2 Timers

by Amaleka McCall

  “And what does that have to do with me?” she pressed, her heart racing hard. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling.

  Sly lifted his cap from his head and scratched his head again. Melody recognized that nervous tick. She knew it all too well.

  “What does that have to do with me, Sly?” she asked again through clenched teeth.

  “A’ight, man, I’m just going to say it.” Sly paused. Melody narrowed her eyes to a pinprick and held her breath.

  “Terikka’s pregnant, and she’s keeping the baby. I’m the father. I had to tell you now because she’s planning on announcing it at the awards at the end of her performance.”

  Melody fell back into a nearby swivel chair, sending it rolling backward a few inches. She felt like a brick had been dropped on her head. Melody bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.

  “Mel, listen.” Sly reached his hand out toward her.

  Melody leapt from the chair and charged at him, feral, as she clawed at his face with her sharp, pointed stiletto nails.

  “Shit!” Sly exclaimed as Melody’s nails raked down his left cheek.

  “I hate you. I hate you,” she yelled, flailing her arms, throwing wild punches at his face and head. Melody bared her teeth like a rabid dog and tried to bite him near the chin.

  “Yo, stop it,” Sly yelled at her. “You’re acting fucking crazy!” He wedged his hand between her mouth and his face, trying to push her face away.

  “I hate you.” Melody caught Sly with a fist to the left side of his head. She was a woman possessed.

  “I hate you. I fucking hate you. How could you do this to me? How could you? You knew I wanted a baby. You fucking knew all this time that I wanted a family more than anything, Sly,” Melody sobbed loudly. She lifted her knee swiftly and caught him in the center of his balls.

  “Oh, shit,” he groaned, shielding his privates with both hands.

  “You knew I wanted a baby,” she cried, the pain evident behind every word.

  “I hate you,” Melody screeched before she attacked him again.

  “Stop,” Sly gritted, grabbing her wrists. Melody tried to break free from his grasp.

  “Stop it,” Sly demanded, roughly flipping her down on the couch. He pinned her wrists at the sides of her head and her body to the couch with his legs. Melody tried to kick, but Sly’s weight held her down. He loomed over her as her chest heaved like a madwoman. Her eyes were wild with anger and grief. Sly looked down into her face, the blood on his cheek and neck painting his skin with deep red slashes.

  Melody closed her eyes. She couldn’t stand to look at him. Every muscle in her body was tense, cording against her skin.

  “Listen to me, Melody. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he explained.

  Melody bucked against him. She turned her head to the left and tried to bite his hand so that he would release her.

  He clamped down harder.

  “Listen to me. I have been trying to tell you for years now that you needed to lower that wall you have up with everybody. Don’t say that I didn’t try, Mel. I fucking tried over and over again. I tried to soften your hard heart. I tried to love you, but you were unlovable most of the time.”

  Sly’s words were painfully true, but it didn’t make his actions any less wrong.

  “The only time you let yourself be a woman was when I was fucking you. You know how that made me feel? I wanted you to be my lady . . . not my fucking competition.” His words stung like an openhanded slap to the face.

  Melody came alive again, kicking and trying to free her arms. She moved her head from side to side and nipped at his hands like a crazy psych patient.

  “I tried, Mel. This news could’ve been about us. The world wanted to see us have a kid and grow the record label together. I wanted that more than anything, but I couldn’t do it no more. Your mother turned you into a real fucked-up, mean person. Don’t be like her, Mel. Find that soft spot and open up to the next dude. Maybe you’ll get the family you always dreamed of—it just won’t be with me.”

  Melody sobbed. Sly’s words cut deep into her like a surgical scalpel.

  “I wish you all the best, but I wanted someone who could let me in. Someone who didn’t base her entire life on things—material things. Money and fame don’t mean shit if you can’t love. I wanted a woman that could be vulnerable, not one that always wanted to be in charge or in competition with me,” Sly continued, clutching her tighter.

  Melody finally stopped moving. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Tears drained out of the sides of her eyes and pooled in her ears. She wanted to die. She literally wanted God to take all of the breath from her body. She had never felt like this before. Her spirit was dead.

  “All I want is someone to love me,” Melody whispered. “All I ever wanted was someone—anyone—to love me.”

  * * *

  Melody scrambled up from the floor, exhausted from the memories. The loneliness she felt, the reality of her empty life, made her question her purpose in life. God had blessed her with so many things. But why not love? Melody needed something. She needed to fill the void. She rushed out of her bathroom and into her bedroom. She watched Ron’s chest rise and fall in his sleep. He was still there, but even that was temporary, and she knew it. Ron had taken some really harsh treatment from her over the past couple of days, but she could always lure him back in with cocaine.

  Without a word, Melody rushed to the side of the bed where Ron slept. She climbed on top of him. He jolted awake, his arms up in defense. Melody grabbed his wrists and pinned them down to the bed. She crushed her mouth over his, both panting heavily but for different reasons. Melody’s insides burned with jealousy, neediness, and hurt. She needed someone . . . anyone . . . to make her feel whole again. She was angry at herself for showing this type of weakness when she’d always prided herself on being the tough one.

  Ron groaned. “Wait,” he protested. He tried pushing her off, but a combination of sleep and shock made him weaker than normal. Melody had never made this type of move with him before. She knew he was probably shocked, and she didn’t care. She wouldn’t stop. Her hands were down Ron’s boxers, and she tugged roughly on his manhood.

  “I don’t make you hard anymore? Huh? You don’t want me?” she whispered harshly in his ear.

  “Wait. Give me a . . .” Ron started. Melody reached down and slapped him across the face.

  “Be quiet and fuck me,” she growled.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

  “I need you to show me how much you love me,” Melody huffed. “Now.” She didn’t stop fondling him. Her hands moved over his body in a frenzy.

  “Melody . . . what . . . this . . .” Ron stammered. “Let me get myself together.” He tried to push her off, but she clutched him even tighter.

  “I said I need you,” Melody mumbled. “I want to feel you inside of me. I want you to fuck the shit out of me. I want you to take it like you want. Want me. Love me,” she pleaded. Now, Melody could feel Ron’s manhood pushing against her fingers.

  “Yes, that’s what I want,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers tightly around him. “Take it. Now.”

  In one easy motion, Ron flipped her on her back with her legs still straddling his waist.

  “Is this what you want?” he panted.

  Melody closed her eyes. She knew it wouldn’t take long for him to fall in line. After all, she held the purse strings to his addiction.

  “Do it. Fuck me,” she whined, digging her heels into his ass cheeks like she was spurring a horse.

  “I need you. I need you now,” she cried, her voice heavy with emotion.

  Ron responded to her prompting and finally entered her. “Why this change of heart all of a sudden?” he panted in her ear. Melody didn’t answer. She grinded her hips into him and dug her nails into his back. Ron winced. That just seemed to make her dig harder.

  “Fuck me like you love me. Like I’m her,” Mel
ody whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut. Ron picked up speed. He grinded into her as deep as he could.

  “Harder. Like you want me,” she growled. She bucked her body upward, urging him on. Now Ron slammed into her so hard he was struggling to keep his breathing steady.

  “Ah,” Ron cried out as Melody dug her razorlike nails into his back. Rough sex had never been his forte. He had told her before that pain and pleasure did not mix right for him. But she didn’t care about what he wanted. This was about her.

  “Stop it,” Ron gritted. She ignored his pleas.

  “Kiss me,” she demanded. Ron lowered his mouth over hers, and she clamped her teeth down on his bottom lip. Ron moaned in agony. He moved his head trying to free his lip, but she wouldn’t let up until the metallic taste of his blood exploded on her tongue. Melody held Ron in a death grip while he plowed into her as hard as he could.

  She screamed out as she climaxed.

  Ron quickly pulled himself out and raced to the bathroom, his hand covering his bleeding mouth.

  As soon as he left the bed, Melody curled into a fetal position and sobbed, her entire body vibrating with grief.

  Ron returned with a cold washcloth pressed against his mouth. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. It was the first gentle moment they’d shared since their sordid affair began.

  “What’s going on, Melody?” Ron whispered. “I thought you hated me. And this . . . what happened here . . . it was so out of character for you.”

  “I know you went to see her,” Melody cried into Ron’s chest. She could feel his body stiffen.

  “I know you want to be with her. I know that you’re only here because of the money, the drugs. I thought I could make you love me.”

  “Look, Melody,” Ron spoke softly. “Both of us have made mistakes with this situation.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A mistake? A situation?” Melody asked defensively.

  “Well, we can’t pretend that what we did and what we’re doing is right,” he said.

  “That’s all I was to Sly, to my father. That’s all I ever was to everyone . . . one big mistake. No one ever loved me just for me,” she croaked.

  Ron sighed heavily. Melody sobbed for a little while longer.

  “All I ever wanted was to have someone for myself. Since I was a little girl, my sisters had each other, and then Harmony had you and even Lyric had Rebel, but I never really had Sly to myself,” she cried. “I knew about the girl, but I was in denial. I knew about all of the girls, but I pretended it didn’t happen. I lived every day like I didn’t see what he was doing out there . . . with her.”

  Ron stroked her hair and rocked her against his chest like a small child.

  “No one can love you unless you first love yourself. You have to really love yourself before you can receive real love,” Ron said, pulling back to look Melody in the eyes.

  “And no more lies between us. I went to see Harmony because I love her. I’ll never stop loving her for as long as I live. I care about you, but I can’t love you. I’m married to your sister, Melody,” Ron rasped, his voice cracking with his own despair.

  “Get out,” Melody whispered, pulling away from him. Ron’s eyes were wide, as if he didn’t expect her reaction.

  “Get out,” she said louder this time.

  “This is not new information, Melody, so please save me some of the dramatics. I never tried to make you believe we’d live happily ever after. Right now, I am nothing more than a two-timing piece of shit shuffling between my wife and her sister for drugs. My loyalty is always going to be to . . .”

  The sad fact was Melody knew what Ron was going to say before he finished the sentence. They both knew that his loyalty was to Harmony and his daughter, but Melody also knew that there were times when getting high trumped everything, Harmony and his daughter included.

  “Get out.” Her voice went higher.

  “C’mon. I thought we were keeping it real,” he replied, his eyebrows furrowed.

  Melody stood, her chest heaving in anger. Pain was etched into thin stress lines radiating from the corner of her eyes.

  Ron stood too. He knew exactly how this would go.

  “I said get out! Get the fuck out!” she roared this time. “Go home to your wife and your baby and live happily ever after just like Sly and Terikka. Go home and pretend that you’re not a drug addict and that you can live without this constant supply you’ve gotten over the past two months. Go make more children and live happily ever after. You have a family and a wife who loves you. I’ll survive, like I always do. But I want you to remember something, Ron. Loving someone doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them,” Melody cautioned.

  Ron nodded his understanding and began scrambling around looking around for his clothes.

  “Go home and pretend, like me, that you have the perfect life. If you can’t live in reality, then you might as well create your own fantasy.”

  Chapter 11

  Lyric

  “Where exactly are we going?” Lyric asked for the third time. She lifted her hands and tried to remove the blindfold from her eyes. Someone tapped her knuckles, and she quickly pulled her hands back. Lyric figured it was one of Khalil’s servants—that’s how he referred to them anyway. She’d heard of celebrities having personal assistants, but Khalil viewed his people as property belonging to him. Not so different from slavery or indentured servitude. She knew it was customary for men from his country to have similar household arrangements. When she questioned the practice, he’d told her that where he came from, it was an honor for the men to serve him. She supposed it could be worse—he could have been using poor Filipino and Bangladeshi women as maids and sex slaves, as many royal families did.

  “No peeking,” Khalil said. “If I wanted you to see, I would have left your eyes free.”

  “Why do I need to be blindfolded? Is this place top secret? Some kind of hidden castle for a prince?” Lyric pressed. She had an uneasy feeling in her gut. She had trust issues, and she hated being left in the dark—literally.

  “I think this is fun,” Bethany chimed in. “Fun and kind of sexy, if you ask me. The prince whisks the two fair maidens off to a mysterious place for an adventure of a lifetime,” she said dreamily, in a mock fairy-tale narrator voice.

  “Shut up, Bethany,” Lyric retorted under her breath, her legs bouncing nervously.

  Bethany purposely bumped against her shoulder. “Calm down. If he was going to rape or murder us, he would’ve done it by now,” she whispered near her ear.

  Lyric closed her mouth. Bethany, hopefully, was right. She was too optimistic for her own good.

  The girls had been partying in Khalil’s suite at the exclusive Waldorf Astoria Towers over the past week. Khalil had supplied them with all of the coke and liquor they could stand. The dude sure knew how to have a good time. They had partied sunup to sundown for days straight. If not for the constant high, Lyric would’ve crashed a long time ago. She hadn’t had time to think about Rebel’s two-timing ass.

  “Remove the blindfold,” Khalil commanded.

  “Finally,” Lyric said, swatting at a man’s hand. “I can do it by myself.”

  “Oh, shit,” Bethany gasped as she craned her neck to look out of the heavily tinted windows. “This shit is really a castle,” she said, awestruck.

  Lyric peeked around to see for herself. Bethany wasn’t lying—the place Khalil had taken them to resembled a castle. The building sat regally atop a mountain.

  “We have to be far away from the city,” Bethany said in confusion.

  “Of course, we are. Did you not notice how long it took to get here?” Lyric snapped at her. Lyric didn’t like the uneasy feeling creeping down her spine. She shivered and fought to keep her chattering teeth from making noise.

  Khalil laughed. “If I didn’t like you two so much, I would have thrown you out a long time ago. So much talking. Like a fly buzzing around my ear. Women should be like old men’s beards . . . se
en and not heard.”

  The Mercedes G-Wagon came to an abrupt halt in front of a tall black and silver gate. Lyric had seen mansions before, but this building looked like a small replica of the Taj Mahal. She didn’t know that property like this could even be built in the United States.

  Lyric and Bethany exited the vehicle after Khalil, following him to a set of huge white and gray-speckled marble steps. “What the hell?” Lyric whispered as she stood at the bottom. The steps were too many to count; they reminded her of the scene from Rocky where he ran up and down the steps in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. This place seemed unreal. She hoped the drugs were not making her hallucinate this spectacular scene.

  “Good day, Prince Aziz,” a tall, slender man dressed in a tuxedo approached the group. The man bowed at the waist in subservience until Khalil began to ascend the steps.

  “We’re about to get the royal treatment,” Bethany whispered to Lyric. They were welcomed in the same way—a nod, a bow, and a gracious manner befitting of a royal household welcoming guests. As they entered the glass front doors, Lyric took note of the gorgeous, perfectly made up, half-dressed model-figured women lined up on either side of the grand hallway. At first glance, she guessed that many were from Eastern European backgrounds.

  A harem? This can’t be his housekeeping staff wearing fishnets and leotards. Three women in maid outfits appeared seemingly from the walls, instructing Lyric and Bethany to follow behind the men.

  “Prince Aziz,” Lady One said softly as she bowed. She was carrying a tray of gourmet finger foods.

  Lyric recognized the expensive caviar right away. She’d seen the same food at perverted record executive Andrew Harvey’s mansion. She shivered. The whole atmosphere reminded her of Andrew Harvey’s place. Maybe that was why she was so uneasy. There was something eerily familiar and similar about the feeling. Lyric’s mind raced.

  * * *

  Lyric had looked up at the beautiful, pale yellow sandstone mansion with its six regal white Roman columns, smooth white and gray-speckled marble steps, and what looked like over 1,000 windows. She couldn’t get excited because fear gripped her insides like a clenched fist.