by Love Belvin
Why was she here, talking to my grandmother every night, not making an issue of her spiritual ways I knew had to be weird and comical for her? Why didn’t she freak out after meeting my fifty-one-year-old brother, who had the mental capacity of an eleven year old? Why hasn’t she made a big deal about me freaking out when she woke me out of my sleep in my bed? Why hasn’t her smart ass cracked one joke about me going soft on her after being so hard my dick hurt, ‘cause I wanted her so damn bad? How was she being compensated for being around my fucked-upness and not making it public?
“Listen, Raj,” Mike tried, his voice the softest it had been the whole call. “I know what I’m doing, man. I swear I do. I always do. Real talk. And you know I do!” he warned, growling. “Just let me do me, and you focus on the next album. Super Bowl’s in a few days, my G. You go and have a good time without me. Do it big for me, a’ight?” I heard the phony humor in his voice. “It’s gonna be litty. But look, I gotta go. I’ll be back that way in a couple of weeks. My time out here just got extended ‘cause of some bullshit. I’ll check in with y’all.”
I disconnected the call and fell back into my seat. My spine jerked to sit up again, and hand went for my cell this time. This was getting out of control. I needed to call my guy. He’d sent texts and called twice since I spoke to him the morning after the wedding. But I hadn’t been man enough to reach back out.
“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed, throwing myself back into my chair.
Once again, I’d taken the coward’s way out.
~13~
I rolled over, taking a deep breath on a hum. My eyes fluttered open to the blinding white of the room then quickly closed, letting me know I was awake for the day. After another deep breath, I turned onto my side for the nightstand. My hand patted the surface before my eyes cleared of the morning haze. No potion water.
Hmmmmm…
I turned to my left, peering over to the other side of the massive king. No dent and no wrinkles. That’s when I lifted my head to sit up. After falling back on the pillows stacked against the headboard and rubbing my eyes again, I took another deep breath. I glanced around the colossal suite and saw no movement or signs of another human being. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand for the time. It was seven-seventeen in the morning.
Hmmmmm…
That’s when it was clear; Raj hadn’t come to bed last night. The thought was insane as I shifted off the bed for the bathroom. I wondered where he was. Had I said something to turn him off? Was I pushing past his limits? I squatted over the toilet and soughed contently as my bladder relieved itself. I still hadn’t brought up the dick-deflation-gate or the spazzing after being joined in the bed-gate. It was all strange. Emotionally accommodating a man like Raj could be draining. It made me wonder about the type of women he dated. I had to decide right away to not jump to any conclusions as far as his mood.
I washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth then stepped on the scale. Oh, my… One hundred eighty-one pounds. That meant I’d lost fourteen pounds since starting this bossy-weight-loss-thingee with him a few weeks ago. That piece of accomplishment sent joy bursting through my chest, landing me on cloud nine. It was a marvelous day starter. After wrapping myself in a fluffy robe, I headed downstairs for answers—and maybe food.
Damn… I always thought about food!
I plopped down the steps feeling weightless. It may have just been in my head, but I felt lighter. The moment I hit the marble at the base of the stairs, I heard clanging from the kitchen. And that’s where I headed first, seeing the hall brightened from oversized windows in doors. The sun was generous for a wintery morning. It boldly beamed through the elaborate kitchen windows and French doors, showering the floors. I skipped over to the three-tier serving platter stacked with fresh fruits to make my pick.
“Morning, buttercup!”
My bright regard shot up and ahead. Earl turned, first with his head over his shoulder then completely with a tight smile.
“And a good one it is, dear,” I singsonged, ending it on a smile bright as the reigning sun.
“My…” He whistled. “Looks like yours is starting out better than mine has.”
I snorted, neck jerking back. “The swanky itty-bitty food you’ve been feeding me has turned me into the same.” I backed away from the island to give him a full twirl and sashay, my arms reaching above my head to demonstrate the presentation of my body. There was nothing to see in the bulky housecoat, but that logic didn’t stop me. Yeah, I was being cocky about the melted pounds, but Earl seemed to always be about good fun.
“Girl, you’re looking nice and…” His purposeful crestfallen expression was timed perfectly. “…fluffy.” Earl went back to his work of placing the polished pot in a drawer. Laughing, I moved back to the island to decide on my first fruit of the morning. He turned back to me. “I can get your smoothie started.” His chin tossed to the green apple I finally grabbed. “You want me to slice that up for you to eat after your water?”
I’d forgotten about the nasty lemony potion that quickly, which was probably why Raj had it waiting for me by the bed lately. I took a deep breath, annoyed by the reminder of my cleansing commitment. That also cued my thoughts to return to the man himself.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Forgot about that nasty shit.” I plopped my chin on the back of my hands I clasped together with my elbows propped on the countertop.
“Morning, Earl,” someone greeted behind me. Then I felt a tap on my arm. “Hey, Wynter.”
It was Josh, walking in with his gym bag.
“Hey!” I greeted, happy to see him, but right away picking up on his glumness. Josh dropped his work duffle on the floor before pulling out a seat at the island. “You look pissy.”
Earl grabbed the apple from my hand as I spoke. “Morning,” he offered Josh. “Yeah. What’s biting you.”
Josh took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “I wish I’d known boss man pulled an all-nighter. I could’ve changed my schedule around before riding all the way out here.”
“An all-nighter?” I asked as my citrusy water was place in front of me.
Without delay, I began gulping it down, ignoring the strong bitter tang.
“Yup. The young maestro has pulled another shut-in and demanded everyone else to do the same.” Earl’s brows rose.
After the last guzzle, I slammed the glass on the countertop.
“Yo—” my words stumbled at a revelation. Ragee not coming to bed meant he’d been working all night. “You mean to tell me they’ve been working since ten a.m. yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” Josh asked, just as flabbergasted as I was.
Earl nodded with pursed lips. He was down for the chinwag as usual. Ordinarily, it was comical, but this morning, I was utterly shocked.
I turned to Josh, who ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, his cheeks puffed then hot air shot through his mouth, telling of his obvious frustration.
“I’m sorry, Josh. Does that mean your session is canceled?”
“I was told it’s been pushed back,” he muttered, regard somewhere in the air.
“And pushed back could mean later on this morning. If he’s lucky, this afternoon—”
“Or tonight,” Josh finished for Earl. “There’s no telling when that man gets stuck in the studio. Lucky for you, I caught Greg Philinganes and his people leaving about five minutes ago.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“He’s one of the people Raj’s working with for this new album, I’m guessing. You’re too young to be familiar with his work, but he’s played with the greats. Ragee, being the neurotic ass perfectionist I’ve been told he is, is on his shit if he kept that man in the studio this long. The gardener said Mark Kibble left at five, saying he had a family event he couldn’t miss this morning.”
“Who’s Mark Kibble?” My eyes bounced between the two men.
Josh shrugged, even furrowed his eyebrows, still annoyed.
“Young lady, you have lots to learn about
the industry you’ve married into,” Earl shook his head as he sighed. He pushed the apple wedger down onto a saucer, splitting the fruit into eighths. “I would say google these people, but you’ll be meeting them quicker than the results will load.” He handed me the plate of sliced apples. “He’s helping Raj with the vocal arrangement for this song they’ve been working on.”
“Which song is that important?” Josh’s thick brows met.
“An old jazz number, “Setembro,” Earl answered. “I heard bits of it while bringing in food last night before I clocked out.”
“And what’s so special about this track?” Josh still sounded argumentative. He was angry.
“It’s a remake of a nineteen-eighties song by a Brazilian artist—” He paused to think. “His name will come to me. Fine Brazilian brother—they all are, in my opinion.” Earl shrugged. “Back in the late eighties, Quincy Jones released it with other notable musicians and vocalists…Take 6.” His head tilted in the same direction it did when he mentioned the Kibble guy.
“And what does Kibble have to do with Quincy or Take 6?”
“Kibble is a member, honey. Keep up!” he snipped.
“I’m trying. I caught the correlation, at least,” I tried.
“Well, apparently, you aren’t catching many.” He tossed his chin in the same general area before wiping down the counter with a rag. “Raj and Kibble just produced an independent track together that was released last year. You ain’t know that either?”
Okay, now Earl is being just as crabby as Josh this morning.
“Nope!” I grabbed the plate and plastered a smile. “But what I do know is I’m down fourteen pounds, thanks to the neurotic”—I tossed my eyes to poor Josh—“unreasonable and inconsiderate client.” I frowned for sympathy then I turned to leave the kitchen.
“Your protein shake will be ready for you soon, Missy Thang,” I heard Earl call after me.
Quickly, I decided to head toward the studio. I couldn’t believe this man worked for almost a whole day. As I ambled there, chewing on an apple wedge, I tried remembering the last time I’d heard from Raj. That’s when I recalled I hadn’t since he said he had a session.
On my way there, as I traveled the long corridor extending the main house to the studio suite, bodies came my way. They looked to be dragging. A few of the men carried instrument cases. They nodded my way, but I could perceive the grumbles in their whispers to each other as they left for the “day.” They were exhausted, some zombie-like in their sloth movements.
Almost there, I noticed a short black woman with an elaborate head wrap, covering long locs. She carried a guitar case and was on the phone, but nodded as we passed.
“Mommy had to work late, baby. I’m on my way home now to take you to school,” her vocals pleaded to what I imagined was a small child.
Now in the suite, the closer I drew to the doors of the studio, I could hear soft music playing. Then it was stopped. As I opened one of the doors, it started again. I almost ran into two guys who were leaving out as I was coming in. They apologized with red swollen eyes, and one even on a yawn. By the time I made it into the main area where the gigantic mixing board was in the center, most of the room was cleared out, though Gary was still sitting there working. But the space was a mess. Chairs looking to have once been organized and placed together were in major disarray. Loose music sheet papers were spread on the floor, clearly dropped.
Leech, who resembled a beetle to me, was in the corner with a bag, tossing out empty water bottles and soda cans. I saw where there were trays of and an array of mostly eaten sandwiches, vegetables, and a sweets platter. It was clearly one of Earl’s presentations. And the room was rather cold. My neck swung all over, observing the chaos of music production.
So this is what an all-night studio session looks like?
“A’ight,” coarse vocals had me turning a ninety-degree angle. “Now run it from the second beat of that lift,” Raj ordered. “I want to up that chord progression.”
He was in one of the recording booths, encased with mostly glass. I couldn’t see his face because it was hidden behind a circular mesh screen attached to a microphone. But I could see he wore an off-white military styled cap. The music ran again, and after a few seconds of a seductive saxophone flow mixing with a gorgeous melody, Raj’s live silky chords ran with those already recorded. I didn’t understand what he was doing. What he was producing in the booth, releasing before my eyes, didn’t stick out from what was already on the track he sang over.
“Cut that shit, man!” he shouted over the track, after abruptly ending his notes. “Damn!” he hissed, resembling that same frustration Josh displayed back in the kitchen.
I heard rattling near me and turned. It was Leech, clearing gum wrappers from the floor.
“What’s he doing?” I whispered as Raj asked Gary to run it again from the same place.
“‘Bout to drive everybody crazy. We been at this since yesterday morning. Everybody left, and he still at it,” he mumbled while picking up trash.
I followed him a few feet toward the chairs clearly a live band had recently occupied.
“What’s he trying to get?” I bit into an apple wedge, being lighthearted in an obviously tense atmosphere.
“It’s like a seven-layer vocal track he tryna redo. Dude’s been singing all the melodies and arranging damn near a six-piece orchestra.” Leech shook his head, clearly exasperated. “Dude gone crash. A couple’a people did before he called it closed.” Taking a deep breath, he bent for more trash and walked off to continue his cleaning.
The track ran again. Raj sang, and again, he demanded it be stopped because he’d gotten the note wrong, I was guessing.
This time, with much gruff in his voice, he bit out, “I got it from here, G.”
After a few words in return from Gary, it was clear Raj was releasing him from the session. Gary stood from the mixing board, grabbed his hat and keys before he saluted the vast, mostly empty room, and left. Raj dropped the headphones on a metal hook near the microphone and exited the dim booth.
His head was low as he traversed over to the mixing board, face toward his feet. Ragee didn’t even notice me standing there. But I registered his approach, his scent, aura, and weighted steps over the wooden floor. I recognized the broadness in his chest clad in an off white long-sleeve cotton shirt clinging to each globular muscle on his arms, shoulders, and the swollen boxes of his breasts. He was delightful in shower shoes under long hard bowed legs covered by off white sweats.
“Well, good morning, favorite hubby,” I joked softly, but cheerfully as I snickered.
Raj stopped in his tracks, his head swung up and heavy eyes hit mine. His face was vacant, something I was used to. His eyes roved down my robe, making me wonder how many times he asked in his head what in the world was I doing in his studio wearing it. This morning, I didn’t care. I was happy. Raj couldn’t ruin it if he wanted to.
I pushed the small saucer toward him, extending my arms fully. “An apple a day…” I smiled. When he didn’t respond, I was reminded of his draining session. “I can have Earl whip you up some tea. I’m sure it’ll soothe your chords.” I hiked my brows for appeal.
Raj’s eyes dropped back down to the floor and he continued toward me at the mixing board. With one hand at the lip of the console, he leaned over it, studying colorful buttons and knobs. He punched a few, turned his cap to the back, and scratched his head underneath it as he observed a monitor that looked to be reading a pulse.
Resting against the board, I lowered my head. “I panicked when I woke up and you were gone this morning.” I slid an inch closer to him. “I had no nasty ass water.” I giggled alone, ignoring the faint smell of his cologne.
Way too dangerous to dwell on.
“I’m out, yo,” Leech announced curtly as he walked toward the main door. “I’mma be in the kitchen looking for grub if you need me.”
Raj offered him the same empty gaping he gave me. That’s when I notic
ed the bags underneath his eyes. His beard was unkempt yet deliciously wild, telling of his laborious night.
“Guess what?” I proposed, giddy. Raj’s heavy eyes rolled toward me. I bit off another bitter wedge and garbled, “Down fourteen pounds!” I paused with big eyes, anticipating a reaction. My face fell when it didn’t come. All I saw was his strong jaw bone flex from the movements just beneath his cheeks, the plumpness of his full lips unmoving. Now nervous, I laughed. That intimidation and doubt about us being cool today had returned. But I couldn’t let him smell it on me. I was determined to walk out of here with my spirit intact. I scoffed, “Welp, I’m going to take my one-hundred-seventy-eight-pound ass upstairs and throw on my workout clothes then take my smaller-in-inch ass and run that track because I’m about to be the old Wynter, a bad bitch, in about another month. Watch!”
Just as I was about to step off, Raj wrenched from over the board straight up on his feet and hovered over me. His head was cocked to the side, brows thick and almost meeting, his nostrils flared, and breathing perceptible.
“You need to watch your mouth,” he grated. “It’s fuckin’ filthy.”
My face fell and lips parted, pieces of apple peppered on my tongue. Before I could speak, Raj took me at the chin and crushed my frame with his weight. He pushed his tongue in my mouth and twirled against mine. My nose expanded, needing air from shock. I mounted on my toes, completely startled. When his left hand cupped the back of my head, a damn levy broke between my thighs. My legs wobbled, knees threatening to give.
Ragee was on me. He was devouring me with his mouth. His scented heat was all over me, and that quickly, it seemed as though I’d skipped cosmos. I was in the arms of a man, who wanted to ravish me—was ravishing me. Raj’s hand brushed down my chest through the robe, massaging my breast. His other hand moved to the back of my head, securing me again. In this universe, he was a man without the layer of opacity. He was being clear about his wishes. He wanted me.
