In Harmony

by JN Welsh

  “Okay, really quick.” He picked her up and led her to the bed.

  She crooned in excitement, kissing his neck. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  * * *

  Nyah and Tommy rode to the Artistique main stage. The moment she’d waited months for had finally arrived. The embers of dusk still lingered a bit but the bright stars dominated, just like she planned to do with her set tonight. Her parents had texted her when they were on their way to the airport and would send her another one when they landed safely. She couldn’t believe her luck that she’d gotten out of all the complications that had presented themselves earlier, and she felt like the Universe was on her side.

  She had about thirty minutes to showtime, but already the crowd formed. A group of fans lined the way toward the backstage area and called her name. She waved and signed a few autographs for people who wanted one and was relieved when they were finally inside.

  An attendant approached them. “We have a few fans who won a raffle to meet the artists on the main stage tonight. Right this way.”

  Tommy had gone to do his final checks and network. “I’m going to do a final check. You got this?”

  “Yup,” she said.

  “I’ll see you in a few.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder and was gone. Her meet and greet was going great and she met fans, took photos and signed a few autographs. On autopilot, she greeted the next group. “Hi. How are you doing tonight?”

  “Nyah?” Gladys leaned in.

  Nyah looked up into Gladys’s face and knew she’d been found out. Fuck! “H-hey, um...”

  “What are you doing dressed up like this?”

  “Queen Roe. It’s an honor,” Evan said, oblivious to anything Gladys questioned.

  Nyah shook his hand, but her eyes behind her glasses stayed on Gladys. “Nice to meet a fan.”

  “Can I get a picture?” he asked.

  Nyah nodded but animated her movements and smiled. Evan took a selfie and the attendant moved them along. “Wait.” Nyah stopped Gladys. Evan had been herded with the rest of the folks from backstage.

  The attendant who’d been shadowing her touched her arm. “Queen? We have to get you to the stage.”

  “Please just give me a minute.” Nyah grabbed Gladys, pulling her friend to a restricted area section by the stage. Nyah’s head swirled with what to say to Gladys. What could she say? She’d been found out in the worst way with no warning for either of them.

  Gladys must have been in a little bit of initial shock, but it wore off pretty quick.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about all this,” Gladys accused. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends.” The doubt in Gladys’s eyes punched Nyah in the stomach.

  “I thought you were pursuing music.”

  “I am. I’m focused on classical and I’m focused on my DJ career.” Even under the disaster of the situation, Nyah defended both of her loves.

  “Look at all this. You honestly believe that you’ll be able to give CeCe and the symphony your all and leave your DJ career in New York for the summer?”

  “No.” Nyah straightened. “I’ll be taking both my careers to London. There’s a great dance music scene in the UK.”

  “Nyah? Are you serious?”

  Fuck yeah, I’m serious. “Wow...the judgment,” Nyah said. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I’m doing what I love in both genres and I have to justify it?”

  Gladys’s face clouded over. “Don’t act like it’s my fault. You kept a secret from me. A really big one.”

  “Queen.” Tommy’s voice. “They’re about to announce you. What’s the holdup?” Just as Tommy came into her peripheral vision, he screeched to a stop.

  “Give me a second,” she said to Tommy, whose head slid back and forth between her and Gladys.

  “Him too. Is he even your boyfriend?”

  Nyah’s shoulders sagged even lower. “He’s my agent, but—” She tried to hurry her words but Gladys flapped her arms.

  “I don’t even know who you are right now.” Gladys stomped away and Nyah chased her down.

  “I know how bad this looks and I want to explain further—”

  “Explain what? That you’ve lied to me about everything?” Gladys crossed her arms.

  “Not everything...just a few things,” Nyah tried but Gladys wasn’t buying it. “Look, I have to perform. Stay or don’t stay, but as much as I love you, Gladys, I can’t do this right now. I have a really big crowd waiting for me and I’m kind of freaking out,” Nyah admitted. “All I can say is I’m so sorry. If you want, we can talk after or when I get back to New York. I’m here.”

  She and Gladys were at a stalemate until Nyah heard them start a longwinded announcement for her. She felt Tommy’s hands on her shoulder. “We have to go, angel,” he said in her ear.

  “The stage is calling you,” Gladys threw at her and stomped away.

  As Nyah rushed toward the stage, she was sure that shit felt better than her. This wasn’t how she’d seen herself approaching the Artistique stage that evening. She’d avoided her parents finding her out but she’d hurt one of her closest friends. Now she had to give the fans positive energy?

  Fear started to tighten her up from her neck to her thighs. She bounced from side to side to the beats of the current DJ in an attempt to loosen up. She’d prepared this set for months and she couldn’t let the fans down, or herself. There was only so much she could control. The larger crowd, a result from her recent fame, taught her that.

  Fine time to realize that shit.

  “Hey.” Tommy rubbed her shoulders. “I’ll be up there cheering you on. No matter what, this is your moment.” The words spread through her like liquid ink on a white shirt and colored her the same way.

  She took the stage and gulped several deep breaths. What she could control was her reaction to this entire fiasco. The people in front of her had shown up to appreciate her skills and talent as a DJ, and as she played, she remembered that and pressed the mute button on her troubles for this one-hour set.

  She looked out into the sea of faces as the melody to her song played and she lost herself in the surrounding bass. She picked up the microphone. “I’ve waited a long time to be here at Artistique with you and, boy, do you guys look amazing.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “You ready to shake the place?”

  More cheers.

  “Let’s go,” she said as the separated melodies, bass and effects melded together and bloomed into a song that elated the fans and they jumped and danced with her. When she lifted them up with her music, they took her higher with their energy and the exchange continued for their entire set. She’d have to deal with her friends and her family when she got back to New York but here at Artistique, she lived in the moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nyah’s struggles with her duality had wiped her out. Performance-wise, she’d been a downright hit at Artistique. She’d even handled the larger crowd without freaking out too much. But personally, she’d failed. Gladys hated her and she’d lied to her parents. Her apartment had never felt safer than the moment she and Tommy set foot back inside together. If it hadn’t been for him, she might not have been able to juggle her Nyah Monroe and Queen Roe quagmire.

  She plopped down on the couch, ready to crash.

  “I’m going to get a shower,” Tommy said. “Join me?”

  The invitation energized her despite her vegetative state. She pulled herself out of the sinking cushions on her couch and sashayed to Tommy. She’d almost reached him when her intercom rang.

  She groaned at the interruption and pressed the button.

  “You have a delivery, Miss Monroe. I can bring it up if you like.”

  “Yes, please. Thank you,” she responded, and then turned to Tommy. “I’ll meet you t
here. Let me just get this.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep it hot for you.” He did an awkward gesture with his pelvis and she laughed at his silliness. Even when he behaved like a jester for her, he still made her weak and, dare she say, happy.

  A few minutes later, Nyah opened the door and a large yellow basket, as bright as the sun and wrapped in iridescent cellophane, filled her doorway.

  “Your delivery, miss.”

  “Thank you,” she said and received the gift basket before closing the door. She set it down on the coffee table in her living room. “Who sent this?” She smiled.

  She found a card, plucked it from the ribbon, and read:

  Queen Roe:

  The Sunburst Festival is excited to have you on our lineup. As a thank-you, please accept this gift. We look forward to seeing you rock the stage.—Herman Elliot

  Confusion surfaced first, followed by overwhelming dread. She didn’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t have done this to her. Would he? She had no idea how long she’d sat there, staring at the basket, when Tommy came out of the shower.

  “Hey, did you forget to join me or what?” Tommy walked barefoot in a towel into the living room. “Nyah?” he asked when she neither answered nor moved.

  “Tell me you didn’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  She handed him the card and waited as he read. He didn’t answer and the realization on his face told her all she needed to know.

  “How could you book me for Sunburst without my permission?” Her heart beat like it wanted out of her chest.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be official but I had to give Herman an answer. Things got crazy at Artistique and I didn’t want to hound you about it—”

  “So you told them I’d do it?”

  “It would be a great opportunity for you.” He moved toward her.

  “You don’t get to make that decision for me. We had a deal. If an opportunity comes up, you present it to me, and I either agree to it or I don’t. I didn’t agree to do this,” she said.

  “You won’t even consider it after all the progress you’ve made from playing a smaller club like Rebel to larger crowds than you expected on your last few outings?”

  “You took the choice away from me.” She jolted to her feet. “I won’t even play Sunburst for my father and he’s an icon being ceremoniously honored.”

  “That’s why I think you should do it. Think about what a great moment it would be if you go on that stage with your father and play.” She saw only glossy imagination in his eyes instead of remorse about the line he’d crossed.

  “I can’t believe this.” She rubbed her face. “Here’s what going to happen. You’re going to call Herman and undo this. I’m not playing Sunburst.”

  “It’s not that easy. Taking you off the lineup causes a lot of problems.”

  “I don’t give a shit. I didn’t agree to that gig and I want out. Now.”

  “Do you have any idea what pulling out will do to my reputation? I’ll never get another artist to play that festival, and though it may not be a big deal to you, it is to me.”

  “Are you even hearing yourself? You used me for your own ambition against my will and you’re worried about your legacy?”

  “Yes. Your career isn’t the only one that’s important. I have mine to consider, too.” He lowered his volume. “I believe in you and your growth as an artist. You can’t keep trying to put a lid on your talent, Nyah. That’s not how it works. Fame doesn’t come with a dial that you can manipulate at your will. I thought you were starting to understand that.”

  “If you’d been honest with me from the beginning, we could have worked something out. It would have been my decision. Maybe I would have done it, because I...” She choked on sorrow from the harsh betrayal. Didn’t he know her? They’d become so close and her feelings had torn off their leash and now there was no way to corral them.

  “Because...” he urged. When she didn’t answer, he again prodded her. “What, Nyah?”

  “Because I love you.” She swallowed.

  He moved toward her. “Angel—”

  “Don’t.” She stopped his approach, her heart broken into heavy pieces. “You know what? I’ll do it.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll play Sunburst,” She heard him sigh in relief. “But you and me? We’re done.”

  * * *

  Tommy stared at the plate of food his mother had made. He didn’t know how he’d even ended up here when he should be in Singapore. Three sets of eyes were on him: his mother from the kitchen sink, his father from the entryway and Oscar from the pantry.

  What the fuck have I done?

  “I’ve never seen him like this,” Tommy’s father said, as he went over to his wife by the kitchen sink.

  “I have.”

  “Di algo, mi amor? Why are you so quiet?” his mother said to him and then fanned her hand at his cousin. “Mijo, make him talk. El no ha comido nada. He always eats my food, and he’s not eating.”

  “I’m okay, Mami,” Tommy said, even if it was far from the truth. “I’ll eat later.” He replayed the events with Nyah over and over, pressing pause on the hurt and betrayal on her face when she realized what he’d done.

  Oscar dropped in the seat before him. “You’re freaking Tia Judy out. What’s up, bro? The last time you were like this was in high school when Zulay broke up with you.”

  When he didn’t answer right away, Oscar prodded.

  “Come on, man. Whatever it is, you need to get it off your chest.”

  “I fucked up with Nyah,” he sighed out.

  “What else is new?”

  Tommy sat more erect in his seat. “Wait, you know?”

  “Trinket,” was Oscar’s one-word response. “All I know is you did something that upset her and now she’s in Florida.”

  He felt slightly better knowing that Nyah was with her family, but he wished she was with him. “I betrayed her trust and I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me.”

  “Ay!” His mother smacked his arm. “She will forgive you.”

  “You don’t even know her, Mami,” Tommy snapped.

  “Yes, she does,” Oscar said simply. “They both do.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, Nyah has been over here a bunch of times with Trinket.” Oscar then described Nyah to his mother.

  “Ah. ¿La negra bonita y alta? Si... Ella es bien trabajadora,” his mother confirmed. “I like her.”

  Tommy looked up in surprise, because his mother saying that someone had hustle was the highest compliment she could give.

  “How did I not know any of this?”

  “You never asked, and you know Nyah is good at keeping things stealth,” Oscar said.

  Tommy had to agree.

  “You really like this girl, Tommy?” his father, a man of few words, asked.

  When she’d cut him off, the shock that his fear of losing her became real had him rolling over without a fight, even after she’d told him her feelings. She loved him and that was worth more than gold. “I love her.”

  “What?” His mother gasped as if he’d told her they were already married with a baby on the way. “Oh my God.”

  “You got all the signs,” his father added. “Then you have to do whatever it takes to win her back.”

  “She’s done with me.” Tommy sank further into despair remembering Nyah’s chilling words. “When she makes a decision, she’s pretty good at sticking to it.”

  “So you’re just going to take it lying down? Where’s all that Boombox swag?” his father said. “You messed up.”

  Tommy rubbed his face, unable to get the pain on Nyah’s face out of his head. “I hurt her, betrayed her trust.” His chest ached knowing that he’d done that to her.

  “I can see it’s tearing you up, son. That’s n
ot an easy thing to win back, but just because something is difficult doesn’t mean you give up on it. That’s never stopped you before. Now, when it’s most important, you going to fold? Fix it!”

  “Listen to your father,” his mother said. “You can’t give up now. You need to make this right, Tommy.

  “Yeah, stop whining and go get your girl,” Oscar said. “Or Trinket will never forgive you and you know how loyal she is,” he teased.

  They were right. He needed to bandage his skinned knees because he was about to take some more hits in order to make up for what he’d done. It would all be worth it knowing he’d done right by Nyah. A sliver of hope twinkled in his chest.

  “I know I was supposed to go to the club tonight, but I have to find Nyah,” Tommy said to Oscar. “If she won’t answer my calls, then maybe I just have to show up.”

  “Don’t worry, bro. Take care of your business,” Oscar said.

  His mother clapped.

  “There you go,” his father said.

  Oscar slapped hands with him. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Tommy pulled himself out of his misery and jumped into action. How could he live with himself knowing he’d let Nyah down? She meant more to him than all his success, and no matter what it cost him, he’d fix this.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Miami sun warmed Nyah’s skin as she lay out in her white bikini on the white patio chair by the pool. The picturesque landscape and space of her parents’ estate did little to erase the soreness in her heart, but at least she could get a good tan out of it, and a little doting from her parents.

  When she’d arrived, her sore eyes and disheveled look were enough for her parents to give her two days to be miserable without the third degree. Now that she’d had her mother’s Jollof rice, heard her father spinning music in his man cave, and received long tearful hugs from both of them, she felt like she might be ready to enter the confessional.