The Rhythm of Blues (Love In Rhythm & Blues Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  What was it with their friendship? Was Ragee really gay? Is that why I was here bored out of my mind? LeRoy made clear his sexuality at the wedding, but he gave some ambiguous description of Ragee’s. It was a hard call for me to make even as I watched them embrace for what was clearly a goodbye, as I saw LeRoy leave the court with his two associates sauntering behind him. Ragee resumed possession of the ball and began a game with three other men who appeared as masculine as him.

  Shaking my head, I stepped away from the window and continued downstairs. Midway through, I noticed my shoes were untied and dropped to my haunches to right them. When I was done, I hopped down the remainder. The moment I hit the landing, prepared to travel the foyer for the hall to the gym, I heard voices coming from the opposite end.

  “Oh, look,” a male bellowed, “my favorite sister-n-law!”

  The grayest eyes I’d ever seen on a black man appeared with big white, perfectly aligned teeth in tow. LeRoy wore all black: a jacket, tee, pants, and shoe boots as his smile led him to my toes. Damn, the man smelled like sin. Then there were the two with him. The small femme guy with a high-top fade, cropped gauchos, and platform boots. The other was a white girl with green hair and yellow framed glasses. She wore a green plaid, pleated skirt with red combat boots.

  When he arrived, the gleam in his eye felt different. It was as though he registered me as familiar. That was laughable. The first encounters I’d had with LeRoy had been filled with his verbal jabs thrown at me. And he was a quick one, didn’t need any provocation.

  “Wow.” I breathed, fighting my humor. “If it ain’t my best man. I haven’t seen you since my nuptials. Oh, happy days.” I faux pouted. “I’m sad they’re over.”

  His girl-like companion giggled.

  LeRoy’s brilliant beam faded at my words. “You wound me with your cold reception.”

  “You wound me each time you open your mouth in my presence.”

  “But you’ve done so well, tink-tink,” he pleaded and I couldn’t decide if he was sincere or just fucking with me.

  “Pray tell.” I played along, cocking my head to the side and widening my eyes with interest.

  “You’ve stayed the hell out of his way. He hardly remembers your name when I ask about you. I haven’t seen you in the media. And the staff here tells me you haven’t given them any trouble. Do you know what that means, sweetheart?”

  “What?”

  A smile blossomed through his greys. “Maybe I was wrong about you.” He shifted closer to me. “Maybe Raj wouldn’t mind allowing me to get to know you better,” his tone was suggestive.

  I backed away from his looming presence and shifted to leave. “Fuck you, bestie. You may be his best man, but I only like mine fantasizing about the trap between my legs and not between a man’s ass cheeks. Have a nice life!” I sang from a distance with a fake smile and wave.

  “Damn,” I heard him call after me. “I see you have a prosy garden, too, love. Keep up the good work!”

  I kept my pace away from them as a shiver of disgust ran down my spine.

  With Korrupt Hearts blasting in my ears, I trekked down the marble-floored hall from the gym. I was certain I didn’t give it my all during my workout, but I sure did tire myself out in there. My thighs throbbed and I knew that was a good thing. I just wished I knew how long it would be before I started seeing results. My eyes met my feet as I ambled.

  I could use a new pair of kicks…

  My head shot up when I caught moving figures in my periphery. Mike. He was talking to Ragee and it didn’t appear to be a friendly exchange. In my experience with them, it never was. Raj had one hand on his waist, shoulders broad, chin was to the floor, and brows furrowed. Two familiar faces of burly men were with Mike at the opulent foyer of the house. Mike held his hands out as though he was pleading for something. By the time I had the mind to snatch a bud from my ear, Ragee was walking away, heading to the studio suite.

  “Oh, it’s like that? Why’re you trippin’?” he shouted after him.

  I caught Ragee mumbling something while he trekked angrily down the extension tunnel leading to the studio wing.

  “Raj!” Mike called, half a smile on his face.

  “Fuck outta here!” I did hear Ragee demand, but he retained his stride.

  I pulled the other bud out as I neared Mike and his crew. It was late morning, odd time for him to be here, considering he stayed so far away.

  “Glad to see you,” Mike shared when he saw me approaching the foyer from the opposite direction Ragee took off in. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Got news. I’mma be outta town for a minute.”

  “What’s a minute?” I stopped in front of him.

  “Guess you could call it a cruise, but just for a few of my peeps. Anyway, I’ll be out there for two weeks then one of my artists in London got a mini tour run happening in the UK. I’ll be out there for a couple of weeks, working on that. For the next two weeks, I’m off. You know what that mean?”

  I shook my head, face tight with confusion. Mike’s leaving the country for what sounded like a month felt…wrong. Who would be my contact person? He’d been orchestrating this show. What if something got out? Who would do damage control? Myisha was still out of the damn country.

  “It means don’t contact me unless it’s a real emergency.” My neck popped back at that. Mike nodded with hiked brows. “Yeah. I got my peoples on the blogs and news outlets and they know what to do if shit pop off. Your only job is to lay low.”

  “Lay low?” I cocked my head to the side. “Doing what?”

  “Spending more time here at the estate, staying out of the public eye.”

  “My family isn’t on the estate. My uncle ain’t on the damn estate.”

  He took a deep breath. “I got Van. I spoke to the lawyer this week. He said he on it.” Mike pulled out his phone. “Matter of fact, I’ll send you his personal cell. You can call him yaself and ask all the questions you want. In the meantime, you parlaying on the estate was already a part of the deal. Ain’t nothing change. You enjoying ya honeymoon period now that he on a hiatus,” he referred to Ragee, as that’s what his public relations team relayed to the media as to why the next leg of the tour had been postponed.

  “I still don’t understand what that means. I don’t have shit to do here.” My phone pinged in my hand. Mike’s name lit up on the screen.

  “Nothing to do?” He snorted, head jerking back. “Man, this almost twenty acres of land! You gotta five acre lake in ya damn back yard, indoor and outdoor pools, three Jacuzzis, tennis and basketball courts, horse ranch…fully equipped gym, a fuckin’ chef, and your choice of luxury cars. You got a driver and fuckin’ security at your disposal. Fuck you mean ‘you ain’t got shit to do here’?” His eyes rolled in the air, gesturing toward the house. “You could live in this bitch and not run into him at all if y’all made it that way.” He changed stances, appearing irritated. “Look, man, y’all grown ass people. Figure the shit out and let me go get this bag.”

  Before he could end the conversation, I turned to make my exit. I was on my way to one of the two double staircases with a quickness.

  “A triple fuck you to you and your boat and your fuckin’ UK client! This lawyer better be about his shit,” I hissed, moving closer to the stairs.

  I could hear Mike and his entourage snickering behind me.

  “Don’t lose that ass in the gym,” humor vibrated in his chords. “You’ll be a’ight!”

  My throbbing legs returned to burning before I was midway to the top of the stairs. I stomped my way down the hall, all the way to my “assigned” room. My lungs were beating against the wall of my chest by the time I made it to the set of doors, slamming the one shut behind me. I tossed my body on the lounge chair and ottoman.

  Why?

  Why had I agreed to this bullshit?

  His contagious laugh spurred my excitement as I sang.

  “Don’t wanna go through no more changes. From now on I promise I wi
ll be a better man…” I sang and danced with his arms as he sat on the table before me.

  His head toppled backward as he squealed in laughter. I tried singing over my own.

  “I know that one!” His mother swore across from us in my office. She clapped her hands together recalling. “After 7!”

  Ignoring her, I kept with the lyrics. “In the heat of the moment, baby I lost my head…lost my mind. I didn’t know what to do…”

  “I swear.” Heather smiled as she dropped her chin on her clasped hands. “You can make a song relevant in any occasion.”

  “C’mon.” I plucked lil Antwan from my office desk and brought him to a cleared area near the conference table. “Ba-ba-bop!” I started the choreography I remembered from the video. “C’mon, lil butt!” I swayed side to side then jumped into a full body spin.

  Antwan laughed, and clapped when he tried his own spin. Heather clapped us on from the chair in front of the desk.

  “Heat of the moment, yeah!” I tried staying in key while laughing.

  When he clapped his little two-year-old hands above his head and tried singing while he wobbled, my heart expanded and I grabbed him in my arms for a hug. This boy brought me a sense of joy I couldn’t explain, but his conception and birth were some of my darkest days. Putting him on his mother’s lap as he squealed and wiggled, my sentiments matched his.

  I walked backwards to the seat across from hers, watching them both.

  “You’re so good with kids,” she observed out loud. “It’s crazy you’re almost forty and don’t have any of your own.”

  I danced a little in my seat at Antwan as he tried mocking me. “We all know why that ain’t the case.”

  “Gee-Gee…,” she warned, singing my family’s nickname for me.

  “Heather Taylor,” I mocked her, though mine was with a bite.

  It was Heather’s married name. The name she took from another man. It worked. Her eyes skirted around my office that was just as messy as my state of mind lately.

  “I haven’t seen this place in over a year,” she noted.

  I stood. “You haven’t been around much lately. Busy giving Big Ant babies, and shit.”

  “That’s not fair and you know it.”

  I turned to her with a smile on my way over to the coffee table where I knew I had candy. “I’m soweee…” I pouted playfully then winked. Finding a lollipop, I called the baby. “Here you go, soldier.” I waggled it his way and he kicked his legs and wiggled for his mother to let him down.

  When he ran to me, lil Antwan grabbed my legs. I peeled off the wrapper and handed it to him. On a big gulp, he stuffed it in his mouth. I glanced across the room to find his mother’s eyes, which were fixated on us dreamily. I knew what that was about, but wasn’t beat to go down that road with Heather again. She chose her life. And I’d been trying to make the most out of mine.

  “What’re you doing here anyway?” Heather never came all the way out here.

  “Checking in on you. I told Myisha I would.”

  I raised a curious brow. “That meant you pulling up in Sparta?”

  Her guilty eyes looked away. “I wanted to see rather than hear your lies.”

  “Lies?” I scoffed, amused. “I lie now?”

  “When you want to shut people out, you do.”

  “I don’t shut people out. I do me.” I rubbed the top of Antwan’s head. “There’s a difference.”

  “What does that mean? You’re not shooting a movie. Your tour is on hiatus, something I’ve never known you to do. I would ask if you’re dating, but you’re so secretive.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Can’t date,” I reminded her.

  “Why?” She measured the cunning smile on my face.

  “Married men don’t date unless it’s their wife. Big Antwan date you?”

  “Could you stop calling him that?”

  “What?”

  “Big!”

  My eyes dropped to the lil guy sitting between my standing legs, tearing up the lollipop. “You gave him a son and decided to give him Antwan’s name. This is lil Antwan, making your husband—”

  “Antwan. Just Antwan!”

  I laughed. Heather hated when I teased her about her husband.

  “Who’s that…is that…her?”

  I lifted my gaze and amusement left my face when I saw Heather squinting out of one of the windows facing the garage side of the house. I stepped away from lil Antwan, moving closer to the window. Wynter was getting out of her AMG E 43 Sedan, went to the trunk and pulled out shopping bags.

  I plopped back in the chair across from hers where Heather was damn near out of her seat, turned around, peeping ol’ girl. My head bobbed as I hummed the “Heat of the Moment” melody while watching, too. Having Heather and my “wife” in the same purview wasn’t ideal. One was chronically judgmental and insecure, and the other I didn’t know at all.

  And by the sight of Wynter in a white tailored trench coat that came to her knees, I was sure Heather’s curiosity had piqued and her self-confidence was seized. If that alone didn’t do it, I was confident Wynter’s high, brown suede boots with high heels in a sexy strut did. Dark silky waves bounced at her shoulders and the bright sun reflected on her hair as she moved. Her made up face was fixed in a scowl as she strutted into the garage and out of our sight.

  Heather’s head flew back to face me. Eyes wide with marvel. I nodded with my face resting on my knuckles, it was indeed my fake wife.

  “What’s she like?” Her forehead wrinkled with curiosity.

  My brows lifted in a shrug. “Like a woman.”

  “C’mon, Gee-Gee!”

  “What? I really don’t know.” I sat up. “She seems cool to me; she stays the hell out of my way.”

  “Really? You two don’t speak?” She gasped.

  “What’s there to speak about? I hardly ever see her.” Lil Antwan began to fuss. He finished the small lollipop and wanted more. I knew better. “C’mere, lil buddy. Let me take that sugar off you.” I held out my hands and he wobbled over to me.

  “You’re married.”

  I put Antwan on my lap. “I know. But she’s been doing her.”

  It was true. She’d been laying low around here. I’d been seeing her in the gym, trying to work out. Earl mentioned how she told him she wanted to lose weight. Her determination impressed me. But I knew she wouldn’t see any real results because of the way she ate. I passed by the theater and smelled her B-Way Burger as much as I heard the volume of the movie she watched in there alone. And when I was in the kitchen while she was there for dinner, she’d pile on more food than I thought a woman could eat.

  “You’re so cavalier about a woman living in your home, wearing your ring.” I could feel Heather’s perceptive eyes on me as I played a hand game with Antwan. “Where does she sleep?” She cleared her throat.

  “In her room, on the other side of the house from mine.”

  “I saw on Spilling That Hot Tea when your publicist said you postponed the overseas shows so you could enjoy your new bride. Do you at least go out?”

  “Nah.” My attention was fully on the baby as he giggled. “We enjoy each other by giving one another space.”

  “Gee-Gee—”

  “We’re cool, Heather. I’m off that topic. What’s up with you? How’s everything going at the church?”

  It took her a while, but eventually Heather took a deep breath and answered, “Now that the new year is here, we’re trying to catch our breaths. With the Christmas shows, New Year’s shut in and everything, it’s been crazy. Pastor McKinnon’s been running on fumes. Seems like half the church is having some replacement surgery, recovering from a stroke or heart attack, or suffering from diabetes or some heart condition.”

  “That’s because half the church is over fifty years old,” I noted while playing peek-a-boo with lil Antwan on my lap.

  “That’s because so many young people left,” she snapped.

  “This one,” I referred to myself, “need
ed real ministry.” My tone was more unbothered than Heather liked.

  This was an old fight between us. No way would I ever return to my grandmother’s store front as a member. There was no spiritual growth there. My current pastor could preach circles around my grandmother and her ministerial staff.

  “If you would come, so many would follow you. It would attract more contemporary ministries.”

  “I’m good where I’m at, Heather.”

  “I guess you are, where your pastor marries fake couples.”

  My hands froze in the air and my eyes rolled up and over to her. Heather couldn’t stop blinking.

  “Ain’t gone be much more of your weak ass shots over here.”

  “Ragee… Lil Antwan!”

  I looked at the smiling baby. “My bad, lil man.” Then I went back to his mother. “When you said you were coming up, I dropped everything and welcomed you. Don’t start tripping, Heather. Ain’t nobody beat for that.”

  Her eyes closed slowly and she shook her head. It was her way of cowering. She knew I would only tolerate so much of her shit.

  “I’m just stressed,” she mumbled. “That’s all.”

  “About what?”

  “About things!” she shouted so unexpectedly, the baby jumped in my lap and started to cry.

  Heather quickly grabbed him in her arms and bounced him in a hush.

  “What things, Heather? You and ya man good?”

  She rolled her eyes, turning her back to me. I couldn’t care less what was happening in her marriage as long as she was good. I only brought it and him up to mess with her.