Rebecca handed Tara the papers Quinton just pulled out. “KINSON’s deal with Luca is now void.”
“What does that mean?”
“We can’t proceed with it, because Spin is already tied up in another situation. Luca lost everything to your father. Spin wasn’t his to sell.”
“My father? That makes no sense and if that’s the case, why didn’t my father or Eugene tell us this?”
Quinton leaned forward and explained, “It’s possible that Solomon doesn’t know. Solomon handled your entertainment affairs. Timothy had someone else taking care of his personal and business dealings to avoid that conflict of interest. Perhaps one hand didn’t always talk to the other. Unfortunately, it happens.”
“We believe Luca never repaid Timothy per the terms of an agreement between him and your father, and the deadline coincided with the timing of your father’s declining health. When Timothy died, Luca let their business dealings go to the grave,” Rebecca added. “Luca was in serious debt. Your father saved Spin by helping to bankroll Spin’s obligations for your last tour so you could avoid an indirect scandal. The label financially is back in the black again because of your father.”
“But Timothy also took care of Luca’s personal debt, and in return, Luca used Spin and the catalog of its artists as collateral. Over time, Luca couldn’t get his head above water.”
Tara looked at the sheets spread out in front of her. If this was the summary, she dreaded seeing the full accounting breakdown. “Let me guess. He never paid a dime.”
“A few weeks before your father passed, Luca was due to settle up with Timothy, and he didn’t because he couldn’t.”
“What does this mean?”
Rebecca looked at the two of them and stood. “I’ll let Q tell you the rest. He’s the one who deserves all the credit for bringing this to our attention.” She offered a tight nod and slipped out of the room.
They were alone together for the first time since the night she kicked him out of her home. He pushed away from the wall and moved to the seat next to her.
She watched him pull another set of documents out of the folder he held and place it in front of her.
“This right here is an entity that Timothy formed months before he died. He lists himself and Aaron. It’s the LLC he used to handle his dealings with Luca, and upon Timothy’s death, he stipulated the transfer of everything under the LLC to your son.”
“Whoa whoa whoa. Are you telling me that my son owns Spin Records?”
Quinton shrugged. “It looks like it, but he can’t run it until later. Timothy has instructions about that, and what happens if you, as Aaron’s mother, choose to sell or keep it.”
“Get the fuck outta here. Wow,” Tara declared, falling back in her chair. Her palm flew to her forehead, and she shook her head in disbelief. “My ten-year-old son, who I just found owns my label. I have no words. I’m utterly speechless.”
“Then wait until I tell you the rest.”
“There’s more?” she asked, eyes open as she held her breath. “What else can you possibly tell me that’ll top this?”
“He also stipulated that every one of the masters belonging to you, Mia and Jordan, whether collectively recorded or individually, revert to each of you. You own your music. No one can ever take that from you again.”
Tara stared at the table in silence until her shoulders started to shake, and tears flowed steadily from her eyes. She lowered her face into her hands and wept, overwhelmed.
He pulled her chair toward him, and soon she felt Quinton’s arms reaching for her. He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her body with a strong embrace, and she allowed him.
Quinton kissed the top of her head.
“Even in the end, Daddy was looking out for us,” Tara whispered into Quinton’s chest.
“He did.”
“And Aaron. I can’t believe he did all of this for him.” She straightened up and wiped at her face. “It will be a lot easier to shop my next project as long as I stay on the kid’s good side,” she joked lightheartedly. “I didn’t tell you this, but my sisters and I are bringing Pure back. It’s just an EP, only a few songs so we can properly leave our mark on the business after all these years.” Then she started laughing uncontrollably until she hunched forward to hold her sides.
“What?” Quinton asked, staring at her concernedly.
“Since when did Daddy get a sense of humor, though? All these wild goose chases he sent me on I could have avoided with a simple conversation.”
“For real.” Quinton ran a hand over his head and stood up. “I’m sorry for my part in this. I hate what this did to you. To us.” He reached for her chin and tilted her face upward. “Tell Little Man congrats for me.”
She watched him walk away. His hand touched the door, and she called out for him.
“Quinton.”
He stopped but kept his back to her. Shoulders still slumped, he replied, “Yeah, baby.”
“Come here.”
Quinton slowly turned and retraced his steps back to her.
“Thank you. We never would’ve known any of this if you hadn’t gone looking for it.” She held up her hand, keeping just her right pinky raised. “Friends first.”
“Friends always.” He linked his finger around hers before pulling Tara closer.
She smiled up at him, and Quinton wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I missed you, Quinton.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb and just held her close.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
And he did.
* * *
Tara and Quinton arrived at Quiana’s baby shower hand-in-hand, mingling with Quiana and Grim’s family and friends. When not engaged in a conversation with other guests, Tara and Quinton stole a few moments here and there to sit and cuddle in the corner.
Pulling Tara onto his lap, Quinton placed a hand on her stomach. He asked, “When are we going to have one of these parties for us?”
“When are you going to give me your last name?”
“We can do that tonight. Vegas never closes,” he said, pulling her back against him so they could watch Quiana open her gifts.
“As much as I would love to speed things up, I want something more intimate.”
“So once we’re married, we can start making babies?” he murmured against her neck. Kissing a trail along Tara’s shoulder, Quinton held her closer. “Or would you rather we wait, so it doesn’t interfere with the new CD?”
Tara pulled away, glaring at him. “Quinton, why would you say that?”
Confused, he said, “Blue, why are you getting upset? You are about to drop a new CD, which requires promotion, videos, and, knowing you, touring at some point. That’s almost two years spent on that alone. There’s also a lot to do for a label you’re relaunching. A lot, especially when you’re waddling around with my baby inside you.”
Sighing, she shook her head. “As much as I love music, family comes first for me now. The minute I become pregnant, our baby comes first. Whatever fits in around you, Aaron and our child is secondary.”
“Will you two join the rest of us and save that for your honeymoon,” Quiana said, walking toward the couple. Tara shimmied from Quinton’s lap and stood to hug the mom-to-be. “I’m so happy you two made it for the shower, and even more excited that you got my brother to settle down.”
Quiana reached to look at the ring Quinton had placed on Tara’s fingers a few days before.
“Thank you to you and your friends for inviting me,” Tara said.
“Come with me so I can introduce you to everyone. You’re about to family, so it’s time you get to know us more,” Quiana said, reaching for Tara’s hand and pulling her away.
* * *
Curled up in her bed a few days later, Quinton and Tara slept in until the telephone woke them.
“Quinton, your cell is ringing,” Tara said, trying to wake him.
Pulling her closer to him, Quinton mumbled in
coherently before falling back to sleep.
Tara squirmed from his grasp and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. Glancing at the ID, she saw the caller was Grim and answered. “Hello?”
“Tara? Is Q around?”
“He’s sleeping. Want me to wake him?”
“Yes, please. Tell Quinton that Quiana is about to have the baby.”
Tara excitedly woke Quinton and listened anxiously to his conversation. She hopped off the bed and raced to her closet, calling behind her. “Hurry! We have to get to the hospital.”
Not hearing a response from him, she turned around and found him sitting where she left him. His face was expressionless.
“Quinton? Come on. Don’t you want to be there when the baby arrives?” she asked. “Quin, what is it?”
Shaking his head, Quinton said, “Tara . . . I—I . . . I can’t do this right now.”
Confused, Tara sat down beside him. “What? Why?’
“Nah, it’s a hospital. I’ll fall back and wait here.”
“Scared?” His eyes met hers, but he didn’t answer. “Grim didn’t sound worried when I talked to him. Did he say something when you got on the phone?”
“No. It just hit me we lost our mother when she had us.”
Hugging him, she said, “Quin, honey, everything will be just fine. I’m positive it will be. And I will be there right beside you as you support your sister.”
“Thanks, Blue,” he said, squeezing her in his arms.
“Now, let’s go meet your niece or nephew, Uncle Q.”
* * *
With her sisters across from Tara at the breakfast table later that evening, she relayed the events leading up to Quincy Joyce Hemmings arrival and showed off pictures from her phone. Quinton was upstairs sleeping.
“She is so adorable and looks just like Quinton. We didn’t want to leave her, but Quiana and the baby needed their rest.”
“Sounds like someone got bit by the baby bug,” Jordan commented.
Mia laughed and refilled their glasses with iced tea.
“We wouldn’t mind having a baby of our own, but first, I want to get married and spend a little time as a couple before adding more to the party.”
Mia asked, “So what’s stopping you?”
“Are you and Quinton ganging up on me? He suggested we head to Las Vegas,” Tara replied. “First things first, let’s finish recording this record for Pure. I think we have a hit on our hands.”
“Me, too!” Jordan and Mia agreed.
“Did you decide on whether you’ll also appear on my first single? Now that I have full control of this release, I can kick off this new season with my sisters beside me. The way it always should’ve been.”
“I’m in,” Jordan said with a warm smile. Mia agreed and leaned over to pull Tara into a hug, adding, “It would be an honor.”
Jordan remarked, “Working in the studio together was a lot of fun. It inspired Mia and me to work on a few more songs. Not for us to sing, but maybe we can try writing again. This time for other artists.”
“We were about to go into your studio to work on some tracks. Tara, I’m sure you are tired, but we would love to have you help us,” Mia said.
“I can sleep tomorrow. Let’s go!” Tara said, jumping at the chance to spend time in the studio just like they used to years ago.
Chapter 22
From the backseat of the car, Tara watched the changing landscape as they moved through the South Carolina countryside. She relaxed in Quinton’s arms as he pointed out familiar sites until the car turned down a long dirt road.
Pointing to a modest house at the end of the long driveway. “Is that the house?”
He nodded, enjoying her uninhibited curiosity. Relieved she admired the natural beauty of the place he still called home. Tara got out when the car stopped in front of the house. She raced up the steps to the wraparound porch and peered inside.
Quinton retrieved the luggage from the driver and met her at the door. Once he unlocked it, Quinton led Tara inside and showed her the house.
“Quin, I want to see the rest,” she begged, pulling him to the front door.
“It’s dark outside, Blue. We can go out tomorrow,” he said.
“No,” she insisted. “Now.”
Not wanting to argue and happy she was willing to stay, he grabbed two flashlights and took her around the areas within walking distance. He walked her down a dividing road between fields, pointing out the land and explaining how previous owners once used it.
“My grandmother left most of this land to her grandchildren. She wanted us to have a piece of who we were,” he explained, holding her hand and leading her down the dirt-covered passage. “My great grandparents were sharecroppers on this land. However, times were hard, and in time the owner of the property couldn’t afford to maintain it. My grandfather found a way out of no way and bought as much as he could before he died.
“When my grandmother brought us down here from Harlem to raise us, she made sure she passed all she knew about our history on to us. She taught me that the land is valuable, not for monetary reasons but for the roots of our past it holds in its soil. Each acre tells a story.”
He pointed out an old building with graying wood. It appeared maintained, although not in use. “That was once a school. It only has one room.”
Tara followed him to another building, quietly listening to him relate more stories from the past.
“After I started making a little money, I tried to save as much of this as I could. It is what my grandmother would have wanted me to do,” he said. “My older brother and sisters wanted to sell their shares. They didn’t see any use in holding on to the land. Besides, they don’t care for South Carolina living. Fortunately, my grandmother had one condition in her will forbidding any of us from selling shares until all of us had reached twenty-one. When I was old enough, I bought them all out. I later purchased a few more acres beyond our family’s property line. The buildings came with the additional land.”
They came to another building in the middle of an open field. Tara walked up to the door, which opened with a little more than a light push. Entering a large room, she walked to the center of what was a small chapel.
“My grandfather and some other men built this church. This was the first site for the large church we passed driving to the house. I discovered it one day while looking for a quiet place to find clarity. I was intrigued and met with a local historian about the place. Once I learned its history, I had to restore it and maintain it.” He glanced around at the few hand-carved benches for pews and then looked at Tara. “It’s special to me.”
“This is where I want to marry you,” Tara whispered, awed by the beauty and serenity she felt within the walls.
“You do?”
“Of course. It would be perfect. I don’t want a huge wedding. I just want those close to us to be here, and this place is the perfect size.”
He smiled. “When?”
“When what?” she asked.
“When do you want to get married, silly?”
“Everything we just went through makes me want to marry you right now, but spring sounds nice.”
“Cool, let’s do it tonight,” he replied.
Quinton, it’s close to midnight. We have to get a marriage license, find someone to marry us . . . I want my family and my son to be here . . .”
“Excuses, excuses,” he replied chuckling. “Do you want to be Tara Ellis or not? It’ll only take a phone call. If not, take that ring off your finger and stop frontin’.”
They left the building after Quinton turned off the lights, one of the few upgrades he had made to the small chapel. Meanwhile, the bantering continued during their walk back to the house.
“Honey, let’s be realistic,” she urged. “I only want to do this once, and when we do, I want it to be perfect.”
“And that will take what? A day or two? Sydney will be here with Aaron first thing in the morning. Blue, we can make this happen.�
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“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I will not let you slip away from me again,” Quinton vowed. He noticed activity on the front porch and stopped, telling Tara, “Stay behind me.”
“What is it?” she asked still peering around him.
He cautiously moved closer, calling out to the person to identify himself. With one hand on his cell, he started dialing the local police department, hoping one of its two officers was on duty.
“Kang?” a voice called with a southern drawl. “Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am?” Quinton answered. Realizing it was indeed Latrice, he grabbed Tara’s hand and rushed her toward the house. “Put that bat down! Lady, you scared us. I was about to call the cops and have you arrested.”
“I almost called them on you! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Fanning herself with relief, Latrice laughed, happy at the sight of them. She was in her bathrobe and a long nightgown. A scarf around her head and face cream was under her eyes. “I saw all the lights on and didn’t know if someone was breaking in. How many times do I have to tell you to turn out the lights when you leave the house? Boy, you act like electricity runs cheap around here.”
Latrice suddenly stopped talking when she saw Tara. Frowning at Quinton, she asked, “Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were bringing company over?”
Tara smiled at the two of them.
“I need to clean the house, and I’m standing here in my nightclothes,” she said, clutching her robe closed. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Latrice, calm down,” Quinton said. “Tara isn’t just company. She’s about to be my wife. And who would have known you’d come over here at this hour?” Smiling, he pulled Tara closer. “Latrice, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Tara Russell. Tara, I’d like to introduce you to my other woman, Latrice Shaw. When you were acting up a few weeks ago, she is the one I ran to.” He laughed, hugging them both.
“Quinton, did you say fiancée? You never told me you were getting married!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness gracious!”
Tara extended her hand, but Latrice hugged her. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you,” Tara said. “I was wondering if you were a figment of his imagination.”
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