Loving Me for Me

by Naleighna Kai

  He gestured for the band to stop playing the beginnings of the opening song. The music trickled to a halt.

  “Can I talk to you all for a minute?” he said to the audience.

  The roar of the crowd took a minute to die down. But Reign’s anxiety amped up. What was he doing?

  “You know, I’ve been accused of … what do they call it?” He snapped his fingers. “Appropriating Black culture; trying to act like I’m Black or trying to take something that’s reserved for the Black folks alone.”

  Boos and jeers followed that statement.

  “But I grew up in an all-Black neighborhood from the age of twelve, and a special woman taught me to embrace the music I grew up with in Boogie Down Bronx—”

  Cheers erupted from all around.

  “As well as music from my homeland of India.”

  A roar of approval followed that statement, and he waited for it to diminish before he said, “And she helped me combine them to make a new and unique sound. So since folks believe that I’m trying to run away with the ‘Honorary Negro’ title …”

  Reign groaned. Jay outright laughed.

  “I might as well make a good pitch to make it happen,” Devesh said, smiling.

  “Oh no,” Reign whispered and flashed an anxious look at Jay, who had added road manager to his position of brand specialist. He had actually made some suggestions about a few family members who were well-suited to be in areas that could help Devesh. He pretended as though he was as clueless as everyone else about what was happening on stage. But she knew differently. Jay and Devesh had been meeting every day at Jay’s condo for the past month, planning the tours and the direction they should take. They also had a new album in the works that would be released next year. The tours, recordings, and album releases were all planned around his filming schedule because he insisted on only taking projects in the California area.

  “Some people are pissed at me because I married one of the baddest women on the planet.”

  The crowed cheered and applauded.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, sending an intense look Reign’s way. “Let me tell you a little bit about my woman. She’s born and bred from the South Side of Chicago.”

  Reign closed her eyes, trying to steady the ripples of anxiety dancing a tightrope in her mind. Devesh was so far off the reservation, he didn’t have a tee pee or a horse.

  “She told me that when she’s feeling low, she gets in the shower and sings the type of songs that will let her get a prayer through.”

  “Alright now,” someone yelled from the audience.

  “She sings until it satisfies her soul,” he said, sliding his hand along the mic stand. “So if I’m going to be accused of appropriating Black culture, I might as well do the doggone thing.”

  Devesh glanced at the background singers and musicians, and they knew to stand-down as he took the mic from the stand.

  Reign didn’t realize she was holding her breath, waiting along with the crowd to see what he would do. She took a long sip of water from the cup she held and wished it was some of the Fireball whiskey Jay and Devesh loved so much.

  Devesh took a deep breath; then let loose with something so unexpected that the cup slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a thud.

  “Father,” he crooned. “I stretch my hands to thee.”

  “You’d better sing that,” an audience member cried out.

  My God. He’s singing my favorite song. And he was singing it the way she sang it, in that slow building way she’d learned from the pastor when she was a teenager attending a Baptist church in Roseland.

  “We ‘bout to have church up in here,” someone yelled from the first row.

  The crowd vehemently voiced their approval, and the applause was deafening.

  The song was one that the deacons would sing to start a church service and was considered a “Dr. Watts”—a deep spiritual hymn. The entire church congregation would join in, unlike the call and response of a normal Dr. Watts song. The songs would sound so sad, a sort of wailing plea for God to listen. The way Devesh belted it out, it still carried the same heaviness as a petition for God to come in the house and bring the Holy Spirit in to stay.

  “No other help I know,” Devesh crooned. “If thou withdraw thyself from me, oh whether shall I go?” And he sang it with such power and such pain in his voice that tears formed in Reign’s eyes. They fell unchecked because she knew he was singing it for her; to let her know that he heard her and he understood. That night she was unable to save her sister’s life had left a hole in her soul that nothing had seemed to fill.

  She had told him that no matter what religion she’d been involved in—and there had been several—there were times when she reached back to that Missionary Baptist upbringing. When nothing else could get through, that song made her feel something deep on the inside. It said everything that needed to be said.

  Reign was totally mesmerized by Devesh, listening as he transitioned into the beginnings of Guide Me Oh Thou Great Jehovah before moving into I love the Lord He Heard My Cry. She had never heard anything sound so beautiful in her entire life.

  She’d sung those three songs in the shower that night when he proposed to her. Still shaken up by everything, she hadn’t known which way to go or what would happen with her life. Singing a medley of these three songs was her way of turning her problems over to the Creator.

  Now Devesh was singing her pain on the stage. Telling the world that what he knew about her was more than just that she was a Black woman, but that there was something deep within her that had experienced so much that she couldn’t say and he understood.

  The crowd responded in a way that was nothing short of amazing. Some of them sang the songs with him. Hands went up, giving praise to the Creator.

  His eyes had closed. Now he was delivering the words with as much soul and power as he could summon. Reign looked out at the crowd to take in the reaction. Devesh was reaching their hearts and minds. Black, White, Latino, East Indian—it didn’t matter.

  When he was done, the musicians and background singers were all standing and applauding as well.

  “Thank you for allowing me that moment,” he said over the cheers of approval. “Are y’all ready for this?”

  The answer was a resounding, “Yes.”

  Devesh studied his crew for a moment and sang, a cappella, the words, “You’re here; I’m pleased. I really dig your company …”

  The first words of the Jill Scott classic brought the keyboards, the bass and then the percussion to life. One by one the musicians joined in accompanying him on a song that they were familiar with even though they hadn’t rehearsed it with him.

  By the time the first chorus kicked in, a beautiful curvaceous woman had sauntered in from the opposite side of the stage, put her mic up and joined him. The crowd recognized that familiar voice as the one who recorded the original, which put her on the map. And so did the background singers and musicians who seemed to be just as shocked as everyone else.

  Devesh lowered his mic and let Jill have a run with the song before lifting the mic again and saying, “Chicago, I present to you the incomparable Jill Scott.”

  The audience’s enthusiastic response to her appearance meant they could barely hear the vocals at first.

  They finished the song together, then Devesh left the stage giving Jill the time and space to do her thing.

  Reign couldn’t put a voice to what she felt. Devesh looked at her, waiting for her to say something, anything to let him know that she was alright with the direction he’d taken. She embraced him, held onto him as the music flowed around them.

  Chapter 26

  Anaya situated herself across from Mumma and Papa in the game room, watching as Pranav took a beating in billiards from her father.

  “I think his marriage is a good thing,” Pranav said to Papa, but more for her benefit. “Devesh is different, all of a sudden he’s more … something. I can’t put my finger on the reason, but
this marriage is working for him.”

  The words Pranav had said to Anaya a few weeks earlier in the privacy of their home echoed in Anaya’s mind.

  “That man has a hunger for that woman like you would not believe. His heart has not been satisfied without her, and he wants her in the worst way. I love you, but for the first time, I’m beginning to not like some parts of you. You are denying him happiness when you already have your own.”

  “It works because he’s a mama’s boy,” Tiya taunted, plopping a red grape into her mouth. “And he married a woman who has a few years on him. She can pick up where Mumma left off—taking care of him.”

  “Actually, I love both parents with equal measure,” Devesh said entering from the patio, causing the few family members in the room to shift their gazes his way. “And there are things I think of doing to my beloved that I would never dream of doing to my Mumma.”

  Anaya and Mumma blushed a deep red. Papa gripped Mumma’s hand to keep her silent. Tiya blinked back a retort. Bhavin rolled his eyes. Pranav actually chuckled.

  “Don’t be upset because I married a woman who knows how to handle her business and mine, too,” Devesh said, using a bath sheet to wipe off some of the excess moisture from an early evening swim. “While you’re shopping your husband into the poor house trying to keep up with Anaya.”

  Hiran’s shoulders drooped. Something that Anaya didn’t miss, neither did their parents.

  “You’re going to lose your husband trying to be something you’re not,” Devesh warned. “Anaya has a two-income household. They can afford everything they have.” He draped the bath sheet about his shoulders. “So instead of worrying about whether I have mama issues, you need to be focusing on your own household.”

  “Well, there’s some truth to that,” Aunt Kavya said in Hindi, causing Tiya to glower at her.

  “Who are you to say anything about my life? You make money off your body, just like a whore,” Tiya snarled at Devesh putting her bowl of grapes to the side. “You’re nothing more than a pretty face.”

  Bhavin’s snicker set Anaya’s nerves on edge. Oh yes, her big brother was still pissed at Reign for not taking him on as a client. And to add insult to injury, she’d tested the waters of this new entertainment management career of hers by taking on another East Indian male as a client. The newcomer, who was a referral from Devesh, was starting to see traction in his career following on the heels of Devesh’s success.

  “Actually, he’s not pretty. He’s handsome. Get it right, sister,” Reign teased, putting a steely look on Tiya. “It’s not what he does on the page, in front of the camera, or on stage that’s the reason he’s doing so well. The real money comes from investing, saving, and living within a reasonable limit.”

  “But if you really were about the almighty American dollar,” Bhavin countered around a mouthful of garlic naan. “Then it wouldn’t have been a problem to help me in my career. I look just like Devesh. Some say I’m even more handsome.”

  “It takes more than good looks and a great body,” Reign explained. “He has more to offer—and that’s what the industry sees. And so do I.”

  Bhavin slyly glanced at Devesh. “There were rumors that Devesh …” He grinned, and there was something evil in that expression. “May have given those directors a little more than just acting.”

  The implication was out there and so was the bitterness in which it was delivered.

  “The reason I left Bollywood is because I wouldn’t do that sort of thing,” Devesh challenged, but the fact that his brother would put that kind of thing out there was foul.

  “The difference between you and my husband,” Reign began. “Is that you’d do whatever it takes to climb up that ladder, whether you had to sleep with a woman … or a man. Trust me, there’s more than rumors floating around about that. And what do you have to show for it? So I think your sister’s calling the wrong brother a whore.”

  Bhavin turned beet red.

  “I hate what this is doing to our family,” Anaya said, and her tone was so despondent that Pranav rushed to her side.

  “You all are letting things that don’t matter become a big issue,” Devesh shot back. “You don’t approve of my wife, but you certainly don’t mind using her to your advantage. She’s not having that. Neither am I.”

  Bhavin stormed from the room.

  “What she said earlier,” Hiran chimed in studying Tiya as he polished off the snack he had swiped from the kitchen. “Live within a normal life budget.”

  Tiya leveled a stony look at him, and he fell silent. “If you worked harder then—”

  “I have three jobs to support you,” Hiran shot back, and the bowl almost toppled from his lap. “And it’s killing me.”

  “You think you’re so clever,” Tiya growled at Devesh, ignoring her husband’s heart-felt admission.

  “I’ll take that,” Devesh said cheerily, then he kissed his wife who followed him out of the game room.

  “Does she have a point?” Reign asked Devesh as he closed the door to the master suite behind them. “Are you with me because you’ve got mama issues?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” he replied, angered that his sister had managed to plant a seed of doubt in Reign’s mind. “When I saw you at the convention, my world shifted again. Being with you, listening to you talk—the feelings all came back. I realized I could not live without you being in my life. No other woman had made me feel as wonderful as you did. Like despite all of my obstacles and challenges, I could still be the best me possible.”

  Devesh situated her next to him on the chaise. “A lot of women came at me because of my looks.”

  That had been the case ever since he’d morphed from a scrawny dude to a muscular heart throb. He had to ask himself if he didn’t have those two elements going for him—handsome and a bodybuilder’s form—would they still want him. He would have to honestly say no. And that was sad. He wanted a woman who loved him for him.

  “They’d all tell me the wicked things they wanted to do to me,” Devesh said. “But you never paid me empty compliments on my looks or body. You praised any achievements, my charity work and things of that nature. That meant everything to me. You saw who I really was.”

  Reign laced her fingers with his.

  “That night when I was laid up, I asked you to stay with me because simply your presence was enough to make me feel better. Your sitting in the chair across from the bed eased my mind. I loved talking to you, as you had insight about life that was incredible. I didn’t want you to leave.”

  “Is that why you asked me to rest on the opposite side of the bed?”

  “Exactly. And you laid so far on the edge that one inch more and you would’ve been on the floor.” He touched his forehead to hers and they shared an easy laugh.

  Sometime during that night, he had reached for and resituated her so she wasn’t nearly falling off. She had turned to him, and he’d held her in his arms. They stayed that way all night, and it had felt so right. “You were smiling the next morning,” he said. “I wasn’t ready to let you go, but when I said we needed to talk, you said “tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow. We have things to do today.’”

  Tomorrow never came. They were always working, busy, recapping their day. He had never said what he needed to say, that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her in every way.

  “With you, life felt right; it felt good, it felt … awesome. I wanted you regardless of what my family felt. But then you disappeared.”

  She looked away, then cast her eyes down as though maybe she was beginning to regret the years they missed out on. He gently turned her face toward him. “But you’re here now. I want to do right by you and our amazing children.”

  They would have a two-parent household with a mother and father to look out for them. The children would see them working together. The same way his parents had done for many years. That’s how marriages worked. The parents stayed together, made good choices, achieved things together. He c
ould do that with Reign.

  “Can I tell you one of the things I love about you?” he asked.

  She broke eye contact with him again, seeming to resist the pull the sound of his voice had on her.

  “You pay attention to the little things. For example, I’ve never reached up for the shampoo and come back with an empty bottle. And these.” He gestured to the few clothes he still had in the closet. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you put some of my old clothes somewhere and kept the ones you said make me look good.”

  Reign gave him a sheepish smile and averted her gaze again. “I did that?”

  Before he answered, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. “You’re slowly slipping in some new garments that fit my new style.”

  Reign didn’t bother to deny it.

  “I noticed how you schedule my personal appointments, coordinating them with Jay, making sure to space them so I have time to breathe and spend time with the twins. I notice everything you’re doing, honey. And I appreciate you. Thank you, my love. Thank you,” he said and slid her hands into his. “So if Tiya’s going to believe that I chose to be with you because I’ve got mama issues, then I’m going to let her believe whatever she wants.” He gave her a sly smile and puckered up for a kiss. Reign gave him a peck on the lips, then he added, “I’m happy, and Tiya’s miserable. So is Bhavin. Let’s leave them that way.”

  She inhaled slowly and let out a calming breath. “At the convention, when you were so attentive, I was confused,” Reign confessed. “You know, sometimes men smile at a woman. For some reason, she immediately reads more into it. She’ll have them married, with children, and a white picket fence, when all he meant was a simple smile.”

  Devesh chuckled.

  “I didn’t want to be that woman,” she said. “Reading more into it than you meant. You embrace everybody, but it seemed like you held onto me a lot longer. It could’ve just been my imagination—”

  “Running away with you?”