The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  “Oh, belle.” He flipped my hair over my shoulder. “You and Gee are more than friends. His learning curve just isn’t as advanced as yours, but he feels. Shocked the hell out of me, but it’s true.”

  “What’s true anymore?” My arms shot into the air.

  “Whatever you felt for him was mutual. I swear it to you, honey.” I’d never heard his tone so soft, convincing. I’d heard it hurt, betrayed, threatening, and angry, but never beseeching. “You did it. You got close to the troubled dragon. That’s never happened. I told you he’s a unique creature. But you’ve slain him with your ‘basic’ bow and arrow, something we all thought was impossible.”

  That!

  “And your fluid ass was mighty selective, leaving out the reason his aunt was a…” I tapped my chin, eyes swept the ceiling, “crackhead, cunt bitch? Or whore ass cunt of an aunt was because she molested him.”

  LeRoy’s grays grew to the size of bowling balls.

  “Yeah. Thanks a lot. But no thanks about being the heroine to slay the dragon with love. Raj has deep issues—that damn Myisha does, too—and you…” I’d be judging if I went any further.

  “We need a fresh breeze in our circle,” he noted, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I heard about your professional background. Maybe we need a feminine, experienced, loving touch in our crew.” He smiled gently, a far cry from the cunning wolf that waltz in here.

  “Then call Pastor McKinnon. I’m over it all.”

  Softly, and with that beam in tow, LeRoy shook his head. “If Grandmother McKinnon was the answer, the dragon and dragoness that are Ragee and Myisha wouldn’t exist. You’d just be left with my shit. The pastor is good at some things, but bad at focusing on immediate family. Trust me.”

  There was so much truth in his words. Grandmother McKinnon’s culpability in Raj’s and Myisha’s abuse had been considered heavily in my heart, night after night since I arrived in Arizona. It was one of many thoughts of Ragee that followed me to sleep.

  A knock had me leaping on the balls of my feet. “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in?”

  I watched as LeRoy eyed me suspiciously and understood why. Little did he know, I never had visitors. Not even the type who stayed here with me. We were together so much, our rooms were our sanctuary from each other.

  The door opened and another set of exotic colored eyes peered in.

  Teke.

  “Hey…” I breathed, uneasy about how this may appear.

  Teke’s eyes scanned the room after recognizing the tall zesty figure towering over me in close proximity. LeRoy had the nerve to close the nano-distance between us.

  “Oh, look, belle,” LeRoy all but growled, “your house mate is in your…” He peered down on me, “…bedroom.” He then turned back. “Teke,” he greeted with that clever smile.

  “Oh. What it do, LeRoy?” was not posed as a question before his eyes swept over to me. “I was coming to see if you needed help with your bags, Wynter. The car just pulled up.”

  “Not you,” LeRoy remarked.

  My neck snapped over to him.

  “What’s that?” Teke frown, confused.

  “A double entendre, son. You see, you asked what it do, to which I answered not you. As in I don’t do you and my belle here doesn’t either.” He referenced me by flicking his wrist as though presenting my majesty. “The other context is not you as in, you appearing at her door. You won’t be helping her downstairs. You can, however, have my guy down there come up for that very reason.” LeRoy’s smile remained bright and brows hiked to dull the shade in that.

  The wrinkles in Teke’s forehead deepened even more, but before he could speak, I interjected.

  My hands absentmindedly went to LeRoy’s chest tenderly, as though I wanted to calm whatever bullshit storm was brewing inside him. “Thanks for thinking of me, Teke. I’m fine, though. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Almost done.”

  After a few seconds of deciding his next move, Teke quietly nodded his acceptance and slowly walked backwards to close the door.

  Immediately and ever-dramatically, LeRoy’s head swiveled to face me. “Be careful of the serpents, dear. You may have had the power and competence to take down the dragon, but creatures like that one are harder to see coming. You need the big foot of a dragon to crush it, belle.” For the first time since he arrived, I saw the rawness of his gray orbs. LeRoy was unmistakably serious. I just didn’t understand why. Slowly, his smirk returned. “Which bags are ready to go downstairs, belle?”

  I blinked a few times, the frozen state of my face thawing as I considered his question.

  “Ummmm…” I swallowed hard, realizing I had no time to extrapolate that sharp warning. “The two by the door.” I shook my head with squeezed eyes. “The last one isn’t done. I still need to put on makeup.”

  “Take your highness time,” he granted before going for my luggage.

  Eventually, I was able to move to finish getting ready. Our flight to L.A. was due to leave at nine. I still found it odd how LeRoy’s pop up visit was even possible. He didn’t seem surprised or rushed by the timing of it all either. As I focused on trying to cover the puffiness of my eyes from my earlier tears, I couldn’t decide if his presence hurt or helped my disposition. It certainly didn’t clear anything up to help me along. Either way, I had to keep it going. Needed to keep a clear head—or present as though I had one—to finish what could be a life-changing event.

  Once I was done with my makeup, packed it up, and slid on Ase Garb loafers to wear until the club, I gathered my things and gazed around the room for what would be the last time. What was once a foreign box of four walls was now a box with bittersweet memories. Possibly the last place I’d experience passion with my fake husband.

  Damn…

  I closed my eyes, annoyed all over again.

  “Ready, belle?” I didn’t react to that voice. I knew who and why.

  I turned for the door and handed the duffle over to LeRoy’s outstretched hand. Then I halted my steps.

  “What?” he asked.

  I turned to him. “You didn’t give many clapbacks.”

  “What?”

  “Your comebacks, they were few and not strong tonight.”

  Then the muscles in his face loosened with understanding and he smiled. “I only do that when I want to manipulate you into doing what I want you to do.” That beam deepened. “But you’re already doing it.”

  My face tightened, but I couldn’t hide my humor. “What are you trying to manipulate me into doing?”

  “Wanting the dragon. Using that bow and arrow until he finally lays down.”

  “Why do you want that?”

  “Because you’re the only woman in his life who’s been able to captivate him—and then in such a short time. It makes him weird—he’ll always be weird.” His brows furrowed. “But it actually makes him happy.”

  “What about Heather?”

  “Heather?” I nodded with wide eyes. His face folded again. “Heather doesn’t have the real world experience needed to encapsulate him. She only knows him from a world he knew long ago. She could never handle the bigger world he’s created for himself.”

  “That’s no different from me. I’ve never traveled…don’t have any grand life experiences.”

  “Trust me, compared to Heather and these other women he uses for a wanton release, your mind is big enough to fit into that world of abundance. And to accept all of him. You “get” him. And that’s all Mr. Dragon really wants is to be understood and loved. Shit. It’s all any of us fucktards, as you put it, wants. His entire clan, belle.”

  Although with that analogy, LeRoy presented a boundless prospect of Ragee’s needs, he also made me think of how relatively small Ragee’s demon pot was when I thought of LeRoy’s issues. I was sure he was a lot more complicated than Raj, considering his sexuality and abandonment as a minor. I quickly decided to not minimize Ragee’s problems. The bottom line was he was the most complicated man I ever had a roman
tic relationship with and was plagued with issues that would take years to conquer and they may not all ever go away.

  I began out into the hallway, toward the steps.

  I didn’t want to deal with complex adults anymore. I’d left that lifestyle when I quit my job. I was on a new path. Literally. Tomorrow, we would begin our last segment of the program headed up by Young Lord. We’d be spending the next few days in L.A., learning about collaborating and artist development. That would be my new focus.

  Not goddamn dragons, serpents, and fluid sexuality.

  I hadn’t been to a club in years, and if they were anything like Cobalt in Hollywood, California, I’d been missing out big time. The place was so spacious, contemporary in décor, and vibrant in energy. There were three levels, and all were filled with people of all races and shades. The place was undeniably classy and charming. We had one of the few gigantic booths that was so high, we had to take steps up and around to sit at its V.I.P. table. From up here, we had a view of practically the entire club. The place was lit as fuck. Lights flashing, sexy women in leotards walking around serving food and drinks, and stallion buff men doing the same with simple vests and jeans fitted enough to expose the shapes of their muscular thighs and asses. I was impressed.

  On the flight into L.A., the guys shared this was one of the hottest clubs in the country and owned by Azmir Jacobs, aka Raj’s friend I met at the Super Bowl. That made the industry feel as small as most said it was. Everyone was hyped. I knew some of the group had gone out to clubs in Phoenix since we started boot camp, but this was the first time we all went to one together. I had my reservations about it, but Dave said it was Young Lord’s idea. I didn’t understand its correlation to the curriculum, but Cobalt, in no time, it had become a highlight of this L.I.T. Music program experience.

  The house specialty drink for the night was Brimm’s Lemon Drop. It was a delicious demon. The taste was light and refreshing, but the alcohol snuck up on you. After just two, I was loose and filled with energy. Jemah sat next to me and chowed down on deep fried soft shell crabs while dancing in her seat. Jon was to the left of me, drinking a beer and in his phone. He’d been brooding since we got off the plane.

  “Dude!” I yelled in his ear. “What’s bit you in the ass?”

  I giggled as I shoulder bumped him. He didn’t return the humor. Instead, he showed me his phone, sharing the texting argument he and his girl back in Newark had been engaged in. Apparently, she was pregnant and hella insecure about the picture floating around with Jon and nameless sexy and eager-looking women while he’d been away. Jon was no angel. I knew this by the company he’d been keeping since we met, but I didn’t get her expectations of him.

  “What the hell is she going to do when you go out on tour in a few months?”

  “What did you do when Raj was on tour after your wedding?”

  His austere expression and unexpected sobered me a bit. I had to remember details of my life had been shared with the public. It made me think back to that time in my life.

  “I lived my damn life while he did his!” I had no idea why I gave so much attitude with that answer.

  “I wish she could feel that way.” Jon shook his head.

  “Not to be funny, but do you think you can take on a serious relationship at this point in your life? You’re young, and now, wildly popular.” I swung my arm out to the open and spirited atmosphere of the club. “I’m surprised you haven’t combed the place yet.”

  Jon bit his lip, appearing frustrated and contemplative. He moved in to whisper to me. “I don’t want to hurt her. She a good girl, yo.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice. You’re not faithful to her. Why string her along?”

  “She’s carrying my baby. I want her happy.”

  “Then keep your dick in your pants. But judging by her accusations in the texts, she’s not doing well with the perception of your behavior. The fuck she gonna do when she finds out the activity of your actual dick?”

  “Maybe you can talk to her for me,” his tenor was deadpan.

  I scoffed. “You serious?” Jon nodded. “And say what?”

  He shrugged before leaning in to me again to speak over the blasting music. “Tell her how to be with a man in the industry. You know…”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “C’mon, Wynter. Like how you do. You been out here all this time and Raj ain’t been around. You don’t sweat him. Don’t talk about him. He ain’t trippin’…back home doing him. You know what I mean!”

  My eyes focused on some random spot on the second level. Ella Mai’s “10,000 Hours” poured from the speakers, striking a tender spot in my heart. It sounded sped up by the deejay to maintain an up-tempo vibe. This is what my life had come to. Living separate lives from my husband. A husband who isn’t a real husband, by the way. But someone who meant something to me.

  Foolishly…

  Just when I was going to give him some bullshit line about charting his own path, I heard, “Hey, lady!”

  It was Azmir’s wife. Her name didn’t come to me right away because of my tipsy brain and near blue moment Jon nearly cast me into. But Rayna came back to memory because she was one of the very few divas I’d come across, who could be dressed to the nines, but have a humble yet regal presence to her. She wasn’t alone. Flanked to her left and right were beefy men with their hands clasped at their wrists uniformly as their sights scoured the booth.

  My eyes grew wide before I thought to move. “Hey! Rayna!” I tried scooting to the right, not realizing Jemah had left at some point.

  I made it to Rayna without thought of what to do once I arrived. She made it easy by offering a hug.

  “Good to see you,” she welcomed, smelling royal and looking the same. “Is this your first time here?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes circled. “It’s amazing!”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Azmir tried to sell it a while back and I told him absolutely not. It’s special.” I nodded, understanding why. “It’s where we met—originally.”

  Realization hit as to her real meaning and my eyes shot wide. “Oh! Sweet!” I found myself giggling as she smiled warmly. “I wouldn’t sell either. This is special on several fronts.”

  She nodded then glanced around. “I see your party’s enjoying the menu for the night. Azmir made sure to put the best sellers on for tonight when Young told him you’d be here. He wanted to be sure you guys had the full experience.”

  What?

  “Wow!” My eyes went to the table where mostly ravished appetizers were eaten. “Well, it’s appreciated. We were starved…came here straight from the airport.” Rayna nodded humbly. Her long blinking of the eyes as she gave a neck bow showed how striking her beauty was. She was a gorgeous woman at the Super Bowl, but her night look showed a sultrier Mrs. Jacobs. I couldn’t share that and didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to talk to millionaires. So, I said the first thing that came to mind. “You come here often?”

  “Not really.” She glanced around again. “I try to come every few months. It’s hard with the twins. You know?”

  “I can only imagine. I have an eight-year-old niece—cousin—who’s more like a big sister. Even when they don’t need much care, they’re a lot to handle.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, what do you do?” I expected to hear something industry or corporate related to her husband’s conglomerate.

  Shock couldn’t quite describe my reaction when she shared, “Physical therapy. Nowadays, with the twins, I’ve been doing more admin duties as the office manager, but I still fit in a few hours of attending each week.” Her eyes skirted around again. “And then with Azmir working on the new jazz club on a beach of all places, it’ll be even harder to come often. But I love it. Cobalt is doing so well.”

  “I can see why. It’s super lit in here!”

  I gave that compliment a lot of energy to conceal my shocked reaction to her being a professional in a traditional industry—like
me. Shit… Azmir Jacobs’ wife was a health professional. Not a record label executive or an executive at Mauve.

  “The big guy would love to hear that.”

  “I can’t wait to tell him.” I glanced at her security. “Is he downstairs?”

  Rayna shook her head. “He’s out of town…won’t be back till the morning. But he wanted to be sure I was here to welcome you. I wish Raj were here, too. We could have dinner and catch up. I haven’t picked his brain in months.”

  I wish my life was as simple as anticipating Raj back in my arms first thing in the morning. My brows lifted as I blew out a quiet breath. The mention of his name did shit to me. One thing was bring about anxiety regarding the big lie of our relationship.

  “We know how incommunicado Ragee McKinnon can be,” I tried with a knowing grin.

  “That’s too funny.” Rayna covered her partially exposed belly. “It’s how my husband refers to me. Can I get you another drink?”

  “Sure. I’ll walk down with you.”

  I needed to break the awkwardness of this conversation before I gave away my false identity. I was sure Rayna Jacobs had better things to do with her time than babysit Ragee’s fake wife. Especially seeing it may be over any day now.

  We made our way to one of the bars and it was eerie to see how the sea of people opened at the command of one of her security guards to give us direct access to the bar. I followed behind Rayna, finding my regard on the back of her gold Tom Ford high-heeled sandals. The small, gold padlocks dangling from her ankles gave it away. Myisha taught me… They went well with the black, cropped leather pants, a cropped gold metallic blouse with straps that wrapped and tied around her midsection, and an off-white tailored blazer long enough to cover her ass and with high shoulders. Classic and sexy. Of course, I expected nothing less from Azmir Jacobs’ wife.

  I ordered another lemon drop special and learned it was named after Rayna as it was her favorite cocktail. She mentioned how corny it was of her husband to do it, but she was a sucker for his romantic gestures and had grown to appreciate the moniker. Rayna walked me around the place, introducing me to deejays and managers. Apparently, Raj came to Cobalt often, performing and hosting parties. We chatted for a bit more before she announced having to leave.