The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2) Page 23

  My phone rang again. Wearily, I lifted it to my face. It was Jashon. Though I was in no mood to deal with anything associated with Myisha, Wanda mentioning her meeting up with Jashon had me inclined to answer.

  “Hello…”

  “Mrs. McKinnon—”

  “Wynter,” I corrected weakly, though I was too damn exhausted for another battle.

  “Mrs. McKinnon, I was instructed to reference you as such. I’m sorry,” the confidence in his voice momentarily waned. “I’m calling to make you aware you’ll need to prepare for an event with Mr. McKinnon.”

  “Can we just call him Raj?”

  “Fine. Raj,” he relented.

  “When? And what?” I was anxious.

  “He’s been invited to a birthday party. It’s business casual. And it’s the day after tomorrow. An evening affair.”

  My thoughts went to my closet and hand went to my hair. I was nowhere near prepared to play arm candy. I looked a mess.

  “Ummm…”

  “I can make you an appointment at the Hair Lounge if you like?”

  I skipped a breath. My hair had been something I’d been wanting to address but couldn’t. I didn’t have ShawnNicole money. Using the credit card Raj had given me in Arizona didn’t seem right, especially after clearing all of my cards. I was still stuck on that.

  “Please,” I squeaked. “And I’ll find something to wear here. Hopefully, it’ll be appropriate.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll have a few dresses dropped off…a few pairs of shoes, too. Pick what you like. Raj’ll be there at six-thirty to pick you up from the garage.”

  Garage…

  The garage was underneath the building, which meant privacy. I didn’t think paparazzi hung out here in Jersey City, but it wouldn’t hurt to be safe. Of course, he didn’t want the public knowing we were estranged.

  “Okay.”

  “Good. I’ll get on that right away. And Mrs. McKinnon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. I’d be more than happy to help.”

  “Why?” I recoiled at my absentminded remark.

  But was so confused by the changes.

  I could hear the masculine chuckle underneath his breath. “Because it’s my job.”

  “To help Myisha?”

  “No. To assist Ragee.”

  “Where’s Ragee? I tried calling him two days ago and haven’t heard back. I’d like to talk to him.”

  “He’s away, at a conference of sorts.”

  A conference? What type of conference? This was fucking weird. All of it, including Jashon contacting me.

  “Where’s Myisha?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll text you with the Hair Lounge appointment time and when the clothes will be delivered. Ut!” he chirped. “I don’t have your dress size. Could you text it to me along with your shoe size?”

  I was between sizes now and hadn’t done any real shopping lately to know.

  But I acquiesced. “O—okay.”

  ~10~

  …You delivered me from the bowels of the enemy, God.

  You put a song in my soul no man could compose.

  You put a fear in my heart no beast could match.

  You’re Jehovah Jireh…you’ve provided over and over.

  You’re faithful, God…never leaving my side.

  Forgive me, oh God.

  Purge me, Jesus.

  The opening of the door disturbed my flow. The dim light from the hall blinded my eyes when I was able to open them. A tray of food was pushed inside then the door closed again. The scent from the tray wafted through the air. Its presence was also an alert. The last time food was delivered, it woke me from a sleep I didn’t know I’d fallen into. My body was cramped, but my soul on fire. I wasn’t ready to break, even though my stomach finally spoke up, telling me it was time. I reached over for my phone.

  Six hours, seventeen minutes.

  Day three…

  I ignored the alerts and pushed the phone away. I needed more time in His face before eating.

  My face went back to the floor where I petitioned some more.

  I expected my toes to slip close to the edge of the tip of the strappy sandals. I’d have to take smaller steps rather than my usual long strides. I even expected to have to shift the dress back in place every once in a while—I was wrong about my size. I told Jashon I was between a ten and twelve. He sent both and the twelve hung from my frame, so I went with the size ten. As I moved about the apartment to go, I felt the off the shoulder, fitted pencil dress with fringes just at the knee and shoulder shift. I couldn’t stop from continuously patting down the fabric at my breasts, belly, and hips. I expected to do this all night if I didn’t catch myself.

  But what I did not expect was to damn near fall on my ass the moment I glanced up from my slipping toes to find a fine ass bearded Raj with actual sparkles in his beady auburns. He didn’t smile much, but his expression read friendly and his appearance was fucking stately. He stood with the door open in the small vestibule near the elevator leading into the building’s garage. After I caught myself, not knowing how to stop my gape, I turned the opposite way.

  Why’d you do that?

  It was such a corny move, but I was truly caught off guard. There was a new aura about him. I felt—hell, I could see it. But I didn’t want to allow myself to believe it.

  Ragee offered a neck bow with a gentle blink. “You look beautiful,” he rasped, voice gravely deep.

  Then he swung his arm, directing me out to a waiting truck. As I sauntered past him, I caught a gust of his virile scent. My false lashes shuttered. He helped me into the truck then boarded it himself from the other side. Only Danny G was present this evening and spoke by way of a nod from the rearview mirror. Before we could pull out from the underground garage, my breasts felt heavy and my nipples stung.

  We didn’t talk, but damn was his presence huge next to me. Raj took lots of calls and often, I found him apologizing for his lack of availability over the past few days. He never explained what caused it, but that he understood how much of an imposition it was. That reminded me of my burning question about my bills. I didn’t get the opportunity to ask because of him conducting business on the phone earlier. I also didn’t feel confident asking. Hell, I had no idea the condition of our relationship. Raj and I had not been friendly or communicative a whole month now. I got the impression he was used to the distance between him and everyone else. I wasn’t. I was normal.

  The lack of communication worked well for me as we made it to a banquet hall in Garwood. The moment we pulled up, we were ushered inside by some guy waiting. Danny G left to park, although there were valets available. The guy walked swiftly through the lush lobby of the hall. I tried keeping up, but it was hard with my feet slipping down my straps, crossing over my toes. Raj must have sensed it.

  “We can take our time,” he murmured to me. “We’re in no rush.”

  The guy didn’t get the memo as he sped to the elevator and stabbed the panel to call it. He turned and saw us at a distance and reacted subtly to it.

  “Where are we?” I asked Raj en route to the elevator.

  “My real estate business partner’s surprise birthday party.”

  “Is that why we’re rushing? So he won’t see us?”

  “Nah.” We made it to the guy just as the door was opening. “Zeb’s peoples just trying to make sure we get up without much attention while Danny parks the truck.”

  The elevator was empty, but when we made it to the second floor, the attention began the moment the doors opened. In the hall, were a couple of dozens of people conversing and most eyes ascended to us—well, Raj—stepping out. I saw one woman tap her friend hard while her eyes were pinned to Raj, as though we couldn’t see it. Raj’s hand remained at my lower back as we followed the escort to the closed doors of the huge banquet room where the party was taking place. It was gorgeous with a gold and black theme. Royalty. There w
ere hanging drapes and life sized fake wild animals throughout the room. Out there, but elegant. The music flowing was old school rhythm and blues folks bounced to as they ate finger foods and chatted.

  Raj and I were taken to a table near the dance floor where I saw nameplates on stationary resembling African fabric print patterns. A woman glanced up from speaking to someone seated. She sucked in a breath when she recognized Ragee.

  “Raj!” she gushed, making her way to him. “You made it!”

  They hugged in greeting. She was a beautiful woman in a gold dress off the shoulders similar to mine, but with a crossover bateau breast line. She was fair skinned and beautiful. I could tell she was older, possibly in her fifties.

  “Regina, this is Wynter.” Raj shifted to open our lines of view to each other. “Wynter, this is the original first lady of our real estate line. My partner, Zeb’s wife, Regina.”

  Oh…

  “Nice to meet you!” I greeted with an excited handshake.

  This was a new facet of Ragee’s world. The non-entertainment segment.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Regina returned just as warmly.

  “Did we make it in time? Is my guy here yet?” Raj asked.

  “Yes. He’s in the bathroom. We’re just about ready to get started.” She pivoted. “Here are your seats. Khalira is around here somewhere. She’s been asking for you about the presentation.” Regina’s eyes swept the festive room.

  “I spoke to her first thing this morning. Told her we were good,” he explained.

  “Oh.” She peered up to him. “Okay—”

  “There you are!” an abrupt feminine voice interjected. I turned to see a slender woman with wild voluminous hair coiled in small lustrous curls join us. Her arms automatically circled Raj and he leaned down to reciprocate. “I’m so glad you made it. Everything’s here. Daddy’s going to be so surprised.”

  “Cool.” Raj nodded.

  Her eyes brushed over him to me. “Is this her?” her tone was bright and eyes wide.

  Raj snorted and smiled with something resembling a blush. “Yeah. Khalira, this is my wife, Wynter.”

  “Oh my goodness!” she chirped. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Her arms encircled me and before I knew it, we were breast to breast in an embrace.

  “Wonderful to meet you,” I managed in her fold.

  She pulled back and beamed up to Ragee. “She’s gorgeous, man! One of us.” She winked.

  I didn’t know if I should laugh or not with the way her mother scolded her with one look. Raj chuckled, but I held off, thanks to Regina.

  “Okay. I have to check on the deejay. I’ll come get you when we’re ready,” Khalira advised.

  “Glad you were able to make it, Wynter,” Regina bade before kissing Raj’s cheek and taking off.

  “Just make sure you let me know if Khadijah doesn’t behave.” Khalira gave Raj a warning gape with big eyes.

  He laughed it off. “It’s all good, man. Go ‘head!”

  I wondered what that was about but wouldn’t dare ask. Raj pulled out my seat and I took it, admiring the tabletop décor. Twenty minutes later, we were served food. And by the looks of it, there were options. Some had chicken and beef entrees. I was given fish. Raj had the same, but hardly touched his I noticed as I cleaned my plate.

  “So how’s your situation with L.I.T.?” he asked casually.

  I swallowed my food too quickly when I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “You gone sign with them?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been asked to.”

  His brows hiked. “Oh.” Those auburns fell to the table in contemplation. “They haven’t hit you up with if you got in or not?” I shook my head. “Nobody from the camp?”

  “I don’t know.” I cleared my throat, eyes glanced at our tablemates. “I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.”

  And I hadn’t. Teke called a few times over the past few days. Jemah hit me up while I was in the salon, but I didn’t answer. I was still too embarrassed.

  “Oh.” He murmured, eyes to the table as he pushed around his food with a fork. “Okay.”

  Just then, Zeb’s daughter, Khalira took to the podium at the front of the room. She greeted everyone warmly while introducing herself. I hadn’t seen the guest of honor yet, but assumed he was in the room. The lights went dim as Khalira announced a presentation was about to begin. Moments later, a video flashed on the large projector screen and a voiceover was heard. Within seconds, I understood it was a story, chronicling the past sixty years of Zebedee Baker’s life. The first picture was a dated photo of an infant and progressed with that of his family and a maturing Zebedee.

  At some point, while I was surprisingly enrapt in the biography of a stranger, Raj was tapped on his shoulder. I figured it by the way he suddenly jolted and gazed up. It was clear he wasn’t too surprised when he quickly excused himself and left the table. I continued with Zebedee’s storyline and how he gave up playing the saxophone to start his own kitchen re-facing business. That led to him repairing homes and building furniture. It was nice to see pictures of his creations and how they improved in time.

  When we began seeing images of Zebedee with Ragee, a piano sounded softly. It didn’t distract from the video but was certainly noticed. The narration spoke about how Zebedee happened upon meeting Ragee during a chance visit to Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ. Ragee had already begun purchasing commercial real estate but needed a knowledgeable and experienced inspector. What started off with a limited role, extended itself into a partnership, when Zebedee not only oversaw the purchases, but would provide construction to them as well. He eventually saved enough money to contribute to the purchases and became partners with Raj, sweeping up properties to sell or rent to businesses.

  I was captivated. Drawn to a piece of history of my estranged husband and who he was off the stage and outside of the studio. Raj looked different in the pictures shown of him on a construction site or in an office, over a large blueprint. He still looked like a boss, just a layman one.

  Then the images and narration spoke about Zebedee’s charitable contributions. I learned about the time he spent with at risk youth. There were photos and muted video clips of events where Zebedee would surprise the kids with Raj’s presence. It was amazing to see how the room lit up from his celebrity. At one event, Raj donated fifteen thousand dollars on one of those big ass checks you see on the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes commercials. He smiled with pride instead of his usual contemplative glower. Like a damn fool, my heart swelled.

  The video left Zebedee’s career and moved on with his devotion to his family, detailing his children and the grandchild they were currently expecting. The ending was a moving summary of Zebedee’s unlikely journey through the pendulum swings of life, but his triumphant landing in the sixth decade of his life. The sounds of the piano grew louder with the last few words. Then the screen went back to the Happy 60th Zebedee! script it displayed previously and the light in the room shifted to a baby grand piano on the dance floor.

  It was Raj doing vocal runs as he played an unfamiliar tune. The room exploded in applause from his unexpected presence, just as I’d felt. This was theatrical, this presentation. From my peripheral, I could see a smaller spotlight on a man, seated at a table near the dance floor. He was handsome, very handsome with a glistening bald head, large eyes and caramel skin. His expression was subdued as his eyes were fastened to my husband beginning the song about being so many places in his life and time. He vocalized how he’d sung a lot of songs and had given bad advice. He mentioned acting out his life on stages with a gazillion people watching, but he was here tonight, singing this song to Zebedee.

  I had no idea what song it was but was clear it was very personal and reflective. The vibe was definitely intimate and poetic. Raj delivered the song with passion and cleverly ranging notes. The song was melancholy yet cleansing. It begged for forgiveness, which revealed its power. Beautiful: the song and singer.
I lost my breath for as long as the performance lasted, only regaining it when Zebedee made his way to Raj with an unmistakably wet face and embraced him to a raucous room of applause and shouts.

  Khalira handed her dad a handkerchief that he quickly used to rid his liquid emotions. Raj stood to leave the spotlight only to be stopped by his partner.

  Zebedee placed his arm around Raj’s shoulder and lay his head on him affectionately. The room ate it up and, seemingly, I followed suit.

  “First of all, I ain’t even know you were here,” Zeb complained and everyone around laughed. “I didn’t, man. This was amazing!” We all clapped, and I watched as Raj hung his head humbly. “Can I just say, this song is special to Raj and me because it was our first argument ever.” He laughed. “We were doing a walk-through in East Orange and he started to hum this song. I told him there wasn’t a more soulful song done by a white man. Raj laughed at me, saying he didn’t know Donnie Hathaway was a white brother.”

  A few people exploded in laughter. I held on to see where this was going. I knew nothing about the song or composer.

  “So, I had to school the new-school R&B phenom,” Zeb shared haughtily, and Raj shook his head with a cheesy grin. “I had to tell him Leon Russel wrote and recorded it first. Raj was ready to close down the site behind this. Then his assistant got on her fancy computer that day and looked it up.” He raised one arm in the air. “Guess who was right?” Zebedee glanced over at his younger partner as they laughed together along with his guests. “But one thing on the topic we got right was the best rendition of it was Damion and Aaron Hall’s. Y’all gotta see this church boy perform that one with a chorus behind him.” Everyone clapped their excitement as Raj left his partner there to give his response and gratitude to his family for surprising him.