by Tiana Laveen
“Okay, okay… You’re not used to all of that. I understand. It’s hard, the stuff you’re dealing with, but you know I’m here for you.” She smiled sadly. “Things are really tough with your father right now, too. We’ve definitely faced some challenges, both as a couple and individually, but we can make it through together, okay?”
“…Okay.”
“So just tell me what you need from me, baby. What can I do to make it better?”
She took a deep breath. “I can handle you being on the road for tours. I told you that, and I proved it when you were gone for over a month in Australia. I can handle the fact my fiancé is famous, and women are throwin’ themselves at him, but this constant invasion of our privacy about our wedding is getting under my skin. I can take it, Gutter, don’t get me wrong; I know what I signed up for. But if only this one thing could be ours, and ours alone.” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “You can’t stop the media, though. There’s nothing you can do.” She dropped her gaze.
He kissed the top of her head and mulled things over for a few seconds. Then, a smile crept across his face. Reaching for his cellphone, he made a call to Will. He got the man’s voicemail.
“Hey, man. It’s me. I know it’s late, but I need you to arrange it so Promise and I can get our marriage license as soon as possible, hopefully within the next twenty-four hours.” He could see her smiling through the reflection in the mirror on his closet door. “We’re not going to do the justice of the peace thing unless that’s the only alternative, and we’ll have a big wedding later in the year. Right now, though, I need you to get someone to find us a private venue, something lowkey and classy, ya know? And we need a minister, too. No press, man—please, please, please, do everything you can to ensure they don’t find out, so watch who you’re around when you’re making calls and what not. Keep this on the low-low. We’re going to have a small, secret wedding in the next day or two, son.” He couldn’t help but grin as the realization hit him that he was really going to do this. “More details to come…”
The East Village bistro featured a backroom decked with eclectic designs and tapestries. At just past two in the morning, Gutter, Promise, Will, Westley, Zina and Zach—who’d just flown in from L.A.—and Promise’s mother, Aria, and three of her friends—were gathered there, listening to instrumental piano music and participating in the wedding ceremony.
It went so fast—the vows, and now, they were exchanging rings. Promise looked beautiful in her shimmering white gown and veil. Her hair was in curls, parted on the side, and her makeup natural. She was such a beauty, he fought tears as he looked into her beautiful mahogany eyes.
“I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Zake, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”
He scooped her up in his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss. When he set her down, he wasn’t quite ready to turn his lovely lady loose. He bent close and caressed her neck. His lust for her stirred. She smelled like love.
There are three things you should never break: A promise, trust, and someone’s heart.
Their loved ones cheered and clapped, and before long, he was hugging everyone, thanking them for attending the secret rendezvous.
“Hey, there’s a brunch buffet set up. Let’s eat!” Will announced, helping to usher people into the restaurant portion of the establishment. Six tables were dressed in silver and white cloths, candles, wine glasses, and perfectly placed crockery. Excitement teemed in the air. Gorgeous floral arrangements sat on each table, and as they sat down, Gutter spotted a friend of his, Gordy, trying to sneak in with a large cake. He hopped over and let the man in so he could place the divine confection on a separate table.
They all had a great time, laughing and talking, relishing the moment and creating memories.
“Thank you for being understanding, Gutter. This is just perfect!” Promise squealed before taking a sip of her champagne.
“Understanding? You just saved me a million dollars! Do you know how many famous men would kill to have a woman tell them, ‘Let’s just spend a few thousand and get married in the back of a hole in the wall?”
He laughed when she playfully punched his shoulder. He took her glass from her hand, cupped the back of her neck, and brought her in for a kiss. He deepened the caress, unable to keep his feelings for her bottled up. His attraction and need for her spilled forth, to the point he could feel his erection.
“Mmm mmm mmm!” Someone cleared their throat. When he pulled away from her and opened his eyes, he caught Westley’s disgusted stare, which caused a whole lot of laughter.
“This is a wedding, man. Control ya self.” Westley raised his glass. “Hey! I know that Zach already did a toast as the best man, but I said I wanted to do one too.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Promise patted her mouth with a napkin, then raised her glass as others followed suit.
“I want to make a toast to my incredible sister, Promise, and my new brother, Zake. I remember when my sister told me in her apartment one day that she was dating this amazing guy, and he just so happened to be Gutter. At first, I wasn’t sure what to think, but what I did know is that I always want my sister to be happy. She and I have been through a lot, but we’ve also had many good times. I’ve been her protector, much to her dismay, for her entire life, but now, it’s time for me to step aside and let you do it, Zake. I have full confidence that you can handle the job, and then some.”
Promise dabbed at her eyes, while he put his arm around her and nodded in agreement to Westley’s words.
“This is a great group of people. People who have been with us through the best and worst of times. We’re all family now. Gutter is my brother. Me and this man call each other just to shoot the breeze sometimes; it’s incredible. He’s solid. Family cares about one another. Family takes care of each other. We watch out for one another. Family isn’t just blood. Family doesn’t care about race, religion, or gender. It’s belief in one another. It’s respect. It’s love.”
“Amen,” Promise’s mother said with a grin, her glass raised high as others cheered.
“Zake and Promise, I have confidence that I speak for everyone in here in these wee hours of the morning by saying that we love y’all, we support y’all, and we wish you both a long, happy life together!”
“Cheers!” everyone happily yelled, then sipped their champagne.
Gutter sat back, laughing until he was red in the face. A little tipsy himself, he looked out the window and realized the sun would be rising soon. Conor Maynard’s, ‘Crowded Room,’ played, making him even more sentimental.
“Let me show you something,” he whispered in Promise’s ear.
“If it’s what I think it is, as majestic and spectacular as you believe it to be, I’ve already seen it a thousand times, Zake, and I have the rest of our lives to see it a million times more,” she teased, causing him to burst out laughing.
“Seriously. Come here.”
Taking her hand, they got up from their table and tiptoed towards the back of the restaurant where the supplies and boxes of pantry foods were stacked. A small window showed the sun beginning to rise.
“Look at that sun, Promise. It’s coming. A brand-new day, baby. It’s our day. The rise, the shine. It rose just for me and you.”
She looked out that window and smiled, her eyes sheening over. They stood side by side, holding on to one another as the sun rose higher and higher, behind the concrete jungle of buildings, pushing forward, determined to beam down upon them.
In that moment, he smelled Promise’s sweet perfume and felt her love for him, all around.
In that moment, he could see his father holding him as a child in the park, swinging him around and around until he screamed with joy. He could smell his father’s food bubbling on the stove, and taste the ice-cold beers, and hear the conversations that would last him a lifetime.
In that moment, he smelled pungent oil paints, fresh erasers, and hot brewing tea. He saw blended
shades of vibrant pink, electric blue, and blinding yellow.
In that moment, he heard faint eighties music, and the softness of frail skin brushing against him as the body of the woman who birthed him gave up, while her heart gave in.
In that moment, he felt the cold icy waterways of Red Hook, Brooklyn, heard the barking of wild dogs chasing him and Zach, and smelled the burning rubber of tires as he and his buddies busted illegal U-turns with jalopy cars in the darkest parts of their city.
The sun always came up, and it shined on angels that flew down to Earth from Heaven, and demons that crawled out of gutters from Hell. It didn’t discriminate—everyone was free to bask in its warmth. Love was a battlefield. Though he’d built walls, he always knew deep within, he’d have to destroy the hurt to get to the healing. When one is at war with themselves, those walls are destined to be broken apart, bulldozed and torn down. Walls cover, keep away, and block. They are for buildings, not people. Walls can’t block the rise, and the shine of the sun and the glowing warmth of answered prayers.
The walls are built from trauma and pain.
The walls come down, from faith, and a Promise…
EPILOGUE
Five years later
The 4-bedroom, 3.5 bath condominium on a cobblestoned street in Tribeca had been on the market only for one day before Gutter snatched it up. It had a media room, two terraces, and a grocery store, boutiques, bookstores, and amazing restaurants all within walking distance. He’d gotten into a bidding war for the eleven-million-dollar property, but ultimately won, quite proud of his negotiating skills. Boxes were still in need of unpacking, though Promise had been burning the midnight oil to get their eldest child’s—three-year-old Niko—room together.
“Are they here yet?” Promise yelled from the top floor.
“Not yet, baby.” Gutter sat down on the glossy white piano bench in the main room, with the music he’d written for his new song. He glanced behind him. There on the wall was a big, framed painting his mother had secretly done of he and Promise. It was incredible. He discovered it while clearing out her home with his family. Mom had even put a big red bow on it and shoved it in her bedroom closet… like a wedding gift she was determined to give, in life, or in death. He closed the booklet of music when he heard the bell buzz. When he approached the door, he looked at one of the cameras to confirm who the visitor was—the reporter from NYC Music Tribune he’d been expecting, Agnes Joshtree. He shuffled over in his white Nike sneakers, pants, and sweatshirt and opened the door. He found a middle-aged White woman standing on the threshold, donning thick, black-rimmed glasses, blunt cut platinum blond hair, and a black poncho, looking hip and elegant.
“Welcome. Come in, come in,” he greeted with a smile.
“Thank you so much,” Agnes stated, a cheery smile on her face. Locking up, he then headed over to the piano with her, directing her to take a seat right by him.
“What an absolutely beautiful home you have! And this instrument, Gutter… what a lovely piano!” She ran her hand along the top before taking her seat.
“Thank you, Agnes. Would you like something to drink?” he offered.
“No, thank you. I had a large cup of coffee before arriving here.”
She crossed her legs and immediately opened a folder, her notes neatly written in blue ink—a lost artform. He rarely saw reporters do that anymore, and yet, it was fitting. He admired her for it.
“Gutter, I have wanted to interview you over the past two to three years, but you’ve been terribly hard to pin down,” she stated with a gruff laugh.
“I know, but it’s a blessing to be busy, right?” She nodded. “I was on tour in London. I just got back a couple of weeks ago. I have some local concerts I will be performing at here in New York, and I’m singing at the Grammys next year, so I have to get ready for that, too. There’s a lot going on, but I like it.”
“Yes, you have definitely been busy! I want to first congratulate you on your new album, ‘Shades of Pink,’ which features your hit song, ‘The Next Chapter.’ That entire album hit number one on the charts. It’s phenomenal, Gutter.”
“Thank you… thank you so much.”
“Kudos to you! I can’t listen to that song without falling to pieces! It’s just beautiful… a magnificent piece of work. What a lovely tribute to your mother.”
“Thank you. It was a way for me to process everything that had happened, and let my fans know that hey, we never really say goodbye to our loved ones who have moved on. We say, ‘until next time.’”
“It’s an album that will be played at memorials, weddings, and everything in between. An instant classic. Just lovely. Now, I want you to tell us, your listeners and fans, what has been going on in your life as of late.” She sat back with a bright smile on her face.
“Well, my family is growing. My wife, Promise, is six and a half months pregnant.”
“Yes, I heard she was expecting. Congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
“Now, I understand she will often show up sometimes when you’re on tour for a week or two, but due to her pregnancy, that’s slowed down a bit.”
“Yes. Promise recently took over the ownership of the funeral home she’s been working at for years. The former owner decided to move to Israel, where much of her family resided, and entrusted my wife to run things in a professional and caring way. Promise is quite talented in that field—she’s amazing, actually—and her career means a lot to her, so we’ve had to do some juggling, but we’re managing with our schedules and everything.”
“Wow, sounds like a lot is on her plate. How has she managed the balance of being married to a celebrity, a mother, a career woman, and home life?”
“She’s creative and resourceful. We help one another out. Promise is an excellent mother, so Niko’s needs have always come first. We both are quite active in our son’s life because family time is important. She’s also an outstanding wife, and I tell her that practically every day. Due to her job being very stressful at times, she’s hired people to help. She trained them herself and has confidence in her new team. These measures and more allow her to spend more time at home, with family, and just to relieve herself of some of the stress of her job, and be there for our son.”
“Of course, of course.”
“Speaking of stress and family, I—” Just then, Niko yelled out, then giggled, running out of the room he was in. Gutter and the reporter burst out laughing as they watched the show.
“Niko, you must’ve heard Daddy talking about you, huh?” He waved and laughed at his tiny twin. A darker version of him as a boy. Spitting image.
Promise showed up at the top of the stairs, chasing him.
“…So sorry!” she declared before she grabbed up the little boy with big bouncy black curls and sparkling dark eyes, then waved and retreated with him once again behind a closed door.
“As you were saying?” Gutter urged once the coast was clear.
“I was saying, speaking of stress and family, and please let me know if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I know that a couple of years ago, it got out to the public that your wife suffered a miscarriage. How did that affect your lives, as well as your musical career?”
“Well, I mean, naturally a loss like that can take an emotional toll.”
“Yes, yes…”
“It was a hard time; I’m not even going to lie. Things like that can stress out a marriage if you don’t have good communication and trust in one another. My wife had to trust me enough to know, that no, I don’t know what it feels like to have a miscarriage, but I do know now what it’s like to lose a child… because even though that baby, our baby, the child she and I made together, was growing in her body and her body alone, I was connected with it, too. It happened early in the pregnancy, but we both felt that loss. It hurt. Fathers can feel things and well, I think sometimes people don’t understand that.
“We had decided on names, room colors, things like that, and we were both extrem
ely happy about welcoming a second child into our family. Sometimes though, as unfortunate as it is, these things happen. There was no rhyme or reason to it. We had to love each other through the pain, the disappointment… and I did turn to my music for help. Instead of turning to a pile of cocaine, extramarital affairs, or the bottle, I turned to my guitar. My microphone. My keyboard.” She nodded in understanding. “We got through that. Together. We grew from it as a couple. As a family. Now, we have another chance, and this pregnancy is going great. No issues, no complications, and we’re both really excited to meet our baby in a few months. Children are blessings.”
“They truly are. Now, as you know, though I’m a reporter for a music publication, our approach and focus are on the little things that have meaning in a musician’s life. We want to know what makes you tick, the ins and outs of your lives, your personality, your passions.”
“Mmm hmm. You want to get into my business and exploit it for a dollar.”
The woman burst out laughing.
“Well, yes, if that’s how you wish to put it, but it’s deeper than that, Gutter. The people who love you want to know everything about you. They’re hungry for the information. So, there are so many wonderful things going on in your life right now, but I must ask about what was just in the news about five or so months ago. Can you tell me a little about that?”
“I’m not really at liberty to discuss my wife’s family, as far as her parents, but my mother-in-law is doing great. Yes though, her father got into a bit of trouble.”
“Mmm hmm, I see. He’s in prison, and from what I understand, he was a career criminal. How has that impacted—”
“Okay, Ms. Joshtree, this interview is about me, my music, and my immediate family. If someone wants to know about the issues regarding my father-in-law, they’ll have to do their own research. I am not just going to hand it over. I barely know the man, I definitely don’t know you, and I’ve said that I don’t have a relationship with him a few times over the years when asked.”
