in a check regardless.”
I sucked my teeth. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
“Damn, I forgot you had a session today,” said Sekani.
“I almost did too,” I admitted.
“I didn’t even get to hear that controversial track.”
“Its okay,” I said thinking of how I forced my way into his apartment, in need of the things he did to my body.
Sekani stopped me just as I closed his apartment behind me. “I really wanna do a track with you,” he said.
I snickered. “They don’t even want us to speak to each other.”
He shrugged. “It has to happen one day.”
“The teeny-bopper and the gangster rapper on a track?” I put my hand to my chin and rolled my eyes upward.
“You not gon be a teeny-bopper forever.”
“Its not that easy to change the minds of Silver Records,” I said.
Sekani dropped his head for a kiss.
I pecked him on the lips and dashed down the hall.
*****
“Where you been?” Q-Note asked me, twenty-five minutes after I scurried out of Sekani’s apartment.
I pouted.
“I don’t care about that,” said Q-Note. “We got work to do. I spoke to Max. I got a plan.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. He’s not happy about your transition, but somehow you convinced him. I don’t think it’s wise to just drop a track like that out of the sky though. It needs a strong foundation. It needs to be a full story.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I admitted.
“We’re not gonna record anything today,” he said.
“We gonna write?”
Q-Note shook his head, no. He queued up something on YouTube on the big flat screen mounted on the wall to the right. “When Janet Jackson decided to break away from her father and take some control of her music career, she made a whole presentation of it.”
“You want me to do the same things as Janet Jackson.”
Q-Note shook his head no again. “I just want you to watch and learn and get inspired youngin.” He pointed at a seat and told me to get comfortable. He handed me a notepad. “Take notes. Pay attention to everything. The music, the lyrics, her look, the videography. I really mean everything. Write down everything that strikes you.”
Q-Note sometimes irked my nerves with his big-brother stance. I had actually been in the industry longer than him, but I had to give it to him. The man knew what he was talking about. It made all the sense in the world why he was Lance Mack’s protege. We sat through the six videos produced for the Control album, and I was getting an idea of where Q wanted to go with his idea. He said he wasn’t trying to control the situation though. He had me watch the videos for inspiration. The execution was on me.

Sugar
Malik insisted on not coming back for a few days. As agitated as I was, I couldn’t be mad. He was right. We both had work to do, and I worked better off my meds. However, nobody liked how I worked when I was off my meds. It was a little unorthodox. Being manic was almost like being in a dream. I often felt like I was having an out of body experience and watching myself. I liked what I saw Manic Sugar do though. Manic Sugar didn’t give a fuck. She took charge and didn’t let anything stop her, regardless of people pleading and begging, regardless of them whispering amongst themselves that she was a diva. She just didn’t give a fuck, and that worked. It always yielded the results I wanted.
I knew Silver Records expected my album in progress to flop. I also knew that they were wrong, and the idea of their shock is what fueled my pace in writing and composing songs as fast as I did. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces. There were timelines to adhere to though. Just because an album was finished, didn’t mean it was ready for release. There had to be promotion, and release dates were based on current events, as well as whatever was happening in the music industry. My plan, that I had not discussed with my mother or Malik, was to go back on my meds after the album was complete. I didn’t care about being doped up during promotion and appearances. I was okay with making everyone else feel better when I had to be out in public. I just couldn’t do it while I created. It blocked me from feeling me and an unadulterated me was what this album needed because it was coming from the bottom of my heart.
I looked at the list of sixteen songs that I had written. The contract said fifteen. I liked sixteen though, so sixteen is what it would be. I recorded melodies for each. Now I sat planning out which producers I wanted to work with for each one. For the moment a reveled in the control I had been given over this album. I had never been given such an opportunity before, but I fought hard for it, and I was gonna show the label how hard they had been sleeping on me for years.
I heard my front door open and close, which meant my mother had shown up. Nobody came and went freely from my home except for her and Malik. I had cleaned up my music room and rearranged the furniture so that I could always see who was coming into the room.   My mother Sharon, the ever composed elegant lady. She was the true diva. She entered the music room, knowing that is where she would find me. What she didn’t know was that I had finally cleaned the space up, and it was in much better shape than when she was last here. It’s not that I didn’t know the room was a mess, its just that at the time when everyone was looking at the mess, I had more important things to worry about.
“You cleaned up,” was the first thing she said, her voice saturated with relief.
I nodded.
“Oh… hi.” She smiled realizing she hadn’t even greeted me.
“Hi Mom.”
“What are you working on now?”
I swiveled the iPad and its keyboard for her view.
“Booking studio time?”
“Well, choosing producers for certain songs. I figured I might have to go out of state to some of their studios to work.”
“Q-Note? I thought you hated working with him.”
“I hate communicating with him, but he’s good and somehow there’s chemistry once we start working.”
My mother nodded. I knew she was fighting with herself not to ask questions, not to walk into every room of the apartment, and poke around. She understood that I needed my space, still it was hard for her to act accordingly. She was a momager at heart and for good reason. Everyone wasn’t going to know how to treat her bipolar daughter. Still there was a thin line between mother and manager. In my mid twenties, I needed more of a manager and less of a mother. Even with Bipolar I, she needed to back off a little.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well are you hungry?” she asked. This was her way of finding out if I had eaten. Which I hadn’t.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Okay,” she said, glad to have something to do for me. “I’ll see what I can do with what you have.”
I watched her make her way out of the room knowing I felt no hunger at all. She was frustrated with me though, and I didn’t want to make things worse. I would make an effort to eat whatever she cooked.
*****
A week later, I was sitting in a studio in Mack’s Lab in the little dingy borough called The Bronx, in New York. I loved Manhattan. I didn’t care for The Bronx, but I had to admit that was where the best producers were from, and Q-Note was one of them. He was the epitome of a Bronx nigga. He was aggressive, rugged, a soft-spoken word never left his tongue, but he was smart and talented as shit. That was the thing about those guys from The Bronx. It’s like they were secret nerds, as if they thought there was something wrong with just being their nerdy-selves.
My eyes scanned the list of artist names on the sign-in sheet. Apparently Taylor Thompson had been there quite a bit in recent hours. “Working with Taylor again,” I blurted out.
Q chuckled. “Yeah. Whatchu got against shawty?”
“Nothing. I just don’t see what the big deal is about her.”
“Is it about her as an artist or is it about the fact that she did a remix track with your boyfriend a while back?”
I squinted my eyes at Q. “Be careful.”
“You called me,” he said. “So whatchu wanna do?”
“I wanna know if you listened to the tracks I sent you.”
He nodded.
“So, did you get any ideas? Is there anything you could do with them?”
“You know I can always take things up a notch.”
“Okay?”
“You’re not gonna wanna hear my ideas.”
“Did I come up here for nothing Q?”
“You tell me.”
I sucked my teeth as I fought the urge to throw my bag at him.
“I’m just sayin,” he went on, “you tend to shut certain things down before I even make my point. I was surprised to see you hit me up, and I’m even more surprised to see that you’re actually here.”
“We’ve worked together before.”
“Yeah because Silver Records said so. But you took control of this album. You’re here on your own. You can’t fault me for being surprised when it’s no secret that you can’t stand me.”
“Its not that I can’t stand you—”
“Well you dislike me or whatever. Anyway, I’m never at the top of your list to work with. And when we do work together you shoot a lot of my shit down. So you tell me Sugar, did you come up here for nothing?”
I could feel myself firing up.
“Nobody cares about that diva shit up in here and you know it. I always keep shit a hunnid with you just like I do everybody else. I’m just asking that you do the same with me.”
My lips tightened. “I just think you’re a little aggressive,” I said carefully choosing my words. “You are talented though. So I am willing to hear what you have in mind.”
Q-Note shrugged and clasped his hands together as he looked directly into my eyes. “I think the track Its All Mine should feature Taylor Thompson.”
I knew there was gonna be some bullshit. “Nah. Hell no. You suckered Malik into working with the little bitch but you won’t get me.”
“Why is she a little bitch? What the hell did that girl do to you?”
“Nothing. I’d never let her get close enough. Am I not allowed to just dislike someone?”
“You can’t fault me, or anybody else for wondering why though.”
“She’s whack. She’s corny. Her music is lackluster and the only reason Giggle was a hit is because that stupid hiphop-pop crossover shit hasn’t lost fuel yet. The song is dumb. Most of her songs are dumb. But everybody goes hard for her.”
“Lemme ask you something,” Q proposed leaning back in his chair.
I impatiently awaited his question.
“Do you think every thing she does is her idea?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe. Does that even matter?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you have to fight the label for full control of this album?”
“Yeah.”
“Y’all are on the same damn label. Don’t you think she experiences the same shit?”
“She’s younger, it’s not the same.”
“She’s really not that much younger than you.”
I sighed. I was ready to storm out of the meeting regardless of the fact that he was the only producer I had a meeting with in New York, therefore my only reason for being there in the first place. “So I hand you one of my tracks for review and a feature with Taylor Thompson comes to mind? You got me questioning your talent now. How about you stick to production?”
“This is a part of production. It’s all about concepts and what I hear.”
“How does Taylor Thompson’s music fit into the concept of anything that I am doing or would ever do?”
“Cuz y’all going through the same shit. Open your fuckin eyes Sugar. You’re not the first, won’t be the last, and have never been the only woman to fight a label or a fight the heads in any industry for control of her own shit. You think Taylor Thompson wants to maintain the image of pink bubble gum, and giggling, and roller-skates for the rest of her life? She’s fuckin twenty-one years old. She’s over it. Who’s to say she was ever into it?”
“I don’t know what any of that has to do with me,” I barked back.
“Ain’t nobody arguing with you. You came here. I’m telling you what I wanna do. It’s All Mine ain’t gon be right without Taylor, and I’m not putting my name on no flops.”
“Wow.” I was literally flabbergasted. “Fuck this,” I said and stood to leave.
Q said nothing. He didn’t try to stop me either.
I rushed downstairs to the lobby and started to call my car, but Malik was already calling at the same time. “I swiped answer, but did not say anything.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked knowingly.
“I don’t know why I came up here.”
“Cuz Q-Note is that nigga. But what’s wrong?”
“He is insisting that I work with Taylor Thompson on a track.”
“So?”
“So you know I don’t like that lil girl.”
“What did she ever do to you?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that? I just don’t like her.”
“Well you don’t like Q-Note that much but you’re willing to work with him so what’s the difference?”
“It’s overkill. Working with one person I dislike is enough.”
“Okay.”
I sighed heavily trying to control my emotions, but I could feel a screaming tantrum bubbling to the brim. “I’m about to just get out of here and head straight back to the airport.”
“Didn’t you book a room?”
“Yeah, but I only came here to meet with Q.”
“You walked out of the meeting?”
“Yeah.”
Malik was quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Don’t leave yet. Send me the track he’s talking about.”
“Lemme call you back,” exasperation led my words.
I went and sat on one of the lobby couches and took my iPad out. I scrolled around for the track and immediately sent it to Malik then texted him, “sent.”
“Don’t leave yet,” he wrote back.
So I waited. I waited for twenty minutes.
Finally Malik called me back.
I picked up on the first ring. “So?”
“I think you should go back upstairs and talk to Q-Note.”
“Malik—”
“Sugar, I don’t really take this tone with you. I don’t try to be the man in your life that runs things. But I think you need to hear him out. I listened to the track. I can see what he means… especially since I just hung up from him.”
“So you called him to talk about me?”
“Yeah. Sugarbird—”
“Uh uh fuck that Sugarbird-shit—”
“Sugarbird, the track could be fire if y’all work this thing out. Believe me. Just go see what he has in mind and call me back. You still got time. Just go.”
I fought the urge to literally growl and headed back up on the elevator.
]]>Sun, 10 Apr 2022 15:58:49 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/love-and-the-business-the-triangle/introductionSugar
The sun was peeking through my vertical blinds as I finished writing my eighth song. Contractually, this album was to have fifteen songs, and it was due in three months. At the rate I was going, I would be done writing before the week was over, and if everyone played along, I could finish recording before the deadline as well.
I stretched my arms and cracked my knuckles in front of me. My eyes stayed fixated on the blinds as the sun increasingly shone behind them. Suddenly I could see the notes dancing on the blinds. They weren’t even the notes for the eighth song. They were the notes for the seventh. I rushed over to my keyboard and just as my fingers touched the keys, Malik’s voice startled me.
“Babe… what are you doing?”
“Writing.” My fingers started pounding away at the keys, then I entered the notes on the songwriter app on my iPad. My eyes darted back to the blinds. The notes were still there, dancing, and I could hear all the sounds. Malik’s voice continued in the background, and I felt like I was working overtime to allow the music to drown him out. My fingers pounded at the keys, and I put the notes in as fast as I could. I felt like the notes were going to run away from me, even though they were still there every time I looked up at the blinds. It’s just that they were moving so quickly. I knew I had to get the song out, or somehow it would be gone.
Malik’s hands gripped my shoulders.
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed at him. In an instant his hands were gone from my shoulders, but now he was standing in front of the window. He was in front of the blinds. He was in front of the notes! “Can you just get out of here and let me work?” I was panicking and I don’t know why he couldn’t see that.
“You haven’t slept,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it!” I hollered. What was everyone’s problem? As soon as I was on a roll and productive, everyone wanted to worry about sleep. Sleep is for the dead, and I was alive. In fact I was feeling more alive than ever. I just wanted to finish.
Malik shook his head and moved away from the blinds.
My eyes went back to the notes. I was almost done. I could literally feel the song coming out of me as I glanced, played, and wrote. Glance, play, write, glance, play, write, glance, play, write…
Malik was still talking in the background. This time though, it didn’t sound like he was talking to me and that made me feel just a little bit better. I felt a little less interrupted.
When all the notes were off the blinds and in the app, I exhaled.
Malik was back in my music room, cleaning up.
“What are you doing?” It was my turn to ask questions.
“Cleaning up. It looks crazy in here.”
“Thats what housekeepers are for.”
“You fired Stanley.”
“Who’s Stanley?”
“The last housekeeper.”
“Oh. I can’t keep up.”
“You keep firing them.”
“They need to do their fuckin job.”
“You need to take your fuckin meds.”
That infuriated me. I stood up and knocked over the keyboard, stand and all. “Get out!” I screamed at Malik, as the sound of his voice agitated my brain. I hated not feeling heard, but when I screamed, everyone heard me loud and clear.
He dropped the trash bag that he was holding in his hand, looking helpless. Tears were in his eyes, and I wanted to do something about it, but I couldn’t. I was too angry. He knew the meds hindered my creativity. I couldn’t write, I couldn’t hear the music, I couldn’t see it or feel it… I could only sing it. I could sing it with any feeling they asked for, except my own emotion. But I wasn’t a fuckin radio. This was my chance to prove myself as a songwriter and composer. I could do my own album with minimal input and features… as long as I stayed clear of those stupid creativity-stealing pills.
Malik didn’t say anything. He left the trash bag in the middle of the floor and walked out. I picked up the trash bag myself, and continued where he left off.

Malik
I paced back and forth in front of the building, waiting for the valet to bring my car around. Just as he pulled up, Sugar’s mother, Miss Sharon, was calling me back.
“Is everything okay now?” she asked when I picked up.
“I don’t know, I left,” I said.
“You left?”
“Yeah. Miss Sharon, I’m not cut out for this.”
“Malik, she’s in a manic state. I told you these things could happen when she went off her meds.”
“I know but… I was just trying to clean the room and she flipped the damn keyboard over. I’m just not gonna deal with it today.”
“Malik, you don’t get to choose when you’re going to deal with a crisis.”
“True. But I need a minute to myself. She flipped that got damn keyboard over like it was a card table and her partner reneged in a Spades game. What’s next? I told you, if she put her hands on me again I wasn’t stopping at shaking her. So I left to protect the both of us.”
“Well you coulda called me to say thats what you were gonna do. I guess I’ll drive over there now.”
“The place is a mess and she fired Stanley.”
“Stanley? The housekeeper?”
“Yeah.”
“He was there for a month!”
“I gotta go, Miss Sharon,” I said as I pulled up to the bistro not far from Sugar’s apartment in Silver Spring Maryland. I was going to have a coffee, and breakfast, and then decide what my next move was.
Sugar never went to bed the night before. Her manic states were like coke binges. She could stay up all night and eventually crash some time midday. The fucked up truth of the matter was, I knew that under these circumstances, her album would be fire. It wasn’t a healthy way for her to live though, and her tantrums were otherworldly.
I knew Sugar for nearly fifteen years before we started dating. We were friends. When you’re a teenager in the industry, you sometimes cling to other teens in the industry because you are constantly surrounded by adults full of commands and demands. Sugar was a way bigger star than I was when we were kids. My fame didn’t really hit until I was in my early twenties, and messing around with the international supermodel Lynda Lovence. Towards the end of that fling, Sugar swooped in and her affiliates helped to add fuel to my career. In the process we got closer. Everybody warned me about her. She’s crazy. She’s a diva. She’s difficult to work with. She is not for the faint of heart. One of those was for sure. Sugar is not for the faint of heart.
After our third date, her mother showed up at her apartment unannounced. Sugar and I were hanging out in her music room. She was sitting at her keyboard, belting out a tune that she had written. She complained that the label had a number of restrictions in her contract. They weren’t too keen on allowing her to write and compose her own material. They had developed an image for her, and they insisted that she stayed within the boundaries of that image. Sugar’s self-made material reached far beyond those boundaries.
“What a pleasant surprise,” her mother said sternly from the doorway of the music room; her tone and words unmatched.
“Ma, what’re you doing here? I’m on a date,” Sugar gestured towards me.
“Yes, I see, thats exactly why I’m here.”
I stepped forward towards Miss Sharon and extended my hand. “Hi, I’m Malik.”
“I know. Its nice to meet you,” Miss Sharon took my hand and peered into my eyes. She was very elegant in comparison to her daughter. Sugar was a bit rough and tomboyish. Their faces matched, but thats where the resemblances ended. Miss Sharon stood straight and tall in her wide-legged pants suit, while Sugar sat with her legs gapped open, wearing ripped jeans and a lace top. Miss Sharon’s hair was dark, shiny, neatly cut, curly afro. Sugar, flipped her long multi-colored locs over her shoulder. They both had a roughness in their eyes.
“So, Malik, I’m not really one for marathons around the bush… you like my daughter huh?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah… uh, yes Mrs….”
Miss Sharon smiled. “Miss for now. Miss Sharon if you’re here to stay.”
Sugar rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” Miss Sharon went on.
I didn’t know how to answer that.
“C’mon boy, that Sugar is crazy, hard to work with, a diva, blah blah blah…”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Sugar didn’t tell you where it all comes from?”
I shook my head, no. I looked at Sugar who sat with a smirk on her face. I was worried that maybe the diva comments had more to do with some kind of secret with her mother.
“Sugar, you can tell him or I can.”
“You’re here, I’m sure thats what you came here to do.”
“I came here to make sure you’re handling this situation the right way.”
“Oh Ma, you really have to let me do things in my own time.”
“And when is that? After an episode and a violent confrontation. Tell this man now what you have going on girl. You don’t wanna get in this too deep and get cold feet. Tell him now.”
Sugar sighed. “I’m bipolar,” she mumbled.
“Bipolar?” I repeated.
“Yeah, I’m bipolar. Like bat-shit-fuckin-crazy. I’m not a diva. I’m just nuts, okay?” Sugar threw her hands up as if to say “whatever,” but her face alluded to a sense of indignance.
“Thats it?” I asked, somewhat relieved that dating her didn’t mean I was exposing myself to the illuminati or holly-weird.
“Yeah. Thats it,” Sugar said, sounding relieved as well.
“Malik,” said Miss Karen, “I don’t know your past, I don’t know what you’re used to. But I felt that Sugar needed to let you know as soon as possible, because you are bound to experience some things that you never have before with her. I suggest you do your research on bipolar disorder. These are not your average pms mood swings.”
I did my research. On some days I thought I could handle it. On others, like this June morning, as I sat at a small table alone sipping my coffee, I wasn’t sure.

Taylor
​I fumbled with my phone, glancing at the song lyrics, while I waited for Q-Note to hang up the phone. I looked down at the words that I wrote, that I had practiced over and over in the mirror. I knew I was going to blow him away with this. I also knew that he might shut me down. Q-Note and I had developed a big brother-little sister relationship after he produced my album, and co-produced my following album, and although he was very supportive of my moves, sometimes I worried that he would get in the way of my progress. People seemed to be afraid of me growing up. Whether or not Q felt that way, remained to be seen.
By the time Q hung up from his phone call, my palms were sweating and all I could hear in my head was that 8 Mile theme song by Eminem. There’s no reason to be this damn nervous, I thought to myself.
“Aight so whatchu got?” Q asked, settling into the engineer’s chair.
I looked towards the booth. “The beat you gave me last week—“
“Yeah, you wrote something?”
“Yeah.”
“So g’head.”
I looked towards the booth again, “I wanna just spit it in the booth.”
“You want me to record it before I hear it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Just let me do it this way Q.”
He shrugged, “Whatever.”
I went into the dark booth and closed the door.
“You don’t want the light on?” he asked.
“No.”
“What kinda depressing shit did you come up with for this beat? Its a pop sound—“
“Just drop the beat,” I said, not wanting to waste another second. In less than a minute I could hear the beat blaring through the headphones. I glanced at the lyrics, but once I started, I never looked at them again. I bursted into a fit of laughter after I got that first verse out, and Q stopped the track.
“Whoa whoa whoa, wait! What the fuck? What the fuck was that?”
I started laughing even harder.
“Yoooo… nah. Wait…” Q was out of his seat and waving his arms around. “Come out here yo!”
I came out of the booth, as my nervous laughter died down.
Q nearly spun around in a circle. “Where did that come from? I mean who was that in the booth just now?”
“It was me.”
“Since when? Where did all this slurp-it, stick-it, squish squish shit come from? You feelin inspired by Cardi B or something?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Nah,” Q said as he sat back down in the engineer chair. “Sit, sit, sit… how many verses did you write?”
“Three.”
“So there’s more? There’s a whole song of this?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
My heart started racing as I sat down and Q’s face got serious. “I’ve been coming up with stuff like this for a while, I just—I knew that y’all would shut me down.”
Q shook his head and cleared his throat. “Who’s y’all?”
“Y’know, you, Lance, Silver Records.”
“I’m not in the same boat with Silver Records. I’m signed to The Macks. Sometimes I produce for artists at Silver Records, which includes you.”
“Yeah… I just mean like, you’re the producer, you have it in your head how I should sound.”
“Maybe, but you write your own shit for the most part. I didn’t even know you had this in you.”
“I just feel like everybody wants to keep me in this little box and Taylor Thompson, the lil teeny-bopper singer and rapper. I’m growing up Q. I do more than Giggle these days.”
Q nodded. “There’s no doubt about that. I mean, I ain’t tryna keep you in no box. I just know this probably isn’t gonna go over easy with Silver Records. But I got your back. I ain’t gon hold you, that first verse is fire. I know the beat is sick… with you spittin on it like that, its gon sound sicker. You are gonna shock the shit out of some people, but I think its worth it.”
I was in complete shock. “You do?”
“Yeah, whatchu thought, I wasn’t gon like it?”
“I thought you were gonna say nobody wants to hear that kinda stuff coming from me.”
“Like you said, you do more than Giggle these days. I think most young artists have this transition period where the… sexy or sexually explicit side comes out a lil bit, and its a little hard for fans and the label to take. But it is what it is.”
I took a deep breath.
Q laughed. “I think thats the first time I heard you breathe since you got here.”
I laughed with him. “Dude I was nervous as fuck. I didn’t know what you were gonna say.”
“Its cool,” he said, “so whatchu wanna do? Record this?”
“Yeah, shit, let’s go for it.”

*****
When I got home that night, my mother and grandparents were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea together.
“What’s everybody doing up?” I asked.
“Nobody sleeps when you record in The Bronx,” my mother said.
I shook my head.
“You didn’t even share your new material with me.”
“I guess I forgot,” I lied.
“Well is it an r&b song? What did you do? I know its a track from Q-Note.”
“I already recorded it. I’m a little worn out from it. You’ll hear it in the studio or something soon.”
“No rough cut?” my grandfather asked.
I shook my head no.
“Is it that boop to da bap rap mess again?” my grandmother asked. She taught me to scat when I was little, and when I started rapping, she blamed herself and scatting.
“As a matter of fact, yeah, I did a rap song.”
My mother nodded. “Okay well, we’re glad your home. I’ve been trying to back off and be less involved with your career, with your father being the head of Silver, but he’s all caught up in the raucous that Sugar Evans is causing these days.”
I smirked. Sugar Evans hated my guts and I had never done a thing to that girl. Sometimes I felt her antics were for my father’s attention, which he blanketed her in. She was the only artist he kept on a pedestal. He and my mother had been apart for years, but still she interrogated him about his odd relationship with Sugar. He told us both that deep down inside, he felt bad for Sugar being in this industry without a father figure. She supposedly had mental issues, and no one but her mother for support. For a while my mother still didn’t believe that. She thought he was messing around with her. When she started dating Malik though, my mother thought maybe my father really was just trying to be a father figure.
I thought if we were on the same label, and she had this relationship with my dad, then we could be cool with each other. Sugar obviously thought different. She kept her distance and made it clear that Malik was to do the same. She was not happy about Malik being on the Giggle remix, and made a huge issue about us performing the song together. We were never able to perform the song on the same stage.
I accepted the claim that she had mental issues, and kept the peace by keeping my distance.
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