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

by Love Belvin

“How does your bestie feel about you stanning over his ex-lover?” I teased.

  “Who?” His face wrinkled. “Young?”

  I hummed in agreement again and Raj laughed.

  “I don’t know why chicks get so hung up on sex. That’s all that was. Trust me, he ain’t trippin’. He know she’s dope, too.”

  “That’s because y’all wasn’t paying attention to her Diane Sawyer interview when she cried about her regrets on love. Men don’t hear or see tears when they fall from a woman. They only feel them when we make them feel it.”

  “So Young should have felt her pain because she had a broken heart?”

  “No.” My head joggled slightly against the pillow. “From what I could tell, her heart should have never been involved in the first place. Clearly, his wasn’t. I’m just saying it got ugly there for a minute after that fellatio tape got out. I know things had to get thick around that time. People said she was the one to leak the tape.” I shrugged with my lips. “It was her phone it was recorded on. He never spoke about it publicly, but I didn’t hear of him touching her again after that. Didn’t see them being friends after that.”

  “He’s her boss. He’s got to work with her. Plus, that’s all conjecture. A lot of details were netted. The public never gets it all, but always got a damn opinion.”

  “Did I pluck a nerve?” I couldn’t help my smile.

  “Not at all.” Raj shrugged, rubbing his nose absentmindedly. “Young can handle his own. Either way, if he’s good, I’m happy. Who’s your favorite?”

  “Favorite what?” I noticed he changed the subject quickly.

  “Artist.” He chuckled. “And I ain’t fishing for a mention. You’ve made it quite clear you ain’t a ‘Ragee fan’,” he emphasized with a whiney voice, I guessed to mock me.

  “Whew…” I exhaled as I considered that. “Dale is cool. “Licker” was a good track. He’s working his way to legend status now that he’s popping again. Hmmmm… I like Trey.” A smile blossomed on my face. “He’s a slick talker, that one. Nasty.”

  His head rolled to peer into me. “That’s what you like?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And other times?”

  “I like hip hop. Love songs.”

  “And you don’t like Ragee?” He mock-gasped.

  “I do like your music. I guess I never stopped to pay attention to your body of work. Since we’ve been…” I hesitated, “knowing each other, I realize I’ve liked a lot of your stuff. I just didn’t know it was you.”

  “So, you’re gonna act like you ain’t know me? Get the—”

  Laughter burst from my lungs. “No! I’m not saying that at all. I’ve been busy. I don’t go to concerts, watch videos, or buy music. I listen to radio, though.”

  “But you know Trey’s music?” his tone was doubtful as he chuckled quietly. “You mean to tell me sex appeals to you more than love does?”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “You just said you like Trey ‘cause he’s a slick talker. You’re talking about sex. That’s mostly what his catalogue is about. Dale’s “Licker” is about getting head. That’s sex. My music is about love and good vibes, I guess. And you can’t even put my name to the tracks you rock out to in ya car when they’re in radio rotation.”

  I took a moment to consider that.

  “Oh, you get quiet on that, huhn?”

  “No. Just thinking your point over. I don’t consider myself sex-crazed. Can’t be, at least not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t remember the last time I’ve had some.”

  Raj snickered. “I hope you can’t. We’ve been married for a minute now.”

  “No. Well before then, too. Your lil kiss was the most action I’ve gotten in like… Forever.”

  That revelation shocked the hell out of me as my eyes roved over to Raj. He was frowning.

  “What was little about my kiss?”

  My face opened in horror. “No,” I breathed. My hand went to his hard chest as I sat up, using my left. “Not like that.” Raj’s eyes fell to where we connected. I swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean that at all.” For a while, he didn’t respond. I was waiting for a smile or laugh to make fun of my seriousness. “Are you fucking with me?”

  Then, something in the corner of my right eye caught my attention. There was a tent in his sweats. A thick, conspicuous log against his crossed thigh. My belly dropped like a freefall. Before I could think of a reaction, my head was tugged down to his face by two big warm hands. At first, his lips brushed gently over mine. I was the first to part my mouth. His warm, slivery tongue was ready and my groin wound deliciously. He swiped my mouth then pulled back to bite my lip on a pull. I almost cried, it was so teasing, felt so good. His tongue dipped inside my mouth. I was ready for him, tasted him, and explored his flavor.

  My nipples stung in tantalizing pleasure, clitoris throbbed an ache. His breathing deepened underneath me as my hands roved over his bubbled chest and rolling abs. He felt hard and smelled all male. His hands gripped my scalp, holding me to him. The bed of my panties felt weighted in no time. His tongue toured me, this time with unmitigated desire instead of curious exploration. I didn’t want this moment to be a fleeting one like the last time we kissed. It had been too long for me, and there was no way I could continue to ignore how unapologetically virile this man was. He wanted me. I knew it. This time, I wanted more.

  Slowly, my tongue unlaced around his. My right hand headed south down his hard torso.

  My heavy lids parted, and once I was able to focus on his face, I whispered, “I wanna to see you.”

  My fingertips met the elastic of his low rested band and pressed into his pelvis to push through. The feel of his pubes had air gushing from my lungs like a novice. This was different. This was Ragee, my sworn enemy for the past four months. I was entering his personal space, here, for real. The root of him was thick, strained. My ravenous hands smoothed up his shaft, impressed by the girth against my palm, the pulsing veins running the course of him. But when I was ready to meet the helm of his hardness, my ribald probing was met with an unexpected discovery.

  Metal.

  A piercing. My fingers rolled around the head of his swollen dick and uncloaked a vertical bar with balls at both ends. My eyes widened above him, lips parted. But Raj’s expression held placid. His lids were heavy and breathing disturbed, but he didn’t speak or react.

  He’d fucked up.

  I wanted him now more than ever. My hand withdrew from his sweats and I swung my leg over to straddle him as my head dipped for his mouth. Raj’s hands didn’t return to my head, but his tongue did receive me. And I slowly sank down on him, in search of his dick, standing at attention. Only, after fully descending and resting the back of my thighs against his, I didn’t feel anything.

  My eyes fluttered open and the muscles in my face tightened. Raj’s eyes closed as though he was in pain. That caused me to immediately relieve him of my weight. I reversed my thigh over him like a stretching maneuver, and sat on my knees as I peered down onto him. Did I do something wrong? Was I too aggressive? Ragee had made it clear from the jump he wasn’t exactly fond of me. I took things too far. I had to. Why else would his cock go flaccid with me over him and stuffing my damn tongue down his throat?

  Slowly, his eyes opened strained. He took a deep breath and then rose to leave the bed. He didn’t go to the bathroom, didn’t head into the sitting room. Raj left the master suite.

  The whole room reeks of burning plastic and beer. She’s right next to me, rolling on the bed, dancing and singing. She ain’t supposed to be on my bed. I want to get on the floor, but don’t want to be rude. She’s acting crazy. Again.

  “She playing hard to get…” she sings, more like wails.

  It’s late and I have to do my homework in the morning because I didn’t feel like it after school. But I can’t go to sleep when she’s shaking the bed like this.

  “You know them girls who do that,
Gee-Gee?”

  “Do what?” I ask with my back to her.

  “Play hard to get. They say they don’t wanna be bothered, knowing damn well they wanna put they hands down your pants.” She laughs. “Don’t let them fool you. Girls be wanting to do nasty stuff, too. Yup. We do. We just been taught by stiffy church people we ain’t supposed to like it like y’all guys do.”

  I’m hardly listening. She talks too fast and too much. It’s late.

  “I remember the first time I put my hands down a boy’s pants. His shit was short and rubbery!” she busts out laughing, almost not finishing the sentence.

  That makes me think of Heather and what she thought the first time she felt me. It was through my pants, but I hope she ain’t laugh at me.

  “You do that, Gee-Gee?” her stinking breath at the side of my face had my body go stiff all over.

  “Huhn?” I try to play it cool.

  Then I feel her cold hand. “You play hard to get with the girls?”

  She’s at my waist and I want to elbow her in the chin, but I can’t do that. She’s family. My mom wouldn’t like that. Grandmother wouldn’t either.

  “No. I—I ummm… Don’t play with girls like that.”

  “Big lying ass!” She laughs in my ear. “I wanna see what you be showing them girls. I know you do. I see how they be looking at you when you singing. Especially that Heather heifer.”

  Her hand is cold and nails are sharp. They dig into my skin, trying to go underneath my sweatpants and boxers. With my arm, I squeeze the bone next to my stomach, hurting myself to keep her from my privates.

  “Yo, man!” I scream, the most brolic I’ve ever been with her, but she was going too far. Again. “Don’t do that!”

  It’s too late. She got her hands in my pants, her nails scraping against my hairs.

  No!

  “Lemme see how big is you, boy. I wanna see you…”

  I jumped up from the couch, out of breath. Looking around in the dark, it took a minute for me to realize I fell asleep. The living room. There was a chill to the room. My chest heaved and sweat clung to my clothes. I rubbed my wet face with shaking hands.

  Shiiiiit!

  It was official. They were coming back. I hadn’t had the dreams in years. Years! After going through therapy, I had a breakthrough from being haunted by them. Now they were back.

  And I couldn’t even call the one person I knew could help.

  Ezra…

  “All in all, Live Nation’s now comfortable with the ticket transfers. They’re actually exceptionally pleased at how the new dates leave an overwhelming demand for a few more shows tacked on the end.”

  “Word?” I frowned, looking at my lawyer, Edward Chesney, on the projection screen across from my desk.

  As he nodded his confirmation, Mike, from the speaker phone, piped out, “Hell, yeah! Fuck you think this is?” He laughed. “We talking ‘bout fuckin’ Ragee, my nigga!”

  The reception on my end for him wasn’t that great. But then again, Mike was somewhere overseas, only God knew where.

  Chesney rolled his eyes at Mike’s boasting. I was glad Mike was just audio and couldn’t see it. It was something Chesney would do in his face and the meeting would turn into a bickering match where he would remind Mike that just because he was white and could string together a sentence didn’t mean he didn’t have killers on contracts, too. Once in a while, it was funny; at a time like this, I didn’t have the time. Pushing back the UK tour never set well with me. It was Mike’s idea. People had already bought their tickets. Most venues were sold out. It was another thing that had been stressing me the hell out lately. This could have been ugly. I was empathetic if I was anything to my fans.

  Fingering his blond strands, Chesney blew out a breath. “Now that we know we’re still in good standing with them, I can tell Amy over there you’re considering adding the additional dates.”

  “They gotta be tacked on the end of the tour?” Mike asked. “They can’t be sprinkled in?”

  “That call is up to the talent,” Chesney answered, using those damn inflections.

  “Whatchu you think, ock?” Mike asked.

  I filled my lungs with air, brushing my hands down my face. I was tired, sleepy as hell considering I hadn’t been “working,” thanks to this fake marriage thing. How can having a fake new wife tire you out like this?

  “I ‘on’t know, man,” I breathed, seeing Leech step into the office with his tablet. He stretched out on the couch across the room. “Let’s table that for when you get back in town.”

  “A’ight.” Mike asked Chesney, “That it?”

  “Yes.” Chesney lifted his brows then thumbed through papers on his desk. “Oh, one last thing. I’ve asked one of my junior associates to take on the Donovan Williams case. He should be flying in…” He checked the time on his wrist. “Oh! He should have arrived already. He’ll be meeting Mr. Williams tomorrow.”

  “How much?” I asked.

  “Pro bono.”

  My forehead stretched. “Huhn?”

  Nothing happened for free. Chesney himself was a big shark. He ate well off my business. I didn’t know he’d put one of his people on this when I asked. I only inquired about quality legal services.

  “He…” Chesney’s lips and eyes turned up as he thought. Then his eyes were back on me. “He fucked up majorly last week. In lieu of firing his ass, your need came at an opportune time. You can thank him for the stellar representation of your…” He growled, “Well, whatever you want to refer to Mr. Williams as.”

  My eyes shot over to Leech. He didn’t know about my arrangement with Wynter. Thankfully, he seemed engaged in whatever was on his device. Chesney wasn’t with the fake marriage ruse either, and wouldn’t stop reminding me.

  “I appreciate that. And I’ll give her the heads up.”

  “Hold the fuck up!” Mike barked into the phone. “Y’all talkin ‘bout Van, Wynter’s people?”

  “Yeah.” My expression addressed his audacity.

  “I told her I was gonna handle it. Why the fuck you in this?”

  “Because she told me about the shitty lawyer you put on it.”

  “Shitty?” Mike yelled. “How you figure he shitty?”

  I sat up in my office chair, too tired to do this. “C’mon, man. You know that Marcus Greene dude ain’t getting shit done. The kid been locked up since September. It’s the end of January. He don’t even have a trial date yet, ‘cause your Greene—”

  “I told you I was fuckin’ handlin’ it!” boomed through the speaker so loud, Chesney’s head flew back on the monitor and Leech turned to face me at my desk. I waved my hand for him to leave. “That ain’t ya lane. She ain’t ya problem! I know what the fuck I’m doin here, man. Don’t be comin’ behind me like I’m not on my B.I., my nigga!”

  I swung my neck to the side of the room, cooling myself before I responded. I let Mike get away with a lot. Sometimes too much because I thought I understood him as a man. He was aggressive, took pride in what he did, and was generous at heart. But when he went so far as to diminish my role as gatekeeper of my destiny, I had to check him.

  “Mike,” I started, pacing myself. “I personally don’t give a shit about a Donovan Williams or the deal you made with his people about him, but when you bring bullshit to my doorstep that can fuck up my brand, I’m gonna step in and salvage what I can. And it’s fucked up how you sent her to Speed’s dusted ass in the Bronx, knowing damn well, ain’t shit he could do for her, but get her lifted on some fuckin’ loud.”

  “Like I said, I was on top of it!” he shouted again.

  “Let me off the ride here, fellows,” Chesney intervened, ready to end the call.

  I nodded to dismiss him before tapping to end the chat. Mike kept going.

  “Look! I spoke to Greene about Van. He told me he spoke to the prosecutor this week and was working on getting the evidence from the prosecutor. It’s called fuckin’ criminal discovery!”

  “He’s just doin
g that in the last week of January? You see how fucked up that is? And you got her sitting here looking dumb as hell, playing her part while you ain’t holding up your end of the fuckin’ bargain.”

  The line went quiet for a while. “Raj,” he came back a lot calmer. “…this is what I do. I’m Mister Make Shit Happen. I can’t give her what she need so early in the game. This a three year deal. Giving her the deliverables three months into it ain’t gone do nothing but give her time to come up with more fuckin’ demands we ain’t agree to when we cut the deal.”

  “So, what the fuck is she getting out of this?” I yelled so hard the echoes of my voice bounced off the wall.

  Why was she here, talking to my grandmother every night, not making an issue of her spiritual ways I knew had to be weird and comical for her? Why didn’t she freak out after meeting my fifty-one-year-old brother, who had the mental capacity of an eleven year old? Why hasn’t she made a big deal about me freaking out when she woke me out of my sleep in my bed? Why hasn’t her smart ass cracked one joke about me going soft on her after being so hard my dick hurt, ‘cause I wanted her so damn bad? How was she being compensated for being around my fuckedupness and not making it public?

  “Listen, Raj,” Mike tried, his voice the softest it had been the whole call. “I know what I’m doing, man. I swear I do. I always do. Real talk. And you know I do!” he warned, growling. “Just let me do me, and you focus on the next album. Super Bowl’s in a few days, my G. You go and have a good time without me. Do it big for me, a’ight?” I heard the phony humor in his voice. “It’s gonna be litty. But look, I gotta go. I’ll be back that way in a couple of weeks. My time out here just got extended ‘cause of some bullshit. I’ll check in with y’all.”

  I disconnected the call and fell back into my seat. My spine jerked to sit up again, and hand went for my cell this time. This was getting out of control. I needed to call my guy. He’d sent texts and called twice since I spoke to him the morning after the wedding. But I hadn’t been man enough to reach back out.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed, throwing myself back into my chair.

  Once again, I’d taken the coward’s way out.