The Rhythm of Blues

by Love Belvin

  “I don’t know. Maybe why did you wait until now to start losing weight.”

  Without a hint of a smile, she came back with, “I don’t know. Maybe because I now have the lifestyle to do it. For years, I was in the rat race, similar to you, only my accumulation was in tens and not millions, so I had little time for personal recreation.” She tossed her hand into the air, shrugging. “It took a year and a half to put on and I never got the time to address it.”

  “So, you weren’t always this size?” Wynter shook her head, her eyes going over to the fireplace in the living room.

  That one room lit up practically all the common areas of the suite.

  “I got into a car accident. Pretty bad. Tore my ACL from banging the side of my knee. That set me back for a few months.” With pouted lips, she inhaled deeply. “Then I let depression set in while out on medical leave. When that was up, one hundred percent healed or not, I had to go back to work. The rat race.” She smiled tightly.

  Wynter always kept things light. Except with me. When I kicked it with her, she didn’t make me feel humor was a part of the equation.

  “Anybody with you in the accident?”

  She cleared her throat, sitting up and closing the shirt around her cleavage. “No. Just me.” And there was that crafty smile again. Wynter was nervous about the topic. “And thank God. I was a mess all by myself.” She began to fiddle with the cap of the water bottle, eyes squinting as she studied it. “So grateful no one else was involved.”

  “How much you still wanna lose?”

  “I was almost one hundred forty-five pounds before the accident. Had been maintaining that for a while.”

  “You’ve lost a lot of weight. You’re good—look good. Why the push?”

  She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t feel like it was toward me, probably the subject.

  After taking a deep breath, she answered, “Because I need to get it off of me. The weight’s turned me into someone I don’t know. I held on to it so long, it feels like more than my appearance changed.”

  “Like what?”

  Her eyebrows arched high. “My libido for one. I haven’t craved sex like I used to.” Her chin and eyes dipped, but those brown irises rolled back up to me. “As you can see, sex is…something I enjoy. The weight tampered with that. Zapped my desire for it.”

  “Or maybe you ran across a man who brought the craving back out of you.”

  Wynter paused for a second then leaned her head to the side. “You know that’s your first time openly flirting with me?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And I like it. You should do it some more.”

  “You should do me some more.”

  I had no idea why I said it. Only knew I meant it. It felt natural.

  Wynter pushed back from the table and stood from her chair. She opened my shirt that was twice her size and let it fall to the floor. My eyes blew up when she crawled onto the table, moving plates, bottles, condiments, and other things out her way until she got to my end and did the same thing.

  When her path was clear, she reached down for the waist of my boxers, telling me to pull them down. My hesitation was only for a second and I pushed them down until my dick plopped out. We watched the barbell on my head shrink as my dick expanded. I had no idea what she was going to do. I was down with whatever Wynter had in mind; that’s what this thing had evolved into. I was drawn to her. Wanted a connection with her. The problem was, I couldn’t define it.

  She leaned from the table until her hands gripped the sides of my chair.

  “What made you get this?” She tapped one of the balls.

  My cock twitched. I sucked in a breath.

  “That a conversation you wanna have now?” My voice was strained, I wanted her so bad again.

  Again…

  Wynter smiled cunningly before her head dipped and she put her warm mouth over the head of my cock, rolling her tongue around and around. The pressure she applied on the barbell had my head spinning. My eyes blurred and I could feel myself get even harder in her mouth. Not only did Wynter like sex, she was nasty, too. She licked her juices off me from earlier in the hall.

  But I was good. Nothing felt off or weird about her wanting me again. Maybe because I wanted her, too. That was it, I’d decided. I sat back in the chair, sighing from her head game.

  Like I said… Dangerous.

  I rubbed the last of the moisturizing cream into my hands before pulling the blanket back on the bed. I could still hear the shower running from the bathroom. Exhausted, I plopped down on the mattress, my feet still on the floor. I inhaled deeply, acknowledging my exhaustion. It was two in the morning, and good rest was nowhere in sight—not until Monday, at least, when I’d be back at the estate.

  Before showering, I spoke with Tina about my hair and makeup for the events we had tomorrow. A music enrichment luncheon in the early afternoon and two pre-Super Bowl parties at night had my feet throbbing already. But it was my obligation, what I’d signed up for.

  “That’s my side of the bed,” his thick chords trickled.

  Raj looked good as fuck in just boxers. Gray cotton clung to his sculpted thighs, the elastic waist interrupting his silky trail down to my newfound happy land.

  “My bad.” I swallowed, unable to look away from his strapping frame standing in the doorjamb. “I was just uploading an IG story about what your cum tastes like.”

  He chuckled softly, pushing from the frame and sauntering toward the bed. I scooted back, making room for him.

  “You know,” I rearranged the pillows behind me, “I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing you naked.”

  Raj paused from grabbing his phone from the nightstand. His face folded tightly. “Nah?”

  “Uhn-uhn.”

  “We gotta do something about that then.” He sat back against the headboard. “C’mere.” He took me at the arm, yanking me gently. “Let’s see what buzz we stirred up today.”

  I scooted close to him. “Mike texted me saying some shit about good job.”

  Raj growled, his way of dismissing the topic of Mike Brown. I was all too glad to oblige.

  “Let’s start with IG,” he hummed his words that sounded melodic.

  He tapped to open the app then scrolled down his feed. A text popped up.

  Heather: Hey. You okay out there with her? Something down in my spirit don’t agree with this.

  I could tell the moment Raj caught onto the tone of her message. He rolled his thumb up to dismiss it then continued his scroll down Instagram.

  I licked my lips. “I think you should respond.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s worried.”

  “I’m good.”

  “She doesn’t know that. She doesn’t trust me.” I reared my head to peer up to him. “Can’t exactly blame her. This shit is…unusual.”

  “So is my life. Heather don’t get it, and it’s all good.” He continued to scroll. “She’s married. I ain’t exactly her problem.”

  “She’s positioned herself as your bestie.”

  “She was—is.”

  “Which is it?”

  His eyes rolled over to me suspiciously. “You asking as my wife?”

  “No. The outside chick.” I squeezed my eyes closed.

  Why the fuck did I say that?

  “I’ve never laid a hand on Heather since she’s been married—before she got married.”

  “Neither are you gay.”

  “What?”

  “You’re not gay, but you’ve gone to great lengths to prove you aren’t.”

  “And?” I had his full attention now.

  “And you should extend your bestie the same courtesy.”

  “So, tell her what’s been going down between us?”

  I nodded. “Myisha, too. Why hide?”

  “Because that ain’t my steeze. Ain’t never been. Who I have sex with is my business.”

  “So, why marry a stranger to give the world an illusion of who you’re
having sex with?”

  “You know why.”

  I licked my lips, shaking my head. “I don’t, really.”

  Our eyes locked for seconds long. It was something I didn’t get. Gay had never been a strong suspicion since I’d enter his world—weirdo, hell yeah! But why go through all of this to disprove something as ludicrous as that notion? He had gay friends and staff, whom he didn’t condemn. What was the big deal?

  His phone rang in his hand. Raj’s eyes retreated to it first, I followed.

  Young

  “Yurp!” he answered, releasing a string of air from his nostrils.

  I’d struck a chord.

  “What it do, buzzin?” Young Lord returned. “Sound like you in the bed.”

  “I am.”

  “My bad. I tried calling earlier, but got sidetracked on some bullshit.”

  “It’s all good. Just chillin’, kicking it with Wynter.”

  There was a delayed reaction to that.

  “In bed?” Young asked.

  Raj scoffed, “Yeah, nigga. Don’t you and Kenny share one?”

  Raj didn’t get it, but I did. He’d told Young Lord about our arrangement, just as, I could tell, he’d told Heather. He had to. That realization chipped at something in me. It was kind of fucked up.

  “Oh, word?” Raj’s surprised ring had my attention going back to him. He’d been peering down at me. “Let me ask her.” He moved the phone inches from his ear. “L.I.T. Music is looking for in-house producers: musicians and writers. They’re holding a camp for a select few of heads new in the industry that’s been making some noise. You want in?”

  My face tightened in confusion. “Am I being invited?”

  He shrugged with warmth in his eyes. “Kinda.”

  “How?”

  “I told Lord about you wanting to write.” His closed mouth lifted. “Guess he kept it in mind.”

  Well, that was overwhelming. Young Lord keeping me in mind. I had to get used to this new universe. But how? Ragee. Young Lord. They both knew me by name, and I so happened to be married to one of them.

  Un-fucking-real!

  I swallowed deeply, half way unable to process it. “Sure.”

  He brought the phone back to his ear. “She’s down. When is it again?” I heard rumbling from Lord’s end. “Oh. That’s only a few weeks away.” Raj’s eyes met mine. “Second week in March. You good with that?”

  Mentally, I shrugged. “Why not?”

  “She good. Do I need to call somebody?” He nodded, listening. “Okay. Then it’s all goodie. Good looking out, Young. ‘Preciate you.”

  Within a few seconds, the call ended. Raj went back to Instagram and I, into my head. I don’t know how long I stayed there.

  “What’s up with you?” he asked. When I glanced up at him, I saw he was still into his screen.

  I was partially clothed, lying beneath Ragee McKinnon as he cruised social media. This was a form of domestication I couldn’t even dream up. But there was a bigger issue plucking at me.

  “Just find it fucked up how you’re able to tell people about our arrangement, but if I do, my kids and great-grands will be indebted to you.”

  Raj’s eyes snapped to me and his brows narrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

  Casually, I took a breath. “You told Heather about us.”

  “I didn’t tell her—”

  “And Young Lord. You did. Please don’t lie.” Raj scratched his head. “Did you tell your Pastor yet? I’m sure his reaction was one for the books.”

  “No.” He scoffed. “I haven’t said anything to him.”

  “Why, church boy?” my tone lazy. “You don’t tell clergy the biggest fib of your life, but you spill the beans to your besties: male and female.”

  Raj chuckled. He dropped his phone on his lap and gripped both sides of his head while it rested back against the headboard.

  With humor in his vocals, he admitted, “I know this is messed up, but it wasn’t something I came straight out and told either of them. Heather’s different. She can sense shi—stuff. Hearing I was dating then marrying out of the blue confused her. I told her what the deal is without giving too much away. And with Lord…” He shook his head. “I hid from my friends for months after the marriage thing. I couldn’t face them. Like with Ezra, I couldn’t lie to their faces. I still don’t know how I’ve been able to keep avoiding him.”

  “Because deep down inside, you know he doesn’t believe you anyway,” I murmured. I could sense that.

  “He can see right through me whether I like it or not.”

  “Like Pastor McKinnon?”

  He shook his head. “She ain’t as sharp, but she’s a seer, too. Once in a while she can be spot on. And other times—when it matters the most—she can be blind as hell.” I felt the burn from the acid in his words. There was something behind that.

  “But you respect her enough to lie to her.” I understood.

  He gave one affirmative nod. “Ezra, too.”

  “I get it,” I breathed into the air, my eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

  Lying could be so damn taxing.

  “Why? You’ve told people?”

  I licked my lips as I shook my head. “I’ve got nobody I owe that to.”

  “But your uncle, Van?”

  “He’s a prince liar. He’s never told me everything. It’s been a trait of his I’ve adored and resented at the same time.”

  He scoffed, “If he’s the prince, who’s the king?”

  “His father.” I swallowed. “My grandfather.”

  After a beat, he asked, “Who’s the queen?”

  I froze at that inquiry. This was a road I didn’t want to travel. I turned from on my back to face him, letting out a breath of exhaustion on the way. My eyes met his. “Let’s just say I have no interest in gaining the crown.”

  “Sounds cryptic.”

  I shook my head, lips parted, and my gaze sharp on him. “No. You are.”

  I stretched out, leaving from his arm. Sleep was finally banging at my door.

  “You can go from zero to a hun’ned. I wonder how your boyfriends get around that,” he posed behind me.

  “I wouldn’t know. Too old for boyfriends,” I mocked.

  I could hear Raj chuckle behind me. Seconds later, the light was turned off and we were shrouded in darkness, but for the glow of light streaking in from the living room fireplace.

  Slowly, my eyes blinked open to the darkness as I lay on my belly. I couldn’t remember my last thought before knocking out or detail of the dream I’d just awakened from. Something beckoned my consciousness. Inhaling deeply, I straightened my folded leg and turned my head so the right side of my face lay on my crossed arms under the pillow.

  My head jolted when I made out his silhouette, sitting up high on the stacked pillows, peering down on me while lying on his side. Raj appeared ruminative, and…wide awake. I patted my right hand toward the nightstand for my phone. When I felt it, I turned to look at the time. It was after four in the morning. I put the phone back and faced him again, not knowing how to ask, “Why the hell are you behaving like a murderous psycho at this hour?”

  “I like you,” he spoke so softly, but his words were crisp.

  “Well, I hope you do,” I moaned, wiping my tight eyes. “Three years is a long time to be married to a douche bag.”

  With my eyes now clearer, I faced Raj again and found his face dropping as he shook his head.

  “Nah. Like, I really like you.” There wasn’t a hint of a smile on his face.

  I blinked, the fuzz of my sleeping brain clearing. “Oh…”

  He droned with thick morning chords, “I don’t mean it romantically. Like… I’m good when I’m around you. I don’t like it, but I can’t shake it either.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I whispered, jarred by this exchange.

  “Don’t be. Just don’t make me regret it.”

  My eyes ran rapidly across his face. Raj was deathly serious.
<
br />   “I won’t. I swallow. Remember?”

  His eyes closed and his head retreated as he fought not to laugh. Meanwhile, my heart trembled from the gravity and shock of this announcement. Before I could think about it too much further, his hands reached and hooked me under my arms, and I was lifted and dragged on top of him. Without provocation, I straddled him, laying my head on his chest.

  “Guess I can’t expect a second of uncomic conversation from you, huhn?”

  I adjusted my pelvis over his; his heated and delicious scent propelled me to want to feel him against me again.

  “Not when you’re this hot and use words like uncomic.”

  I could feel him chuckle beneath me, his abdomen vibrating as I yawned.

  “So, I can’t be sexy and know how to throw words together?”

  I shrugged.

  “You know how to speak—well. You don’t see me clowning you,” his thick timbre echoed across the big room.

  “Well, maybe I use big words to compensate for you not using but two to communicate to me the first three months of our fake marriage.”

  “Touché,” he murmured.

  “Can we go back to sleep now?” I yawned, snuggling against his brawny frame. “This is incredibly comfy, by the way.”

  For a stretch, he didn’t speak. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him.

  “What’s your favorite color?” the sound of his voice was so tender.

  “Silver.”

  “Silver?”

  “Mmmmhmmm,” I moaned.

  “That’s weird. Never heard anybody say silver’s their favorite color.”

  “It’s a winter theme. My names are winter-themed.”

  There was an extended pause.

  “Your last name is Blue. Right?”

  “Uhn-uhn. McKinnon.” My body tremored from a silent laugh. “Yes.”

  “What’s your middle name?”

  “Haile with a silent e at the end.”

  “Damn.”

  I lifted my head on his chest, though I couldn’t see much of him. “Damn, what, church boy?”

  “All season-themed names. That’s cold.”

  I lay my head back down, trying to find my comfort again. “That’s winter.”

  His hand reached down and began rubbing my back. I hummed again. This was heaven. I was on the verge of sleep in no time.