In Harmony

by JN Welsh

  After practice Nyah headed home but not before getting the details from Gladys about her little romp with Evan. Nyah smiled and shook her head, recalling Gladys’s sarcasm at every stage of her and Evan’s fast-growing relationship. Gladys had always been honest with her even if it sometimes came with a sharp edge, and Nyah loved her friend, nonetheless. She decided that no matter what, she’d tell Gladys the truth about Queen Roe after Artistique. She didn’t want to deal with the possible fallout before an event she had looked forward to for months, but the decision weighed on her. Was she being selfish? Why am I doing this to myself? Again she prayed her friend would understand why she kept the secret. They’d known each other for the last two years, since Gladys came to the philharmonic. Nyah’s DJ career had not yet started to encroach on her classical life the way it had now. After Artistique. I promise, Gladys.

  The layout of Nyah’s apartment felt foreign without a partition to connect her to Tommy. In the short time they were on the ship, she’d gotten used to his cologne lingering where he’d been, seeing him most of the day, and dining with him. Nothing, however, prepared her for missing the closeness they shared in bed.

  “We’ll touch base when I’m back in New York” were Tommy’s last words to her at the airport before they separated—him to LA, and her to the city. They’d slept together in his bed, and the morning of their departure, when she had gotten up to get ready to leave, the distance divided them like a ravine. She figured that he dealt with all his clients this way and that she should welcome his professionalism but she wanted more and that scared her enough to keep her mouth shut about it, nod, and wish him a safe flight.

  She took comfort in the photos on her wall of her friends and family to cope with his absence. She’d captured a few snapshots on the ship, including a selfie with Tommy and one of him looking out at sea. The wind flattened his shirt against his chest and stomach and blew through the back of his shirt like a balloon. Her neck still hurt from hanging her head, most of her flight back, to pine over the photo. The images she’d taken were categorized as before and after they’d sexed.

  Over the next week she settled back into her normal routine. Trinket had texted her a few times and though they had a quick chat they promised to reconnect at Rebel for Queen Roe’s set on Friday night. Her grind didn’t let up, but she looked forward to seeing her friends and the regulars. “I hope it’s a good night.”

  Little did she know the absolute shit storm that awaited her.

  * * *

  As soon as Tommy had gotten back to LA he had festivals and club circuits for his clients to attend. The hot months were here and his clients were everywhere. He’d devoted a lot to time to Queen Roe, but he had to keep his other clients progressing, growing, and happy. He’d gotten a few texts and messages from people wanting to book Nyah once Oh Ship had concluded and docked at port. On the ship, service to land had pretty much been nonexistent, or spotty at best. He hadn’t read many of his messages since he’d bypassed the names in search of one. Nyah.

  She hadn’t reached out to him since they’d separated at the airport but that didn’t stop her from filling his every waking thought. Now, finally back in his office, he tried to get back to business.

  “Tommy,” Yaz called to him.

  “Yeah.” He blinked back to the present.

  “Okay, that’s the third time you’ve gone off to Wonderland. One time, I can understand, but three times in fifteen minutes?” Yaz raised a brow in her something-is-up kind of way.

  “Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little distracted this morning.” He’d been more than distracted. Last night he tossed and turned most of the night and even after rubbing one out, he still longed to have Nyah in his arms again, talking to him, comforting him, fucking him. He missed her penetrating eyes and humor, the way she drew him to her without a word. His favorite breakfast tasted bland and lifeless and his coffee like muddy water.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m all right.” He wasn’t. He was homesick and sleeping between Nyah’s legs, caressing her body, listening to her laughter vibrate against his face and feeling her fingers glide through his hair was the home he longed to be again. In so little time she became what he wanted to eat, breathe, and sleep 24-7.

  “Then can you focus long enough for me to get through this status. You’ll be in New York next week and then you have your crazy ten days in Austin for Bedazzled Beats, Ibiza with Luke, London for Magstripe, and then Artistique in Michigan with Queen Roe.”

  He hadn’t been home that long since the cruise and already he was ready to get on a plane and head back to New York to see Nyah. “Sorry. I promise you have my full attention,” he said.

  Yaz eyed him for a long time with one squinted eye.

  “What?” Tommy said between knitted brows.

  “Something happened on that cruise with you and Queen Roe, didn’t it?”

  The forward question was a Yaz special. “What do you mean?”

  Yaz tapped her chin. “You’re distracted and you have a goofy smile on your face when you drift off. Plus you keep doing this thing with your mouth.” He’d seen Yaz blush a few times but she turned full-on red this time.

  “I didn’t realize...never mind.”

  “You like her. A lot, obviously.”

  “Let’s get back to your status report.”

  “Tommy...”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I like her.”

  Yaz’s triumphant grin had him hanging his head. “I knew you did. I bet she likes you, too. Oh, the things that must have happened on that Love Boat.” She laughed.

  “Yaz.” He shook his head to stop her from going any further.

  “I’m impressed that you can admit it. Now that that’s out of the way, can you please focus for thirty minutes? Please.”

  “I’m all yours.” Tommy did his best to focus but didn’t worry if he didn’t since Yaz’s detailed reports would give him anything he missed.

  “So Herman called.”

  That got his attention.

  “He called here, too?” Tommy asked. Ever since Nyah’s performance, his phone blew up with requests for her. He’d been too busy bedding her to attend to any of them. “He sent me a few messages.”

  “Maybe you should call him back.” Having let Herman sweat it out a bit, Tommy agreed. “I will after we’re done.”

  Yaz gave him a few more updates before they separated to tend to their own work. He wondered what Nyah was up to. He read the time, and by now she would have finished practice with the philharmonic. He pictured her in her apartment, looking at her picture wall and then practicing with one of her many instruments. He could smell the bamboo of the reed on her bassoon and the rosin from her double bass. She’d walked in her socks the night he’d first been there after her performance at Boiler, and on the ship her slender feet padded on the carpet in his suite. Which one did she do now? Was she home or out with friends, chatting about her trip? Did she talk about him?

  Tommy settled his racing mind and slipped behind his desk. He dialed Herman who picked up immediately.

  “It’s about time you got back to me,” Herman barked into the phone.

  “Sorry about that, man. It’s been nonstop since getting back from cruise.” Tommy offered little by way of excuse.

  “Yeah, yeah. I would have taken a text,” Herman grumbled.

  “I thought that perhaps a conversation would be better.”

  “Preferred, but still...”

  Tommy half smiled. “You gonna keep bustin’ my balls or are we going to talk about what you want?”

  “I’m about to give you what you’ve wanted for years. I want Queen Roe to play at Sunburst.”

  Yes! Tommy punched the air. “Finally, one of my clients cleared your strict standards?”

  “She more than cleared it. She blew them right out the water. Her p
erformance was the best of Oh Ship. Have you not seen the write-ups?”

  He hadn’t because he’d been too busy replaying the moments he’d brought Nyah to ecstasy multiple times over the course of their time on the cruise. He’d also had a hard time saying goodbye to her at the airport, no matter how diplomatic he’d behaved. He didn’t want to admit to Herman that he was behind the eight ball. “I’ve been traveling and catching up on business. What’s up?”

  “Queen Roe’s performance has been trending since the ship got into port. Apparently, the organizers put it up as part of a ‘wish you were here’ teaser but it’s killin’ it out there. Dude? How do you not know this?”

  As Herman said the words, Tommy clicked to an Internet page and typed in Queen Roe and the video came up immediately. Tommy should have known this and should have alerted his client. A trending video could go viral and she should be prepared for the possible storm that came afterward.

  “I need to go, Herman.” Tommy needed to reach out to Nyah as soon as possible.

  “Wait. What about Sunburst? Can I add Queen Roe to the lineup?” Herman asked.

  “I need to present it to my client before I agree.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I thought she’d be an automatic yes.”

  “Look on the bright side. At least I’m not saying no.”

  “Ha ha. Do me a favor and give me an answer. I’d love to have her but I’ll only hold the spot to the end of the week.”

  “I’m not back on the east coast until next week and this isn’t something I can pose to her over the phone.”

  “Why?”

  “You want her to say yes, right? Give me two weeks?”

  Herman sighed. “I got the bigwigs breathing down my neck for my confirmed spots. I’ll try but I can’t promise you that when you get back to me, I’ll still have a spot for her.”

  “Do your best, man, and I’ll try to give you an answer as soon as I can.” Fuck! Tommy hadn’t planned to head back to the east coast until next week. With all the information he’d received from his one phone conversation with Herman, going back to New York sooner was vital, as was seeing Nyah. He needed to see that woman more than he wanted food or drink.

  “Talk then,” Herman said. “And Tommy. Don’t let me down. With the new organizers, this might be your last shot.”

  Like I need motivation... Tommy hated the low-key threat, but Herman had clued him into this months ago. “I hear you.” They hung up.

  Why send a text or call when he and Yaz could deliver the information in person? He sent Nyah a text that he’d be back in New York sooner than expected and had news to share.

  “Yaz?”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “Change of plans.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nyah’s phone wouldn’t quit buzzing when she climbed out of the subway. “Who the fuck is blowing me up like this?” She pulled her phone from the side pocket on her cargo jeans.

  Trinket: Don’t come here!

  A car screeched to a halt. The driver honked and practically blared her Afro puffs right out of their pink and silver glittered hair ties. “I got it,” she yelled back with her entire body. Her heart raced even more than after receiving Trinket’s cryptic text. She stopped by a bodega and responded to Trinket with startled energy in her fingers.

  Queen: ??

  Trinket: Don’t come to Rebel. It’s fucking mayhem...like... BANANAS

  Queen: Why?? What happened?

  Trinket: YOU BEEEEEETTTTTTTCCCCCHHHH!

  “What the hell is going on?” All she’d done was get her shit together, got on the subway and headed to work like she always did after her performance at the concert hall.

  Queen: ME? I’m performing 2nite

  Trinket: I know but...

  Trinket:...

  Nyah watched the ellipsis of death pulse before disappearing. “What the fuck, Trinket?” She huffed and paced in a small space, which probably looked like she spun in circles, wondering what she should do. Trinket finally responded two long minutes later.

  Trinket: Oscar said come through the back. I’ll be there with security to get you

  Trinket: Don’t say I didn’t warn you

  “Security? Not nerve-wracking at all.” Nyah shook her head as she strode toward Rebel.

  A block and half away from Rebel, the crowd swarmed like ants circling a hearty bread crumb. People waited to get inside with energy in their bones. The last time she’d seen a crowd like this was when Rob Ready had come to the spot two years ago. She gawked, speechless, as she made her way to the back of the club. She pulled her hoodie over her large puffs and dipped her head. Not fucking suspicious at all, Nyah. The staggering lines made it almost impossible for her to get through to the back entrance, but when she did get to the heavy steel door she banged fast and hard.

  Her hoodie slid back off her head and she felt the stares on her. Photographers came out of nowhere and flashes nearly blinded her. The crowd moved in on her like slow-moving walls on slow-suffocation mode, and her pulse pounded in her ear.

  “Queen.” A few people on line called her name, taking selfies with her in the background and pawed at her shoulders or tugged on her multicolored backpack.

  The door slammed open and Trinket reached for her with two security guards, who made room for them and separated Nyah from the crowd.

  “Back off,” Trinket yelled, then she yanked Nyah inside and the two of them hurried backstage to the lockers.

  Nyah dropped her bag on the floor and, with hands on knees, asked, “What happened? Why are so many more people here?”

  “You really don’t know?” Trinket asked.

  Nyah peered up at her with murderous eyes. “Trinket, if you don’t tell me, I swear—”

  “Okay, okay.” Trinket put her hands up. “Your performance on Oh Ship has been trending. Now it’s viral.”

  Nyah jolted upright. She remembered that performance. She had been pissed at Tommy for giving her the shaft and wanted to get his attention. His and everyone else’s. She had been in a surreal zone and when she came off stage, people had been all over her; like they were outside. “Oh no.” Let this be a lesson. Trying to get revenge only hurts you.

  “Girl, that fucking set. Even on video you bullied that shit.”

  “I didn’t know. We left the cruise when it docked in the Bahamas. Why didn’t it show up then?”

  “You don’t get any service when you’re out at sea. When the ship pulled into port and people had service again, the organizers must have posted the performance. It’s everywhere.” Trinket crossed her arms. “Isn’t this something Tommy should have warned you about? Real talk, though, it only made its way to me tonight, but doesn’t he have like some agent pipeline to tap?”

  “Yeah. He should’ve.” Why hadn’t Tommy given her a heads up about this? With the exception of a text he sent her two days ago that he’d be in New York, he hadn’t spoken to her since they’d disembarked from the cruise and departed to their respective coasts. Now here she stood smack dab in the middle of her newfound celebrity. “This is crazy.”

  “I did warn you.” Trinket shrugged. “Oscar called in extra security when the crowd showed up around eight.”

  “Eight? But I don’t even go on until after midnight.” Nyah rubbed her palms on her jeans, nerves suffocating her like ivy up a brick wall, digging its roots into her. “Where’s Oscar?”

  “He’s out there shot-callin’ and collecting his money. This huge attendance might be freaking you out, but more patrons means more dollars at the end of the night. Not a bad problem for Oscar to have.” Trinket smiled.

  Nyah had always felt at home on Rebel’s stage, but now with hundreds of unknowns swirling with the regulars at the spot, the old worries over whether or not she’d fail crept up again. On Oh Ship she’d had a decent crowd, but most of them h
ad come after she was already in the zone, so it hadn’t bothered her. Now, the audience at Rebel kept coming and wanted her to deliver a moment that had already passed. “How am I going to go out there?”

  “Hey,” Trinket said, and then wrapped an arm around Nyah’s shoulder. “Damn, gurl! You’re shaking like someone slipped ice cubes down your back.”

  Nyah had promised herself never to let fear consume and paralyze her like it did back when her inexperience onstage had driven her away from the music and career she wanted to pursue. However, her own performance had rocked the boat and hijacked the calm seas she’d been sailing. “I should have known. I should have been checking, but when I came back from the trip things felt quieter. I don’t even think I checked Queen Roe’s mailbox.”

  “Go easy on yourself. You’re allowed to slack off sometimes. So what? You didn’t check email.” Trinket guided her over to one of the old dark gray—almost blue—sofas, the cushion worn and the springs less bouncy than when Nyah had first started playing at Rebel two years ago. “And what’s this about not going on. You’re going to let a bigger crowd intimidate you? That’s not the Queen Roe I know, who has been helping me with my stage fright.”

  When she returned from the cruise, she had put most of her time into getting ready to reenter the philharmonic after her suspension. Her confidence in Tommy to handle her logistics had made her slack, this time with her DJ career. In the past, getting ahead of anything that registered higher than “some buzz” helped her manage her two careers without clashing. That, and cases of caffeinated energy drinks.

  “You don’t understand, Trinket. All I’m going to do is let them down.”

  Trinket rubbernecked. “I’ve seen you tear that stage up every time you’re out there. You do all the things I wish I could do.”

  Nyah inhaled to interject.

  “I know you’re going to tell me that I’m the best DJ you know but the point is no one will know it unless I get past my stage fright. But you? When you get up there you own that shit. Tonight is no different.”