“Andrew Harvey is living like a damn king. I have never seen a fountain like that unless it was in a museum or on TV,” Melody had said, still whirling around, taking in the scenery. “And, look at the beautiful greenery. It must cost a fortune to have your bushes carved into your initials and little animals like that. This is how I want to live when I grow up.” She shook her head, enchanted.
“For real. Definitely something to live up to,” Harmony added. “Right?” She nudged Lyric with her elbow. “Why you so quiet? You see this house? Do you understand what it means to get invited to an Andrew Harvey private party?”
Lyric shrugged away from Harmony. “So? Everything excites y’all. It’s just a stupid house,” she grumbled, folding her arms over her chest.
She hated everything about Andrew Harvey. From their first meeting until now, every time Lyric had to be in his presence she went into a dark place mentally.
“What’s wrong with you?” Melody whispered harshly, frowning. “You better change that mood. This party is in our honor. We finally went platinum and a big player like Andrew Harvey is throwing us a party,” she chastised.
“Ladies, right this way.” A man dressed in a tuxedo interrupted their little spat. “Mr. Harvey is awaiting your arrival.”
“And he got his own Geoffrey like the one in the Fresh Prince of Bel Air,” Melody whispered as they followed the man.
When Lyric, Melody, and Harmony crossed through the beautiful, glass front doors, Lyric felt a nauseating sense of déjà vu.
“Oh my God. The inside of this house is even more amazing,” Melody gasped. “Look at these floors.” She tapped her foot on the gilded floors. “You think this is real gold?”
“Plated. Gold plated,” Andrew Harvey chuckled from behind them. The girls all spun around in unison like a dance routine.
“Mr. Harvey,” Melody beamed. “Oh my God. We love your house. We have never seen anything like it.”
Andrew Harvey laughed. “I can tell.”
Lyric reached over with a shaky hand and furtively grabbed Harmony’s hand. Harmony looked at her and questioned Lyric with her eyes.
“There’s my special girl.” Andrew Harvey stepped in front of Lyric and placed his hand on her shoulder. Lyric clutched Harmony’s hand in a death grip.
“Wait until you see the cake and the spread I had made up for you girls,” he said, keeping his eyes on Lyric the entire time. A small amount of acidic vomit leapt into her throat. She forced herself to swallow it back down.
“Ava said to send you her apologies. She wasn’t feeling well,” Harmony told him. “She told me to look out for everyone,” Harmony emphasized.
“Oh, she didn’t come?” Andrew Harvey asked, looking over the girls’ heads as if he was making sure. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of all of you. You don’t have to act as the mother. You’re just a kid yourself. You need to enjoy yourself.” He smiled and placed his hands over Lyric’s shoulders. Harmony tugged on Lyric’s hand, pulling her away from him.
“So, is the party out there?” Harmony jerked her chin toward a wall of glass doors that led to Andrew Harvey’s expansive backyard, patio, and saxophone-shaped pool.
“Yes. Yes. All of you girls make yourselves at home. This is all about you and that beautiful platinum plaque you’ve earned,” he said cheerfully, extending his left arm toward the action.
“Let’s go,” Melody cheered, rushing for the doors. Lyric and Harmony followed her.
The party was packed with people. Lyric, Melody, and Harmony stood flabbergasted by the attendees. There were famous actors, singers, dancers, radio personalities, and even politicians in attendance. Beautiful girls, dressed in traditional French maid outfits and high heels, walked around serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres held on silver platters. The gorgeously laid out spread of food began at the right of the door and extended the full length of the property. Melody and Harmony were giggling about the ice sculpture with Sista Love carved into it. Lyric had never seen so much lobster, giant shrimp, king crab legs, and oysters in her life. Seafood was her favorite. There were four carving stations—pork, lamb, prime rib, and venison—manned by men in tall white chef’s hats and white chef coats.
“Let’s give it up for Sista Love,” the D.J. announced their arrival.
Everyone in attendance turned their attention to Lyric, Harmony, and Melody and began clapping, whistling, and cheering. Melody drank up the attention, waving like a beauty queen at a pageant. Lyric’s face turned dark red. She lowered her head, shyly.
“This is so crazy,” Harmony whispered, as she plastered an obligatory smile on her face. “Like are we really in the same party as Tiasha?” she said through her fake smile.
“Yes, and she’s a megastar. Can you imagine? I feel like I’m dreaming,” Melody answered.
After two hours of eating, drinking, dancing, swimming, and hobnobbing with the rich and famous, Lyric had finally let her guard down. Andrew Harvey kept his distance, and she barely saw him. Lyric began to think she had been afraid and tense for no reason.
It was just what needed to be done a couple of times, for the deal, but it’s okay now. He’s not thinking about me, she had finally convinced herself. Lyric had loosened up and even shared laughs with her sisters and a few other celebrities in attendance.
“Dang. I have to pee so badly,” Lyric told Harmony, as they stood in the shallow end of Andrew Harvey’s pool holding their virgin Piña Coladas and singing along with songs from their album.
“You better not pee in this pool. What if it’s filled with the stuff that turns blue if someone pees in the water?” Harmony warned. They busted out laughing.
“Okay. I’m going to go inside,” Lyric relented. “Watch my drink.”
She climbed out of the pool and was immediately met by one of the pretty servants who was holding huge, fluffy, white oversized towels out in front of her. Lyric smiled at the girl, took the towel, and wrapped it around her body. She rushed toward the house, her full bladder threatening to bust.
“Bathroom?” Lyric fidgeted, doing the pee-pee dance in front of another tuxedo-clad staff member.
“Right this way.” He pressed a little button on a silver earpiece and spoke some code into it.
High tech, she thought. Lyric followed the man down a long hallway that had high ceilings, a beautiful Oriental rug runner down the center, and was decorated with walls of gorgeous paintings that she could tell were probably one of a kind and expensive. The man turned another corner and walked down another seemingly endless hallway. This one was adorned with glass-encased sports memorabilia that, again, was probably worth more money than Lyric could fathom.
“Is it this far to the nearest bathroom? I really gotta pee,” Lyric winced.
The man didn’t respond. Finally, after six more turns, he stopped in front of two beautiful wooden doors with beautiful long, shiny, gold door handles. Lyric’s eyebrows folded into the center of her face when he opened the doors to a bedroom decorated in all off-white and gold. The huge poster bed in the center seemed swallowed up in the expansive room. Lyric blinked a few times. The room seemed bigger than her entire house.
“I just needed the bathroom,” she said, looking into the room apprehensively. “A half bathroom or guest bathroom would’ve been fine.” She didn’t want to intrude into someone’s bedroom.
“Straight back.”
“Um, really. I, um, I could’ve just used the guest bathroom closest to the pool,” Lyric stammered, turning and pointing back down the hallway she’d just walked through.
“Mr. Harvey insists on special guests having privacy,” the man said with no emotion behind his words. Lyric looked into the room again. Now her bladder was one second from truly busting open. She took a deep breath and reluctantly rushed through the doorway.
“Please wait for me. I don’t know how to get back.”
The man didn’t respond. He simply shut the door behind her. The click of the door made her stomach twist. Lyric’s h
eart pounded wildly in her chest. If she didn’t have to go so badly she would’ve turned and run straight back to the party.
Lyric raced through the huge bedroom and made it to the white and gold-trimmed bathroom door.
“Is everything in this house trimmed in gold? Crazy,” Lyric whispered, pushing the door to the bathroom.
“Dang.” She gawked at the huge, white, marble soaking tub.
“A gold toilet? Guess when you have money . . .” Lyric spoke to herself, as she let her towel fall on the floor and pulled down her bikini bottom.
“And who had bathing suits waiting for people at a party?” Lyric kept talking to herself. She closed her eyes and relaxed on the beautiful toilet and released her overflowing bladder.
She finished and walked over to the long, marble-topped double sinks. “Fancy,” she whispered, examining the sophisticated hand-engraved gold faucet. Lyric put her hands under an automatic soap dispenser. She smiled because the liquid soap fell into her hand in the shape of a heart. Lyric looked up into the beautiful beveled mirror and smiled at her reflection. “They were right. This is how I want to live.”
She finished washing her hands; then she turned around, picked up her towel, and exited the bathroom singing cheerfully.
“You like my house?”
“Ah!” Lyric gasped, staggering backward off balance. She braced herself just before she hit the floor.
“Hey. Hey. It’s just me.” Andrew Harvey stepped closer to her with his hands out to break her impending fall. Lyric pushed his hands away from her.
“Why did you sneak up on me? What are you doing in here?” she huffed breathlessly. Her chest moved up and down like she’d run a race.
“I was looking for you. You’re my special girl,” he said, moving closer. Lyric took a few steps backward. Her hands started trembling.
“I thought I would bring you something to make you relax a little bit this time.” He held a little pill between his pointer finger and thumb and extended it toward her.
“Please. I don’t want to,” Lyric pleaded, moving backward as he advanced toward her. “I just want to go back to the party. I was relaxed out there. I don’t need the pill. I just want to go have fun like everybody else.”
“You don’t want to what? Keep a record deal? Make your mother happy? Keep performing? Be famous? Keep your sisters happy?” Andrew Harvey asked, his tone steely. Lyric shook her head.
“But we can just sing and keep—”
“That’s not how the business works,” he snapped.
Lyric jumped when her back hit a wall. She couldn’t go any farther. He reached out and gently swiped her wild, wet hair from her face.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Here, be a good girl and take the pill.”
“Please don’t,” she gulped, trying to move away from his touch. She could barely breathe. His cologne and sweat, mixed with the chlorine soaked into her bathing suit made her stomach swirl.
“Take the pill,” he whispered, using his huge hand to clutch the back of her head so he could hold it in place.
“No.” Lyric struggled. That just made him clamp down harder a handful of her hair until he was holding it painfully tight. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“You’re my special girl,” he murmured, putting the pill between his teeth and lowering his mouth over hers.
Lyric writhed under his grasp and moaned into his mouth. She almost choked as the pill tumbled awkwardly on her tongue. Andrew Harvey used his long, lizardlike tongue to push it into the back of her throat. Lyric tried to fight some more, but she was no match for his girth and his strength.
* * *
“Hey, you don’t want to taste this good-ass food?” Bethany said, nudging Lyric and snapping her out of her trance.
“This shit is so good,” Bethany said, rolling her eyes with pleasure.
“Oh . . . um, yeah,” Lyric said, blinking a few times to rid her mind of the memories. She picked up a few huge shrimp from a silver tray.
After the prince sampled the food, others in the room were offered the same. Khalil finally settled himself against large silk pillows inside of a spacious room perfectly suited for entertaining. It had twenty-foot ceilings, arched entryways, and was decorated with gold leafing on the ceiling that accented the fifteen-tier crystal chandelier dangling in the center. The room literally sparkled. This sort of wealth and luxury was beyond Lyric’s wildest imagination. It had topped Andrew Harvey’s house, and she never thought she would see anything better than that place.
When she stopped gawking at the ceilings and walls, Lyric counted eight ornate sofas, trimmed with gold and silver. Each sofa was in a different color-coded section of the room. Red, gold, purple, and blue. The room was a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors.
“Do you see this shit? I bet those curtains alone cost more than my entire apartment,” Bethany whispered. The floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by beautiful white, gold, red, turquoise, and royal blue valences. Lyric knew right away that the long, flowing drapes were made of expensive silk fabrics.
“I feel like I’m in some kind of dream . . . or a movie,” Bethany continued. “Who lives like this?” she asked, gesturing to the indecent amount of wealth on display.
Even the coffee and end tables were trimmed in gold. The tables were adorned with silver trays containing expensive treats—prawns, crab-stuffed wontons, caviar-topped crostini, crown-shaped puff pastries, pistachio nuts, figs, dates, and artistically shaped fruits. Some trays really made Lyric’s mouth water. She couldn’t believe how much drugs were laid out for the taking.
Lyric remembered once crawling around the floor of Rebel’s house looking for a hit. Now, like a dream, she had trays of coke, heroin, and weed laid before her—a true bacchanal feast.
“I think we hit the jackpot,” Bethany said in disbelief.
“I bet you this is not even a quarter of the house,” Lyric replied. “But why bring us to his private palace? He hardly knows us. Why pick us—you and me—out of all the beauties out there?”
“Here you go with the paranoia,” Bethany chided. “We are ebony and ivory—maybe that’s why! I don’t know about you, but I’m about to have a good time. I’m sure he will eventually send our asses packing, but until then . . .” Bethany waved for the servant to bring over the tray with the neat lines of cocaine on it.
Lyric’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t want to be a downer, but she didn’t fully trust any man’s intentions. Especially when it seemed so suspiciously easy. Lyric watched as Bethany did two lines and immediately became more upbeat and energetic.
“If you can’t beat ’em, you might as well join ’em,” she mumbled to herself before she bent over the tray to take a hit.
Within two hours, Lyric was so high she couldn’t remember what her reservations were about coming here with Khalil. As more guests arrived, she got even more comfortable. The music blared, gray tufts of smoke circled the air, and bodies swarmed the space.
Lyric danced, giggling as she imagined herself being as graceful as her sister, Harmony. She took another swig of Hennessey from one of the dainty crystal glasses she’d grabbed from a passing servant. She had finally let her guard down, and the liquor had made it easier.
“Damn, Khalil. You really know how to throw a party,” she slurred, lifting her glass and toasting her new friend.
Khalil perched in a high-back white chair with gold trim, much like a king’s throne. He licked his lips as he watched her sway sexily to the rhythm of the music.
“You like what you see?” she asked flirtatiously, holding his gaze as she danced over, teasing him with her movements.
“Take off your clothes,” Khalil said, a lazy grin spreading on his lips.
Lyric laughed and downed the rest of her drink.
“In front of everyone? Get out of here, man,” Lyric chuckled, punching him lightly in the arm. “Now if we were alone, that would be another story.” It wasn’t the first pass Khalil had made at her. The first nigh
t they were together, Lyric allowed him to kiss her, but they had gotten too high to take it all the way. She was glad for that. She didn’t like putting herself in such a vulnerable position. When she was on the party scene right after her Sista Love had broken up, Lyric had woken up several times, unable to remember who she’d slept with, but she was aware she had semen draining down her legs or crusted over her face and in her hair. She had become paranoid about mixing sex and drugs.
She continued to dance in front of Khalil, licking her lips and grinding her hips, a lap dance of sorts. Khalil repeatedly told her how beautiful she was in his eyes. He loved brown skin and the texture of her hair—he thought it was all very exotic. Lyric didn’t think she was a great beauty, but she did have a nice body, and she was often complimented on her eyes and smile.
“I said I want you naked,” Khalil said, this time with a bit more bass in his tone.
“What? I can’t hear you,” Lyric yelled facetiously over the music. She feathered her fingers through his thick, dark curls.
“I need another drink,” she snapped her fingers at one of Khalil’s servants.
A tall, slender man rushed over and refilled her glass. Another servant held a silver tray in front of Khalil so he could sniff the freshly poured mountain of cocaine.
After two long hits, Khalil relaxed back on his throne, his eyes hooded over.
“I said, get naked,” he said in an eerily calm voice.
Lyric laughed briefly. His demands for her to strip were starting to really irritate her.
“Stop playing around, Khalil,” she said. “If you want to see me, we can go upstairs,” Lyric offered, taking another swig of her Hennessy.
Khalil snapped his fingers and within seconds, four of his men rushed over. He whispered something in one man’s ear. The men reacted immediately, practically pouncing on her.
“What the fuck? What are y’all doing?” Lyric slurred, barely able to fight the men off.
Two men held her arms in a firm grip. Khalil nodded and the other two men began tearing at her dress.
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