The Rhythm of Blues (Love In Rhythm & Blues Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  “Anyway!” she giggled softly. “I’m getting there. Don’t you worry. How’s my cousin treating you?”

  I stepped out onto the balcony and moved past Raj to the one available chair unoccupied.

  “Ain’t nobody thinking about your grumpy ass cousin.” Our eyes locked. “He better lay low. I can smother his face with a pillow while he’s sleep now that we’re in the same room, if he fucks with me.” Ragee’s messy brows lifted, a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. “How much longer will your grandmother be here?” I placed the call on speaker, laying it on the table.

  Then I reached over it for the tumbler I knew held Mauve. Raj watched with heavy eyes as I drank from it.

  “I don’t know. Raj asked me the same thing earlier. I forgot to call Evangelist Mary to snoop for an answer. Honestly,” Myisha’s voice was laced with concern, “I’ve never known her to be away from the church this long.”

  Raj’s eyes fell away from mine to the phone. It seemed like he processed that revelation.

  “Oh, okay,” I answered after swallowing the spicy juice.

  “I’ll call her in the morning when I know she’s up and about. But what are you doing up at the estate to keep yourself from dying of boredom?”

  My eyes were on her cousin when I answered, “Killing the Groupon game.” I smiled at him with my eyes.

  His expression was as quizzical as Myisha’s tone.

  “Huhn?”

  “I got my teeth whitened today. The best eighty bucks I’ve spent in a while.”

  This time, I included my mouth with my smile and exposed my teeth to Raj across from me. I saw as he peered over my choppers, but he gave no reaction to them.

  “Oh! You can do that with Groupon? I always wondered what that’s about. I see the ads for it when I’m surfing the net.”

  “Sounds like rich people’s ignorance, Myisha,” I informed.

  Raj laughed quietly. His smile was beautiful when I wasn’t the subject of his humor. In fact, his smile was magnetic either way. Before, I was too offended by his nasty vibes to notice.

  Myisha was laughing, too, just out loud. “You’re so crazy, girl! Anyway,” she tried to slow her hoots. “I gotta go. A business call is coming in. Listen, if Raj’s ass gets out of hand, I’m just a call away. I can get him right from halfway across the world.”

  “Will do. Have fun.” When I wanted to be more specific about the type of fun, I decided to disconnect the call.

  It could have been weird discussing sex in front of her big cousin. For most women, it was. I was the exception. I told Van about lots of my trysts.

  Ragee didn’t speak and neither did I. He broke our gaze by drawing the cigar to his mouth and pulling from it. He held in for a few seconds before blowing the smoke out into the air. That made me curious. I stretched across the table and reached for it gingerly. I’d smoked weed before and knew to err on the side of caution as I inhaled. It could have been from the sip I’d just had, his Mauve stained lips having just been on the butt of the cigar, or perhaps the flavor, but I sensed a hint of brandy in the taste.

  Raj watched me with muted curiosity. He sang more than he spoke around me other than when he was bossing me around in his gym, so I was used to his silence. After taking another pull, I handed the stogie back over to him.

  I licked my lips. “The combination is robust…flavorful. I see why you like them together.”

  He nodded his acknowledgement before drawing from it himself again.

  “I have another proposition for you.” Raj scoffed, his attention still on the glistening lake ahead. Then his eyes rolled back over to me. “I’m in a jam.”

  “What kind?”

  “I need an attorney for my uncle. He’s how I…” I rubbed my chin, being careful of my words. “I got into bed with Mike Brown. Mike was supposed to help me out with a lawyer, but the one he recommended has been negligent, to say the least.”

  His brows met. “Who he hook you up with?”

  I shrugged with a heavy heart. “Some Marcus Greene guy. Van’s seen him only twice in four months. He keeps postponing going in front of the judge with bullshit reasons.”

  “Who’s Van?”

  I rolled my eyes, realizing I’d gotten ahead of myself. “My uncle. He got arrested in September. It was pretty bad. Still looks bad, but Mike has me convinced that with a good lawyer—the right lawyer—we can beat the case.”

  “That’s when y’all planned this fake marriage shit?” his deep tenor was inquisitive versus indignant.

  “He planned this. Seemed to already have it worked out when I met him and found out what he wanted me to do in exchange.”

  Slowly, Ragee nodded as his eyes went back out into the dark cold. How he only sat out here in a hoodie was beyond me. I’d started getting cold and rubbed my hands together. Then I thought of his brandy and grabbed the glass for more.

  “Sip,” he croaked. When my face fell and brows rose, he amended, “You sip Mauve, not gulp it down like a B-Way Burger.”

  At the mention of that, my eyes closed and I moaned feverishly. “Why’d you have to mention B-Way? I’ve been dying for a double with double cheese!”

  When I opened my eyes, Raj looked legit disturbed by the sudden appearance of my inner fat girl. My eyes rolled away in shame.

  “What do I get in return?”

  “Huhn?” My eyes raced to him.

  “This lawyer for your family. I’m sure you ain’t got the bank to pay for it, and you said this was a proposition. What do I get out of it?”

  “Oh!” I licked my lips, preparing. “You don’t have to train me anymore.”

  He choked on a laugh. “What?” And there was that glint of amusement in his eyes. Damn, he was beautiful when he wasn’t grimacing.

  And sometimes when he did…

  “We’ve been at it for a few days now. You’ve taught me enough to stay at it alone. I know you’re a busy man and have better things to do with your time—especially now that your grams make you go to bed at ten at night.” I snickered. Raj’s eyes narrowed, but one half of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Just kidding. Seriously, I don’t want to be a burden. We can take off the training wheels.”

  “You think you learned enough about fitness in what…days?”

  I shrugged. “Enough to get out of your hair for a few weeks, at least. If I have any questions, I can hit you up. Or Josh.”

  With his regard in the navy blue sky, Raj shrugged with his lips and sat back in the chair. For a while he didn’t speak. I was too cold to sit through it as usual.

  I stood to my feet. “I’m freezing and tired as hell,” I shared, grabbing my phone then rounding the small table. “I know it’s not the most compelling proposition, but it’s all I got. Think about it and let me know.”

  He didn’t respond, and I wasn’t pricked when he didn’t. It was who my fake husband was. Weird, rude, and sexy as sin.

  “Now take the keys out and let the drum and bass stay,” I told Gary. He clicked a few switches and turned a knob. “A’ight. Now play it back.”

  He did, and as the rhythmic vocals poured through, my phone lighting up at the lip of the mixing board caught my attention. I used my hand to slice my neck and Gary killed the volume.

  “Yo,” I answered.

  “What it do, buzzin?”

  “Ain’t nothing, Young.” I sat back in my seat. “Whaddup with you?”

  “Handling mine. Just got off a conference with the team. We ‘bout to do something epic.”

  “L.I.T. Music? Word?”

  “Been tryna tell ya ass to come over to the L.I.T. team,” he warned and I laughed at the double entendre.

  I still wasn’t with the idea of leaving my current label only to be a slave for a new one.

  “What y’all got going on over there?”

  “I finally got Hunter with a boot camp idea.”

  “Word? Tell me more.” I stretched back in my seat, rocking it.

  “We snatching new, unsigned, and talent
ed pens and producers across the globe—about fifteen of them—and throwing them into a L.I.T. University type of setup. We gone give them the tools and know-how of track making from concept to publishing. Those that finish the three-week program will be offered a deal with the label.”

  “Exclusive?”

  “Yup. Something like a two year. He got legal working it out. But the advantage is being taught for those three weeks by the top in the industry. They’ll spend time with our top writers, producers, and engineers, honing their skills. We even got a few of our artists wanting to contribute to the curriculum. I’m gonna cover production for a few days.”

  “Word?” I smiled, teasing, “I could get three days under the tutelage of one Young Lord?”

  “Fuck outta here, nigga.” Young laughed. I was teasing him, but Young had been ranking lately. He was now a L.I.T. executive, making boss moves. I was mad proud of him. “Nah, but for real. You know we just signed a few new artists, and shit. Even got a new male group. They gone be the new 112…Boyz II Men. Feel me on that. You heard of B City?”

  “Yeah. The kids out of Newark.” Well, one was not. The lead singer, Teke, was from Cranford. I used to play the keys and guitar with his older brother, Sean.

  “Oh, right. Lil Teke said he gone be the next Ragee.” He laughed at that. “Dude straight introduced himself like that when we met them last summer.”

  Even though there was nothing foul about his humor, I didn’t find it funny. Teke was a talented singer and musician—he, too, played piano, guitar, and drums—but he had a jealous and arrogant aura to him. I was sure women in general thought he was a good looking kid, but dude sold his green eyes and light skin along with the gift of music. Sean would get into fights with him over the instruments they shared when I’d come over to practice with him and his crew. He was a damn cry baby, too. But that was over fifteen years ago. The kid was about fourteen or so then. I was happy to see him snatch a deal.

  “When y’all kicking it off?”

  “In a couple of months. We’re not tryna waste no time on this. The industry is primed for good music. This how we lock in talent. I was calling to see if you got anybody in mind to sign up. I know ya man, Leech, master your studio.”

  “Oh, nah. Leech ain’t in production. Don’t even care to be. Nigga don’t even like people.” I laughed and Gary did, too, next to me without knowing why I said what I did.

  “Got you. Anybody else? I just wanna get some names to pass over to the point person.”

  I scratched my head as I considered that. Gary was my engineer and was eating good off our business, I knew he wouldn’t be interested. What Young was offering was a dope deal. It reminded me of Bad Boy back in the day when they had a team of writers and producers in their camp. Their artists didn’t have to leave the label for music. L.I.T. Music would have its own hit factory.

  “Yeah. Wynter may be interested.”

  “Who that?” he asked. “A new artist of yours?”

  I chuckled. “Nah, man. Wynter. My wife!” It was more like a question, because the title was strange to roll from my tongue.

  “Oh.” He mumbled. “Oh!” That must have been when recognition hit. “She in the industry?”

  “Nah. Tryna be. Just need some coaching.” Shit… “Lots of coaching. I’ve been trying to figure out where to start with her. This sounds like something I can leave to y’all.”

  Young was quiet for a minute.

  “You good with that come up?” His tone was cautious. Lord remembered no one knew Wynter and I weren’t legit.

  My eyes skirted over to Gary next to me on his phone. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to my conversation anymore.

  “No sweat off my back.”

  Young Lord got quiet again.

  “I looked into her…before Christmas.”

  I sat up to reach for my water bottle, keeping my tone and movements casual. I was anything but. Back then I couldn’t give a damn about my boy looking into Wynter because I played her at a distance. I sent over the contract she and Mike signed to my legal team, who confirmed it was legit, something Mike was pissed about. He’d had his lawyer draft it. But I didn’t trust Mike anymore, so I did what I had to do. Especially because the only thing Wynter countered in the contract was that I be tested for drugs and STDs. It was weird, but I made it happen. Getting tested for sexually transmitted diseases was something I was always game for and did on the regular.

  But now that she’d been in my bed—and in my head—hearing the caution in his tone concerned me.

  “You just now getting back to me?”

  “That’s because she came up legit. She got family that run a little, but she legit like she said.”

  My body went limp all over as I let out a silent breath. Even my damn eyes closed in relief. I had to quickly get myself together in front of Gary.

  “That’s what’s up. I ‘preciate that.”

  “I would say anytime, but…”

  That cracked me the hell up. “I feel you, man. Look, get back to me when y’all ready to roll it out. This sounds like L.I.T. ‘bout to take over the world,” I joked.

  “You be knowin’,” he sang. “One.”

  “Later, man.”

  When I hung up, I took a minute to think about things. I told Wynter I’d help her with her music, little weight loss goals, and now a lawyer to get her family out of a bind. It all sounded like the role of a husband. Out of nowhere, I fell back in my chair laughing.

  “What up, killa?” Gary asked with one brow in the air.

  When I could stop enough to speak, I hit him with, “Bitches be the set up…get wet up…

  Let you nut up…then burn you the fuck up.

  They seduce you with that shit…”

  Without question, Gary continued.

  “Stroke ya dick…then have they hands all up in ya pocket.

  Shit, I know we all got our hustle and I ain’t tryna knock it.

  But to the crack bitch, groupie bitch—and corny bitches, y’all be the same…

  Stay the fuck out my hustle because, man, all y’all be fuckin’ lame.”

  “Word.” I reached over and smacked his palm, giving him a dab.

  “Young was a fool for that one,” he declared.

  “My dude.” I turned back to the board. “Let’s get this wrapped up before six. Gotta standing dinner date with the fam.”

  We slipped back into work right away, and I fought to get her out of my head. She’d been occupying too much room up there.

  As two wicker flames lit in a jar…

  My heart dances when you come to mind.

  No. Not love or crush, by far…

  Just some random ish that’s developed over time.

  No.

  I erased the last two lines, refusing to bring love or crushing into the equation. Didn’t make sense.

  Similar to this poem…

  “Ughhhhhhh!” croaked from the back of my throat as I grabbed my hair, pulling it by the roots.

  I gotta get out of here…

  Immediately, I pushed away from the laptop and desk in the second floor study, and jumped to my feet. I trekked over to the closed set of glass doors and gazed out at the endless rows of trees outlining the developed portion of the property, seeing how far it stretched beyond the house. Suddenly, I realized I had missed this view from when I stayed on this side of the house. I saw the pool, covered in blue square rows. The tennis and basketball courts were separated by changing shades of red, pink, yellow and orange roses climbing the vined gate. Almost out of my vista was a gazebo filled with ferns, flowers, and a stone fountain sat in the center. Three benches circled it.

  I watched as the groundskeeper cleaned the fountain, removing leaves and other collected debris. Toward the right of him was a path leading out to an area Myisha didn’t include during the tour of this place. I recalled her saying there was a horse ranch on the property, but I didn’t see it that day.

  I gulped in a heap of air then inspira
tion spun by pure boredom had me grabbing my phone. I made a dash out of the study and down one of the sets of curved staircases, to the back of the house for the coat closet. After what felt like traveling through a damn mall, I was out the door on the stone patio and down the stairs for one of the many paths leading to the rear of the property.

  En route to the beaten—or unbeaten—path, the grounds guy caught me in his periphery and waved kindly, even tipped his wide brimmed hat. With a bright smile, I waved then pulled up the neck of my coat, already feeling a brisk wind pushing against me. I sauntered into more trees, then a beautifully aesthetic path of manicured flowerbeds then bushes. And then more trees.

  I walked and walked, neck snapping at each sound of crackle I heard. There was nothing else better to do, I figured, so I kept going, and the house in a shrunken distance eventually neared. Not even that stopped me. Oddly, there was something about this pilgrimage that felt safe. Peaceful like each facet of the McKinnon estate. So, I pulled out my phone and snapped a few pictures for Instagram. This type of nature had to be shared.

  More than my curiosity carried me, the wonder of controlled nature did also. It was clear to me with each step that Ragee paid a premium for maintenance on this place. I strolled and strolled and strolled, a good half mile, at least. Even when the path turned from pebbled to gray gravel, I kept going until the ground changed again, this time to a rich hue of soil…and that’s when I saw the winding wood rail fence leading to a…

  Barn?

  I hadn’t seen too many in person, but had enough in books and on TV to be able to identify one. This one was sleek. The barn seemed to be attached to a modest-sized ranch by a small extension, similar to the one in the main house connecting the recording studio suite. Both the ranch and the barn were made of black and burnt-orange wood—pretty contemporary. I stopped and glanced all around me. This had to still be Ragee’s property. Myisha said the house sat on about nineteen acres. The thing was, I had no idea if where I stood included that acreage count. But I had to get closer, so I continued this voyage to a pathway leading to the structure.