Yoshi cleared his throat. “Yeah… You have, but—”
“Are you not set for life?”
“Yeah… I guess I am. But—”
“Are you not free to be the artist you always wanted to be?”
“I mean, yeah, I suppose I am. It’s just—”
“Have I not built you a world tour that broke records, and sold out in less than an hour?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
“Are you not one of the most successful solo debut artists in pop music history?”
“I guess I am, yes.”
“Have you not just been nominated for nine Grammy awards?”
Yoshi jolted in his seat. He snatched his sunglasses off his face. “Excuse me?”
Simon’s stomach jiggled in his white T-shirt, wobbling along with his laughter. It became more prominent as he leaned back and held his arms out. “I wasn’t going to tell you until after the show tonight. We’ve got a big party set up—wanted it to be a surprise, but since you’ve given me so much grief this afternoon….”
“I’m nominated for a Grammy?” Yoshi’s voice lowered with each word he said, laced with astonishment.
“Nine Grammys,” Simon corrected. “Won’t be announced until early December, but it’s official.”
Yoshi sputtered.
Simon leaned forward. “You may think Carmen is on your arm for no good reason, but she isn’t. She’s a cog in a much bigger machine. I will never introduce anyone or anything into your life, or your career, without very good reason. You’re nominated for nine Grammys, Yoshi, not just because you’re an amazing talent, but because I’m damn good at what I do.”
Yoshi took a deep breath.
“Can you trust that?” Simon asked.
Yoshi shook his head, unable to stop a smile from lighting up his face. “How could I not? Christ.” He pushed his baseball cap off his head and dropped it on the table. His hair, un-gelled, swooped down over his amazed eyes, shading the group of teenage girls pointing and giggling at him from the sidewalk. “A Grammy?” He beamed, slicing his fingers through his hair.
“That’s right.” Simon laughed. “So, we agree? Carmen stays around until I say, because I know what I’m doing.”
Yoshi hesitated, then motioned across the table. “Yeah, you do. I can’t argue with that.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“Good.” Simon motioned to him. “And since we’ve got this new trust between us, hear me when I tell you one more thing. Stop staring at Aria onstage.”
Yoshi’s smile fell. “I don’t—”
“You’re staring at her onstage… and fans are beginning to notice. Do you know that you two have shippers that call themselves Yaria?”
“Those shippers have been with us since the Keys. It has nothing to do with me looking at Aria onstage. They’ve been around for years.”
“There’s a collage that just popped up on Instagram, made by one of your shippers. It encompasses dozens of photos—photos of you staring at Aria, onstage. And just in case anyone tried to debunk this obsessed fan’s collage, she put it into Photoshop and painted bright red arrows from your eyes to Aria’s in every. Single. Photo.”
Yoshi chortled. “They’re passionate. What can I say?”
“They’ve also, somehow, dug up production footage from the Brit Awards, where you’re holding Aria’s hand backstage. It’s blurry, but it’s definitely you and her. If we ignore it, it’ll go away. But I need you to be more conscious of your actions with her in public.”
Yoshi held his hands up. “I hear you. No more staring at Aria. No PDA in public.”
Silence fell, and they went back to their food.
But Yoshi couldn’t eat. He dropped his utensils. “Fuck. I’m nominated for a Grammy?”
Simon chuckled.
And in the next moment, the American girls who’d been giggling from the distance finally found the balls to approach their table.
Leroy, who’d been lingering in the shadows a comfortable distance away, stepped in to intervene.
Yoshi held a hand up to stop him. “It’s all good, Leroy.”
“Excuse me…” The bravest of the girls, a blushing redhead, came to a stop next to the table. Her thighs clenched in her short shorts, arms sealed to her sides. She clutched Yoshi’s album in one trembling hand while pushing her hair behind her ear with the other. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but aren’t you…?”
Yoshi smiled at her. “I am.”
“Oh, my God, I just love you so much. I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“You’re never bothering me, sweetheart.”
She squealed. “I’m really sorry, but can you sign my—”
“Of course.” Yoshi couldn’t let her finish. Like being nominated for a Grammy, he could hardly comprehend that this was happening. Another human being gave a shit that he was sitting at a table having lunch. She’d given so much of a shit, in fact, that she’d been fearful of approaching him. Of asking him for something as simple as an autograph. Was it even a question? Of course he would sign her album. What man in his position wouldn’t?
As the rest of the girls approached the table, all giggling and requesting their own autographs and pictures, Yoshi shot Simon another look.
And he decided, right there, that he would never question that man again.
--
“Baby, I’m gonna come,” Yoshi gasped against Aria’s lips, thrusting desperately, clawing the sheets and blanket clear off the king-sized bed as his hips slammed into her splayed thighs. The moment he whispered the words to her, her pussy seemed to grow slicker, tighter. He didn’t know if she was doing it on purpose, though he suspected she was by the coy smile on her lips, but it did him in. She caught his scream in a tongue-fueled kiss just as his back arched with his orgasm, his body trembling as he emptied himself inside her, so possessed by the pleasure he tore the sheets off the corners of the bed.
She moaned into the rich kiss, clawing his ass in her hands to keep him deep inside, purring against his lips with every residual flinch of his hips, swirling her own until she was sure the pleasure he felt was ebbing into pain.
Yoshi clapped a hand on her hips with a soft laugh, pulling out when the incredible sensation became unbearable. Once his glistening dick was free, he collapsed, cuddling his head into her breasts as he tried to get his labored breathing under control. The nails she ran through his hair made his eyes flutter, and his mind instantly went to the pills he’d scammed from Phil that morning. For the first time in weeks, he knew he could fall asleep easily in that hotel bed.
“God…” he mumbled against the nipple he’d just taken into his mouth, suckling it patiently before moving to the other. He held her gaze the entire time, cuddled between her legs. “Did you come?”
She tugged her fingers through his hair, but didn’t answer.
Yoshi knew that meant she hadn’t, and with a groan he moved his kisses from her nipple and down her stomach, lashing his tongue against her skin, down her heaving belly.
“We don’t have time, Yosh.” She gripped his hair harder. “We’ve got sound check in five minutes. It’s bad enough we’re going to show up smelling like sweat and semen. We can’t show up late smelling like sweat and semen. Especially not me, since I’m brown-skinned. The brown girl showing up late and stinking? No. I have to represent for my peoples.”
Yoshi pressed his chin into her stomach, laughing up at her. “We’re almost a month into the European leg, and you’ve yet to be late to a single rehearsal. I think you can get away with it this one time.”
“And I think you have no idea what it means to be black. All it’ll take is one time—one time showing up late—and I will be forever branded ‘that black girl who’s always late.’ Forever, Yosh.”
“All right, all right…” he groaned, sitting up. “But this pussy is mine after the show.”
“This pussy’s always yours.”
When she tried to sit up
, Yoshi placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her back down onto the pillows.
She fell back with a grin. “Yoshi.” She mocked anger. “We have no time.”
His eyes searched hers as he ran the beds of his fingers along her face, over each of her eyebrows. She hadn’t worn her patch in weeks, and it made his heart sing.
“I got you something,” he whispered.
Her smile bloomed. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did,” he sang, leaping to the foot of the bed and lying on his stomach, snatching his duffle bag from the floor. After shuffling through it and retrieving what he’d been looking for, he returned to her with the item behind his back.
She’d pushed herself up against the headboard, her nipples still glistening from his attentions, her pussy still swollen between her crossed thighs. His tongue ached to taste it, and he crawled back over to her.
Her eyes lit up when he came to a stop, sitting up on his knees. Clutching her knee with one hand, he presented a small black velvet box in the other.
“Baby,” she breathed.
“On the way back from lunch with Simon, I walked by a window, and I saw it…” He popped the box open, revealing the eighteen-carat, white gold oval halo engagement ring.
It gleamed, but not with nearly as much luster as her eyes. She studied the ring.
He swallowed when a silence fell in. “Do you like it?” he whispered, realizing he had tears in his own eyes when he heard it break his voice.
Aria lifted her eyes to his, held his gaze, and a knowing smile spread across her lips. “Carmen is staying.”
Yoshi’s mouth fell open.
Her voice lowered. “Isn’t she?”
Yoshi went to answer, and when no words came, his heart nearly climbed out of his throat.
“I’m not mad,” Aria said. “I know you love me as much as I love you. I believe in our love. And I want you to see the highest heights that are possible for you to see. I trust you with all my heart, Yosh.” She took a deep breath. “But I won’t wear that ring until the world knows my name. Until they know the sound of my name being spoken next to yours.”
Yoshi took the ring from the box under shaking fingers. “But I want them all to see this ring on your finger—Simon, Carmen, everyone—so they understand I’m wide awake. So they are completely and utterly clear on whom it is I really love. Who my heart really belongs to. My Bo. My day one.” Yoshi tried to put the ring on her finger, but she kept her hand just out of his reach. “Please?” he whispered, meeting her eyes.
She lifted her left hand, showing him the lime-green string tied around her finger. The one she’d had to re-tie, re-pin, and re-glue a million times since she’d donned it.
“You want that diamond ring on my finger so everyone understands that you’re wide awake.” She held her left hand higher. “And I want this string around my finger so you understand that I’m wide awake.”
Yoshi’s hands fell to the bed, and he was lost for words again.
Aria leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss, grazing the edge of his jaw with the tips of her fingers, her lips tickling his as she whispered, “I love you more than life itself.”
Yoshi dug his fingers into her naked hips.
“But I won’t wear that ring until you say my name.” She pulled back and held his eyes. Then she gave him a playful shove. “Now get up. We’re late for sound check.”
When he just sat there, motionless, she had to bend her knees to leave the bed with the little space he’d allotted her between his body and the headboard.
Even as she stood and got dressed behind him, Yoshi stared straight ahead, drinking in the tufted purple headboard, tightening the ring he held into a fist.
He tried to remind himself that he was an international superstar, growing bigger every day. That he’d just been accosted by a hoard of fans at a restaurant in Rome. That he was nominated for a Grammy.
A Grammy.
He waited for the joy, for the exuberance, the relief he’d always known would come.
But all he felt was his heart in his throat.
15
The most amazing thing about Yoshi’s concerts, to Aria, was hearing his crowd singing his words back to him. Even more amazing than that was his ability to still showcase the buttery quality of his voice, without attempting to sing over the echoes of his adoring crowd. As she did her two-step in the back, shooting occasional winks at Emily to her right, her heart was full.
Not because of the sold-out crowd in Rome, or the thousands of white lights flickering in every corner of the arena as Yoshi crooned his final ballad. No, her heart was full because the ring that meant the most to her was still around her left finger, and the ring meant to appease her, to keep her quiet in this crazy life they were quickly spiraling into, wasn’t.
She tightened her fingers around that lime-green string, and she was okay.
Then, in the middle of a harmony that always came easily, her voice gave.
It was so sudden it stunned her, making the break even more noticeable than if she’d been ready for it—as she often was with the higher notes she tended to struggle with.
To the untrained ear, and especially to an audience who was solely focused on Yoshi, it was a small slip.
But he heard it.
His eyes flew over his shoulder and latched onto hers. Though he didn’t miss a beat, questions saturated Yoshi’s eyes. It wasn’t normal for Aria to flub that note. In fact, she never had, and for a perfectionist like him, it must’ve sounded like a bomb going off.
He raised his eyebrows at her, and Aria felt Emily’s curious gaze hit her from the corner of her eye too.
Her heart hammered against her chest, but she did her best to swallow it back and recover, resuming the melody and praying it didn’t happen again.
It didn’t, and she made a silent note to up the dosage on her medication.
Surely if she upped the dosage, things would get better.
--
Things didn’t get better, and if Aria weren’t crazy, she’d go so far to say that, as the tour powered on and the shows came and went, things got worse. Maintaining her voice became more of a struggle, from Europe to Africa, and a week into the American leg, there was still no improvement. She’d even switched to a different medication, but like clockwork, after a few shows without event, her voice would crack in the middle of a song or fall away altogether.
“Baby, your voice went in the middle of almost every song last night,” Yoshi said, gently. “Every. Song.”
From where she stood, elevated on a dressing room podium in Valentino’s flagship store on Rodeo Drive, Aria sighed through her nostrils.
She eyed the woman below her, a Spanish seamstress holding one needle between her teeth while working another into the delicate fabric of Aria’s cutout mermaid-tail gown.
Yoshi had brought Aria to the store weeks before to choose a dress for the Grammys, and she’d fallen in love with this one on sight. After store employees finished a job she always found tedious—building the rest of the outfit—gold Louboutin sandals and gold accessories had been added to the mix, accentuating the dress without taking it over the top.
The cap-sleeve gown’s glittery gold sequins sparkled against the bright lights of the fitting area that afternoon. A deep slit ran up the side, showcasing one of her never-ending legs, which she usually kept hidden in jeans. Yoshi had already crossed the room twice to sneak a few kisses of her chocolaty thigh.
As he smiled at her from the circular white couch in the middle of the dressing room, he looked seconds from approaching the podium to steal a third. Thankfully, he’d bought out the store for the night, so he was free to worship her with abandon.
He twirled a tumbler of whiskey in his hands. His body never stopped moving, legs bopping, fingers tapping against the glass. When that glass went empty, he’d grow irritated, searching the area for the employee who’d been supplying the refills. Aria couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him sleep.
She knew, behind those gold aviator sunglasses, his eyes were blood red.
The seamstress shot Yoshi a coy smile, and Aria allowed herself to focus on the beautiful dress.
“Can we not talk about this?” Aria begged, falling in love with the dress all over again as the seamstress took it to the next level. She tilted her head at the picture the mirror gave her, then met Yoshi’s eyes in the reflection. “Tonight is your big night. You’re nominated for nine Grammys. I don’t want to make it about me right now.”
“In my world, everything is about you. And it hurts me that you’re not going to be singing behind me onstage tonight because your doctor is fucking up your medication. This isn’t just my dream, Bo.” He held his arms out. The sequined gold pocket square in his tuxedo matched her dress to the letter, a purposeful move on their part since, once again, Carmen would be on his arm for most of the night. It was a subtle message, but one they knew the Yaria shippers wouldn’t miss. Pleasing them had become one of their favorite pastimes. “It’s our dream. And one of our biggest was to sing on the Grammy stage together.”
“And we will.” She smiled. “Just not this year. I can’t make my voice come back when it wants to be gone. It’s not meant to be this time.”
His jaw tightened. “Simon has already signed the understudy, keeping her in place for the rest of the tour.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“If it was just me noticing the problem, I’d keep it quiet, but now that Simon has approached me…” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “And it isn’t just him, Bo. Gus has said something. So has Tommy.”
Aria cursed under her breath as she thought of their lead sound technician.
“Even some of the road crew has approached me, wondering what’s going on with your voice.” Yoshi sighed when he saw the look in her eyes. “I’m not saying this to upset you. I’m saying it because we need to figure out what’s wrong and fix it. Find a different doctor. Hell, two different doctors. Get a second, third, and fourth opinion.”
Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2) Page 20
