Diamond Life

by Aliya S. King

  “Shit, Alex, I don’t remember.”

  “Yes, you do. Think about it.”

  Z closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back to the tiny apartment in the Bronx. His mother away at work. His stepfather standing behind the sofa where Z pretended to be asleep.

  “Flowers,” Z said. “He smelled like a funeral home. I guess it was some kind of cologne. But it smelled like a sickly sweet perfume.”

  Alex nodded, scribbling.

  “Can’t stand flowers to this day. Didn’t let Beth have any at our wedding. Never go to funerals. Except for Kipenzi’s.”

  Z shuddered and then leaned back against the booth, closing his eyes and putting a hand up to his forehead.

  “Where’s your stepfather now?”

  “Dead.”

  “What happened to him?” Alex asked.

  The waitress appeared with omelets, turkey sausage, and toast. Z pulled a plate closer to him, leaned his head down, and mumbled a prayer. Z and Alex chewed in silence.

  “So what happened to your stepfather?” Alex asked again.

  “You’re like a rabid animal,” Z said. “You lock on to something and just don’t let go.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “You do realize that this is hard for me . . .” Z asked.

  “Yes,” Alex said.

  “I can’t tell. I tell you the most horrible details of my life. And you just nod your head and write.”

  Alex pushed her plate aside and slid her notebook back in front of her.

  “My job is to get a book out of you. Not help you deal with your demons.”

  Z nodded and went back to his omelet. Alex closed her notebook.

  “Z, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You’re right. I could be more sensitive about this. It’s just that in order for me to do this right, I have to sort of detach myself from it. I have to get the facts out of you, all of them. Even the painful ones. But I can do better.”

  Z smiled, his mouth packed with food.

  “Thanks,” he said, opening his mouth just enough to speak. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m assuming you’re going through your own shit too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alex asked.

  Z pulled out a copy of Rolling Stone. Birdie was on the cover, holding two fistfuls of cash. His mouth was wide, in a half- grimace, half-smile. Alex shrieked and yanked the magazine out of Z’s hand. She scrambled out of the booth and turned around in a circle.

  “Oh my gosh! Did you see this?!” Alex asked Z, turning the magazine around.

  Z laughed out loud.

  “Yes, Alex. I just handed it to you.”

  Alex looked around the diner as if she wanted to dash over to someone else’s table and show them the magazine. Then she seemed to catch herself and slid back into the booth, clutching the magazine to her chest. She peeled it back and stared at the cover of the magazine.

  “Did you know he was doing Rolling Stone?” Z asked.

  “I knew he did a shoot and an interview. Didn’t know it would be a cover,” Alex said, digging into her purse.

  “You need to call him right now?”

  Alex looked up at Z.

  “I’m sorry. So unprofessional of me. But my husband is on the freaking cover of Rolling Stone! I gotta tell him I’m holding it in my hand.”

  “Why didn’t he call you and tell you? I’m sure he’s seen it . . .”

  As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized he’d said aloud what he meant to say to himself. Alex gave him a look and excused herself from the table.

  Z mentally kicked himself. All his self-help work still went out the window when the green-eyed monster reared his ugly head. Z had done a double take at the newsstand when he was walking from his parking spot to the diner to meet Alex. He almost choked on his own spit when he saw Birdie on the cover. Z did a quick calculation and realized it had been ten years since his first (and last) Rolling Stone cover. Not counting being part of a montage of criminal-minded musicians. Dylan had actually included that cover on her list of press she’d secured for him that year.

  Z thought Birdie was cool. The “Fistful of Dollars” song was infectious. He’d even done a few freestyles to the beat as an interlude on Zander’s mixed tape. And he’d met Birdie a few times. Seemed like a cool dude. There was not a single thing Z could draw on to rightfully hate on Birdie. But he hated on him anyway. Especially when he slid into the booth across from Alex every week and watched her brush her hair out of her face. And when she cleared her throat and turned on her recorder with a certain grace that made his stomach knot up.

  It was cool for Birdie to have a hit song, magazine covers, and all of the trappings of fame Z had enjoyed for over a decade. But he had Alex too? Z watched Alex in the corner of the diner talking into her cell phone. He’d never seen her face look so alive. She was listening, throwing her head back and laughing, and then nodding her head vigorously.

  Alex returned to the booth and exhaled.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m sorry about what I said. About Birdie not telling you. That wasn’t called for.”

  “It’s cool.”

  “Is he excited?”

  Alex shrugged.

  “Dunno.”

  “Didn’t you just speak to him?”

  Alex shook her head.

  “He’s at a sound check. I was talking to his manager.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Z looked up. “What? Ah?”

  “Yes,” Alex said, her lips set in a straight line. “What do you mean by ‘Ah.’”

  “Don’t be insecure,” Z said. “It’s not good for your marriage.”

  “What can you tell me about marriage?” Alex asked.

  Z threw up his hands.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me because I know what’s going on at your husband’s ‘sound check.’ Some chick is sound checking his nuts.”

  Alex gasped. Z tried to pull back the urge to be petty. But it was too late. He was going in, whether he wanted to or not.

  “Now don’t get me wrong,” Z said, a sneer spreading across his face. “He’s probably not the mess I was. Unless he’s on crack. But please believe your husband is getting all kinds of ass thrown at him right now. And he’s catching some of it. And if he’s not right now. He will. Soon.”

  Alex narrowed her eyes, and Z saw her working her jaw and grinding her teeth. A certain level of numbness had washed over him, and suddenly he didn’t care that he was pissing Alex off. Or worse, hurting her feelings. He just felt like being brutally honest. He’d never come across an artist who remained faithful on the road. Not ever. And yet here was Alex, week after week, sitting across from him, assuming somehow that her husband was different.

  “Thank you, Z,” Alex said. “I’ll definitely take that into consideration.”

  Z expected her to sound teary and defeated. Instead, she was steely and determined. She wasn’t going to let him get under her skin. Which made Z feel worse than if she had burst into tears. Z dropped his head into his hands and lowered both to the diner table.

  “What is wrong with me?”

  “You’re jealous,” Alex spat.

  Z looked up.

  “You’re right.”

  “I know I am,” said Alex. “You’re on the tail end of your career and Birdie’s on the come-up. You’re hating.”

  “The main issue is that on top of all that he has you.”

  Alex slid out of the booth and took her jacket off the hook. She didn’t bother to put it on. She grabbed her bag and walked out. Z lumbered out of the booth and followed her.

  “Yo, Alex,” he yelled out. He was walking slowly up Atlantic. She was nearly sprinting.

  “Alex! Wait up!” Z yelled out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a photographer across the street training a lens on him. Z broke into a jog
and caught up to Alex easily. She was standing at the top of the subway steps and Z caught her by the arm just as she was about to run down. When he yanked her, she whipped around and jerked her arm out of his hand.

  “Wait,” Z said. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m attracted to you. I’m just going to put that out there. You’re gorgeous and smart and funny.”

  Alex glared at Z, her nostrils flaring.

  “And now that I’ve admitted it,” said Z, “I can let it go. I can assure you that I am very committed to my wife. It doesn’t make me a robot. And I would imagine it would be normal for a subject to feel an attraction to their cowriter. It’s an intimate relationship.”

  Alex’s face softened, just the tiniest bit. Z fought against touching her and lost. He grabbed both her wrists. She didn’t pull away.

  “Birdie and I have been trying to have a baby,” Alex whispered, her eyes on her feet. “It’s been really hard . . .”

  Z nodded and waited for Alex to continue.

  “I think I’m finally pregnant.”

  “Wow. Did you tell Birdie yet?”

  “No. I’m waiting until he comes home. I don’t want him to worry about me while he’s on the road. And plus . . . who knows what could happen . . .”

  Z lifted her chin with one hand, slipped it around to the back of her head, and pulled her close to his face. He kissed her on the forehead.

  “You’ll be fine,” Z said. “You should tell him. He would want to know.”

  Alex pulled back.

  “You really think Birdie’s cheating on me?” she asked.

  Why on earth did he say that to her? Z struggled to come up with something to say to smooth it all over.

  “Not necessarily, I just—”

  “Do you know any rapper who has remained faithful while out on tour? Please name me one, Z. Just one.”

  Z locked eyes with Alex.

  “Define faithful . . .”

  Alex closed her eyes. She pulled her wrists away from Z’s arms and turned to walk down the subway steps. Z followed her all the way to the train platform. He stood a few feet away from her, watching as she stood alone on the platform. She was still staring straight ahead when the train roared up and the doors opened.

  Z heard the recorded message: “Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” And he watched Alex fling herself into an empty seat. She looked up and saw Z standing there. They held each other’s gaze until the train was gone.

  I haven’t seen you in three weeks and I can’t even get a hug?”

  Zander didn’t actually want to hug Bunny. He was dead tired and ready to pass out after a near month out of town trying to write and produce in a few different studios with new producers. But the fact that Bunny was physically distant was a red flag.

  “I’m tired, Zan . . .” Bunny said. She yawned for emphasis and even threw in a halfhearted stretch. “Tomorrow I’ll give you all the—”

  “It’s not about what I want from your body,” Zan said in a sharp voice. “A hug and a kiss after a month apart just doesn’t seem like too much to ask.”

  Zander stopped speaking and waited. Bunny finally gave in. She walked over to Zander and threw her arms around his neck. She made sure to keep her body completely distant. A whole person could have stood between them in the space she made.

  Zander let her go and Bunny sat cross-legged on the bed. She took out weed and rolling papers and began making a joint.

  “You’re still smoking?” Zander asked.

  “When did you become my dad?” she said, offering the joint to him.

  Zander shook his head and pulled Bunny off the bed and to her feet.

  “Why are you acting like this?” Zander asked, pulling Bunny close.

  “I’m tired. I’ve been running around cross-country just like you have.”

  “You’re up to something,” said Zander. He leaned in closer to her face and grabbed her arm. “And you’re on something too.”

  “I don’t need this shit from you, Zander. I left my parents in Jamaica. Now let me go.”

  “You sure you don’t have something to tell me?”

  Zander watched anger flash in Bunny’s eyes. He knew what was going to happen, but he was two seconds too late to stop it.

  Bunny’s knee came up hard, landing right in Zander’s crotch. A tear spilled from his left eye. The throbbing pain was so intense that he immediately crumpled to the floor. He looked up and saw a pair of pointy-toed pumps near his face. She tapped him on the nose with one shoe.

  “Stop trying to control me, Zander,” she yelled. “And that didn’t even hurt, get up, you little—”

  Zander sprang to his feet and Bunny sprinted away, jumping over sofas and throwing pillows behind her to stop him from reaching her.

  “I’ma kill you, Bunny,” Zander said, still limping across the room, trying to catch up to her. “I’ve told you a million times. Don’t put your hands on me. If I hit you back, I’m wrong. And I go to jail.”

  “So don’t hit me back,” Bunny said plainly. She even had the nerve to shrug her shoulders when she said it. They faced each other, both breathing heavily. Zander grabbed both of her hands with one of his own and yanked hard.

  “You do not kick me in the nuts and think it’s okay,” said Zander. He yanked Bunny’s arms harder with each syllable he spit in her face: “That. Shit. Is. Not. O. Kay.” Zander glowered. Bunny smiled.

  “I’m done,” Bunny said. “I swear.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Let me go and you’ll find out.”

  “No.”

  “Let go of me, Zander. Now.”

  The air in the room got thick, tight, and tense. Zander refused to let go, holding on so tight that red welts formed on her wrists.

  “You’re putting marks on me, Zan . . . You know we can’t have that.”

  Zander still refused to let go, and Bunny twisted and pulled away, grunting and swearing.

  “Let. Me—”

  Zander released her arms. But she was pulling away so hard that when he finally let go, she ended up falling backward on the coffee table, rolling over it, and then hitting the ground facedown with a sickening thud.

  “Bunny!” Zander yelled out, rushing to where she lay, her face in a pool of blood. Bunny sat up and put her head in her hands, rocking back and forth very slowly.

  “Shit,” she whispered. “Get a doctor. Get somebody. My mouth. Damn, Zander.”

  “I’m calling 911,” Zander said reaching for his cell.

  “No!” Bunny yelled.

  “Why the hell not?!”

  “Are you crazy?” Bunny said, bringing herself to her feet while keeping her hands over her nose and mouth. She moaned and then sat down on the bed.

  “My face! Rob is gonna kill you! I have a show tonight, Zander.”

  Zander dashed into the bathroom, drenched a towel in hot water and went back to Bunny.

  “Hold your head back,” he said.

  “Shit, that hurts. Owwwww!”

  After mopping up blood spurting from her nose and mouth, Zander had a better idea of what was going on. Her upper lip was busted. And her nose was swollen to twice its size. Bunny grabbed the towel from Zander and spit into it. A blood-covered tooth landed in the middle of the red-stained cloth.

  Bunny and Zander looked up at each other in horror.

  “You knocked my tooth out,” Bunny said.

  “Are you kidding me?!” Zander yelled. “I let you go and you fell over! You know I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  “You should have just let me go like I said!”

  “You attacked me. As usual.”

  “Call somebody. Find a dentist. I have to get this fixed.”

  Bunny ran her lip around the gums where her front tooth used to be.

  “I don’t believe this shit.”

  “Stay right here,” said Zander. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going? Who are you going to call? Don’t call my manag
er.”

  Zander dashed into the hallway, filled up an ice bucket, and came back inside. He wrapped up ice in a clean towel and held it up to Bunny’s face.

  “Just shut the hell up and keep this on your nose,” he said.

  Zander picked up his phone, closed his eyes, and pressed a speed dial number.

  “Yeah, it’s Zander. I need help. Bunny had . . .”

  Zander looked up at Bunny, who was scowling at him.

  “Bunny had an accident. We need a dentist to get up here quick.”

  “Yeah, Bunny had an accident!” she screamed toward the phone. “Zander beat me up. Again!”

  “No!” Zander said into the phone. “I didn’t touch her, I swear. It was an accident. Just please send someone. You’re on your way now? Okay.”

  Zander was visibly relieved and he sat at the desk on the far side of the hotel room. Bunny propped herself up on the bed, a rolled-up towel behind her head for support.

  “What did your mom say?”

  Zander sucked his teeth.

  “I did not call my mother.”

  Bunny’s eyes widened.

  “You called your dad?! He’s gonna kill you.”

  “I did not call my father. Just chill.”

  Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Zander and Bunny traded a long look. Bunny stood up and tried to make it to the door before Zander could. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back down on the bed.

  “Chill out,” he said.

  Zander opened the door, while still looking behind at Bunny. Her face froze when she saw Jake walk through the door and for the briefest of seconds, Zander wondered why. Who else did she think he would have called?

  Zander sat on one side of the room, watching the dentist intently. Bunny clenched the sides of the armchair as the dentist inserted a needle full of novocaine. Jake stood up, his back against the door of the hotel suite, staring at Zander. Zander noticed that Jake was making a point not to even look in Bunny’s direction. He was completely focused on him.

  “Did you put your hands on her?” Jake asked, his voice weary and tired.

  “I swear to God, I did not—”

  “Never mind, Zander. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think the chick punched her own self in the face and knocked her tooth out. Something happened. And there were only two of you in the room.”