The first thing that caught my eye was her long locs. Jet black and pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head, the pencil-thin strands hanging between her shoulder blades. She wore a plain, white t-shirt that clung to her slim frame and was tucked against a flat stomach, disappearing into black jeans that managed to be both tight and baggy, secured just below her hips with a wide, striped belt. A simple gold chain hung from her neck and laid flat against her shirt and she wore black and white Concords on her feet. If her warm, peanut butter-brown skin hadn't already reeled me in, her choice of footwear would have certainly done the job.
She moved around the stage with ease, engaging the audience from all sides, effortlessly captivating everyone in the room even though she was the only one on the stage. There was no hype man, no entourage, and not even a visible DJ center stage. Just Xeno and the screen behind her, the two working together to present an artfully curated set.
I was entranced by her. The way she commanded the stage and made it her own, the way she connected with the crowd, and—when I lessened the intensity of my focus and actually paid attention to the music—the way she painted a story with each song. The lyrics seeped into my soul and resonated with me, causing me to feel an even deeper connection with the woman on stage. It was silly because I didn't know her from a can of paint, but I felt like she knew me.
And even though I had no experience as a young, queer woman growing up in Houston, Texas, I still grasped the sentiment. It was relatable to my own journey of self-discovery. Of growing up in a small, mid-southern town and learning at a young age that I liked the girls in my class just as much as I liked the boys, and also realizing at the same time that only one of those would be accepted by my community and in my own home.
Xeno shifted from a history lesson to a sexy, innuendo-laced record aptly named "Drown Me" that had several women in the crowd twerking—myself included. She'd dropped down to her haunches, making the song feel intimate despite her speaking to so many people at once, and held the mic to her face as she gestured with her hand, pantomiming stimulation with her fingers while beckoning the women in the song to sit on her face.
Drown me
Got you juicy, baby/Running down your thighs
Drown me
Girl, give me that nut/Got me mesmerized
Well, damn! I didn't expect to be turned on by the lyrics to a song, and definitely not by the addicting cadence of Xeno's request. I enjoyed cunnilingus as much as the next girl, but there was something so deliciously nasty about discussing it front of a crowded room full of strangers. Pressing my hand to my chest, I willed my erratic heartbeat—the one behind my ribcage and the one in my panties—to slow the fuck down.
"What's wrong?"
Jade shouted her question in my ear and yet, I barely heard her over the roar in the room. Turning, I met her eyes and shook my head. No need for me to explain how I was deep in my feelings—and a lotta bit aroused—behind a concert.
"I'm good," I yelled back.
Her brows creased in a way that I read to mean "You sure?" to which I nodded to confirm my initial response. She stared at me for a long second before nodding and giving her attention back to Xeno. I blew out a soft breath and did the same. The rest of the concert followed the same vein, with Xeno demanding every bit of my attention and me giving it willingly. When the close of the show approached somewhere in or around the midnight hour, Xeno walked toward the front of the stage and sat down, her long legs hanging over the edge, causing an uproar amongst the revelers who showed up early to attain coveted front row spots at the general admission show. Although a four-foot gate kept them from reaching the stage, the two burly men who'd been monitoring the crowed throughout Xeno's entire set walked the space between the gate and the stage, parking on either side of Xeno with their arms crossed over their chests. Instead of glaring at the people on the other side of the gate, their heads bobbed to the music, garnering cries of "Aye!" from the crowd. Everyone quieted down when the music faded out and Xeno spoke.
"It's almost time to go, but you know I gotta go off the dome for y'all real quick."
The volume in the room shot through the roof as everyone yelled at once. Jade earned a double take and a startled laugh from me as she added, "Yes bitch! I know you give good dome!" She was off the damn chain, obviously high off of the endorphins of the spectacular show.
Xeno chuckled and gestured for us to quiet down. "LeeLee," she called out to her DJ, "drop something good."
Immediately, the unmistakable sound of DJ LeeLee scratching on her turntables filled the room and was straightaway followed by the instrumental of Slim Thug's "I Ain't Heard Of That". The next few minutes were mind-blowing and I felt like I was witnessing history being made. Xeno mastered the song, shouting out the rappers who had blazed the trail in Houston, and the women who were still doing the damn thing. She was funny, dropping jokes with clever wordplay, and political, speaking out on how—even though many strides had been made—the city still had a long way to go in its acceptance of the LGBT community.
She finished out by reinforcing her belief that there was no place like home, and when she pulled the microphone away from her mouth, chest heaving and face shiny with sweat, the room exploded with shouts and applause.
"Thank you," she said, "I love y'all." Then she walked off of the stage and didn't come back, even though more than a few people started chanting for an encore.
The room began to clear out, but at Shad's insistence, the four of us held back, waiting until the traffic jam at the doors had dispersed. Before we could start making our exit, however, a huge man with thick, freeformed locs even longer than Xeno's hanging around his head approached us. With his eyes on Shad, he said, "Hey man, Xeno invites you backstage for a private meet and greet."
My eyes grew wide with shock and from the startled expressions on Jade and Aisha's faces, it looked like they felt the same. Shad simply offered a wide, but surprised smile.
"Seriously? That's dope. Is it fine if these three come with me? I don't want to leave them out here alone."
The man nodded. "No problem. Follow me."
Shad looked at us and tilted his head toward the man. "Let's go."
We fell in line and I nudged Jade. When she looked at me, I cut my eyes to the obvious bodyguard leading us through a door on the left side of the stage, then back.
"Is this how y'all usually get down?"
Jade shook her head. "Hell no! I wish! I mean, it probably happens often to Shad, but this has never happened when I'm with him."
Without replying, I nodded and followed along until we were instructed to wait for Xeno. The man led us backstage to a space off to the side, where we could see the flurry of activity as the set got broken down by the crew. Shad pulled out his phone and started typing and Jade and Aisha began to chat excitedly, trying to include me in the conversation, but I was mute, too nervous to chatter idly.
I was anxious about meeting Xeno. The thought of experiencing that commanding presence up close made my heart pound with excitement. Not to mention, possibly meeting eyes with the woman who had given me some very erotic visions from a distance. How was I supposed to act with her within arm's reach? The last thing I wanted was to come off as a crazed fan, especially if I could possibly get the opportunity to get an autograph for Jeremiah. Fanning myself, I tried to cool off and get my breathing under control. I'd just experienced an amazing show and was about to meet the artist.
Things couldn't get better than this.
Four
Xeno
When Thine Eyes Doth Decieveth Thee
When I pulled the tiny ear bud out of my ear, essentially cutting the music off, I screamed my thanks into the mic, yelled, "I love y'all!" and then I stood and walked off stage. The deafening screams made my ears ring, but I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. As I moved beyond the thick, dark curtain, and entered the deceptively expansive space that made up the backstage area, I grabbed a towel from a dude who worked for t
he venue, found a wall, and put my back on it, sliding down into a crouch and resting my head on my folded arms.
I'd never seen anything like I had tonight. The room was packed so tightly that Xavier said security had to stop letting people in. I'd called for them to turn the house lights up just before I did my closing freestyle, and when I was finally able to see all of those faces staring up at me, the sight made my chest and throat tight.
"Yo, you good?"
Using my towel to swipe at my face, I looked up to see my brother standing over me, concern clouding his usually bubbly features. Nodding, I grabbed his outstretched hand and let him pull me up. Instead of letting go and squeezing my shoulder, he wrapped me into a tight hug. Unable to explain even to myself why I was overcome with emotion that made me want to burst into tears, I clutched him, hanging on like my life depended on it. Seeming to understand, Xavier held me tightly without demanding a word from me for several moments. When I started to pull away, he gripped me tighter.
Pounding on my back, he whispered in my ear, his voice emphatic and emotional, "Remember this moment, No. This shit seems big—and it is—but this is the moment when everything changes for you. Six months from now, those fifteen hundred people out there will be minuscule compared to the crowds you'll be pulling in." He pulled back and caught my eyes, not even flinching at the tears that ran down my cheeks. "You blowing up, nigga. Relish in this shit."
My laugh was wet as I nodded and once again wiped my face with my towel, this time using the corner to dab about my eyes. I followed him to a short flight of stairs and down a long hallway to my dressing room. Giving me dap, he left me alone to shower and decompress with a pre-rolled blunt. I smoked while I slowly undressed and fashioned my locs into a secured bun on the top of my head. When I emerged, feeling eminently better, I found him sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I exited the bathroom, a grin on his face.
"You good now?"
After that amazing show and that blunt I was more than good, so I chuckled and sat next to him on the couch, bending over to lace up a pair of classic chucks. "Yeah, nigga. I'm great."
He nodded. "Bet. Ole boy from Browntown is in the house."
Surprised, I glanced at him. "Oh, word?"
Xavier stood and went to the door, holding it open for me to walk through first before guiding me back up the stairs that led to the backstage area I'd just abandoned.
"You said you wanted a chance to speak to him if he came to another show, so when I spotted him out in the crowd when the house lights went up, I sent Lonnie to invite him backstage after the show. He said he had a couple of girls with him and asked if they could come too." Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, Xavier smirked before adding, "I know we've been turning girls away for a lil minute or whatever, but I figured since you were out here crying about being single on the innanet, that it might be okay to bend the rules this time."
Shoving his shoulder from behind, I shook my head, unable to help the grin on my face. He hadn't let me live that shit down and apparently never would. It didn't matter if I tried to explain that it was the exhaustion of the day that made me do it, those seven words had given him fuel for a full week now.
"You're a damn fool, Zay."
But he was right about one thing. After that Plus radio interview aired, album sales weren't the only thing that grew. Two or three girls a week stopping by the studio was manageable; two or three girls a day was a nightmare. Especially since I knew they only wanted to get at me since I'd been name-dropped by a nigga with Grammys and millions and shit. So, yeah. I shut that shit down and extended it to my shows. No one who wasn't already pre-approved was allowed backstage.
Shad Morrison, a music journalist for the Browntown Weekly, didn't fall into that category. I'd never met him, but without a doubt he was one of my biggest supporters, and he was genuine about it. For the past four years he'd been writing unsolicited articles about my shows and talking me up big time, all without ever holding his hand out and asking for anything in return. It was true that sometimes the people who held you down the hardest were people you didn't even know. Shad was the proof of that, and I'd been trying to get a hold of him for a minute to express my gratitude, but we kept missing each other. I hadn't even known he'd be at tonight's show, but I was glad he was.
As I followed my brother to the open area left of the stage, I found myself getting a little giddy. I couldn't put my finger on it, but my gut told me that there was something important about finally meeting the man who was damn near my personal publicist. We rounded the corner and my eyes flickered around the space, noting that the crew was just about done breaking down the stage on my left and the small group of people standing on the right. The sole man stood talking to the three women, but stopped abruptly the moment he caught sight of us. His face lit up as our eyes met and seeing his excitement immediately put me at ease, a smile coming to my face.
"You must be Shad." I held a hand out and he slapped it. We linked fingers briefly and released with a snap. Yeah, I already felt real good about this. My daddy always told us you could tell a lot about a man by their handshake. Shad's handshake told me he was gonna be the homie.
"Yeah, I'm Shad. Xeno, man, I'm a huge fan. It's so good to meet you. Finally."
"Finally." There was a bit of awe in his voice that made my face heat. I could take praise from the average fan because it came with the territory and usually followed a similar pattern but hearing it from someone that I admired still took some getting used to. Shad was a master with his words and had won awards for his writing. His opinion held weight.
"Aye, man," I started, putting a little bass in my voice, enjoying how his brows rose in surprise. "Why didn't you let my people know you would be here tonight? The photographer wasn't out there, so I'm assuming the magazine didn't cover your tickets. I would have had some put up for you."
He waved me off. "Nah. I can't call myself a supporter if I'm not willing to pay to get into a show."
"I appreciate that man."
"And I appreciate you even offering that. Not everyone would."
Shrugging, I said, "Yeah, well, I'm not everyone."
He nodded. "You're right; you're better."
Grinning, my face heated and I shook my head. "Man, chill out with all of that."
Shad raised his eyebrows and looked from me to at Xavier. "She don't know?"
Xavier laughed. "Man, I be tryna tell her ole humble ass, but she don't get it yet. Eventually, she will though."
I wanted to ask what the fuck they were talking about but I was too mellowed out to press, so I said, "Nigga, shut up," to Xavier and rolled my eyes as he and Shad laughed.
Shad sobered first. "Listen, I know you're probably exhausted and want to make a move, so we'll get out of your hair."
My gaze flickered to the three women who stood behind him. Each of them seemed interested in our conversation, but one in particular—a cutie with thick, black hair twisted around her head regally, wearing a sleeveless crop-top that exposed her arms and the soft-looking skin of her thick waist—had her eyes trained on me. She looked like she was trying to figure something out. It wasn't good or bad but…contemplative. And while a look like that on the face of woman I didn't even know had started to annoy me lately, seeing it from her made me kind of…excited. This was a new feeling and I wanted to explore it.
Licking my lips, I smiled at Shad. "Don't be rude, man. Introduce me to your people." I could feel Xavier's questioning gaze on me and damn near hear him asking me what the hell was I doing, so I refused to even look his way, effectively ignoring him.
"Oh! Right, of course." Stepping to the side, he motioned for the women to step forward. "This is my lady, Aisha, my sister, Jade, and Jade's coworker, Trisha. These two are the best massage therapists in the city, so if you or your crew need a good rubdown after performing, or moving all of this equipment, you should definitely hit them up."
I addressed them all at the same time, swe
eping my gaze over all three in a smooth arch. "Nice to meet y'all. Did y'all enjoy the show?"
"Oh my God, it was amazing!"
"That isn't a real question, it can't be."
"My mind is blown."
All three began speaking at once, and I laughed as I tried to respond to each of them but my words were getting jumbled because Shad's sister's coworker had scrambled my brain a little bit and all I wanted to say was her name on a constant loop.
Trisha.
She was a few inches shorter than my five-foot ten, and several inches wider than my naturally slender frame, with warm, russet-toned skin and big, expressive brown eyes. With gold accents woven into her hair and deep brown lipstick just a shade darker than what would be considered nude on her, she was cute. Really cute. And I couldn't stop staring at her.
"I could definitely use a massage. You got a card or something?" I was supposed to be speaking to both of them, but my eyes were glued to Trisha. She was so captivating that I couldn't look away, even at the risk of seeming rude to Shad's sister. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but shit, my heart was beating triple time and my gut was clenched. On top of that, my damn high was almost gone because I was hyper-focused on this woman that I'd just laid eyes on for the first time five minutes ago. Or maybe I was just really fucking high, because I could already picture myself posting her on my social media on Wednesday with a simple heart-eyed emoji and a three-letter hashtag as the caption.
Trisha chewed on the corner of her lip and I wanted to rub my thumb over the spot and tell her to stop it before she ruined her lipstick.
"Unfortunately," she began, her voice full of regret, "I don't have cards yet. I just moved out here like two weeks ago, so I haven't had a chance to get any made yet."
My brows rose, and even though I could have easily turned to Jade and asked her about a business card, since the two seemingly worked at the same place, I said, "Oh yeah? Where'd you move from?"
Things Hoped For Page 4
