by Love Belvin
“Waiting for this nigga to finish our food!” Irv barked at Teke, his voice just as weak.
He was on his laptop, apparently on Facebook, scrolling away.
“We ain’t been to bed yet,” Rico, an engineer in the program, explained on a stretch and yawn.
“Oh.” I glanced over to Teke, planting scrambled eggs on a platter. “What were you guys up to last night?”
I was typically the first to turn down at night and to rise in the morning. It was strange not having the place to myself.
“Recording.” Teke winked, dumping bacon onto another platter then licked his thumb before going back for the stove.
“Something new?” I asked.
Jon was at the counter, grabbing the platters to take them over to the kitchen table where the rest of the guys were sitting.
“Yeah. One of yours,” Irv called over his shoulder, eyes still on his screen.
Rico brought plates and utensils to the table and the guys were going in, spooning food into their plates with gusto as Teke brought a platter stacked with pancakes to them.
“There’s enough for you if these fucks don’t inhale it all,” he offered before lightly slapping Jon in the back of the neck.
I shook my head, declining. Admittedly, everything looked delicious and smelled divine, but I was now down to one hundred sixty-seven pounds. The weight had been melting off since arriving to Arizona. I’d been a workout machine but didn’t eat as much as I should because I had little of an appetite. Even now, cottage cheese and blueberries should have been accompanied by something heartier and fiber friendly. I still had the food lists Ragee and Earl put together for me. They included meal options, too. But here was work and not a place of comfort and familiarity. So I ate to survive, not to socialize.
“What song of mine?” I asked the hungry table of men, digging in the food as though it was their last meal.
“Damn,” Irv uttered mid-chew, pausing with his fork in the air. “We ain’t got no title, huhn?”
“I wanna get lost and hide, forever stay inside...of...you, baby.
High off your ecstasy, I almost died, baby.
To...come...down...I really tried, baby.
But you became the drug I need, baby.
My...addiction...forever feed, baby.” Jon sang with a mouthful of eggs. He chuckled. “That shit still looping through my head.” He resumed eating.
With knitted brows my alarmed gaze went to Teke, who eyed me with his regard going to his plate occasionally. “Hope you don’t mind.” He put down his fork. “You get full writer’s credit on it if it’s published.”
I didn’t know what to say. The business was new to me, so much shit I still didn’t know. What I did understand was L.I.T. Music’s clear directive of fresh music coming out of this camp being one of the factors in them deciding who they’d offer an exclusive contract to. I knew I had to produce something and to do that, I had to open my bag of goods. However, I was wise not to share too much. Whatever came out of this would belong to L.I.T. Music and not me even if they were my words. In the moment, I couldn’t decide if Teke was helping or using me.
I went back to preparing my breakfast without answering him. As I poured blueberries over the cottage cheese, Irv barked his excitement about something he saw on Facebook.
“Yo, man!” He yanked the earbuds from his ears, pulled the wire from the laptop, and turned it so others could see the screen. Blaring music began pouring from it and into the large room. “This nigga nice. He ripping through those fuckin’ scats, yo!”
The deep tenor singing didn’t sound familiar at first.
“That’s Will Downing?” Rico asked.
Will who?
“The one and only,” Jon replied with his regard fixed on the screen, his neck craned oddly so he could see it.
That’s when I heard a familiar voice, a fluid baritone similar to the first one belting helpless thoughts of love. My heart rate quadrupled.
“Yo, how that nigga turn a female verse with vocals into something masculine?” Irv questioned with passion as they watched raptly.
“It’s called talent,” Rico answered. “Ragee that nigga. Why you think Will fucks wit’ him like that? Invite him on his set, too.” His Baltimore drawl came alive every now and then.
Teke’s green orbs hit me and immediately, my eyes fell down to my bowl on the counter. My hands trembled as I tried spooning my food. Ragee’s voice was deep, thick, and saturated in passion.
“What song is that?” Rico asked.
“I Can’t Make You Love Me,” Jon answered. “I think. Will covers a lot of shit ‘cause he always make it new with that bass register.” His head bobbed to the slow rhythm. “You hear them fucking runs?”
He was referring to the series of high and low notes in quick succession, I’d learned of since being here. The melodies the two guys added were amazing. Raj sounded different. Matured vocally. He shared more of his range, not caring about the beat, but the integrity of the note instead.
“This was last night?” Teke spoke for the first time, squinting at the screen.
“Yeah,” Irv answered. “Will’s show in Philly.” He went on to try his own runs over Will’s and Ragee’s.
“Goddamn!” Jon shouted. “Rewind that! You heard Raj?” Jon tried mimicking it but struggled with the note.
Rico laughed. “You ain’t got that nigga’s range! People sleep on that dude. Focus too much on his sexuality when that nigga is the modern day Will, Teddy, and—fuck it—Marvin, but with broader appeal. And Will ain’t never get his just due ‘cause he stay in jazz lane.”
“That nigga been eating well in that lane, too!” Irv argued. “Still sell out shows.”
“True!” Rico added.
They rewound the video a few times and continued with their commentary as though I wasn’t in the room. Surprisingly, that relieved me. I didn’t want to be associated with Raj here, in a sense. It reminded me of that fraudulent feeling I could hide from inside his estate. But out here amongst his peers, it was hard to keep up with, especially seeing I hadn’t heard from him since I arrived. And pathetic me fell asleep last night reminiscing about his heartbeat blended with soft alluring vocals of “Ribbon in the Sky” over the calming sounds of the ocean. Then I woke up from a dream of caressing the bar of his Apa piercing. The shit was crazy.
And annoying…
After an explosive approval of something they heard in the video, Rico asked, “Ain’t that ya dude, Teke?” Teke’s alarmed regard jumped to Rico. “I heard you biggin’ him up a few times. No biggie. Raj is dope and slept on a lot in a industry where the music is laced with auto tuning and the same fucking 808s…synthesizing. He slowed with the musicianship, playing keys, horns, and original drumming and fell into the hype of pop 808 kick, drum, and snare evolution. He still got the raw talent. If I’m gonna say who I wanna pattern my style behind and wanna choose a young buck, Ragee would be that nigga for me.”
“All day,” Jon quietly agreed.
Rico reminded me of his talent. He’d done producing and engineering, mixing and fine-tuning tracks before they hit the radio airwaves.
I finished my bowl, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher.
“Where you going this early?” Teke asked, ignoring Rico apparently.
Clearing my head of all things Ragee, I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to recall. “A bank then MoneyGram or Western Union.” I cleared my throat. “Gotta send money back home.” I tossed my hand toward the kitchen door. “I need to call a car to find them.”
Teke pushed back from the table. “I can help.” He grabbed his plate. “I need to pick up a couple of things myself.”
I didn’t notice the room got quiet until Jon spoke. “I thought you couldn’t wait to hit the sack. We gotta be back at the studio early today. Diane wanna hear the track.”
Moving about briskly, Teke answered, “I need fuckin’ throat lozenges.”
He sounded as though he did. Ignoring the susp
ect silence ringing out in the room, I finally left the kitchen.
“Told you there was a MoneyGram here,” Teke boasted as the car pulled into a small convenience store parking lot at the lip of Phoenix. “I gotta sharp memory.”
“That you do.” I smiled, grateful to have found one.
The grocery stores in Paradise Valley didn’t have money transfer services. And MaMa didn’t have PayPal, making this more challenging and inconvenient. Teke didn’t want to go deep into Phoenix because we didn’t bring security, something he needed and not me.
I hopped out of the car and he followed me in. Once locating the MoneyGram counter, I split from him. A few minutes later, as I was finishing filling out the form, Teke walked up on me, resting on his side against the wall.
I glanced up for a few seconds and caught him ogling my bare legs then went back to writing. “You look exhausted.” I tried softening that comment with a smile.
“Fuck yeah,” he exhaled, rubbing his face. “I should be good with at least a two hour nap. I got the stamina to get back to work.”
I hummed my okay then handed the attendant my slip. Then I went for my purse and pulled out the cash I’d just withdrawn from my draining bank account, trying not to think about how strapped I was.
“Aye,” Teke broke my attention. “Back there…at the house. The thing Rico said about Ragee.” I offered a definitive regard. “I got mad respect for the big homie. I just don’t be riding him like that.”
“Why is that necessary to say?”
“‘Cause I ‘on’t want you to think I be on some Single White Female type of shit. Ragee’s dope and I’ll give that to him, but that’s all it is.”
This was strange. Why bring it up?
I handed over my cash then returned my attention to him.
I literally used my head to shake off this conversation. “Okay.” My attention diverted to the other side of him.
“I mean… I know him and shit.”
I turned back to him. “You do? Like… Personally?”
“Yeah. I guess. Well, I did. Him and my brother used to play in a band together back in the day. He used to come up to the crib for practice.”
“Oh, okay.” I waited on the transfer to be completed.
“That’s all you got to say?” He scoffed. “You know, you stay tight lipped when it comes down to him. Public Relations training came with your proposal?”
I chuckled at that. “No. I’m a little confused at where this is going.”
“But you’re always like this. You don’t talk about him. I don’t see you talking to him on the phone. And he damn sure ain’t been through here.”
“Because he’s working and so am I.”
“Okay. I thought maybe y’all was beefing or something.”
I shrugged with my mouth. “And if we are? Isn’t that something married people do?”
“Real married people. Yeah!”
I was struck by that comment, able to smell an agenda from him at this point.
I turned to face him completely. “Trust me, honey, the state of the relationship Ragee and I share is as real as it gets. It’s just not something I go yapping about to strangers. My husband is a very private man, and more and more each day I see why.”
The attendant asked for more information. I turned to her and answered.
“So, I’m a stranger?”
I slowly rolled my eyes over to him and countered, “You’re not?” My brows met. “I’ve known you for less than two weeks.”
“But you’ve talked to me more than anybody else here.”
“I don’t discuss my life with them either. Why should I?”
“Maybe because we’re about to be label mates?”
I thanked the woman and began my way out of the store as I spoke. “I’m hoping to be signed,” I corrected.
He blew out air, dismissing my humility. “You got that in the bag. I’m making sure of it.”
“Mighty much?”
Teke laughed. “I’m just saying I see your talent. I’m trying to make sure the label heads do, too.”
“Is that why you recorded one of my poems without letting me know?”
“They’re not poems once mixed with music, first of all. Second, if you didn’t want it recorded, you wouldn’t have shared it in the first place.”
“Yeah. I thought you didn’t like it.”
We were outside, headed to the parked waiting town car.
“Never said that. I just didn’t think that was the one we should have taken on as a group for that particular assignme—”
“Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” trilled loudly ahead of us. There were three young girls who stood beet red, squealing their heads off.
“Fuck! His eyes are real!” one screamed, clutching her palms to her chest.
“Totally dreamy!” another agreed just as ecstatic.
I’d seen this several times with Raj, just with older women—men, too. I had to quickly gather myself, remembering Teke and B City was one of the hottest acts out right now. They’d been out officially since last year and were due to go on tour this summer. Still, I wasn’t expecting this. But Teke had been, which was why he didn’t want to go too deep into the metropolitan city.
“My dad,” the sole black girl tried, high-pitched. “He’s buddies with Munsnick. He told me you guys were staying in town. We tried to get into the club to see you the other night but couldn’t.”
“Yeah!” The other with blonde flowy hair couldn’t stop moving on her toes. “Can we please get a picture?” she begged.
“Are the other guys here?” The Asian girl turned, gaping all around. “Holy shit!”
“Nah,” Teke calmly answered with a smile, stepping closer to me. “We slipped out to grab a few things.” His arm snaked around my shoulder. Instantly, I felt uneasy. “You Ezekiel Williams’ daughter?” he asked the black girl who’d name dropped.
“Yeah!” Her eyes grew even brighter if that were at all possible. “You know him?”
“I know of him. Black NASCAR driver. Dave mentioned bringing us by your crib to say hello before this is over with.”
The girls, who could be no more than seventeen-eighteen years old, giggled feverishly, I guessed, unable to believe it was actually scheduled to happen.
“Can we get a pic now anyway?” the Asian beauty pushed. “Your girlfriend can be in it.” She turned even redder.
“I’m not—” I tried.
“She’s not my girlfriend. I ain’t that lucky.” He switched to a grumble. “I’m hoping for a new scenario to make that happen.” Then he resumed his regular pitch. “She’s a writer at the label. Y’all should see her face around soon.” The girls squealed again.
“I can take it for you guys,” I offered.
“No! We want you in it,” the blonde demanded.
Then she called a man over who’d just stepped out of the convenience store and asked him to take the picture. He obliged, and we gathered against the brick wall of the store. I was yanked by Teke, and the Asian girl grabbed my hand. We were told to say cheese and I tried for my best smile, thankful to have put on a light face this morning.
That comment from Teke felt snake’ish. In one minute, he was denying being a fan of Raj, even though Rico mentioned it being stated in an interview. The next, he slipped in something slick about wishing the scenario was different to my current married one. One thing was settled. I’d continue to decline going out with the guys when invited. My gut told me that was best.
I roll off her and onto the mattress, on my side. Then I pull up the sheet to cover myself ‘cause I’m still hard, my body’s still tingling. Staring at the wall, I study the feeling rolling over my body. It’s good. Real good, and I want to be here before the bad feelings come. Because I know they’re coming. They always do. The guilt. That disgusting feeling. And being scared all over again. I’m always scared now. I don’t want nobody to know what we be doing down here.
But here is good. It won’t last long so I ne
ed to just lay here until it’s over. I hate this confusion. How can my body feel so good right now when what we just did was wrong?
That’s it.
That feel good moment is gone and I feel sick.
Guilty.
I can feel her sitting back down on the mattress. Now I hear her lighting her cigarette. Grandmother’s gonna be mad when she finds out she’s smoking in the house again. I hope the smoke don’t float outside of here and into the hall. Forget that. I get up so I’m not naked if somebody comes down, looking for the culprit.
“You know,” she speaks while holding the smoke in her mouth. I’m so used to her, I know most of her habits. And I freeze from pulling my boxers up my legs. “You need to cut that little Heather girl from the church off.
What?
She blows out her smoke, my back is still to her. “You hear what the fuck I said?”
I finally turn to face her and see she’s looking at me, too. “Why?”
“Because! You can’t be doing this with two of us at the same time. Somebody may get something. You can give somebody a disease that way. Plus, that nasty, fast ass little girl probably got something she gone give you from the other lil boys.” She sniffs hard, bringing up mucous from her throat then swallows it back down.
I’m mad. First, I don’t want to be doing this with her anyway. And now she telling me to cut my girlfriend off? I don’t like that. Heather may not be my girlfriend no more anyway. She said I been acting funny with her. I’m not. It’s just that… It’s… Man, I can’t tell her my aunt be liking for me to do this nasty stuff to her. She gone think I’m a freak like Patty. I don’t want her to think that. I don’t want nobody thinking I’m like Patty.
What hurts me the most is she keep making me do stuff. First the nasty stuff, now she don’t want me to have a girlfriend. I don’t like it! I gotta let go of something I love to be stuck in something I hate? Why?
I didn’t catch her movements. Missed when she jumped on the bed and charged at me, knocking me against the wall. My arms fly back when I try to catch myself before I fall on the cold floor.
“You hear me?” She yells like a nut. “You hear me?”
