~18~
“Didn’t know you were comin’ out.”
“Didn’t know I was either.” Harper shrugged.
Devin looked her over. She was wearing green camouflage cargo pants and a dark-green tank. For a change, her hair was out. Girly, again. Pretty.
“It ain’t even really worth it,” Devin shrugged. “Won’t be onstage but fifteen minutes.”
“I was here anyway,” Harper said. “Came to drop in and get some time with Jamal. It’s impossible to catch up with him at the office these days, so when he said he was coming here …” She shrugged again, and looked uncomfortable.
Devin hadn’t seen nor heard from her since that time she walked out of his place close to midnight with some bullshit excuse about an early meeting. A few times, he found himself wanting to talk to her, wanting to see her, but figured it was probably because she’d become a habit, that was all.
Like all habits, this one could be broken. And since she didn’t call him either, he could only assume that was what she wanted as well.
“I saw Prentice again the other day,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “He said he wants to hook up again, and talk about something concrete.”
“Word?”
Harper nodded. “He’s kind of like you. I think you two would work well together.”
Devin smiled. “How is he like me?”
“Very musically-focused. Kind of a perfectionist. A pain-in-the-ass sometimes,” she added, smiling.
“I’m a pain-in-the-ass?” he asked, still smiling, and taking step closer.
It was fine when he didn’t see her. But when he did, that was what he wanted—to be closer. And that was a lie—it wasn’t fine when he didn’t see her. It was bearable, but not fine.
“You know how you are,” she said quietly.
“What’s up with you after this? You want to …”
“Devin.” She was already shaking her head. “Look, I don’t think …”
“Yo, Harp. I see your boss out there in the VIP.”
Devin turned at the sound of a voice, recognizing the dude who approached them as Rahim. From what Devin remembered, his flow was tight, but the music sucked. He sounded like he had the same producer as a dozen other rappers out there right now.
Noticing Devin for the first time, he offered him some dap.
‘’Sup, man.”
Devin nodded his greeting but said nothing.
“Where’d you see Jamal?” Harper had turned and was looking out into the crowd.
Rahim put an arm about her shoulder and pointed out into the gloom and flashing light of the club. Harper squinted to see better, and Devin watched Rahim’s hand fall from her shoulder, making its way to her back, her waist, and then finally to her ass.
Harper stepped out of Rahim’s reach and glanced back at Devin.
“I’ll see you after,” she said. “I’d better go catch up with Jamal now since I don’t know when he might leave.”
Devin watched her walk away, feeling a niggling discomfiture for reasons he wasn’t completely sure of.
“You ‘bout to get up there?”
He turned his attention once again to Rahim. “Yeah.”
“You and Harp …?’
Devin said nothing, and Rahim clapped him on the shoulder, laughing.
“You married?” he asked.
Squinting, Devin didn’t answer that question either, except to shake his head. He reached up and slid Rahim’s hand off his shoulder.
“Nah? Oh, okay. I thought that was why you was scared to say you fuckin’ Harper. Hell, man, I fucked her and I’m married. Fucked the hell outta her. ‘Cause what she got between her legs, that’s like magic, or some shit. Guaranteed platinum.” Rahim laughed at his own joke. “When I was messin’ with her, baby girl got my production budget almost doubled, got me mad exposure … She’ll work for that ass when you fuckin’ her. Trust me. And all that shit they say about the way she suck a dick? That’s the god’s honest t …”
Devin hit him.
He almost wasn’t even aware he’d done it, until he heard someone yelling, and saw that Rahim had kissed the deck. Like, hard. Then his hand was throbbing, and Rahim was shouting something from between bloody lips, and holding his jaw.
As he was trying to scramble to his feet, two burly security guys wearing all black grabbed Devin by his arms and hustled him farther backstage before he and Rahim could get into it.
And then it was a wrap. Within minutes, the manager came to see him to let him know that he wouldn’t be performing at Onyx that, or any other night.
“That was some crazy-ass self-destructing …” Jamal was shaking his head, staring at him through narrowed eyes. “What the hell happened, man? One minute you about to get on stage, the next you clockin’ dudes?”
Taking a deep breath, he seemed to give up, and shook his head again, handing Devin a beer.
They were in the living room of his and Makayla’s apartment, where Jamal had his driver take them after everything jumped off. Once the manager had given him his walking papers, Devin made his way over to the VIP to sit and drink like every other patron when security showed up to clarify that not only was Devin not going to be performing, he was to leave the premises immediately.
That was when Jamal took charge and said they should all just head back to the apartment. Harper had gone with them as well, and now was in the kitchen with Kay.
Devin took a swig of the beer as Jamal sat opposite him, almost staring him down, like he was trying to figure him out.
“So what happened? You know Rahim is one of my guys, right?”
“He said something I didn’t like the sound of.”
Jamal’s stare was flat. “You don’t have enough goin’ on already?”
Devin had never, in his memory, had a consistent, positive relationship with another male. Especially not if they were older than he. They had all been negative, dysfunctional, abusive, and outright violent. It made him leery of even the most casual overtures from another man, who looked like he might care. He knew all too well how that could turn on a dime and become something else entirely.
Jamal Turner baffled him. Whenever he spoke to Devin it was to chide, castigate or sometimes even ridicule him. But there was always a subtext. And it was always the same subtext—disappointment. That was what made Jamal Turner baffling. Why should this man, who had no stake in his wellbeing, be disappointed in him? You were only disappointed when you cared.
“You never even asked me what happened in Atlanta. I was waitin’ for you to show a little interest. A little … curiosity. This is your life, man. But I been back a few days and you act like you ain’ even care what went on.”
Devin shrugged. “’Because I don’t. And the more I think about it, the less I care.”
Jamal sighed yet again. “Well, whether you care or not, we were able to work something out with this dude. And once you sign the paperwork, you ain’ have to worry ‘bout him no more.”
“What does the paperwork say?”
“Basically, that you’re paying him seventy-five grand to keep his mouth shut.”
Devin gave a bark of laughter. “Seventy-five … Where the hell am I supposed to get that? And to shut up some dude I don’t even remember?”
“You ain’ gotta worry ‘bout the money. I’ma take care of that.”
“Nah.” Devin shook his head. “I can’t owe you that kinda money. I would never be able to pay …”
“Then consider it a gift.”
“That’s worse. Why would you do that?” He raised his voice then recalled that Kay and Harper were just feet away, and lowered it again. “Why would you …?”
“I don’t know, Devin,” Jamal just sounded exasperated now. “Kayla’s always saying you’re like her brother, so I guess that makes you like family to me, too.”
Devin shook his head. “I’m not exactly like a brother,” he said slowly.
He knew this was the sore spot, the
one thing that could get Jamal from zero to one hundred in less than thirty seconds. What he didn’t know was why he felt it necessary to agitate that spot, right now, when Jamal was doing for him possibly the most generous thing anyone had ever done for him.
“Yeah.” Jamal’s eyes grew harder. “I know. That shit you pulled tonight in the club?” He shook his head. “I have a lot of restraint, Scout. A lot of patience. But don’t ever do that nothin’ like that again.”
“Just dancing,” Devin said, taking another gulp of beer.
“If that’s what that was, then don’t dance with her again,” Jamal said. “And what’s your deal anyway? I thought you liked dudes.”
“No. I don’t.”
Jamal’s eyebrows knitted. “You don’t?”
“Nah. Not really.”
“You are one complicated dude, Devin Parks,” Jamal said. He stood and clinked his own beer bottle against Devin’s. “But don’t be a complicated fool. Come by my office tomorrow to sign the damn papers. And the money part we can work out later. I’m takin’ my ass to bed. Tonight was a little too much action for me.”
Devin found Kay and Harper in the kitchen, smiling, and leaning over the enormous three-ring binder, that Devin had knew was the Holy Grail of the wedding plans.
When he walked in, Harper turned to look at him, then just as quickly looked away, avoiding meeting his gaze. She had heard, just like Jamal and Kay had, precisely why he had been booted from Onyx, but she hadn’t asked any questions.
In the car ride over, they’d been sitting next to each other, and in the dark, Devin felt the tips of her fingers, lightly grazing over the knuckles of his right hand. He didn’t know whether she was checking for damage, or trying to soothe his hands’ discomfort. Now, he used the bottom of the cool beer bottle against his skin to help manage the throbbing. It was still a little sore, and he knew from experience, it would be stiff in the morning, but the swelling would go down in a day or so.
“I’m about to head out,” he said, clearing his throat. “Harper, you want to …”
He inclined his head toward the door and watched as Kay’s eyes danced between them, first gauging Harper’s reaction, then his reaction to that. Devin was pretty sure she would be peppering him with questions the next day. And he was ready for them.
But tonight, he just wanted to go home and go to bed. And when he did, it would be cool if Harper was with him.
Kay and Jamal’s driver took them to his place. On the drive, Harper didn’t say much of anything, and when they got there, she was still much quieter than normal. As he kicked off his shoes by the door, Devin watched her, standing awkwardly like a guest who was looking for a polite way to leave a party they weren’t enjoying.
“Hey,” he said.
She almost jumped at the sound of his voice.
“If you don’t feel up to … I’ve got dude’s number, and he could come back and get you, and take you home if you want,” Devin said.
Kay had made her driver’s number available to him “for emergencies” a long time ago, and Devin had never used the privilege. Mostly, it was because he knew that “for emergencies” was her euphemism for those runs he used to make, the ones that got him in trouble, and got him in therapy.
“No,” Harper said, right away. “That’s not … it’s fine. I’ll stay. I want to stay.”
But the way she said it didn’t exactly make Devin believe it was true.
“You want something to drink?” he asked. “There’s actually real food and stuff in my fridge for a change. Last week, Kay …”
He broke off, realizing that in the past two minutes, both things he’d said were connected in some way to Makayla. And he was pretty sure Harper had noticed the same thing; maybe because of the way her shoulders heaved slightly when he said ‘Kay’.
“I’m good,” Harper said.
Then finally, she toed off her own shoes and walked over to the living room window, looking down at the tree-lined street.
“This place is so much better than the old place,” she commented. “I kind of miss that crackhead who lived in your alley though.”
“His name is Stanley,” Devin said going over next to her, looking down into the street below, just as she was doing. “He used to be a schoolteacher. Then his wife and son were in a car accident and both of them died. He just wasn’t able to kick it … you know, the grief. He started getting high. He lost everything.”
When he was done speaking, Devin could feel Harper looking at him. “You know the personal story of the crackhead who lived next to your apartment building?”
He shrugged.
How could he not know? He’d lived there almost since he was old enough to live on his own. You didn’t step over a person every day and not want to know who they were.
“I know that sounds strange,” he began, “but …”
“It doesn’t sound strange,” Harper said. “It’s …”
Then her hand was on his arm and when Devin turned to look at her, she got up on her toes and lifted her chin. Her hazel eyes were a little apprehensive, a little scared, like she was taking a leap, and didn’t know if she’d survive it.
The instinct to lean into her and to press his lips against hers was irresistible, so he didn’t resist it. He kissed her, but slower, softer, and with more restraint than he ever had before.
Devin’s head felt full of cotton, his thoughts fuzzy and indistinct. But one thought, one feeling was clear. It felt good, and he didn’t want to stop.
He put his hands on Harper’s waist, pulling her closer, and then letting them breach the hem of her tank, and slide up under it, touching her bare skin. When they did, Harper took a breath and a step back.
“Not … not now, okay?” she said. “Just … I wanted to do just this for now.”
Perplexed, Devin nodded, though his dick felt like a steel rod trying to pierce the front of his jeans.
“Did you get cable yet?” Harper asked, spinning out of his arms.
“Yeah,” he said. “Had them set it up in the bedroom.”
“Let’s go watch something, then.” She took his hand and led him there, and Devin tried not to be exasperated.
If she thought he was going to be able to lie in bed with her and not do something …
But that’s exactly what they did.
Harper even took off her pants, and he stripped down to his boxers. They turned off all the lights in the apartment and just lay there in the dark bedroom, television on, volume turned down low, watching an old Bruce Willis action flick.
It took a little while, but Devin’s woody subsided, and he got into the movie a little bit. He was on his back, partly propped up by pillows, and Harper was next to him, on her side, on one elbow.
“What happened tonight?” she asked quietly, out of nowhere.
Onscreen, Bruce Willis was trying to navigate barefoot down a hallway where there was broken glass on the floor; there was a rifle strapped over his shoulder and he was looking around furtively.
“What you mean?”
“With Rahim.”
Devin thought about what Rahim said. There was no way he was going to repeat that to her. She didn’t deserve that.
“He said something ugly. I let him know.”
Harper gave an audible sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, Devin saw it lift her shoulders. She looked down at the bedcovers, away from the television screen.
“If … if you were going to go around fighting everyone who said something ugly about me, you’d be in a lot of fights.”
“I never said it was about you.”
“Devin …” She sounded weary. “I know it was.”
He said nothing, not wanting to confirm her hunch; but not able to deny it.
“Some of the ugly things you might hear people say about me …” she continued. “Some of the ugliest things? A lot of them are true. You can’t fight all those people.”
Devin pulled her down to him, so she was still on her side, but now he
r face was level with his.
“I will,” he said. “If they say something ugly about you? I’ll fight ‘em all.”
This time, it was he who leaned in.
And they kissed. That was all. For a long time, until it was much later, and they were both tired enough to sleep.
~19~
“Mr. Turner, I appreciate the interest you’re taking. I really do. But I have to do what I think is best for me. And going on tour with Kendrick? I just can’t see that as being in my best interests.”
She was a pretty woman, so Jamal could see the appeal from that standpoint, but there was more than that. Jenna Cruise was poised and self-possessed, with a mien that communicated calm self-knowledge. With a deep-brown complexion, little makeup except for eyeliner and a light peach lip-stain, she had arrived at the diner near SE exactly on time for their meeting.
Wearing denim capris and a lightweight pink cotton eyelet shirt, she didn’t look like a woman who would be the wife of one of the planet’s most well-known R&B singers. Jamal was charmed the moment she smiled at him and sat down. She had dimples, and one of the cutest smiles he’d ever seen.
Kendrick was a fool, but not a complete fool.
Jenna Cruise reminded Jamal of Riley Gardner, not because there was anything remotely similar physically about the two women, but because she had that same gentle spirit that had attracted passionate, volatile men like Shawn, and Kendrick, and kept them hooked for life.
“You love him?” Jamal asked.
It was best to sidestep the issue of Jenna’s ‘best interests’ for the moment. In part because he wasn’t sure he disagreed with her.
Going on tour with a spouse or partner could bust up relationships a lot more stable than the one the Cruises had. Creatives all housed two people within them, and the second, the one with all the genius was not always an easy person to live with, and to understand.
Kendrick in his resting state, Jamal knew, was a kid from Queens who liked to play complex, civilization-building simulation games; who was still a little disbelieving, a little confused by all the fuss made about the voice he’d honed in church all through his childhood. He was a guy who geeked over movies about gladiators and ancient Rome, and would rather marathon-view series on Netflix than go to the club.
The Takedown Page 18
