The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2) Page 16

  “Listen, this was fun, as brief as it was. I’m glad I came out.” She beamed sincerely.

  “Awwwww! Thanks, Rayna. You leave me after my nerves have been annihilated by our favorite drink.” I winked before tossing back the rest of the glass.

  Rayna cracked the hell up, placing her empty glass on the tray of a sexy ass male waiter, who stopped at the sight of it. My eyes swept over him as I set my glass on the out held tray.

  “Mmmmmhmmmmm!” Rayna hummed with arched brows and a conspiratorial smirk. “Fine ain’t they? That…” she pointed to the thick ass walking away with a tray in the air. “…was my touch. What’s good for the goose…” She rolled her eyes and neck.

  I spit a laugh, giving her a high five.

  “Now that he’s married, I have someone tangible to hold accountable for having him visit. Please keep in touch,” Rayna offered.

  Why did that seem sincere? Why were people so attached to him as weird and reclusive as Ragee was?

  “I’ll try my best. But as for my crush, Dasu, your little prince owes me a dance.”

  After a parting laugh and a few words of see you later, Rayna and I separated. As I tried finding my way to the big ass booth, I was pulled into a tall frame. My wooshy mind processed Teke eventually as he danced in front of me. His lips poked as he wore sunglasses in the dim club, looking so “Hollywood.” A smile broke out on my face when he turned and pulled Jemah close into him. She obliged by getting low, tossing her hands in the air as they bounced bodies off each other.

  He then turned to me, grabbing my arms and tossing them into the air, demanding I dance with him. Figuring what the hell, I began to dance, tossing my inhibitions to the wind. I hadn’t done this since stepping off a G550, subdued with fear and betrayal. Before long, the Drake featuring Rihanna track, “Too Good” had me loosening even more. The club was live, and it fucking thrilled me! I realized Jemah and I sandwiched Teke, though I kept a decent distance. This was confirmed when I randomly looked up from my feet while dancing and saw a phone in my face. The flash was on as Teke laughed playfully, holding it to us. He invited me, and I obliged, fixing a silly face as we grooved. I blew a kiss to the camera before I leaned on my toes and spun my body around.

  My eyes immediately landed on Jon. He had a smoking Latina in his arms. She was giving him lots of work with her creative sensual moves. My body was spun again.

  “You’ve given everybody your time tonight except for me. We ‘bout to be done with this shit and gone blow up. I wanna make the most of it with all y’all,” he shouted in my ear. “Give me my time, dammit!”

  Teke swung me around again, holding my arm in the air. He yelled at Jemah not to go far because he wasn’t done with her. His jovial enthusiasm was like water in a desert. For the first time, I could admit I actually liked Teke. Why had I waited so long to lower my guard? Assholes were good people, too.

  At some point, Teke had Jemah and me under his arms and shouted over the music into our ears, “When we leave here, we should do another song together. Start something fresh. Y’all down?”

  “Fuck, yeah!” Jemah pledged as Irv was bringing a tray of champagne over.

  I grabbed one and sipped before nodding my accession, then raised the flute into the air. The group followed suit and we did the L.I.T. Music boot camp chant Rico made up last week while we were out at a restaurant.

  That’s when I felt a soft tug at the back of my shirt. I turned and saw another pretty face my fuzzy brain registered as beautiful and familiar but couldn’t quite grasp it. She took me at the hand, backing me from my classmates, and I followed rhythmically as I tried remembering. It wasn’t until her face dipped toward the floor and I saw the tapered boy cut as she danced in front of me that it hit me.

  Before I could utter her name, the darkest set of raven eyes came into view, scowling. When her ass backed up on him with security guards flanking all around, I decided not to shout Kennedi’s name in recollection and embarrass myself. I played it off, dancing right along with her. Turning and dipping, I missed when Young Lord’s hard stare left me and fell to his wife’s ass grinding up against him. They turned heavy while peering at her rump. He didn’t move, just leaned against one of the white leather floating booths with a circle of security around, barricading us—him and his wife—from the crowd inching close to get at him.

  How and when did they get in without me noticing them? Young’s presence meant something other than it did the first time I was in his company. Then it was me being around a mega superstar. Tonight, it was me being around a boss, hoping he would be my boss when this boot camp was up. Kennedi danced toward me and embraced me while we moved.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you,” she gushed. “Had to practically pull Issy out of the house tonight. He moves like a darn snail!”

  I didn’t want to ask why. But I wanted to know. Kennedi had been really sweet when we met in December, but it’s not like we knew each other.

  As the night progressed, I broke away from Kennedi and her husband. Young wanted to grab a drink in his V.I.P. booth and she decided to go with him. Also, it was clear my group was too intimidated to party with Young Lord and I wanted to be loyal and not an elitist, reminding them who I was married to. After I agreed to what I knew would be my last Brimm’s Lemon Drop, at the insistence of Jemah and Teke, I found myself still on the dance floor, working off the sinful cocktails and champagne, through heavy sweating and aching feet.

  Over time, folks started doing their own thing. Rico took a girl up to our V.I.P. booth. Irv had an entire table of women entertained on the other side of the ground floor. One of the security paid to prioritize B City’s safety was put on patrol for him alone because everyone else was pretty much in the same vicinity with the other security. Jemah slipped away with a guy she met tonight, claiming she needed the restroom. The word claim must be emphasized because when I offered to go with her, she explicitly told me to fuck off directly in my ear and stop cock-blocking. I may have been tipsy, but I wasn’t too far removed from singlehood that I didn’t “get” adventure.

  So, I found myself with Teke, Jon, and two other female strangers, dancing and singing along to old school tracks one deejay switched to. I found myself battling everyone in lip-synching and performing, which was hilarious fun. At one point, I found myself staring up at the ceiling thanks to Teke dipping me in the air. I was way beyond my limit, but it was an absolute blast.

  Irv was back in our little cypher, saying we needed to round up and meet in the back office for a word with Young Lord. After a few minutes of collecting everyone, we began back there with one of Young’s assistants directing us. When I checked the time on the way, I was shocked as hell to see it was after three in the morning. I hadn’t partied like this since… Forever. Ivie always said I grew into a senior citizen prematurely, trying to be “that bitch” and get degrees and shit. That thought had me snickering to myself while in motion with my group. I held on to Teke to keep from stumbling. Between my foggy brain and swelled feet, I was a delicate balance.

  We entered an elevator and ascended to a soundproof lobby that was contemporarily outfitted in dark woods and black leather. There was an abandoned receptionist booth immediately to the left. And just a few yards away, toward the right, was a room a familiar security guard waved us into. We filed in, all wobbly in movement, some with giggling fits along the way. As the room opened to me, I saw Kennedi at the far end of the conference table. She smiled demurely, appearing totally bushed.

  Young stood at the middle of the table, back against the white board. I noticed he wore all black again like the night I met him in December. Only tonight, he’d donned a black tee, topped by gold chains of varying sizes, parachute sweat pants, and black suede Timberland boots. He was dressed according to the L.A. weather, but with the “Young Lord touch” of signature black. I knew Jersey b-boy style when I saw it.

  “Yo, listen up,” he commanded the room. “Tonight kicks off my portion of boot camp. It’s the last of
the program, too. I been hearing shit: some impressive”—His raven eyes brushed across a ruffled looking Jemah and then me—“some bullshit. But overall, I think we picked a tight group here. I ‘on’t know who gone be offered a contract, but I can guarantee it’ll be a fair one. No industry gimmicks. I ain’t no industry nigga, no matter my new rise in L.I.T. Music. With me, it’s simple. You put in the work; you eat. Ain’t no foreign language in that. I just want the most talented and cutting edge on my team.”

  He eyed my entire group, who at some point lined up, arm to arm, facing him on the other side of the conference table.

  “Coming here to Cobalt tonight was about understanding sound. I come here when I feel my ear is too clogged with monotone bullshit. It helps me get the lay of the land. One of my favorite features of this place is its range. Three different levels, three different sounds, all legit. There’s new vibes, classic, and eclectic. So when I need to create, I think the spirit of all three elements are important to a hit. Can’t go too eclectic or else nobody will listen. Can’t stay in classic, old school ‘cause you’re not evolving with the sounds. And keeping with the new shit is trendy. Trendy is fucking whack and’ll put a lil paper in ya pocket but won’t sustain you for a long ride.”

  Once again, his jet-black orbs swept the small group. “Now I know y’all ain’t in no condition to take notes for this class, but I wanted to remind you that even though you here throwing them back, you still grindin’. Just like me. Unless I’m out with my lady, I’m working when I’m in the cut at dope ass clubs like this. It may look breezy, but my mind stay on one hun’ned, absorbing and creating.” And then the first smile I’d seen of him since meeting him at the restaurant appeared. I’d forgotten how nice it was. Disarming. “I doubt any of y’all was doing that out there. But tomorrow’s a new day—a few hours to be exact. We got a lot to cover, and it begins in my studio at two o’clock sharp. You late, you go home. Let’s end this on ya best foot.”

  Irv and Jon shouted their excitement as though at a pep rally. It was contagious. I found myself pumping my fist, offbeat and all, I was so inebriated. Even Kennedi hooted from the end of the table, her beam at unbridled. Eyes chinked and teeth exposed. Young gave her a furtive smirk then a wink.

  “Ai’ight,” he concluded the cheers, shouts, and laughs. “Time to sleep it off, get ya mind right. There’s a house five minutes from here. Dope place, just not as big as the rental outside of Phoenix. Everybody still gets their own room and there’s a private pool and Jacuzzi there. Enjoy,” he dismissed us.

  Right away, one by one, we headed to the door. A huge weight landed on my shoulders and I almost lost my step.

  “Fuuuuck, Teke!” Jemah cried on the other side of him when he dropped his arms around us at the same time. “I’m the whole fucked up right now. Like… The room is starting to spin and you wanna jump on somebody.”

  The people ahead slowed, so we stopped judiciously. I wasn’t too steady myself. Just too oozy to verbalize it.

  “How you fucked up when we got a track to lay?” Teke challenged with a smile and the rolling of his blond head. “Remember?” I rolled my eyes as I grunted, just wanting a bed and a glass of apple juice. “We starting from scratch. I already got a melody worked out.” He squeezed my shoulders.

  “Yirp!” was howled across the room, halting just about everybody’s activities. I turned like everyone else and found it was Young Lord, standing next to Kennedi’s chair, scowling at us. “Yo, Wynter.” He did a reverse nod. “Where you going?”

  I licked my dry lips, realizing I must look a sight at this hour, after all that drinking and dancing, and being in a different time zone just hours before. “Headed to the house.”

  “Yeah, we ‘bout to be on our ‘no sleep’ shit and start some music,” Teke unnecessarily explained.

  I wished he hadn’t. There was a different vibe about Young that rubbed me the wrong way. It was clear I wasn’t special amongst the group as I’d been previously. I was treated with extended handshakes and conversations after being introduced to the boot camp staff and affiliates. Young Lord only offered scowls and a repellant aura. Kennedi was cool, but I was glad to get away after encountering him tonight.

  Young shook his head softly with a chin dipped low and blank eyes. “Nah. You bunking with us for this last part of the ride.”

  The room quieted dramatically. Likely because we were all intoxicated to varying degrees. But we all knew Young Lord was the one to impress and respect. He was not only L.I.T. Music’s top running artist, he was a top tiered executive now, too. He was also my husband’s friend and confidant. This put me in an awkward position.

  “I got the room prepared for you,” Kennedi’s smile was sincere and big. “I thought you knew.”

  But Young’s one brow lifted as though he waited for a challenge. I addressed his wife, the sweet friendly one.

  “I didn’t.” I cleared my throat. “Plus, it seems kind of weird separating from my group. We kind of have plans for work. Plus,” I licked my lips again, trying to come up with an even way to say this. “It’s a little uncomfortable to be singled out just because of who my husband is. I don’t want the others to think I’m not here on merit.”

  “You ain’t,” was all Lord uttered.

  “Isaak!” Kennedi reached for his hand. “Wynter, it’s just that…” Her eyes swept up to her husband, whose regard refused to leave me. In fact, they traveled the arm encasing my shoulder. “Never mind. I can understand your position. Didn’t think about it that way. Maybe another time when you’re not working.”

  “Nah.” Young expressed.

  “No?” Kennedi’s eyes widened in seeming embarrassment.

  “Nah. I ‘on’t give a fuck how it look. Everybody in here know what time it is. No disrespect, Wynter, but whatever y’all working on won’t get started tonight.” His keen regard shifted to Teke. “You can figure it out on your own. But Wynter, your stuff already in our ride. You’ll be staying with us until you go home.”

  Something happened in those moments. Lines were drawn in the sand. It was powerful and tangible, because that’s how deeply it was felt. Now, in my inebriated state, I could challenge Young, cuss him clear the hell out for the power move he made on my person when I didn’t even know him. But shock had saturated all my sharp wit and I couldn’t produce a word of rebuttal. I couldn’t come up with anything to let him know I was not a part of his world. Because I wanted to be, just not with my marriage certificate.

  “But Lord, my G, I know you gone be on us about fresh material. You want us on our sharpest shit, so we can win this thing. Breaking us up now ain’t getting us ahead.”

  I could hear someone—a male, possibly Jon—whispering a warning for Teke to chill. That’s probably when I stopped breathing.

  Young reached for Kennedi, who instinctively clasped his hand as she stood to move with him.

  He shook his head while staring Teke dead in the face and told him, “I think you got me fucked up. I ‘on’t give a shit if you win or lose. Just looking for a winning team, fam.”

  He headed out the door with a frazzled Kennedi at his heels. You could hear a pin drop in the room. I damn near fell to the floor when Teke’s heavy arm rolled off my shoulders, having to quickly switch up my balance.

  Jemah’s eyes shot bullets in me, questioning what the fuck just happened, only I had no idea. Rico faced the wall, grabbing his head backwards as to express distress. Jon mumbled a string of expletives while shaking his head.

  “Yo,” a deep voice void of familiarity barked, “Wynter, let’s go.” It was one of Young’s guards.

  Humiliated, I began my journey, in front of everyone stunned into silence, toward the door.

  ~7~

  Mike’s funeral was a perfect display of finality. A real one. He was gone and forever. It honestly didn’t seem completely real until I saw his corpse. That was hard. When I approached his body, immediately, I saw someone else. What was left of him bore little resemblance to the man
I’d known for over a decade. I’d seen him smile, laugh, flex, high, and drunk and none of those faces looked a damn thing like the clayed and clumped up corpse before me. I knelt on the prayer stoop in front of the casket and prayed. I petitioned on behalf of his mother, children, and everyone feeling his absence. And I asked God to forgive every ill thing I said to and felt for my old friend, and to help me learn from that low place where our relationship took a turn for the worse. I walked away from the casket with a burning memory of his lips being layered with makeup and obviously glued shut. It was just…awful.

  Less painful, but noted was his moms, Melba, asking me to sit next to her in the front row, but Jerry quickly stood from the second, saying my seat was in the back with the rest of the guests. Before Melba could challenge him after shooting to her feet, I raised my palms and gave a neck bow before stepping off with my security and staff around me. I would not be in the news for making a scene at Mike’s funeral. Especially when no one had yet been charged for his murder, so the media was parked all around the church, looking for a story. It was a weird vibe around the industry because most believed True Blue had him killed, but the cops didn’t have enough to charge anyone yet. And because of that, security was deep at the church. So, nah. Even though it was strange, I wasn’t seated near his family, there was no way I’d demand to sit next to his body and create a scene.

  We were seated near the back of the church and I stayed there, respectfully, until the service was over. I went to the cemetery and witnessed Mike’s burial against the nasty stares from a few people in his family. I saw the uneasiness wearing on Myisha’s and Tina’s faces as we stood a few yards from the crowd. Lil Bruh, who advised we keep our distance, whispered we should go at some point. He didn’t like how Jerry kept looking back at us and whispering to Mike’s brother next to him. But I wasn’t pressed. I knew their crew, had run with them enough to not feel intimidated or threatened. Jerry was likely paranoid because of the verbal shots being thrown between him and True Blue’s people over social media, and he didn’t trust anyone, including his cousin’s client.