Rhythms of Love

by Beverly Jenkins

  Later than expected, but as promised, Mel Ferrell showed up with two talent scouts. Tristan had not known who the man was at first, but the guys quickly filled him in.

  They had been practicing some of Tristan’s music for a while, so when he launched into one of the never-before-heard songs the crowd went wild and their energy infused the band, which ended up playing better than they ever had before.

  The scouts were impressed. They could see it in the looks the men exchanged and the notes that were being taken.

  After their performance, Mel came to the stage to shake everyone’s hand and Tristan tried to push the knowledge that this man was Rayne’s former lover from his mind. He tried to focus solely on what Mel Ferrell could do for Optimus Five.

  That night when he and Rayne made love, he poured all the passion and fears of his heart into her body. Again and again, he took her to the pinnacle of pleasure, torturing her with his lips and hands. Sanity told him that the only threat Mel Ferrell presented was in his mind, but sanity had no place in the all-consuming affair with Rayne.

  Mel Ferrell began coming around the club regularly, and he watched Tristan with undeniable interest. He arranged for the group to have a demo made, and brought them into the label headquarters for a formal audition.

  The whole experience was mind-blowing for Tristan, considering it had only been a matter of weeks since he’d left Albany. But nothing compared to the first time he and the guys heard their first single track being played by a local station.

  There had been no warning, they were sitting around the bar one afternoon before rehearsal working out the set for each night of the week. The radio had been playing low in the background and then the DJ had announced he wanted callers to let him know if the next song was a hit or not.

  The next song was written by Tristan Daniels and played by Optimus Five. As soon as he realized what he was hearing he rushed down the hallway to Rayne’s office and scooped her up in his arms.

  “What was that about?” She laughed as he sat her back on her feet; in answer Tristan crossed behind her desk and tuned her radio to the right station.

  Her eyes widened in amazement before she rushed back across the room and straight into his arms. “I told you! I told you!” She planted kisses all over his face, not caring who might walk in.

  Once the track hit the airwaves, the line to get into Optimus every night grew three blocks. Everyone wanted to see the band and their hot new lead singer. And the women came out of the woodwork. Everywhere he turned, Tristan was being bombarded by offers and invitations, some of which would’ve been very tempting if he had not already fallen in love with a superheroine.

  With each passing day, Tristan was more and more sure that was exactly what she was. Because she had taken his staid life and turned it on its head in a way only someone with magical powers could. She’d fulfilled his lifelong dream and given him love, as well.

  Despite his certainty that he would spend his life with Rayne, Tristan never mentioned her to his family. Being his family, he knew they would want to meet Rayne right away and he just wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with that yet. He did, however, keep them completely up-to-date on his music and they were all impressed to hear that his single was being played on local stations.

  For the moment Tristan was content to just allow things to continue on as they had, certain that they had time. They were young and in love and everything in their universe seemed to be moving in perfect harmony.

  But what Tristan did not realize was that his perfect harmony was terrifying Rayne. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that whatever she was doing with Tristan was different than anything she’d ever been in before.

  She kept trying to tell herself it was just another love affair, but that was just what she was telling herself. In the morning, she awoke looking for him and did not breathe until she found him, usually sound asleep beside her.

  When he sang, she listened with an almost trancelike devotion, feeling a woman’s pride in his lyrics of love and passion. She loved the way her apartment smelled because he lived there. She loved the way he brought her flowers almost every day. She loved the way he looked at her. Lord—how she loved the way he loved her.

  Even when they were at the club and both working, he would glance at her, just a glance. And with that one glance convey all his wonderfully decadent thoughts of what he planned to do with her when they got home.

  She’d never been in a relationship like this before. She’d never felt this kind of intensity for someone. And all these firsts were terrifying.

  Usually Rayne went into a new relationship knowing when and how it would end. She knew these things because she was the one who decided them. Usually she was in complete control, but with Tristan that control was completely gone.

  All he had to do was touch her and she fell into his lap like an eager harem girl. All he had to do was form the word Rayne on his lips and she was by his side. But worst of all, she’d come to depend on him and even in her confused state she knew that was a definite no-no. Dependence bred vulnerability and she had not been vulnerable since she was fifteen years old.

  Dependence also tended to make a person think long-term. And Rayne Phillips did not do long-term. It was the one quality she happily took from her mother’s repertoire.

  Whatever was going on between her and Tristan had to stay on the surface level. But even as she told herself that, she knew it was already too late. He’d gotten under her skin and was fast taking over her heart.

  One evening, almost three weeks into their relationship, Tristan came back from a trip to the fruit market down the street to find Rayne had spread out a blanket on the living-room floor and lit candles around the room.

  When he entered she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the blanket. Tristan looked around the room in confusion. “Umm…” He shook his head not sure how to form the question in his mind.

  Rayne sat up a little straighter. “I want to read your aura.”

  “Say what?” He frowned at her, wondering if maybe she’d been dipping into that claret she liked so much while he was gone.

  “Just come here, but take off your shoes first.”

  “Rayne, I need to put this fruit up.”

  “This is more important.”

  “Reading my aura is more important than overripe bananas? I don’t think so.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I know you think I’m a flake, but I’m serious about this. Just come here.”

  With a shake of his head, Tristan set the bag down on the small desk and slipped off his loafers. “You are a flake, but lucky for you, you’re a beautiful flake.”

  He sat down across from her and folded his legs to match hers. “Now what?”

  “Give me your hands.”

  He stretched his hands out and Rayne gently wrapped them in her own, rubbing her thumbs over his palm pads.

  He closed his eyes. “Hmm…I think I can get to like this aura thing.”

  “Shh,” she scolded while continuing to rub his palms. “You have a lot of green in your aura.”

  “What’s green stand for? A virile sex drive?”

  “No, green is compassion—and sensitivity. Which makes sense given that you’re a musician.”

  “Sensitivity? What color represents virile sex drive?”

  She laughed. “No color is designated for sex drives. It doesn’t work like that.” She stared at him for several long seconds. “And blue, a lot of blue.”

  “Blue is a good color. Blue is a manly man color.”

  “Actually, blue represents a calm nature.”

  Tristan snatched his hands back. “Okay, enough of this.” He started to stand. “This aura thing is making me out to be a wimp.”

  She sat looking up at him. “You’re no wimp.”

  “I’m glad you recognized that,” he said in mock offense. He picked up the bag of fruit and headed to the kitchen. He had half emptied the bag before he realized Rayne had been
completely quiet the whole time. “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just my aura is so different from yours.”

  “Haven’t you heard? Opposites attract.”

  “But can they hold?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shook her head as if to throw off some unpleasant thought. “Nothing.” She stood. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Hey, wait a minute.” He crossed the room to her. “That was just a game, right?”

  She simply stared at him.

  “Rayne, you can’t seriously give that whole aura thing any validity.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. So, where are we eating?”

  Tristan wondered briefly if he should pursue the topic because he felt in his gut that she was indeed taking it seriously. But he decided that maybe if they went out to dinner it would serve as a good distraction.

  He named their favorite Italian restaurant and within an hour they were seated and ordering their dinner. The conversation had turned to the band and Mel Ferrell’s involvement, but all evening Tristan could not shake the belief that Rayne was still holding on to the earlier events.

  Chapter 6

  Thinking he was dreaming, Tristan ignored the ringing bell until reality broke through his sleepy haze and he realized it was the front doorbell.

  “Who the hell could that be, this time of the morning?” His mumbled words were directed at Rayne, whose only answer was to shift onto her side and pull the covers closer around her body.

  With a yawn and a frown, Tristan dragged his feet over the side of the bed, seeing how Rayne had made it perfectly clear she would not be answering the door.

  He slipped into his boxers lying on the floor by the bed and rubbing his eyes he stumbled to the front door. “Who is it?”

  “Tristan? It’s Mom.”

  “Mom?” That one word brought him fully awake. He looked through the peephole in the door and his eyes widened to see his entire family standing there. Not only his mother and father but Tracy and Calvin, as well.

  He quickly unlocked the door, his mind racing with the possibilities of what major, catastrophic event would bring his whole family to the city. He briefly wondered how they knew where to find him, and then remembered giving the address to his mom to forward his credit cards.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as the door swung open and his family poured into Rayne’s living room. Katherine smiled up at her son. “Nothing’s wrong. Does something have to be wrong for me to visit my only son?”

  Tristan only frowned at his mother, his sleepy mind now completely befuddled. He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and saw that it was 10:32 a.m.

  He realized that Calvin had noticed the artwork on the walls when he saw him whispering something to Tracy. Her eyes quickly darted over the walls, a slightly confused expression crinkled her brow.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” Kate asked, her eyes taking in every inch of the apartment.

  Instinctively, Tristan hugged his mother and father, still trying to understand exactly what was happening. “So nothing’s wrong—why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise, now would it?” Tracy said, her mind still distracted by the pictures.

  “Surprise!” Kate raised her arms in a grand gesture and winked at her son just before Tracy leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

  Kate’s attention was called to the erotic art that decorated the apartment. “Oh, my,” she whispered, and Tristan only then remembered the woman sleeping in the other room and what an awkward situation he was now in. Oh, well, he thought, they were going to find out sooner or later. He’d just hoped to have time to solidify his relationship with Rayne and introduce them at an appropriate time and place. Like dinner in a restaurant—where everyone was fully dressed.

  His father put his arm around Tristan’s shoulders. “We’re here to take you out to breakfast to celebrate your new single. We heard it on the radio, just the other day!”

  “Ben, look,” Katherine whispered and tugged her husband’s arm, pointing at a black-and-white print taken directly from the Kama Sutra.

  Tristan was beginning to understand why his family was here now and wanted to kick himself for not anticipating this development. His family was incredibly supportive of each other. Of course they would want to celebrate his recent success with him. He just wished they would’ve given him some notice.

  Tristan watched with a pained expression as his father pulled his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and propped them on the tip of his nose. He stood mute as his father examined the pictures closer, but all he wanted to do was run around the room and tear each of them down. He knew assumptions would be made and opinions formed before any of them even had a chance to get to know Rayne and realize what a wonderful woman she was.

  Just as he expected, Ben made no comment, but an expression was worth a thousand words.

  “I really wish you would’ve called,” Tristan said, shaking his head and trying to decide how to move forward. Should he get them out of the apartment and into a hotel before Rayne awoke? Or wake Rayne and get the introductions over with?

  Tracy was wandering across the room as if drawn by some magnetic force and she was headed directly toward the most flagrant display of them all. At first glance the picture appeared to be just two shadowy figures intertwined until the eyes adjusted and the figure became several human bodies sexually connected. Tristan thought there was much to be said for Rayne’s stylishly unique apartment, but the artwork was designed to catch everyone’s immediate attention. Just as Rayne wanted it to.

  “Look, something I need to tell you.”

  He directed his attention to his mother.

  “Tristan!” Tracy’s high-pitched voice could’ve awakened the dead, and Tristan knew instantly the time for his family making a discreet retreat had passed. “What have you gotten yourself into here?”

  “Something I’ve only dreamed about,” Calvin muttered, but in the sudden quiet of the room, everyone heard.

  “Are you rooming with someone, son?” Ben finally asked.

  “You could say that.” Tristan took a deep breath. “Remember me telling you that—”

  “Tristan?” The one word, spoken so softly, had a hundred questions wrapped in it. Tristan turned to Rayne standing in the bedroom door, dressed in her emerald robe.

  Her long gold-tinted hair fell in a tangled mess around her small face. Even in her disheveled state, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he was so proud to call her his own.

  He smiled. “My family wanted to surprise me—and they did.” He walked across the room to her and put his arm around her waist, bringing her forward.

  “Everyone, this is Rayne. Rayne, this is my sister, Tracy, and her husband, Calvin, my father, Ben, and my moth—”

  Tristan stopped short, seeing the look of horror on his mother’s face. She stared at Rayne with the most hate he’d ever seen in her eyes. His loving, gentle-natured mother looked like a tigress ready to attack.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  Still staring at Rayne, her eyes narrowed as she moved forward. And as if sensing danger, Rayne moved backward out of Tristan’s arm.

  “What did you say your name was?” Katherine asked, stopping within a foot of Rayne.

  “She didn’t.” Tristan stepped back and recaptured Rayne’s waist, knowing on some unspoken emotional level that she needed his touch now. “Mom, what’s going on?”

  Katherine shook her head as if confused. “You’re too young, it’s not possible. Of course, I wouldn’t put it past her to make a deal with the devil for eternal youth!”

  Tristan could only watch as his mother’s eyes ran over every inch of Rayne’s face as if searching for some hidden message, some hint of recognition.

  He had no idea what was going on or what would come next. “What is this about?”

  Tristan looked
first at his mother and then glanced at Rayne, surprised by the look of resignation on her face. In that moment, he realized Rayne was more aware of what was happening here than he was. But how? He was almost certain the two women had never met. Yet they seemed locked in some kind of time warp together where the only two people they could see were each other.

  Feeling helpless, Tristan turned to his father. “Dad? Do you understand what’s going on here?”

  In his peripheral vision, he could see Tracy and Calvin standing off to the side, watching the events unfold and looking as confused as he felt.

  “It’s not her, Katie.” Ben came up behind his wife and pulled her against his side. He, too, was staring at Rayne as if he’d seen a ghost. “But, my God, she’s her spitting image.”

  “Who the hell are you talking about?” Tristan finally lost his temper. He needed answers. “What is going on?”

  Rayne looked at him and only then did he see the tears in her eyes. “My mother, Tristan. She’s talking about my mother.”

  “Monique Phillips.” Katherine said the word as if it were the foulest thing she’d ever uttered. “That’s your mother, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Rayne uttered the one word as if it held the greatest shame imaginable.

  Tracy’s gasp was the only sound heard before Tristan’s mind was instantly flooded with the stories of a lifetime. Monique Phillips? Rayne Phillips. How could I have not made the connection?

  Tristan could see the memories running over his mother, as well. Now standing before her was the daughter of Monique Phillips, the woman’s spitting image. Tristan knew that Rayne was just another victim of Monique’s conniving and manipulation, but Kate had no way of knowing that. All she saw was the very image of her nemesis, and her son was holding on to the younger woman as if she belonged to him.