by Love Belvin
Love.
Some said it existed, but I didn't know until your light. You shower it every day. The more you spout, the more I grow above the darkness of the soil that rooted the pain. Your love makes me high.
High.
Your love intoxicates me from the pain. More than numbing, it heals me. Strengthens me. Your patience for my scars soothes every doubt. Your assurance of my being takes me high to angelic realms.
Angel.
You were sent to me. To love. To conquer. To grow. To heal. To illuminate. To be loved. To make love. To meet my Miracle.
Miracle.
One plus one...
Jax plus Elle equals Miracle. And I vow to be at your side every day, so long as we both shall live in our miracle.”
Being a lover of words: spoken and written, I could tell it was created in poem stanza.
Absolutely moving…
I sniffled back a budding cry as my chest heaved up. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one moved. Jade vocally sobbed next to Raj, and Kennedi cleared her throat just before nudging me. When I glanced over to her, she stretched her eyes wide to keep the tears at bay. And the most astounding response of them all was Raj, sliding his big palm over my thigh and clasping it with mine. When I peered over to him, surprised by the gesture, he refused to look at me, keeping an unmoving regard forward and below.
And that’s how we stayed until Jackson was cleared to kiss his bride after being declared man and wife. Raj wouldn’t even let my hand go to clap in celebration as everyone had around us. As people began clearing out of the gallery, Trent called over to Raj.
“You heading straight over to LaChateau?”
Raj tossed his chin. “What you got in mind?”
“There’s a cigar spot right there by Bryant Park.” Trent gestured his wife, who was inarguably stunning with hazel eyes that sparkled just as much as her warm energy emanated. “Figured I take my little one there for a stogy or two before the reception gets popping.”
“Oh!” Kennedi chirped from the other side of us. “Cigars?” Her eyes pleaded with her husband, who was conspicuously less interactive than when I met him last fall. That night, it was clear he and Ragee were good friends. Today, something seemed weird. “What’s the name of the spot?”
“Hued Sampsons.” Jade frowned when her eyes roved up the tree that was her husband. “I think.”
Trent nodded she was correct and his eyes bounced between Raj and Young Lord, asking if they were down. Raj tossed a glance over to Young and the moment their eyes locked, Raj’s fell to me then to our locked hands.
“Nah. We good,” he declined.
LaChateau in mid-town Manhattan was stunning from the moment we were escorted through the doors. Apparently, there were several rooms as with your typical banquet hall, even a full-scale restaurant on the main floor. But everything was decorated with prestige and attractive ambiance. I knew Jackson was a man of stature, but it was clear to me he’d met his match in a partner.
With Raj’s hand on the small of my back, we were led to the elevators where I caught an image of myself on the reflective panels next to it. Jashon had brought over three ensembles three days ago, and this was the one I selected. An off white tux with cropped pants, gold heeled sandals, and a lace v-neck cropped bralette with embroidery. It was completely racy, but safe so long as my jacket remained on.
When the elevator tolled, we stepped on along with a few other people behind us. I assumed they were guests, too. They were certainly smitten by Raj’s presence, that was for sure. The eyes, smirks, and nods confirmed it.
“You look good as shit, Mrs. McKinnon,” Raj’s deep timbre caught me completely off guard. A burst of gut splitting laughter rang out in the car. My eyes stretched wide with embarrassment. I recalled the line the moment he smashed his handsome face into his palm. “Fuck. I don’t even know how to flirt with my own damn wife.”
As his mischievous expression rose from his hand, it was my turn to laugh. Laugh hard with my head tossed back. I hadn’t heard from Raj’s sense of humor in ages. Damn, it felt good. And before I knew it, we were filing out of the elevator. Talk about a mood change.
Before we stepped inside the Garden of LaChateau, music could be heard, and not just tracks through the speakers, but live singing. A voice that sounded oddly familiar. We were given champagne flutes at the door. The first thing I could see while there were layers beyond layers of flowers. Gold, white, and off white arranged in a gorgeous pattern.
“The cocktail hour,” Raj whispered.
I nodded, appreciating the heads up. There were a few chairs and small pub tables spread throughout the garden, but not enough for the crowd spilling in.
“Let’s take a stroll in the garden,” Raj invited with a tender smile.
I tucked my arm underneath his and followed his lead.
“Does this mean you’re not that mad at me?” I asked softly for simple banter.
“I don’t have anybody to be mad at but me. I’m just glad to have you on my arm.”
“I have to be,” I muttered with the lips of the flute near my mouth. I could feel his eyes on me but wouldn’t return them. “Legally.”
Raj didn’t respond to that and instantly, I felt guilty for even bringing it up. He was trying to make this a cordial experience. I’d much rather not have the nasty Raj he gave Young Lord back at the church. So, I attempted to save the conversation.
“Jashon has been around. A lot.” Finally, I did peer up to him.
Raj greeted the umpteenth person with a nod and polite smile as we walked at a leisurely pace under the spring sun of the solarium.
“That’s because he’s my assistant.”
“Your assistant’s, assistant.”
With a mouthful of champagne, he shook his head first. “My executive assistant—at least one of them for now.”
“And what about Myisha?”
“I fired her.”
My feet stopped moving and the liquid of my flute spilled out onto my jacket.
“Shit!” I whispered, holding the glass away from me.
Smoothly, Raj walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a few napkins for me.
“Start with these. Let’s get you to the bathroom,” he murmured before taking me at the elbow and guiding me out as though he’d been here a gazillion times.
He led me out to the ladies’ room and I quickly wiped myself down and checked the damage. I’d be smelling of champagne all night in the chest while others would be from the mouth. Whatever: I’d fit in. As I tossed the wet paper towel in the trash and caught the door when someone walked in, all I could think about was finding out the deal with Myisha McKinnon.
When I walked out, I stopped. My head swung left to right in search of him. Raj was just a few feet away, staring at his phone. As though he sensed me, his head drew up and his auburns met me directly. I ambled over to him without a moment to spare.
“So, what’s this thing about Myisha?”
Raj slowly put his phone away, stowing it into his suit jacket then stretching his back, widening his stance, and folding his hands over one another at the pelvis again. It was as though he was opening himself to a conversation.
“She was let go.”
“When?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because she had a problem with you.”
“That’s it?”
He shrugged. “Basically. But it was to the point of manipulating me with false threats.”
“You said that the other day. But you don’t want to share with me what that threat was.”
Raj visibly froze. “I will. I promise. Just not here. I need time.”
“Time for?” My chin dipped, but eyes remained to his.
“Time to make sure you don’t run from me.”
“I never ran. You let me go.”
“Something that’ll never happen again.”
I let go of a deep breath. That call was too heady to make when t
he option was so intoxicating. He fired Myisha for me? Why was he just telling me? Another classic Ragee move.
“Let’s get back in there. I need more champagne if you’re doling out news like this.” I extended my hand to him.
Raj let go of a snort before grabbing my hand and leading the way. We passed countless guests along the way. It wasn’t long before it was clear the caliber of people attending the Jarreau-Hunter nuptial celebration. There were more names recognized than faces as Raj introduced me to just about everyone who stopped him on our way back into the garden. People like the Wayans brothers, Sonia Norwood, Keith Sweat—whom my mother loved—Gladys Knight, and fucking Sean Puffy Combs was there with Cassie. I was sure my smile was silly rather than cool and experienced, seeing I was on Ragee’s arm. They all embraced him with great enthusiasm.
Inside, I met Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, two figures I had no clue of until Raj ran down their resume after we moved on from them. It was crazy. There were several people whose names I couldn’t retain but could recite whom they’d worked with. The Garden had crowded since we’d left. There were more sounds of chatter competing with the live music. But when I’d gained a moment of quiet while Raj chatted with a movie producer, those voices became clearer over the microphone.
I recognized them.
It was B City.
From where we stood, I didn’t have a view of them. The Garden seemed fairly large. We hadn’t traveled the full length of the area. My pulse began to race, and I wondered if Raj recognized them, too. He hadn’t said anything to me. Perhaps he was too busy mingling. We continued to walk the room, threading through the sea of influential bodies. If I didn’t know how known, popular, and respected Ragee was before, it was becoming super clear to me this evening. We eventually stopped at a table and stood near it, sharing discourse about who he introduced me to in the span of thirty minutes or so when I felt a hand at my shoulder.
“Hey, guys!” Jade greeted us with the most dazzling smile that upped my anxiety.
Damn was she naturally beautiful: fair skin, straight and white teeth, full lips, and those gorgeous hazel eyes that I wish would disappear into thin air. No disrespect to Jade and her beauty, but exotic eyes now reminded me of a set I wish weren’t here this evening.
“Hey, girl!” I greeted in return, trying to mask my anxiety. “How were the cigars?”
I could smell a hint of the scent on them, an odor I didn’t mind, thanks to my fake husband, who indulged in them himself.
Damn, I miss that…
“Yeah. It was nice. I’m not that experienced with them, but wouldn’t mind partaking again…”
Her eyes skirted over to her husband, Trent, whose large frame crossed over me as he nodded my way, and murmured to Raj, “Yo, you good?” Raj nodded, gulping the last of his champagne. “Come over here and grab another drink with me.”
Raj nodded in agreement before signaling to me he’d be right back. That left Jade and me smiling awkwardly at one another.
Taking in a deep breath, I uttered, “Sooooooo…” wearing a convincing smile.
Jade’s expression matched mine as she replied, “Soooooo…” Her attention going over her shoulder to follow her man. “I hope everything’s okay.” Then she turned back to me. “I know they’re cool, but I’ve been told Raj likes to roll dolo.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the church. He seemed a bit brusque about the invite. It concerned Trent.”
My brows furrowed as I pulled the flute from my mouth and swallowed. “Yeah. I noticed that, too, but didn’t ask. I have to choose my battles when it comes to that guy.” I chuckled softly.
“Well, if I know the benevolent heart of my husband, he’s going to make sure all is well.”
“This place is so damn beautiful!” I decided to change the subject, but sincerely. “I still can’t believe I’m here!”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one. I read the blogs and the stupid things they say but glad to know I’m not the only non-industry party here. So there’s someone else feeling what I’m feeling!” Her cheeks pulled back in a big, silly, and excited smile.
“You’re not used to this by now?” I couldn’t remember how long they’d been together, or how long ago the blogs began gossiping about Trent Bailey’s gold-digging girlfriend, who quickly became his wife.
“Nooooooo!” she whispered. “My big guy can be a bit of a recluse himself. He’s only here because he has a genuine relationship with Jackson and Elle through business, and he and Elle attend the same church.”
Trent Bailey goes to Raj’s church? Interesting...
The guys were approaching us that soon. Trent carried two tumblers and behind him, Raj did the same.
“I figured you had enough of the bubbly,” Raj offered as he placed one tumbler on the table, seeing I was still nursing my flute.
“Mauve?” I asked.
“Only the best for you,” he answered jovially while looking elsewhere.
Before long, I realized Raj noticed the host calling the cocktail hour to its end and inviting guests into the reception gallery. We all began to move. I traded champagne for brandy before following behind Trent. Raj’s possessive hand was at the small of my back as we trotted through the stop and go of tipsy guests, off to the next venture.
As we were close to the open set of doors, leading out of the Garden, I felt an eerie pull to my left. Absentmindedly, I followed it, glancing over. Immediately, I was met with two sets of eyes: one pitchy-raven and the other, a plangent set of green.
Both Young Lord’s and Teke’s gazes were upon me. Instinctively, my regard lifted over my head to Raj, who was returning their gapes.
Raj squeezed my side gently. “Baby, we’re holding up the line,” he murmured.
Before I began to move again, I caught Young’s face fold just slightly, as if to ask Raj what was up with him. I don’t think he got a response because we were out of the door and on our way into the main hall.
“Are you okay?” I asked timidly, maintaining my pace.
“All gravy,” his voice hiked playfully.
~12~
Dinner was phenomenal! Since meeting Ragee McKinnon, I realized how poor and underwhelmed my diet was. He and I shared the same selection, which was a fish I couldn’t pronounce with a vegetable medley I’d never heard of, and risotto with prefixes I wasn’t familiar with. As usual, I cleaned my plate. When my head had come up to breathe, Raj’s auburns were on me, sparkling mischievously.
“I miss that?” he leaned into me and whispered.
“What?”
“Watching you inhale food.” The dig in that was softened by the gift of his smirk.
I’d missed that.
It reminded me of earlier, when the bride and groom entered the ballroom smiling wide and boundless. Elle broke out into a twerk-a-thon for a surprised Jackson. And his amused and seductive expression was one I’d seen on a man. The man who was now claiming he was in love with me. When Jackson danced with his mother, I didn’t miss how his eyes often traveled over to his bride, who waited at the top of the dance floor. It was clear she waited for him. It was also clear to me, no one shared their bond as a couple. Elle didn’t participate in the traditional father and bride dance. When Jackson was done with his mother, Elle was already on the dance floor with clasped hands and a formal smile. Call me crazy, but she wanted to be the only woman in her man’s arms.
Damn! That was touching…
I observed them through all the reception rituals, and was reminded over and over again, I’d come close to the blissful bubble they shared. And Raj was doing a damn good job at reminding me, too. His touch was constant and gentle. It was affectionate and not seductive. He invited me into conversations at the table and constantly whispered, asking if I was okay, so no one could hear. Initially, I questioned his etiquette in honoring the contract he now held. But after some time, that suspicion faded, and I began to simply appreciate his care.
The performances were i
ncredible. It felt like I was at the damn BET Awards show in April. Several artists took the stage and performed cuts that had folks’ hands in the air and some on their feet. Many of the acts I knew like Dale, Jill Scott, and Stevie Wonder. Then there were those I wasn’t familiar with such as Shirley Murdock, apparently one of Elle’s favorite vocalists. It took no time to understand her belief in that. The woman had pipes. Another name I wasn’t familiar with was saxophonist, Boney James. That was a white dude with soulful instrumentation.
I didn’t know if I should have been simply grateful to take part in this day or intimidated. This was Jackson Hunter’s wedding. The man I was hoping would sign me to his record label.
“You know we got that track with him still stashed. Right?” Young, who shared our table asked Raj with slanted eyes, telling of his inebriation.
Without looking at him, Raj reached over the table for his tumbler, nodded, and took a sip before reclining back into his chair.
Triple weird…
And that… As festive as the evening had been, Raj was clearly throwing crazy shade to Young Lord. At the church, it could have been questioned whether his decision to decline Trent’s invitation was due to Trent or Young. But since we’d been seated together for over an hour, it was clear who Raj had the problem with. He and Trent had hooted it up, clanked glasses, and even stood to engage in small talk with Pastor Carmichael when he visited the table.
But when Lord would toss a question to Raj directly, his answers were delivered with brevity and without his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed by even Kennedi, whom he was more conversant with. Way more. They laughed together and joked. At some point, Young withdrew, making the tension that much greater. But for the alcohol and entertainment.
Now, Stenton Rogers was on his way up to the stage. Stenton. Fucking. Rogers. Stent-fucking-Ro! I needed to be pinched to be sure this was not a dream. Under Raj’s arm, I heard the applause around the room and the whistles as his lengthy frame sauntered to the stage. He and his wife sat just behind us at a table filled with more celebrities. The moment he took the stage, the live band began to play softly. Stenton first congratulated the Hunters and spoke kind words to both their characters. He then went on to share how he knew Jackson. Apparently, Stenton and Jackson’s father, Quincy, were good friends. And it was obvious that Quincy was extremely close to his son, and the man had lots of ties in the industry.
