The Real Deal
Copyright 2016 Alexandra Warren
Cover Art by Visual Luxe
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real locations, people, or events is coincidental and unintentional.
Acknowledgements
Thanking God first, knowing none of this would be possible without his blessing.
Lots of love to everyone that continues to ride with me through this author journey. You guys are absolutely amazing!
Also, shoutout to CCJ for naming these characters… and this book lol. Continue to be a rockstar, sis!
The Real Him
Reagan
Of all days…
I sat in the coffee shop just staring at the screen of my laptop that held nothing but a blank document; unless you counted my cover page for something. I was supposed to be starting the first draft of my grant proposal for the community center that had somehow gone from a volunteer position to a full-time job, but my fingers thought it’d be a better idea to just rest on the keyboard like ten lazy puppies instead of actually pump out some words. And now that lack of activity had my eyes on him.
Him.
Fuckin’ him of all people, who knew my moves, knew I’d be here, and brought her.
His fiancé.
The fiancé I had no idea about until she was blowing my phone up at ridiculous hours trying to find her man. I’m sure I sounded silly as I told her she had the wrong number, that I didn’t know who she was talking about before hanging up in her face for the simple fact that her voice was way too loud. But when I looked through his phone - something I had always sworn off doing - and saw their damn engagement pictures as the screensaver, that was all it took.
When Michael and I first started dating, it was completely casual. A few texts here and there, a few dinners, a few trips to the movies. But once I decided we were ready to take that next step to the more physical realm of things, our time spent together became more frequent because well… the sex was everything.
Michael used his Johns Hopkins-trained hands in ways I had never ever experienced, probably part of the reason why I could ignore the signs of being the side chick. But after the fall-out, the shit was honestly clear as day. The dinners missed because of emergency surgeries on his off-days, the late night phone calls with a hushed tone because his nieces and nephews were supposedly over, the….
Shit, they’re coming my way.
I focused intently on the screen as I tried to come up with some words, but ended up typing “the the the” over and over again just so my eyes would remain in their rightful place. And just when I thought I may be in the clear, they stopped right at the edge of my table.
I didn’t look at either of them until Michael said, “Reagan. Long time, no see. This is my fiancé, Alicia. Alicia, this is Reagan. We used to volunteer at the community center together.”
That was another thing that had drawn me to Michael; the fact that he was so damn good with the kids. They loved when Dr. Parker came to visit, bringing medical supplies for them to practice with and old cadaver body parts for them to examine. When he asked for my number, it was really a no-brainer. I mean, he was fine as hell; grown man fine with a bald head by choice and just a hint of a goatee on his face. Think Boris Kodjoe dressed as your OB-GYN.
Yeah, you’d give him your number too.
But Michael wasn’t an OB-GYN, not by profession at least. Though he certainly knew his way around my…
“Alicia, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Michael always spoke very highly of you.”
Or not at all, but whatever…
I wasn’t exactly in the mood for avoidable-drama.
“I wish I could say the same about you, Ms. Reagan. But I’m sure you’re an amazing person if you spend time down at that community center. Those kids are pretty rough around the edges.” From the outside looking in, I could imagine someone thinking my kids weren’t the easiest to manage. But to me, they were simply trying to find their way; most of them coming from broken homes that weren’t exactly up to code as far as living was concerned. It honestly amazed me how resilient some of them were, so much so that I had now dedicated my life to helping them succeed.
“Rough around the edges, sure. But so are diamonds before they’re crafted into beautiful engagement rings like the one you’re wearing.” No lie, her ring was blindingly-gorgeous; sparkling perfectly in the light coming through the glass window.
She smiled politely as if she was thanking me for the compliment. Then she turned to Michael, putting a dainty hand on his bicep to tell him, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’m sure Ms. Reagan won’t mind keeping you company for a little while.” Following it up by tossing one of those pageant girl chuckles in my direction.
Of course the woman is perfect.
Her hair was laid, her nails had no sign of wear-and-tear, and her body looked like Michael had crafted it himself one nip-and-tuck at a time. But he wasn’t a plastic surgeon either. Though the way he knew how to mold my body, you’d surely think otherwise.
“Sure. No problem at all. It’ll be good to catch-up with an old… friend.” I tried to make my grin as practiced and polite as hers, but there was hardly any use. And her future husband knew exactly why as he sat his triflin’ ass across from me at the table like he actually belonged anywhere near me. I honestly hated how good he looked in his sweatpants and white tee, a ball cap pulled low over his eyes that were downright mystifying. But I played it cool, acted like his presence didn’t bother me one bit, because it… didn’t.
“So what’s up? You still mad at me, baby?”
Okay, maybe I was a little bothered. That baby always did something to me; more than my lower limbs were ready for.
Thank God I’m sitting down.
“Michael, your fiancé - the fiancé I now know about - is probably in there with her panties around her ankles and you’re worried about if I’m mad at you? I see Johns Hopkins forgot to teach your ass some common sense.”
Even hidden by the brim of his hat, I could feel his eyes narrowing in on me as he said, “Baby, don’t be that way. I promise I was gonna tell you when the time was right. Things with us just moved so fast that I never got the chance to break it to her that I didn’t want her anymore. That I… wanted you.”
“And yet here you are. Strolling into my spot and introducing her as your fiancé. After the fact. So don’t try to sell me some bullshit, Michael. I really don’t need it.”
My eyes went back to the oh-so-important document I was supposed to be working on, but that still wasn’t enough for him to get the picture. He swiped a hand down his goatee, releasing a heavy breath before he leaned into the table to profess, “It’s not bullshit, baby. I... this shit isn’t easy for me. I’ve… missed you. I’ve missed you a lot.”
I was really trying my hardest not to laugh in his face. Like… did he really think I of all people was gonna fall for these damn script-worthy lines?
He must think he’s Boris Kodjoe for real…
“You know, for as many brains as you’ve worked on in your day, you’d think maybe some of the tissues would’ve rubbed off on you. Or splashed in your face on accident. Or maybe snuck through your protective wear…”
“You ready to order, hun? I think I’m gonna go with the skinny latte. You know what they say; all that whip is no good for the hips,” Alicia chimed in upon her return with the most awkward laugh, cutting me off at what was probably a good time as far as my mouth was concerned. I honestly could’ve gone in on his ass all day.
&
nbsp; The softened features of his face that he thought were working to win me over quickly turned chipper as he popped up from his seat, adjusting his hat as he added, “Yeah, we should probably get going. It was good to see you though, Reagan. I think I may stop into the center some time next week; catch up with the kids. It’s been awhile.”
My smile was syrupy sweet as I emphasized, “I’m sure they will love to see you, Dr. Parker.”
Alicia looked flattered, tucking herself against his waist and smiling proudly while I shot the ball back into Michael’s court with my eyes. “Well it was certainly a pleasure to meet you, Reagan. Keep up the good work with the kiddos!”
I almost felt bad for the pageant beauty, forced to act like things were peachy keen between her and Michael when I’d already heard how turnt up she could get when shit got real.
But that didn’t stop me from sending them off with a purposely petty, “I sure will, Mrs. Parker.”
&
“Reagan, come on. After the day you’ve had, you deserve to let loose. So come have a drink or three with me.”
It never surprised me when my best friend/line sister/everything in between called me with a proposition to hit the town. To her, I was the boring bitch. Always at work, always thinking about the kids and the center, always not doing anything. But I enjoyed my job, my solitude, my… nothingness.
“Leilani, I’m tired. And you should be too. I know those people at the school have been working you like a house slave.” I was proud of my girl for the work she was doing in the admissions department at our alma mater, Lynstone University. But according to her daily complaints about her co-workers who just, “Didn’t get it”, I knew they were getting their money’s worth out of her.
“Girl, you know they have, but that’s beside the point. I need the break and so do you. So get your ass out of those week-old sweatpants and get down to The Black Market. I hear they even have some performances tonight.”
My head began to pound on its own. I loved that The Black Market gave up-and-comers an opportunity to perform from time to time. But more often than not, it was someone who desperately needed to rethink their career choice.
“What kind of performances? Spoken word? Singers? Improv comedy?”
I could already hear the hint of amusement in Leilani’s voice. So even without the words, I knew she was saying some bullshit when she answered, “Umm…. I’m not exactly sure.” See? Bullshit. “But I bet if you meet me down there like you’re supposed to, you’ll find out for yourself.”
“Leilani, I don’t wanna go. Not tonight,” I whined, as I snuggled even further under my favorite throw blanket on the couch.
“I’m not asking if you want to, Reagan. I’m telling you I’ll see you soon.”
Ugh,this bitch’s persistence gets on my nerves.
Lord, if we hadn’t crossed those burning sands together...
“Fine, Lei. I’ll be down in like… a couple hours.” A couple hours would be just enough time for her to have fun without me and realize I really didn’t need to be there after all so I could back out at the last minute without her complaining.
“A couple hours? You know I’m not falling for that trick.” Damnit! “I’ll be by your place in like 30 minutes.”
“30 minutes? That’s not even enough time for me to do something to this head of mine.”
She smacked her teeth right in the phone as she called my bluff. “Reagan, you know you have good hair. Splash some water and conditioner on that shit, pull it to the side with one of those fancy little clips you’ve already splurged on, and it’ll be just fine.”
I hated that she knew me so well. But I suppose being on-line together for 10 weeks, 3 days, 4 hours, 43 minutes, and 9 seconds exactly will do that to you; even many years after the fact.
“Whatever, Leilani. I’ll be ready in like… an hour or somethin’.” I was already dreading finding something to wear. The Black Market wasn’t exactly a fancy place, but it was still the place to be on a Friday night which meant eye candy was always on the scene.
The least I could do was be ready for that.
“Well I’ll still be there in 30, just in case you try to pull the ol’ “My bad, I fell asleep and didn’t hear my phone” trick. You aren’t getting out of this one that easy, sista.”
Gavin
“Ayo, G. We’re gonna be late if you don’t bring your ass on!”
I only partially heard Caleb through my headphones as I bobbed my head, tryna jot down a few more lines for the track he had sent me earlier in the day. I had already written down a solid sixteen bars by the time I made it back to our crib, but I had a little trouble catchin’ my groove again after visiting my mom in the hospital. She seemed to be in good spirits, doing the best she had been in recent days since her triple bypass surgery. But they still wanted to keep a close eye on her just to make sure the surgery was a complete success.
“G, come on bro. You’re supposed to be hittin’ the stage at 10:30 and it’s already 9:45!”
Shit.
I yanked my headphones off, tossing them on my bed before leaving the room to find Caleb waiting in the kitchen. We had been boys since the beginning, through middle school, high school and even college until we dropped out together and started pursuing music full time. In fact, Caleb was actually the one that had encouraged me to start making songs after he found my notebook of verses back in high school. At the time, we were too young to take it serious, only rappin’ at the lunch table and shit like that. But now that Caleb had invested in some real equipment to make beats and record with, there was really nothing holding us back.
“Damn, man. You know AC will be buggin’ if we’re even a second late for show time. What were you in there doing anyway? Rubbin’ one out so you can last longer with a groupie tonight?”
I gave him a little shove, laughing as we headed out of the apartment we shared. It wasn’t a penthouse, but it wasn’t exactly a shit hole either. And it would certainly do until we could make some real money from our music.
“I was puttin’ down some bars to that shit you sent me earlier. Beat is fire, bro,” I told him as we piled into his car. It wasn’t a Benz, but it wasn’t a bucket either. So again, it would do.
“I got two more for you when you’re ready. I didn’t wanna send you all that shit at once or you would’ve never made it out of that room for real.”
Of course Caleb had more beats. Ever since he got the equipment, he had been pumpin’ out beats like a project chick pumped out kids. But I appreciated it, cause the more beats he had, the more opportunities I had to keep our fan base growing. Sure we may have been far off from making it big, but the local audience that rocked with us was big enough to make it feel like we were closer than we thought.
“Good lookin’ out, bro. But hey, let me see that aux cord so I can listen to this beat a little more on the ride over.” I didn’t know what it was about this particular track that had me so attached, but I couldn’t stop listening to it.
Not until I completed the song at least.
Caleb dug the cord out of his center console, tossing it to me as he said, “You need to be listening to the tracks you’re performing tonight. I already got word from Shy that The Black Market is packed to capacity. The last thing we need happening is you forgetting the words cause you’re too worried about your new shit.”
That was the other reason I fucked with Caleb. He was the logical one of us two, always speaking the real shit I needed to hear.
“If I forget the words, I’ll just stick the mic out to the crowd and let them do the work for me. They’ll be screamin’ that shit anyway.”
Having an audience of people rap my lyrics and sing my hooks almost felt as good as getting head. Endless, sloppy head from a girl with no gag reflex. I’ll probably bust a nut right on stage the first time I have a major venue full of people flowin’ with me.
But for now, The Black Market would have to do.
&
“Yo, this shit i
s lit!”
Caleb had to yell for me to hear him as we looked out to the crowd that was waiting for us to hit the stage. The place, which was usually filled with tables and chairs for dining, was packed from wall-to-wall, standing room only other than the bar seating near the back. I knew for a fact that everyone there wasn’t only a fan of ours since we were the third of three different acts for the night. But it still felt good to perform for a packed house. And to be real, I was confident that I could make a fan out of anybody.
The emcee for the night announced that we’d be hitting the stage in ten minutes, so that was Caleb’s cue to set up his DJ equipment which was really just a matter of him hooking up his laptop to the system of turntables they already had available. But now that he was gone, it was time to get my head right.
I was nervous.
Wait… nah, that’s not right.
I was anxious.
Anxious to hit the stage, anxious to showcase my talent, anxious to perform with my bro and hear the crowd rocking with our music. While writing music had always come easy to me, performing that shit on stage was something that I had to actually work hard at mastering. It wasn’t like I had stage fright or anything like that. It was just something about having so many sets of eyes on me all at once that forced me to either rise to the occasion or clam up. And I’d been to The Black Market on nights like this before, so I knew very well how tough it could be to win over the crowd sometimes.
But these were my people. Maybe not all of ‘em, but enough of ‘em to ride with me even if I were to fumble over lyrics or trip over my own feet. And even if that wasn’t truly the case, I forced myself to believe it as I came out onto the stage.
Reagan
“Coming to the stage. Our hometown favorite. Give it up for G. Griffey!”
What a stupid ass name...
I never understood why rappers couldn’t just go by their mama-given names, instead choosing to come up with dumb shit like G. Griffey.
The Real Deal Page 1
