Things Hoped For

by Chencia C. Higgins

  She gave me a crazy look. "Yes, nigga!"

  As she usually did when letting me hear a new beat she'd made, Cyndi let the instrumental play on a loop so that I could let the music get into my soul. She was right, this was definitely different for me. I tended to stick to records that let me show off my lyricism, with more room for sixteens and not many choruses. I had yet to do any collaborations and didn't feel the need for hooks and bridges; I simply spit for three to five minutes and let it be what it was.

  The beat that Cyndi cued up was sexy as fuck. Heavy bass, melodic piano strokes, and surprisingly, horns during what would surely be the bridge. It made me want to bust out a nineties era R&B bedroom boom type of song. The shit was powerful.

  Leveling her with an admiring gaze, I declared, "This is fire, Cyn."

  She nodded, letting the compliment roll off of her skin. "What you wanna do with it?"

  Staring at the soundboard, my skin tingled and I shivered. "This shit is really sexy; I feel like it needs something sexy to go with it."

  A grin came to her face and she nodded again. "Yeah…something nasty."

  I glanced at her, saw the way her face was scrunched up as she bobbed her head, feeling the beat. Without a doubt, my face looked the same. Something nasty… Just like that, words appeared in my mind. Grabbing the notebook that I kept with me whenever I was in the studio, I jotted down the sentences, scribbling furiously. Holding up the notebook, I showed Cyndi what I had so far and she cheesed hard as fuck.

  "Yeeeaaaahh! That's real nasty. Get in the booth and let me let me hear it."

  She started the track over as I went into the recording booth and rapped along, dropping my voice into a lower octave and rocking my hips to the beat. That's what the song made me do. When I finished reading the words I'd written, I continued rhyming off the dome, the words coming to me as I spoke. Cyndi bounced in her seat as soon as I repeated the chorus. We went through it a few more times, adding adlibs at her suggestion, and cleaning up places where I'd stumbled over my words in a rush to get them out.

  Pressing a button so that I could hear her, she yelled, "Bitch, this is about to knock them on they ass!"

  I exited the booth and listened as she played it back for me. The shit was straight heat. "That's what the fuck I'm talkin' about, Cyn!"

  Just as we punctuated that thought with a high-five, Xavier burst into the room and slapped his hand onto the soundboard, cutting the music. He was breathing heavy and had a crazy look in his eyes, which immediately put me on edge. I wasn't even pissed that my session was being interrupted for a second time—which was usually a punishable offense—because I was too busy being concerned.

  "Yo, Zay, what's going on?"

  "Xeno, you need to hear this." Setting his phone on the soundboard, he turned the volume all the way up and pressed play on the video he already had queued up.

  Peering down at his phone, I realized that it was a recording of a popular, syndicated radio show out of New York. As soon as the video started, the camera panned to the man being interviewed, and one look at the sandy brown locs and light skin was all it took for me to recognize Plus, one of the biggest rappers out of Houston. Confused, I looked up at my brother, but he pointed at the phone. The video was almost over with only two minutes and forty-three seconds left, but instead of asking another question, I did as Xavier wanted and stared at the screen, listening to what was the tail-end of Plus's interview.

  Interviewer: Man, thanks so much for stopping by the station. It's always an honor to have you in the studio, Plus.

  Plus: No problem, bruh. Thanks for havin' me.

  Interviewer: That's what's up man. Listen, I know you have moves to make but I wanted to ask one last question.

  Plus: Hit me.

  Interviewer: Who are you listening to right now? Who does Plus, "Houston's favorite nephew" have in rotation on the streaming apps?

  Plus: Man, it's funny you asked that. I was just checkin' out this chick, Xeno. Actually, me and my producer came across one of her YouTube videos about a year ago. But with all these kids in my house, I'm just now getting back around to her music. (Laughs) But for real, the kid can go, man. Houston might wanna stay tuned.

  Interviewer: That's dope man. Aye, y'all heard that? Plus said we need to get hip to Xeno, an up and coming rapper out of Houston! You already know the big homie keeps his ear to the streets and with all the damn talent in that city, I want to know what's in the water! Whatever it is, I need it bottled and sent to me, ASAP!

  The video ended and I sat there staring at the now dark screen with my mouth hanging open. What the hell did I just watch?

  "Oh shit!" Cyndi jumped out of her seat and punched the air. "Bitch, your name is about to be in everybody's mouth!"

  Xavier gripped my shoulders and shook me. "Xeno, Plus just fucking name-dropped you on a national radio show. A goddamned syndicated show! One with more than five million listeners a month. Do you understand what this means?!"

  Speechless, I just stared at him. I could guess, but in actuality, I had no idea what that meant. Hearing someone that I looked up to speak highly of me was a dream come true. Plus was that nigga in these H-town streets. He not only did his thing in the booth, but it was well known across the nation that he had an amazing ear for talent.

  "Yooooo!" Xavier crowed, releasing my shoulders and throwing his arms wide. "We gotta celebrate!"

  After Zay called up the crew, and the crew brought celebratory paraphernalia, I didn't end up leaving the studio until one in the morning. The others headed to somebody's house to continue kickin' it, but I was exhausted. Not only had working in the studio drained me, but all of the excitement from Plus's interview had sent an adrenaline rush through me, giving me a high that I was currently coming down from.

  The city was quiet as I drove home, but my mind was running on overdrive, deep-sea diving into "what ifs" until my head hurt. Turning into my neighborhood, it seemed like the streets were even quieter, with not even the crickets out singing to each other. It was as if the world knew that something big was about to happen and was collectively holding its breath, waiting for the explosion that was sure come.

  Dragging myself out of the car, I trudged through the noiseless house, kicking my shoes off at the front door and peeling out of my clothes as soon as I reached my bedroom. I slid beneath the cool sheets, used the remote on my nightstand to turn on the fan, and switched on the soothing sound machine. As I waited for sleep to carry me off, nothing happened. While my body was sinking into the sheets, my mind would not pause long enough for me to fall into unconsciousness. I was too keyed up, too full of potential scenarios, too anxious about what was next. I wanted to talk about it—to discuss my hopes and dreams for the future.

  I also wanted to bury my face in someone's titties, cuddle, and feel soft fingers raking through my locs and massaging my scalp. A day like today should have ended with shared orgasms and declarations of love and praise, not me in an empty house, in a bed alone, wishing for sleep. It was ironic that while my career looked like it was on the rise, my love life was stagnant. Thinking over that incident with the "fans" earlier that afternoon, it was easy to explain away my singledom, but I didn't actually want to be alone.

  The past few years saw me zeroed in on all things music, with tunnel vision that didn't allow for anything beyond occasional hook-ups with women who said they understood my dedication; but turned around and complained about my narrow accessibility when I wasn't available whenever they wanted. After having the same argument several times with different women, I shut that door and didn't look back.

  I couldn't shut off the loneliness, though.

  Rolling over to the side of the bed, I grabbed my phone from where it was plugged up on the nightstand and brought it with me under the weighted blanket as I pulled up my favorite microblogging platform, quickly typing a short message.

  @xenoraps: …all I need now is a girlfriend…

  After pressing send, I muted the device and r
eached from under the duvet to slide it back onto the nightstand. With slumber finally upon me, I could worry about everything else later.

  Three

  Trisha

  When The Play Is Set Up

  By the Saturday of my second week in Houston, I was convinced that I had made the right decision by relocating. Swiyah, the owner of the luxury spa, was amazing. She'd embraced me without hesitation—welcoming me into the Kneaded family on the strength of Jade's recommendation—and sent most of the walk-ins in my direction to help me build clientele. I was sanitizing my table after one such client when Jade leaned against the frame of the open doorway and smiled at me.

  "How you liking it so far?"

  Stowing the bottle of disinfectant inside of a cabinet, I answered her while washing my hands.

  "Call me McDonald's because I'm lovin' it."

  "Aye, that's what's up!" She laughed and moved further into the room, sinking down into the chair in the corner that clients used to hold their clothes during a session. "So, listen. I'm going to this concert tonight night with my baby brother and his girlfriend, and I think you should come with us. I know you said you don't listen to a lot of rap but Xeno is—"

  "Ooh, I've heard of Xeno! Jeremiah listens to her all the time."

  Jade gave me a blank look and I chuckled and shook my head lightly. I'd forgotten that no one here knew my people back home. "Jeremiah is Lisa's husband." When Jade mouthed "oh" I added, "Xeno is one of his favs, so I've heard a little bit of her music a time or two. Enough to enjoy myself at her show, I think."

  "Perfect! My brother has the tickets, so we have to meet him at the venue. I can pick you up so that you don't have to worry about getting lost downtown or finding parking."

  "Aw, thanks Jade. That's so thoughtful of you and I will accept. Just let me know what time to be ready."

  "Shad wants to get there at exactly at eight, so how about I pick you up at six-thirty so we can grab dinner and a few drinks beforehand?"

  Glancing at my watch, I noted that it was almost four. I didn't have any appointments that afternoon and Swiyah had already stopped by and let me know I could leave whenever I felt like it today. "Sounds good. That gives me more than enough time to shower and do something with my hair."

  "Great!" Jumping up from the chair, Jade bounced out of the room, leaving me to finish cleaning before I grabbed my bag and left the spa to head to my apartment.

  It didn't take me long to get ready, pairing dark gray jeggings with a pale pink, cropped, racerback shirt and crocheted hoop earrings. The look wasn't complete until I stepped into my retro 12s, the wolf-grey and racer-pink complementing my outfit almost too perfectly. With my thick hair twisted and pinned around my head like a Grecian crown, I was slicking on mascara when I heard Jade's knock at the door.

  She took me to The Greenery, a vegetarian restaurant that she said wasn't far from the concert venue. I oohed and ahhed over the descriptions in the menu before settling on deep-fried oyster mushrooms and crispy black eyed pea fritters with a side of sweet corn and smoky collard greens. The server disappeared with our orders and I sipped on my jalapeño margarita that he'd already delivered. It was spicy with a sweet aftertaste that worked surprisingly well.

  "So," I started, sitting my drink back on the table and giving Jade my attention, "why do you guys have an extra ticket? Did Melissa back out?"

  Jade shook her head and swallowed the mouthful of her own drink that she'd just imbibed—a Moscow mule crafted with locally sourced vodka and in-house made ginger beer.

  "Girl, no. Mel had to work a game so she was a no-go from the jump. My brother thinks he's being slick; he wanted me to bring a date so we could double. I swear, as soon as him and his girlfriend finally got together he started a Love Tour 2K19; trudging along annoyingly, trying to help all of the single people in his life find love." Rolling her eyes, she shook her head once more and took another sip of her drink.

  "Won't he just assume that I'm your date?"

  She giggled. "Not at all. The little fucker pays attention too well; he knows my type almost better than I do."

  After more than a year of getting to know Jade online, I knew a little bit about her type as well, but just to fuck with her I scrunched my face up and scoffed in faux-offense.

  "Are you saying that I'm not your type?!"

  Using her straw, Jade fished a piece of ice out of her copper mug and tossed it at me. "I'm not about to play with your ass."

  Laughing, I lifted the ice cube from where it landed in my lap and tossed it back at her. "So sorry that I'm not girly enough for your tomboy ass."

  Her brows rose. "The woman who brought two trunks of carefully packed, nearly pristine sneakers with her to Texas is calling me a tomboy?! What a development!" She spread her arms and looked around as if someone was waiting to cosign for her bullshit.

  "Don't you besmirch my innocent footwear with your judgment!" I could admit that I had an obsession with Jordans, but outside of wearing sneakers with almost everything, I was more femme than not. Jade was simply teasing me to avoid digging into her own preferences—which curiously seemed to align with the style of the woman she called her bestie—though I had no desire to unearth that.

  We went back and forth, teasing and laughing, until our food arrived, and then all talk ceased as my mind was blown to bits by the delicious meal that was obviously crafted with all of the love in the world and then sent out to li'l ole me. I felt transported to my childhood when all my cousins were sent to my granny's house and we all sat on her porch, eating the meal she'd cooked up in that tiny kitchen of hers that didn't even have counters. That meal was an experience and I prayed that the couple of tears I shed after I swallowed the last bite of the mushroom didn't cause my mascara to run.

  Two more drinks, a full belly, and a huge tip later, we climbed into Jade's car and headed to the venue. True to Jade's word, the drive took less than ten minutes, and soon we were walking up to the building and joining the small line that had already formed even though the lit marquee said the show didn't start for another forty-five minutes. A tall, slender man with a low haircut, and a short woman about my height with a huge afro were ahead of us in line. Jade reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder and when he spun to face us, the confusion on his handsome face morphed into a huge grin.

  "You had me worried for a minute," he admitted before wrapping Jade into a hug. He turned to me with a smile, but before he could speak Jade rushed to introduced me.

  "Shad, this is my homegirl Trisha that I've been telling you about."

  Shad nodded at me. "Nice to meet you, Trisha. This is my girlfriend, Aisha." Even though his tone was polite, Shad aimed an annoyed look at his sister who returned his stare with a silly grin.

  With the both of them facing me, it was clear from their resemblance that this was her brother, even without her saying his name. They both possessed the same wide mouth, almond-shaped eyes, and warm brown skin.

  "What happened to your date, Jade?"

  Jade rolled her eyes. "I told your ass that I wasn't bringing a date. You're just hardheaded."

  Aisha tugged on Shad's hand. "Leave her alone, Shad. She didn't say shit to you when you were out here playing does anybody wanna buy a heart. Give her that same respect."

  "Thank you, Aisha! I'm so glad that my brother is with a woman who possesses some sense."

  Ignoring Jade, Shad used their linked hands to tug Aisha closer to him, tucking her back against his chest and wrapping her in his arms as he nuzzled the side of her neck. My heart panged at the sweet sight. "I'm just saying, maybe you should have said something to me. We could have been together a long time ago."

  Aisha laughed. "Uh, nah, player. I didn't even see you like that until…" she glanced over at me—noticing that I was unashamedly watching their entire interaction with an amused look—and nudged Shad. "Well, you know."

  "Damn, babe, seriously? I was crushing on you hard for a while. You mean to tell me I was damn near in love be
fore that first night and you were just—"

  "Horny," Aisha provided in such a matter-of-fact tone that both Jade and I burst out laughing.

  If the music was half as good as the show Shad and Aisha were putting on, the night was going to be a great one.

  ♥♥♥♥

  When Thine Eyes Have Seen The Glory

  I wasn't ready.

  I thought I might have been because I'd heard a few of Xeno's songs—usually in passing— but those snippets didn't do her justice. In two hours and sixteen minutes my life was changed forever more. There were two openers, an Afro-Latina rapping duo out of El Paso who seamlessly weaved back and forth between English and Spanish as they rhymed about their journey to make it out of their poverty-stricken hometown, and a tiny wisp of a girl with a strong voice who sang three songs about unrequited crushes that reminded me of high school in the worst-best way.

  At ten-thirty, all of the lights cut off, leaving the room pitch black for a couple of seconds before what I'd initially assumed was a white curtain on stage lit up like the back light on television, and an animated video appeared. The graphics were crisp and riveting, the hundreds—or thousands—of people in the room watching as a cartoon version of Xeno cruised the city in an old school Impala slab, complete with choppers and the trunk popped open, while a heavy, bass-laden instrumental played. Although I was feeling the music—my head bopping of its own volition—apparently, I was the only one in the room who didn't recognize the video or the music, if the steadily growing electric energy in the room buzzing and the volume growing louder and louder was any indication.

  When the cartoon version of Xeno drove her car into the distance away from the crowd, the real Xeno ran on stage and immediately began rapping to the instrumental. The video morphed into a colorful light show, with multiple geometrics taking shape and pulsing to the bass. Peeling my eyes away from the screen, I finally took a good look at the woman on stage and immediately sucked in a breath.