The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2) Page 4

  The women nodded as I handed over a few bills. Without much fuss, they both stood and headed out.

  “Lemme holla atchu for a minute, Raj,” Jerry proposed, and I followed him to the end of the hall where there was a narrow concave, giving us the impression of privacy.

  Scratching his chin while he stared at the floor, looking to be gathering his thoughts, Jerry mumbled, “How this thing gone play if shit get real?”

  Half my forehead lifted. “What thing? What shit?”

  “Like…” he tried again. “Mikey told me about y’all beef and shit. Be honest, I shouldn’t be letting you up here like that. It’s just that…” Now Jerry was scratching his neck, glancing around the hall.

  “What the hell he tell you?”

  He took in a deep breath, like this was hard on him. “I ‘on’t know, man. He said you was about to try to break away from him and he had to prepare for war witchu.”

  I drew my neck back in surprise.

  “Look, Raj, you and me ain’t never have no problems before. You was always good peoples. We known each other since the beginning. I just gotta look out for my fam, man.”

  “And how you doing that?”

  “Just tryna see if you gone try and fuck up his money if he don’t make it outta this. He still got family…kids that gotta eat, my nigga.”

  “Yo, Jerry, man,” I shook my head, trying to capture all the energy he was giving me. “I don’t know what Mike was on when he got hit, but I can guarantee you got more on ya hands dealing with the niggas that shot him than me.”

  Jerry’s soggy cheeks lifted, and his mouth knotted as though he didn’t believe me. “Don’t try fuckin’ wit me, man. The nigga told me everything. You know he tell me everything.”

  I snorted. “I don’t give a shit what he told you. But I do know—issues aside—right now that man is fighting for his life. And I ain’t about to play the “what if game” with what’s left of him. Let the business of our business be between me and Mike when he get better. Right now, just hold the family down while they’re in pain about this.”

  For a while, Jerry didn’t move, he just stood, staring at me for cues to my authenticity. I didn’t have patience to be tested, but I tried to gather every grain I had in me on the strength of the relationship Mike and I used to have before he sold his soul for success. I owed Mike not a damn thing and had nothing to hide from his cousin here. We played the eye-to-eye game for a minute.

  There was a flip in his pupils. In that second, I could feel Jerry decided not to lean on good judgment when dealing with me. He chose loyalty to his cousin, no matter how unfounded it was.

  “Yo, I think you should leave before you ain’t able to make it up outta Brooklyn safely,” he warned, backing up to give me room to leave.

  I brushed my lips with my tongue as I pinched my nose in a swipe. I couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Like I said, you got bigger fish to fry than concerning yourself with me. I do, too, and the last on my list is worrying about trouble in Brooklyn.”

  I made sure to pay him a final measure of notice with my eyes as I stepped off.

  Unbelievable, Mike…

  After all we’d been through, I couldn’t even check on my man while he was fighting for his life because he’d declared a war that he likely meant to be irrevocable.

  Walking inside reminded me I left it to her to make the reservations for tonight, something I’d usually defer to Myisha. But when Heather asked “where” after I agreed to getting up with her tonight, I told her to pick the spot, forgetting she likely didn’t know the rule of dining with me. I only patronized places where my privacy was supported. This place wasn’t DiFillippo’s, but it did have private seating. Maybe it could work.

  As soon as I entered the private room dimmed with soft lighting, I spotted a tumbler with amber liquid across from her expectant posture. That hit me more than the skin of her shoulders and arms being bare as her hands were clasped underneath her chin. I hadn’t had a drink in days. The sight of Mauve excited me more than it should have. Maybe it was because it would be the highlight of this dinner. I was in no mood to dine with Heather; would have much preferred the oasis of my studio to a one on one with anyone.

  “Hey, girl,” I tried with as much of a smile as I could assemble while handing my blazer over to the waiter and lifting my jeans to my waist before taking a seat. As I observed her tender smile, the pupils of her eyes reflected the dancing flamed candles on the table. “Dag. When was the last time I saw you?” I took a minute to consider it. “In January?”

  “Yeah. When I brought the baby to your fortress of a home.” She smiled, remembering.

  I guessed it had been that long, though it didn’t seem like it because Heather had been calling a few times a week over the past eight months or so. It was still new to me to hear from her so often. Before then, we may have checked in with each other four or five times a year.

  “I still can’t believe you came all the way out to Sparta back then. Far out. Right?” I tried joking. “Bet it’ll be a while before your next visit.”

  She gave me a fake smile, being cute. “I’ll gladly come when I’m invited.”

  She wasn’t exactly invited back in January, but I didn’t go there. I would make the best out of this meal with her. Heather was like family, no matter how far life had drifted us apart.

  Menus were being handed to us when I tried progressing the conversation. “What it do?”

  She sighed dreamily, I understood being sarcastic, “Oh, only waiting on his highness to arrive. Again.”

  I chuckled, scratching inside my beard as I held the menu with the other hand. “It’s been a crazy time.”

  I then ran my hands down my tired face, exhaling my damn self.

  “Tell me about it.”

  My eyes stretched open. “Oh, you, too?” I went for my brandy.

  “No.” Her head shook softly. “You. I’ve been reading the internet and watching the celebrity gossip shows on TV. You’re pushing that Chris Brown to the second most talked about male R&B artist. Mike’s shooting is still being reported all over the place. And the authenticity of your marriage is still ringing the interest of people. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.” She motioned with her forehead an invitation. “Go for it.”

  That move reminded me of Heather’s maternal-like demeanor. It was what attracted me to her when we were kids. I liked her aggression and natural interest in people. In me. I liked it until it wasn’t extended when I needed it the most.

  Hardly done swallowing my first sip, I chuckled, eyes cast out to the corner of the room while I let the burn take its course down my throat.

  “Just work.” I sat back in my chair, sighing my exhaustion. “The business.”

  “It’s always work with you.”

  “What else I got going on? My businesses are my everything.” That statement felt untrue for the first time.

  Her forehead dipped, and her mouth curled, matter-of-factly. “You have family, Gee-Gee. You have Pastor McKinnon.” A dreamy smile carved on her face and her eyes went adrift. “She’s been telling the congregation about how good of a time she had at your ‘mansion’.” She giggled. “She said she bonded with you and your ‘wife’ and you two took great care of her. I think you both were good at pulling it off. She actually believed it was real!” Heather found humor in that.

  We placed our order when the waiter returned. In the back of my head, her words echoed. I was aware of my life being reported on by the media, but those closest to me knew ninety percent of it was always bullshit. What did Heather think she knew?

  “Was?” I asked as she finished with her order. Heather’s blinking told of her confusion. “You said Grandmother believed Wynter and I was real.”

  Her face opened with recognition. “Oh! Yeah. I mean, I respect you putting on a show out of respect for your grandmother. The last time I was over, she was no more than a neighbor you’d run into at your local grocery store every once in a while. When
Pastor McKinnon came, she became your cellmate, sharing your room.”

  Smiling with my eyes, I pulled my glass up to my mouth. I never told Heather Wynter shared my bed.

  As I swallowed, my phone vibrated with a text.

  Young: Hit me when you get a min.

  I tapped the sleep button to black the face.

  “I see you been chatting with Myisha.”

  She paused while buttering a piece of bread. With a wrinkled brow line Heather shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I never told you she was in my bedroom. Myisha had to.”

  She chuckled silently, realizing she was busted. “Okay. I’m not going to lie; she mentioned you and the Wynter girl getting friendly. I’ll admit.” Heather shrugged before biting into the bread. “It caught her off guard. You’ve never dated anyone…seriously, at least. I can understand her point of view.” Her eyes observed me closely as she waited for my reaction.

  She swallowed the last of the buttered bread. “Oh, come on, Gee-Gee! We know you raised a brat in Myisha. You’re less than five years older than her and the closest thing she’s had to a father her whole life. The relationship is complicated. Your new friend hopefully understands that.” More staring to gauge my response.

  I took another sip, downing the last of the Mauve as I studied her. What was up with Heather? Why were we out at this expensive ass restaurant alone? What did Antwan think about this? I needed a glimpse of the last Heather I knew. The one married and true to her faith, living out her happily ever after. This woman in front of me seemed unattached to those things and too available to my clusterfuck of a world. Her American dream life was something I believed in no matter how much it hurt that I wasn’t a part of it. I even sponsored much of it over the years, fueled by guilt that I hadn’t been the one giving it to her. My aunt fucking with me didn’t just fuck up my life, its effects had lengthy arms.

  Her hand pushed across the table, around the fresh flower vase and covered my fist. “Gee-Gee, trust me; as a married woman in a knotty marriage, no one understands more how complicated relationships that once made you feel on top of the world, could have you questioning your identity. You don’t have to shut down on me, honey.” Her eyes were pleading, tone confident.

  As I held her beauty, I realized it was the one essence of her she’d never lost. I used to wonder how Heather escaped the puberty years when most girls around suffered from acne and moodiness. Heather wasn’t exotic with her features, but they were nicely grouped. She was even-keeled and that added to her flawlessness. I wasn’t the only dude chasing after her before she agreed to be mine at ten years old. Every dude in our storefront church wanted Heather. All the ones in her neighborhood and school did, too. This was back before makeup was cool for girls our age. Her beauty was pure and natural.

  Damn, I miss those days…

  “What’s up with you and Antwan? Something’s been…different.”

  I asked as though she hadn’t been beasting to talk to me about it for months now. I hadn’t been beat because I still loved and cared for Heather, but when I put up a wall for someone, it’s pretty concrete. It was one of my flaws, I learned through therapy. Aside from her being married, Heather wasn’t for me. She’d made that clear years ago before she met Antwan. And since then, the door had been closed. I no longer held any hope of us having what she got with her husband. But that didn’t lessen my friendship with her. We remained in each other’s world over the years. I accepted my place and only stepped up when asked to.

  The waiter came with our appetizers and I ordered another drink. Heather looked to be struggling with her answer as she cut through an Asian spring roll that had both our attentions. I exercised patience.

  “I lost Antwan somewhere. I just can’t figure out when or where. But I know he’s not happy.”

  “How?”

  “His behavior.” She tossed her lips. “He’s on Facebook, in groups only appropriate for singles. I’ve found suggestive comments he’s made to other women on IG. I even went down his followers list and saw more boobs and booty than a wife should.” She shrugged, but kept her eyes fastened to the appetizers. “He still plays the drums at church, but now he takes gigs with a band he hooked up with a year ago. They’re all single or divorced.”

  “He ain’t found work yet?”

  Heather shook her head, her whole disposition sad. I hated the pain she felt. Always had. When they met, Antwan made a decent living working for Verizon until his job was phased out not even a year after they married. I didn’t know what he did. I only knew his salary loss hit them hard. They were about to cop a foreclosed house out in Sayerville when it happened. My grandmother called me up and I had my lawyer wire them the money before the bank sold the house to another buyer. That was before I had real money. It was a chunk of my savings, actually. And I handed it over to ensure she had that happily ever after.

  “You good with the bills. Right?”

  A nervous giggle escaped. “It’s been rough, but I’m dealing. The taxes just went up and my pay didn’t. He brings home a hundred or two every now and then from these gigs, but…” She shrugged again.

  “You know I’m here for you.” I felt my face tightening.

  She shook her head, looking to be embarrassed. “You do more than you should. Like being here.” Heather squared her shoulders. “Dinner with me like old friends. You said all you have is work. If I felt the same way, I’d be miserable. My marriage is falling apart, but I have more than working at a law firm for a gang of demanding lawyers keeping my pulse. I have my family: children, church.” Her lashes batted. “You,” she spoke in a new octave with less confidence. Or was it with propriety?

  She bit into the spring roll and chewed while gazing at me, all sadness gone. “People in your line of work are missing a reliable support system. Having someone you feel something real with…absent of work or money. Someone holding you responsible to you. It seems like you forfeited yours before you really hit it big. You joined that big church I’m wary of. Where’s your pastor to help you feel you have more than ‘work going on’? You and Myisha done mixed business with being family and it seems she can’t get through to you. Who do you have to make you feel you’re more than an instrument of entertainment?” She shook her head, feeling accomplished in her argument.

  I had more than a pastor. I had a friend. A friend I chose not to turn to when I agreed to the most fraudulent act of my career. I turned away from him because he was that real. I’d been ashamed and embarrassed. I didn’t want to involve him in what was fake.

  But it wasn’t fake…

  As Heather tore into the next spring roll, my drink was placed before me. I took a sampling taste, stewing on her words. Thanks to the Mauve, a warmth covered my frame reminding me of a similar sensation I felt less than two weeks ago when I had the strongest woman I’d ever known wrapped all over me, protecting me in the armor she wore so well.

  Wynnie…

  “I’ve had that.” I drew my tumbler up for a full swig as Heather’s eyes rose to meet mine.

  “What?” she asked with a full mouth.

  “Someone to feel something real with. Someone holding me responsible to me.” I couldn’t believe I was sharing this with someone—Heather of all people, but I was feeling in the moment. “Something absent of the business…and money.”

  Her face folded. “Who?”

  “Her,” was all I had to say.

  Heather’s eyes lit with recognition. Her chewing ceased. I understood how shocking this could be…for anyone.

  “Your fake wife?” Her expression was ghosted.

  “She’s my real wife. Legally.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I nodded, sitting up and leaning into the table. “It was real. She was real.”

  “Nonsense. Your judgment was clouded,” her words were delivered so softly, she couldn’t grasp it. “Having someone that close to your person when it wasn’t something you were used to could confuse you.”
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  I shook my head, mouth pushed out with finality. She watched me with wide, disbelieving eyes as I took another sip of my drink. Our entrees were being delivered to the table as we locked gazes. When we were alone again, Heather blinked, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry. I—I’m trying to process this.”

  I gave a courtesy neck bow. “I can get why.”

  “Are you sure?” she breathed out.

  “Before her, the only person I ever saw myself marrying and having kids with was you. I was what? Eleven…twelve?” I snorted, feeling silly as hell. “You were the first and only girl I had fantasies of having all that shit with.”

  “That’s because of Patty and her sick tendencies. She has a price to pay, and trust me, she’s only two seconds from getting her just due.” Her mouth balled.

  I stretched my neck, a flash of pain struck my stomach at the mention of her. “Yeah, but the damage was done with me not being able to dream and fantasize about a life with a woman.”

  “Until?” Her chin dipped, brows rose.

  “Until a winter storm rocked my world, bringing snow, ice, silver, chilling temps, blue skies, and something my first fantasy never had.” I chuckled to myself, experiencing all of the emotions coming with the revelation.

  I was definitely in my bag of feelings.

  “What?”

  I swallowed, eyes locked below, blindly to the flower vase. “The insatiable need to love someone more than I care for myself. The desire to give her the world even if it’s without me because I bring so much fucked-upness.” It was my turn to be embarrassed about sharing. I scratched my chin through my beard as I chuckled, gazing at nothing near the door.

  “But Myisha told me Wynter knows…” Her eyes dropped. “About you and Patty.”

  “She does. Ain’t even flinch when I hit her with it—basically.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was upset. Didn’t like it, but she didn’t pity me. Damn sure ain’t turn away from me.”