She’d always been a New York girl. Even though this house was the most beautiful she’d lived in, she’d never quite warmed to it, and that was never more true than it was right then.
She’d never had the chance to enjoy the infinity pool trickling before her, or hike up the steep hill that this grand home sat on, like she’d always said she wanted to. She always assumed she’d have all the time in the world.
“Aria.”
His soft voice floated in behind her, from the doors of the balcony. It broke as it often did, the same way it had during his performance at the Grammys earlier that night. It took her heart in a vise, as it often did. But that time, the vise squeezed too tight, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to see as it sent the tears multiplying and nearly blinded her.
His voice was closer this time. “Baby, why did you leave? You’ll never believe what happened….”
His shiny dress shoes came to a stop next to the pool chair, and she drank them in with her lowered eyes. Her clasped hands tightened as she lifted her gaze to his.
“Jesus, Bo. What’s wrong?”
She stood from the chair when he reached for her arm, tripping over the train of her dress as she stumbled back.
“Is it true?” she asked, only after she’d put the pool chair between them.
He looked ravishing in his tuxedo. His hair had come undone sometime during the after-party, a wisp of it falling into his horror-filled eyes. His already-dilated pupils expanded even more. He swept his fingers under his nose, sniffling roughly. Shuffling from one foot to the next, his eyes wouldn’t stay still. His hands moved in and out of his pockets.
She squinted at him, pointing down at the pool floor. “Is it true?”
“Aria, is what true? You’re scaring me to death, baby. What happened? Why are you crying?”
“You told me you had to keep me in the background because Carmen’s name would help you garner more fans starting out.” Her voice trembled. “You told me it had to be her, because her breakup with that soccer player would bring you more publicity. Get people saying your name. Just like fucking Adam over the way you did would get people saying your name. You told me it was a publicity play.”
Yoshi blinked rapidly. “Baby, it is a publicity play. How many times do I have to say it? It’s fake. All of this shit is fake.” He yanked on the flaps of his jacket. “This outfit, this house, this city—these people!” He pointed to the hills. “None of it is real, and I know that. The only thing real in my world is you—”
“Did you keep me in the shadows because I’m black?” she wheezed, squinting when a new flurry of tears burned her eyes. She felt them growing just as red as his were right then, though his were red for an entirely different reason. “Because I’m dark-skinned? Because my eyes are weird-looking?” Every question she asked sent her voice hitching a little higher.
The color drained from his face. He shook his head rapidly and went to speak, but no words came. He licked his lips after his first failed attempt.
She assumed he was trying to wash away the lie. “Answer me.”
Yoshi held his hands out and tried to step towards her. When she stepped away, he froze.
“Aria,” he said, attempting to keep his voice calm, but it wobbled regardless. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Oh, God,” she gasped, taking those words as unspoken confirmation.
“All I care about is protecting you. I don’t keep things from you because I’m lying; I keep things from you because I don’t ever want to see that light inside you extinguished the way it has been for every soul in this town. Every soul at that party tonight. Every soul in that arena tonight. I want you safe. Not just physically, but mentally too. Emotionally….”
“I already knew. Deep down, I knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it. You hid me because I’m black,” she said, nodding. “Say it.”
Yoshi faltered.
“Say the words,” Aria demanded.
He opened his mouth, but again, nothing came.
“You can’t even speak it out loud. But that’s the truth. You’re always talking about what’s real. That is what’s real. Simon Brady told you he couldn’t make you a star unless you betrayed Adam. He told you he couldn’t make you a star with a black girl on your arm. He told you a biracial girl would help you sell more records, and you knew it was wrong. You knew it would hurt people. People who love you. People who loved you. But you still signed. You took the deal. You shook his hand.”
Yoshi’s mouth clapped closed. He straightened, the vulnerability in his eyes washed away. He swayed, but held a calm hand out as if he were fully in control. “I’ve never made you a promise that I didn’t keep.”
Aria gave a whispered laugh.
Yoshi pointed behind him. “I’ve bought you a beautiful home. I’ve taken you all over the world. You’ve never wanted for anything. You’re wearing the best clothes. The best jewelry gleams on your wrist, around your neck, in each of your ears. I just won a Grammy, Aria—nine Grammys—and dedicated every last one of them to you! Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you want from me? I was trying to protect you!”
She slapped the tears off her cheeks, jolting at his sudden change in tone. It wasn’t the first time his mood had shot up. Lately, it went up and down like a roller coaster. Quite often, in fact—sometimes in the blink of an eye.
“You’ve changed, Yosh.”
His eyes widened.
She motioned to him. “Even the way you talk is different. I can’t even talk to you about this in a real way, because you’re high as a kite right now.”
Yoshi sniffled and swiped his hand under his nose again, breaking their eye contact. He gave the hills his glassy eyes, avoiding hers.
“First, it was the pills to help you close your eyes at night. Then the pills to help you keep them open during the day. Then, when those stopped working—”
Yoshi jumped in. “I’m not addicted. I’m stressed out of my mind. So stressed it makes me feel like my head is spinning off its axis. The pills keep me steady. Focused. But I don’t need them. I can stop anytime I want to, and as soon as the tour is over, I will.”
“And the coke? I’m sure you’ll stop that too, once the tour is over. Because it’s just that easy, right? You’ll just stop.”
“Bo, it’s just coke. Everyone in this town does it, and it hasn’t gone up in flames yet, has it? It keeps me going, show after show. A lot of people pay good money to see me at my best, and it helps keep me there, but yes… I can stop anytime.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “Wow. Adam called it. He really called it….”
Yoshi shot her a look. “Don’t.”
“He was right. He was right on all of it. And you know what the worst part is?” she whispered. “He was at your release party.”
Yoshi’s face sobered.
She nodded. “Yeah. He was there, because he wanted to see you winning. Even after you made moves that had him losing, scrambling to pick up the shattered pieces and putting them back together. He wasn’t even angry. Do you know what he told me? He told me to take care of you. He told me to take care of you, Yoshi.”
“Like I said before, he’s jealous,” Yoshi spat. “He’s jealous that I’m ten times the artist that he’ll ever be. That I’ve accomplished things he never will. That I’ve accomplished in a year what he’ll never accomplish in his lifetime. He’s always known I was destined for more, but he was happy to keep me behind that drum set for the rest of my life if it meant I wasn’t stealing his shine.”
“God, who are you?” she wheezed. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who took you with me, instead of leaving you in that foster home to rot. I’m the man who took you with me when I left the Keys, instead of leaving you to stew in mediocrity. I’m the man who bought you this house, bought you a car, bought you designer clothes, gave you a job on my tour when Simon would’ve been happy to leave you in the dust. I’m the man who took you along on my rise when everyone t
old me I shouldn’t. The man who gets pussy thrown at him from every angle, but has never once stepped out on you!”
“Do you want a Grammy for being faithful too?” she seethed.
“Do you have any idea how many propositions I get every day? Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to cheat on you, if I chose? Do you have any idea how—” He stopped himself.
“How what?” she asked, before answering herself. “How lucky I am to have you?”
He cut his eyes at her.
“How lucky I am to have these earrings?” She reached up and tore the diamond studs out of her ears, tossing them away. She didn’t watch them fly, but heard them splash into the pool. “This necklace?” She removed it with trembling fingers, launching it at him.
Yoshi avoided it, letting it clatter to the ground.
“Bo…” His voice lowered.
“This bracelet?” She didn’t even bother unclasping it, instead ripping it clear off her wrist, making the diamonds break away and fly off at all angles, dropping it to the ground. “This dress?” She snatched the straps of the dress off her shoulders and pushed it down her body. She stepped out of it, crying out, “These shoes?” She kicked them off. One of them went flying into the water, the other towards Yoshi, narrowly missing his head as it soared through the air.
Her tear-filled eyes searched his astonished face as the cold air bit at her exposed nipples. Dipping her fingers into the waistband of her underwear, she pushed those down too.
“Baby,” Yoshi begged.
Once they were off and she was completely naked, she snatched the underwear up and balled them in a fist. “Who the fuck needs Dior underwear, Yoshi? Is this what it takes? Are Dior panties what it takes to keep your black girlfriend quiet while Simon Brady is pulling your strings? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Is this what makes me so fucking lucky to have you?” She swept her palm over her lips, removing the red lipstick, leaving some of it streaked across her cheek.
Yoshi ran a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not doing this. I have to meet with this NFL guy for drinks in an hour. I just came here to fucking celebrate that I have a meeting with an NFL guy in an hour, and I come home to this shit?”
Aria held her arms out. “Your meeting with some NFL guy doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. This house, the clothes, the jewelry—none of it means shit to me. Look at me, Yoshi!”
He lifted his brows. “You’re being ridiculous. You know, I fought for you.” He held her eyes. “I fought for you when everyone warned me that you would hold me back. That you’d never understand this life. That you’d only drag me down with you.”
“And I fought for you when everyone warned me to count my blessings now, to stack my coins now, because it was only a matter of time before you did an about-face and fucked me over just like you did Adam.”
He bared his teeth. A moment later, he swallowed thickly, pushing his fingers through his hair before making his way towards the doors. “Hopefully by the time I get back, you’ll have sobered up and can speak to me like a civilized human being.”
“You’re really talking to me about being sober?” When he kept walking, her voice rose. “Yoshi!”
He stopped at the doors of the balcony. He lingered with his hand on the handle, and when he turned back to her, the tears had dried from both their faces.
“If you walk out that door…” She paused, licking her lips. “I won’t be here when you come back.”
Pain flashed across his face, the door handle wobbling under his fierce hold. He hesitated.
Then he opened the door and disappeared inside the house.
Aria watched him go, and the tears were back. It wasn’t until she heard his car roaring to a start in the driveway that she let the first sob leave her lips, bending at the hip when the pain became unbearable.
--
“Yoshi, your attention to detail—not just in the studio, but when you’re performing and perfecting your craft—is really remarkable. It’s something I don’t encounter often, something we haven’t seen… since Michael. There are artists who’ve been doing this for twice as long as you have who could only dream of reaching your level of exactness. You’re on the short list to be the headlining act for the Super Bowl next year, but I’ve got to be honest. I’m a huge fan, and if this meeting goes well… Well…” Dexter Hawthorne, the NFL’s Director of Entertainment, didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to.
He and Simon shared a knowing chuckle across the lounge table. The exclusive Asian-themed cocktail bar at The Ritz was quiet as a mouse. Hotel management hadn’t hesitated in clearing out the space upon Dexter and Simon’s request.
Yoshi wondered if this was what his life would be like now. An endless stream of empty rooms. Unable to have a conversation or live his life without fear of strangers being within earshot. Always alone. Always in the shadows.
“Yoshi?”
He startled from where he was slouched in the red leather chair, sitting tall and blinking rapidly. “Hmm? I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I did…” Dexter shot Simon a look.
And Simon shot Yoshi a look.
His eyes screamed ‘Don’t you dare fuck this up,’ but Yoshi wasn’t moved. Over the months, Simon’s anger had stopped being scary. It had become a little less severe, a little more desperate, a lot more pathetic.
Simon spoke through a tight smile. “Dexter just asked you what your dream set list would be if you were the headliner.” Craning his neck so only Yoshi could see his face, he widened his eyes.
“Ah…” Yoshi thought on it. Then, before he could answer, his mind shot back to the pool in his mansion, just an hour before. His stomach hit the floor. He thought of his only love, his Bo, literally naked before him, warning him that if he went to this meeting, it would be the last straw for her. Promising that she wouldn’t be there when he got back.
But for his entire life, Aria had always been there when he came back. Even when she said she wouldn’t be. So why did his stomach feel like it hadn’t just bottomed out, but melted into the marble floors below? Why, this time, did it feel so heart churningly real?
“Yoshi.”
Yoshi jolted, blinking back to the present again, looking lazily between Simon and Dexter. “Shit,” he mumbled, trying to blink Aria’s tear-filled face out of his mind. “Right. Uh… What were we talking about?”
Dexter made a disappointed face, pressing his lips together, moving to stand up.
Simon reached for him with his hands clawed. He looked on the verge of begging Dexter to stay, but it only escaped his mouth as a croak.
Dexter sighed, holding his tie to his chest, his white eyelashes fluttering. “Look, if you’re not interested in this—”
“We’re interested,” Simon jumped in.
But Dexter spoke only to Yoshi, stopping halfway to a stand and motioning across the table. “If you’ve got more important places to be, Yoshi, then so do I.”
Yoshi squinted up at him, thought on that, and then stood. “Actually, I do.”
Simon visibly wheezed, hiding his head in his hands to muffle the sound just as Dexter’s mouth dropped open.
Yoshi took in Dexter’s stunned stare, convinced that a man of his caliber rarely allowed such an honest reaction to show on his face. When Yoshi offered his hand, Dexter had to take a moment to compose himself.
Then, he stood tall and shook Yoshi’s hand. “You’re making a big mistake, son.”
“The only mistake I made was coming to this meeting tonight instead of staying at home with my girlfriend, where I belong. I’m sorry,” Yoshi said, “but I do have someplace more important to be. Much more important. She deserves to know how much I love her—”
Simon squawked into his hands.
“And if that means losing out on the Super Bowl, well… So be it.” Yoshi looked between the two of them with his lips pressed together.
Then, w
ithout another word, he chucked them the deuces and left the table.
As he walked away, he distantly heard Simon speaking hurriedly. “He’s hopped up on enough cocaine to subsidize a Mexican cartel. He has no idea what he’s saying….”
Yoshi only made it to the hallway across the lounge before he broke into a run.
--
“Aria!” Yoshi burst through the door of their mansion without even stopping to close it behind him. When he was met with a dark, quiet foyer, he looked both ways, into the living area and the family room. When he found both empty, he skipped towards the pool, where he’d made the colossal mistake of walking away earlier that night.
He threw open the doors to the backyard. “Aria!”
But the pool area was empty.
His heartbeat picked up. Running a hand down his face, he told himself to remain calm. But as he jetted back into the foyer, his legs felt like Jell-O, his feet unsteady. He raced up the spiral staircase, two at a time, and had to grip the railing with all his might to keep himself upright. With every moment he called her name and she didn’t answer, his bones felt weaker, until he was positive a collapse was moments away.
“Baby?” He barreled into their bedroom and found every dresser drawer hanging open with most of her clothes missing. What was left was strewn all over the bed and the floor. He raced to the closet and found her favorite shoes missing. He nearly swallowed his tongue.
“Aria!” he screamed her name through every room in the house, throwing open doors and flicking on lights as he went, barreling back down the steps and racing into the kitchen.
“Aria, please, no…” He slowed to a stop after turning on the kitchen light.
And his heart hit the floor.
Tears stung his wide eyes as he approached the kitchen island, slamming his palms down on the countertop.
Sitting in the middle of the white granite counter was his lime-green bracelet, still rolled into the shape of a ring.
“No…” The word came out in a silent whisper as he took the string under his shaky fingers, clutching it tight in his palm.
Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2) Page 22
