Heated Harmonies

by Alexandra Warren

  Of course, Grayson saw things in a completely different light when he asked, “She went through all that trouble to get you to work with her and you really think she’s gonna drop you over some shit with Shy? Zalayah might be upset, but I doubt she’s gonna ruin her new direction over your stupidity.”

  “Well even if she doesn’t, the comradery we had is probably long gone now,” I explained, thinking about just how quickly the tables continued to turn for us.

  I mean, I hadn’t been too hot on her from the beginning, but she had quickly and effortlessly managed to work her way onto my good side. We had a connection that was undeniable, both in the studio and outside of it which naturally led us into a more physical realm. And now we were at a place where she wouldn’t even take my calls and had stormed out of my apartment with intentions of never speaking to me again.

  It was all a mess. But it was clear Grayson wasn’t convinced it would actually stay that way as he simply replied, “Lemonade, G. Lemonade.”

  I paused the game, tossing my controller onto the table before falling back against the couch and releasing a heavy sigh. “I’m glad you can see the shit so positively cause it’s really fuckin’ with my head right now.”

  He peeked back my way with a half-hearted smile, and I was surprised to hear him be a little empathetic when he said, “Damn. You really like her like that, huh?”

  I nodded, knowing that was the only reason any of this really bothered me. If she was just any other girl, I wouldn’t have cared how she felt, wouldn’t have cared to even attempt to chase her down. But knowing she had come to me in a time of need and that I had let her down in that moment really messed with me.

  I could only hope that I wasn’t the only person she could turn to. But considering the issue was with her mother, I knew that chopped at least the top option from her list. And then there was the host of associates from the industry that I could assume she didn’t trust with information so personal meaning… damn, I really fucked this up.

  As if Grayson could read my mind, he offered, “If it’s supposed to be, it will be. And if not, I guess you’re stuck chasing tail with me down at The Black Market.”

  I rolled my eyes as I reminded him, “The last time I chased tail with you down at The Black Market, I ended up with Shy. And we see how that turned out.”

  The thought alone had me annoyed, but it only made Grayson’s smile grow wider as he suggested, “So maybe you don’t have to chase tail. But I still think you should come out with me. Take some stress off so you can really get this shit figured out.”

  While I knew a real stress reliever was exactly what I needed, I couldn’t help but turn down his offer. “I’m not in the mood for The Black Market, Gray. Too many familiar faces.”

  “Well how about The Max? It’s a little drive, but they got the baddest bartenders in the whole state,” he announced as if the shit was advertised as a tagline on the outside of their building.

  But thinking of that place only made me laugh since, “They got the feistiest bartenders too. Last time I went there, one of them got into a fight with a customer.”

  Grayson joined in on my laugh as he said, “I remember that. She used to be my favorite one too with her fine ass. But she doesn’t even work there anymore. She’s all over the small screen now.”

  I sat with the offer a few moments longer and realized there weren’t many cons for me to use as a scapegoat other than just being in my feelings. And since it wasn’t really an option to stay that way, I finally accepted the invitation, telling Grayson, “Well I guess if I can guarantee I won’t be running into fisticuffs, I can roll with you.”

  &

  “See. I told you this was a good idea.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more with my brother since I was actually having a good time now that I had gotten a few drinks in my system, the liquor numbing me to the point of being able to actually enjoy everything going on around me including the ass grinding against my quads. She was a twin, her other half keeping my brother occupied as he held his drink in the air and sang along to That’s What I Like by Bruno Mars, sounding more like a Making the Band reject than anything. But his singing was just a reflection of him enjoying himself, because that’s what we were here to do. And not even his half-assed vocals were going to ruin that.

  My eyes were trained on my twin as she dropped down to the ground in front of me, bouncing her ass up and down before popping back up to grind right against my dick. We had been at it for three songs straight which pretty much guaranteed I’d at least be buying her a drink for her time, but that was as far as our interactions would go since there was no way in hell I was adding anyone extra to the mess I already had going on.

  “That’s not what you’re here for, G,” I coached in my head, trying to remind myself that the goal was to relieve some stress, not add any more to it. But the stress still managed to show its ass up once Bruno Mars was mixed and switched out for Zalayah’s song. The party song we had done together. The song that almost instantly sobered me up while making the crowd go crazy.

  “Yo! They’re playing your shit in the club already, G! My brother is famous!” Grayson shouted over the beat - my beat - as he wrapped his arms around his twin and grinded against the bass I had intentionally added for moments like this. But what should’ve been a proud moment only made me feel somber since the song could easily be the last one we’d ever do together.

  I tried to shake off the thoughts, instead choosing to focus on the girl dancing in front of me instead of the one who had been invading my thoughts since storming out of my place a few days ago. But that was practically impossible once I heard the DJ announce, “We got Ms. Zalayah herself in the building tonight! Shoutout to you, baby!”

  I peeked up just in time to see him nodding towards the VIP section, my eyes naturally following the trail until I found Zalayah standing on a table singing along to her own song. She seemed… fine, happy even, as she used her hand like a rapper would do to emphasize every word she sang in the face of some guy below her before stumbling into him.

  Shit, is she drunk?

  Her hands were resting against his shoulders as she swayed her hips down to the ground, or the table, until she was eye level with him. Then she moved her hands from his shoulders to each side of his face as if… is she about to kiss this nigga?

  I could feel myself growing more and more angry with every second that ticked by, the closer she got, the dumber I felt for really thinking there was something special going on between us. Then again, I couldn’t be mad since I was the one whose actions with Shy had unfortunately said otherwise.

  Thankfully, before their lips could connect, she was pulled away by one of the ladies nearby who helped her down from the table. But she didn’t get far before the guy caught her by the wrist in an attempt to pull her back, giving her an offer she looked ready to accept until the lady tugged at her arm once again, guiding her back to a different booth in the VIP area.

  “So you’re a producer?”

  “Huh?”

  I snapped out of my surveillance on Zalayah to find the twin turned around, now with her arms wrapped around my waist. And I only halfway heard her when she replied, “Your brother said you’re a producer. That you produced this song. I’ve been trying to get into the music business, and…”

  I watched intently as the same guy from before leaned over the booth to slip something into Zalayah’s hand that she popped into her mouth like candy, washing it down with a cup of liquor that I had a feeling wasn’t even hers before giving her upper body an enthusiastic shake. And since I could pretty much assume what she had taken wasn’t candy, I stopped the twin mid-spill to say, “Hold that thought for me.” Heading in their direction with no real plan, but enough instinct to know something was off.

  Getting into VIP was a lot easier than it should’ve been. But I suppose the main guard was so occupied with the ladies trying to finesse their way into the area that he had easily missed me slipping past him. An
d after making my way past the sections littered with an assortment of musicians, social media personalities, and ball players, I found Zalayah dancing against the booth in a world of her own with a smile on her face.

  Well, until she peeked up at me.

  The smile was quickly replaced with a scowl when she turned her head, waving a hand in my direction as she shouted, “Ugh! Somebody get this nigga a drink! He’s way too uptight. Already killing my vibe.”

  While I wanted to be offended, I ignored the urge so that I could stay focused enough to ask, “Zalayah, how much have you had to drink?”

  She shrugged, closing her eyes and zoning out to the music as if she was trying to dismiss me. But for whatever reason, I felt inclined to press the issue, getting even closer to her to make myself clear when I demanded, “Answer my question, Rose. And what the fuck did you just take?”

  Again, she shrugged, this time waving a hand behind her as she answered, “I don’t know. Elijah gave it to me.”

  I shook my head in annoyance at her nonchalance, biting the inside of my cheek as I tried to figure out my next move, tried to figure out why I had taken on this role of protector in the first place. I mean, she obviously still wanted nothing to do with me. Yet here I was, grabbing her hand as I told her, “Zalayah, we need to get you home before that shit really hits you.”

  To no surprise, she immediately snatched away. “Nigga, you ain’t my damn daddy. Shit, I don’t even know who he is so maybe you are. I mean, you were definitely zaddy the other night,” she gushed, licking her lips as she ran her hand along the zipper of my jeans.

  If we were on better terms, the motion might’ve done something for me. But in this particular moment, especially with her being in the condition that she was, I could only scold, “Stop, Rose. You’re drunk. And high. And shit, this isn’t a good look. You need to get out of here before any more people see you like this.”

  I could only imagine how many Instagram and Snapchat videos of Zalayah dancing on the table were already going around, videos that outlets like TMZ and The Shade Room would snatch up and share in the blink of an eye. But that possibility meant nothing to Zalayah as she shouted back, “I’m not going anywhere! Did you hear that? They were playing my shit. That’s a sign that I’m supposed to be here.”

  “Who are you even here with? Who’s looking out for you? Where’s X?” I asked, glancing around the space to find the bouncers for the VIP area as the only visible security.

  As Zalayah continued to sway to the music, she slurred, “I’m goooood. I’m here with Elijah. He’s my friend.” Pointing in his direction before putting a hand on the shoulder of the girl next to her to add, “And she’s my friend too. Wait, what’s your name again?”

  “I’m Hope. Remember?” she replied with a smirk as if she found Zalayah’s behavior more amusing than anything, meaning she wasn’t a real friend at all. But I suppose the fact that Zalayah couldn’t even remember her name should’ve been the first clue.

  Still, she acted as if they were lifelong buddies when she repeated, “Yeah, Hope. She used to work here, but now she’s a doctor. We’re celebrating.”

  “Lawyer, babe. Lawyer,” Hope corrected with another smirk as Zalayah leaned into her for support.

  “Same difference,” she replied just as the song switched to something more up tempo, making her screech in excitement as she went into her own little world once again.

  She made an attempt to climb back onto the table, but Hope and I both caught her by the arm as I asked, “Do you know how much she had to drink?”

  “Maybe three mixed drinks. Oh, and a couple shots. Dark and light,” she answered with a clarity that meant she hadn’t consumed even half of what Zalayah had.

  But now that I had an idea of just how much damage was done, I shook my head as I muttered, “Damn, so she’s really fucked up.” Before I followed it up by asking, “Did y’all come together, or...?”

  This time, she was the one shaking her head. “No, she really did come with that guy over there. He’s the one who invited me into their section. But I didn’t come up here intending to play babysitter all night.”

  As if she had spoken him up, he headed our way, also notably not as drunk as Zalayah was when he asked, “Yo, is there an issue, my guy?”

  I immediately sized him up. And from the looks of things, I decided he wasn’t really equipped to handle any problems with me when I finally answered, “Actually there is, bruh. You’re supposed to be here with her, watching her, and you’re not.”

  What I expected to be a challenge only came out as an arrogant laugh before he replied, “First of all, I’m not here to watch anybody. Zalayah is grown, she can do what she wants. And second of all, we’re just here to have a good time, man. No harm in that.”

  “Maybe for you, but definitely for her. She has a career, an image to protect,” I reasoned as if I was her damn spokesman instead of her disowned… producer.

  But Elijah threw me a curveball when he suggested, “Or maybe this is the image she wants. Maybe this is the real her. I mean, you heard her new music, right?”

  “I produced it.”

  He seemed surprised by that fact, snapping his head back to say, “Oh, word? Dope beats, bro. Congrats.”

  Then he extended his hand for a shake that I couldn’t accept if I wanted to because, “This shit ain’t cool, man. You need to get her home.”

  He used the hand he had extended my way to brush me off when he insisted, “She’ll be aight. Nothing a little sleep and Pedialyte can’t solve in the morning. Ain’t that right, Z?”

  By the time we both looked her way, her eyes were already drifting off as if she was getting ready to pass out. And that seemed to be the alarm ol’ boy needed as he groaned, “Fuck. Time to go.”

  Hope noticed as well, shaking her head as she said, “We can take her out the back. Just… cover her head with this jacket or somethin’.”

  Elijah immediately sprang into action, tossing one of Zalayah’s arms over his shoulder as I took the jacket from Hope and draped it over the back of her head, giving her enough room to see. Well... if her eyes were even still open. Then I followed closely behind them, providing a light support against her back as we led her from the VIP area to a back exit where a car was already waiting.

  Hope held the door open as I helped Elijah slip Zalayah’s mostly limp body into the backseat. And once we had her in securely, he closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief when he said, “Whew. That was close.”

  I was torn between wanting to slap his ass for letting things get this out of control and wanting to be mad at her for even putting herself in this position to begin with. But once I realized neither one of those were really my business, especially now, I gave him a little pat on his shoulder as I told him, “Just get her home safely, man. That’s all I ask.”

  He seemed uncomfortable by my change in energy, nodding slowly as he agreed, “For sure, man. Thanks for the help.”

  I tossed a short, “Yup” over my shoulder as I made my way back inside, giving Hope her jacket before I made my way through the crowd to find my brother. And once I found him sandwiched between both twins, it hit me that coming out had been a bad idea after all.

  Zalayah

  “What the fuck, Elijah! Y’all were supposed to just go out and have a few drinks to knock the edge off. Not get passed out wasted.”

  “I don’t know if the alcohol alone did it, Ri. It might’ve been the uh… the party pill.”

  “The party pill? You gave her a molly? I could kill your dumb ass!”

  My eyes were still closed, but I could hear the argument happening on my behalf as I shifted against whatever surface I was laying on to relieve the pressure in my neck. I wasn’t sure how I had ended up this way, wasn’t even sure where I was. But one thing was for certain when I croaked, “Y’all know I can hear y’all, right?”

  I slowly peeled my eyes open to find both Amerie and Elijah standing near the edge of the bed, though Amerie wa
s the one who seemed most relieved when she sighed, “My God. You’re awake.”

  Elijah, Knox’s younger brother, stepped up towards where I was laying, running his coarse hand against my forehead with a half-hearted smile as he said, “My bad, Z. I didn’t think a little dose would have you tweakin’ so quickly like that. I just knew you were stressed out and I wanted to help you chill.”

  “Well, I’m definitely chillin’ now,” I groaned, squinting my eyes against the new light seeping into the room now that Elijah had changed location.

  He chuckled, only making my head throb even harder as he continued, “Thankfully your homeboy was around to help me get you out of there before shit got real rough.”

  “My homeboy?” I asked, beyond confused since I knew that list didn’t really extend beyond him and his brother Knox. And even Eli was a little questionable now.

  But he seemed confident when he answered, “Yeah, he said he was your new producer.”

  “My new producer? Gabriel was there?” I asked, an instant chill running down my spine as I thought about being in the same room as him for the first time since storming out of his apartment with no recollection of how it had even gone.

  Did I act as upset as I once was about him getting back with his ex-girlfriend?

  Did I cause a scene, cussing him out like the situation was still fresh?

  Was I all over him like none of that had even happened?

  While I panicked at the possibilities, things came together for Amerie as she asked, “Gabriel? He’s the one you…”

  “Fuck. This is bad,” I groaned as I pulled the cover over my head to block out the light, though I really wanted to block out everything.

  And as if things could get any worse, I heard an incredibly familiar voice shouting from a distance, “Zalayah! Zalayah, baby are you okay?!”