by Ifè Oshun
His hand wandered away from the keys to stroke my ear. I closed my eyes, reveled in his touch, and sensed him lean toward me as his breath grazed my face. I felt like I could die. He leaned in even closer and rested his cheek against the side of my neck before slowly, maddeningly running the tip of his nose from the base of my throat to my ear. I rubbed my cheek against his like a cat rubs against its favorite couch. “You're so warm,” he whispered in my ear. “You feel like a Georgian summer.”
His voice was husky and rumbly. My heart was beating so fast that for a second I wondered if I was okay. I placed his hand on my heart, and his eyes rounded in amazement at the rapidity of my heartbeat. Removing the rubber band that held his hair back, I slowly ran my fingers through his silky locks. It was his turn to stop breathing for a while as he closed his eyes. I tugged gently, and his eyes flashed open, greener than I'd ever seen them. He frowned with the effort of concentrating so that nothing witchy happened as I took a deep breath; tortured by the delicious smell of him, but sated enough so that my shimshana didn’t take over. He drew a little closer and I made up the rest of the short distance until our lips met.
And I heard it clearly…like there was a live orchestra playing in the living room. Music. It was a fragment of a beautiful song in my head. His lips were cool and delicious and moved slowly on mine. There it was…another segment of the song. He kissed the corners of my mouth before nibbling on my lips. The mysterious song fragment continued to play. There was no way anything, anywhere, ever, could compare to this. All I wanted was to be with Sawyer and hear our music until the end of time.
“Angel,” Dad bellowed from his workshop. “It's getting later.”
Sawyer reluctantly pulled away, but still cupped my face in his large hand.
“Did you hear that too?” he said.
We both smiled then, knowing he wasn't talking about Dad.
# # #
A couple months later, we were all at a swanky Copley Plaza hotel ballroom celebrating Kat Trio’s new, real, record deal with Quake.
“ ‘No. 8, featuring Little Wolf’ ” is on track to go number one in download sales this week,” Nina announced into a microphone as we all raised glasses and applause broke out around the room. Due to an online press juggernaut, the track became a hit on Internet radio and went viral before we had time to title it; so “No. 8” stuck.
Mom, Dad, and Mr. C. gave me big hugs. “Told you you were a star,” Cici said, looking stunning in a black cocktail dress and dramatic eye makeup. Earlier, she’d applied her skills to my eyes to make them look sultry and mysterious, too, but now she shook her head at the designer jeans I’d chosen to put on. At least you’re wearing makeup and heels. She gave us all hugs before she walked off with Satchel. I turned to the girls.
“Why’s Raj staring at you like that?” LaLa asked Julietta. We all looked at him while pretending not to, and sure enough, he was watching Jules with sad puppy-dog eyes. We turned back to each other and laughed hysterically.
“Another heart broken by Julietta Hernandez,” I said in a radio announcer tone.
LaLa waved to Fearmonger, who was across the room talking to Markus and the crew. Both rappers raised their chins and flashed peace signs. “He acts so hard in public,” LaLa confided, still looking at Fearmonger, “but when we’re alone, he’s a big teddy bear.”
Jules and I exchanged happy, amazed smiles. Who’d a thunk?
They looked at me expectantly, waiting for the dish. “Sawyer's new crib is coming along,” I offered. “Still not a lot of furniture, but his studio’s almost done.”
“Wow,” Jules said, “So cool he ended up buying the house you were shot in.”
“He told me it was in that house, kneeling by my side, post-gunshot, that he fell in love with me.”
“Awwww…” they crooned simultaneously.
“I know!” It was exciting to be sharing with my girls again. “It’s more homey than his apartment was, and he combined the living room and formal dining room. Now there’s two grand pianos in there. One for him and one for me.”
“Wow, he’s teaching you how to play.” LaLa’s head bobbed up and down in simple approval.
“So awesome,” Jules added with a knowing nod.
Sawyer and I were working to finish the song from the day of our first kiss, but since we could only hear it when our lips met, we weren’t in much of a hurry to stop long enough to work it out. In the meantime, we wrote other songs, played for and sang to each other, and insulated ourselves in a world of music. He was the only mortal I spent a lot of time with, and, luckily, he was okay; my presence didn’t affect him.
I caught sight of Justin across the room and felt a fleeting pang of loss. Sawyer made sure I was constantly sated with stored blood, and as a result, I hadn’t seen my eternal donor since the night at the Nest. After a long pause and a quick, sad smile, Justin turned his back to me and resumed talking to a curvy redhead in a blue mini skirt.
Sawyer made his way over to me through a sea of handshakes and pats on the back. “Congratulations, Kat Trio!” he told us all before looking into my eyes. “It looks like your dreams are coming true.”
With a smile and a wave, LaLa and Julietta left us alone.
“My dream is definitely coming true,” I said, taking his hands in mine. He was my boyfriend, and the sounds of our celebrating family, friends, and colleagues faded away until his voice, breath, and heartbeat was all I heard.
“Mine too,” he whispered before kissing me, softly, in front of everyone. Our secret music began to play…
Take it easy, sis.
I ignored Cici’s warning and instead promised myself to love him with no hesitation. One day Sawyer would die. But until then, his heartbeat would be my song in a major key. And while music existed without him, there were no lovely notes without Sawyer.
The record deal and Sawyer. Mom and Dad said it was all fleeting. But I had built my new world on that which is fleeting. And I was willing to pay the price.
THE END
Acknowledgements
So many souls have helped get this book out into the world. First and foremost I thank Papa, Grace and all those others who paved the way. Thank you Eshu, Oshun, Shango, Oya and Obatala.
Thanks to my brother Jeff for helping when no one else would. Thank you Boston Public Library for being the shelter in the storm where I could write. Thank you to my personal angels: Burrell, Anestine, Alimi, Michael T., Nina, and my father Hal. Many thanks to Baba Adeyemi for helping me find the Light in the darkest of days. Thank you Elaina for being this book’s first fan and encouraging me to stay the course.
Most of all I thank my child for unconditional love and support through all the sunny afternoons that found mommy typing away at the laptop instead of going to the park. You are my reason for being. You are my heart. You are my all.