* * *
Everybody was on their feet clapping and whistling as Charlene made her way off the stage. She’d been a hit. She looked absolutely beautiful and he’d never loved anyone more.
With his chest swelling with more emotion than he thought he could handle, he was making his way across the room, trying to get to the backstage door so he could see Charlene. A hand on his arm held him back.
Akil turned to see who’d stopped him and felt waves of dread clogging the air instead. With a nod of his head the guy who had been calling Akil, making outrageous demands and just recently very serious threats signaled they move toward a door near the restrooms. Akil followed him because there was no use making a scene. This was Charlene’s night and there were bouncers all over this place. Not to mention Jax and Steve. If he did what he truly felt and knocked this dude the hell out there would surely be a huge fight, one that would definitely make it into every tabloid first thing tomorrow morning.
So he had to keep his cool. It was taking great effort but he did so, following the familiar face until they were closed in the small room alone.
“Well, well, well. Akil Hutton, superproducer,” he drawled, a smirk spreading quickly over his face.
“T. K. Dupree,” Akil said tightly as he turned, standing with his feet slightly spread, ready for anything.
“You look good, brotha. Glad to see you’ve been living well. Then again, I already knew that was the case.”
“Let’s cut the bull. I don’t know why you wasted your time coming here. I told you on the phone how I felt about your little ultimatum.”
T. K. Dupree, a six-foot-tall, half Puerto Rican, half African American man with short hair and two gold teeth stood in front of him. They were of similar build and similar backgrounds. T.K.’s mother, Rosita, spent many nights at Akil’s house. Which meant T.K., also known as Thomas Keith after his father, spent many nights in the lower bunk in Akil’s bedroom.
“And I told you I’m not stopping until I get what I want. You’ve come a long way, brotha. It’s time you shared the wealth.” T.K.’s hand moved to his waistband, where he no doubt had stashed his piece. Even though Akil had been out of the game for a long time, he still recognized the signs.
“Then you should have worked for it!” Akil spat. “You’re a little too old to be a stick-up boy now, T.K.”
T.K. just laughed. “You’re right. I have outgrown sticking people up for five and ten dollars or whatever those poor junkies had in their pockets. I’m on to bigger and better gigs now. You should know what I mean.”
“I know I’m not giving you a dime,” Akil said, taking a step back and lifting his arms in the air. “So if shooting me is your final call, do your thing.”
“Nah,” T.K. said, stepping closer to Akil. “That’s too easy. But I am going to give you one more chance. One million or the whole world finds out that the superproducer has a super secret, one that could land his ass in jail.” He was about to walk away but as if he was having an afterthought he looked Akil directly in the eye. “And by the way, your new act, she’s a hottie. Wonder what she’d say if—”
Akil reacted instantly, grabbing a handful of T.K.’s shirt and pushing him back until he slammed into the wall. “Don’t even think about her. Don’t say her name. Don’t look her way. Or I swear, T.K., all that we’ve been through, all that we’ve seen together will seem like a day in the park compared to what I’ll do to you.”
Again T.K. laughed. “You know what to do, Akil.” He pulled out of Akil s grip. “So do it.”
Chapter 17
Now they were back to the silent treatment. For about fifteen minutes during the drive back to the house Charlene wondered why she even bothered. After all they’d shared Akil still had his moments.
The difference now was that she felt somehow compelled to dig deeper, to figure out what was really bothering him. Her performance had been a hit, Akil had said so himself. On top of that, Jason had said so, as had the applauding crowd. Hell, the manager wanted her to come back next Friday night. Akil quickly axed that offer, telling him he’d see her again after the CD release. The guy hadn’t looked thrilled but he wasn’t about to cross Akil. Just the promise that Akil would bring her back to perform seemed to be enough.
Everything had been going along perfectly until she’d gone to dance with Jason. When they’d come back to the table Akil looked as if he were about to overturn the table and everything on it. His eyes had gone dark and dangerous-looking, his shoulders were set, tension rolling off in thick heavy waves. She’d known the moment she stepped up to him that something had happened. She wondered if it had been another one of those phone calls.
They were about five minutes away from the house when Charlene started to get angry. With all they’d shared why couldn’t Akil share this with her? Why couldn’t he tell her what had happened to upset him? Why did she even bother?
The answer to that last question was the simplest one. She was in love with him.
Whether or not that was an intelligent decision on her part didn’t really matter—it just was.
Cliff brought the car to a stop. Akil didn’t even wait for him to come back and open the door for him, just jumped out. With a sigh Charlene slid across the seat and stepped out herself. Mild shock registered as Akil was still standing by the door waiting for her. His hand on the small of her back was comforting as they walked into the house together.
They headed straight for the stairs. Behind her Charlene could hear the beeps of the security system being deactivated and activated again. Jax and Steve were Akil’s personal security detail so they’d stayed with him at all times. At the club there had been four more guys working security but they’d pretty much escorted them inside, then watched the doors and she presumed the car. Jax and Steve were the only two who stayed with them all the time.
In the club tonight he’d been her producer. In the studio he was the same. Only at night or when they were alone did it appear they were more. She sensed that Jason knew they were sleeping together and of course Jax and Steve knew and most likely his household staff. But nobody on the outside knew. Not even Sofia or Candis. With a start she wondered what they’d think. Would they approve? That, coupled with Akil’s mood, had her turning in the opposite direction, heading toward the bedroom that had originally been assigned to her upon arriving in Miami.
Akil had been walking right behind her, his hand on her back, but when she veered away, he didn’t follow. And he didn’t try to stop her. With hurried footsteps she made her way into the other bedroom, closed the door and fell back against it, stifling a moan.
How could this be happening? How could she have come so far professionally and taken such a giant step backward personally? Never in her life had she allowed a man any type of power over her.
Until Akil.
He’d changed what she’d come to expect from a man, changed what she allowed herself to feel. He told her she was beautiful, that she was worth so much more than the label people around her wanted to slap on her. Things she’d tried to act like she believed on the outside, but had still haunted her on the inside. He’d pulled away the inner blinders and taught her how to feel emotion, passion, to revel in them both.
And yet she wasn’t good enough to be allowed to do the same for him. There was something he was holding back, she felt it at times when they were together. He’d told her about his past, shared the emotional scars left by his parents’ untimely and unnecessary deaths and his sister’s traitorous departure. He shared his body with her unconditionally. But there was something else he was holding back. She knew it as surely as she knew her name.
The question was, what was she going to do about it?
Tonight wasn’t the night to answer those questions. She shouldn’t have to relinquish the joy of her success to the pain of his secrets. She wanted to call Rachel to tell her how things had gone but it was too late. Nearly three in the morning in Miami was just after midnight in L.A. She wouldn’t disturb
her by calling at this time, she’d wait until morning.
Stripping off her clothes, remembering how so many eyes had been on her tonight appreciating the way she looked, made her smile. Mia had done a fantastic job with her makeover, although she refused to call it that. Mia’s exact words were “I’m simply providing the right accessories to accentuate God’s given beauty.” That had made her feel good, special, so she decided to hold on to that thought as she headed for the small bathroom and shower.
Staying in Akil’s master suite was definitely different than being in this guest room. His shower alone was the size of this entire bathroom, but she wouldn’t allow herself those thoughts a second longer. Stepping inside the stall, she turned on the spray of water, adjusting its temperature until the heated drops tingled as they hit her skin. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head and concentrated on the heat, the soothing rivulets of water washing over her. The day and evening’s tensions rolled from her with the waves of water, falling to the floor and swirling down the drain. Mental signals moved throughout her body, to each tired or strained muscle so that her focus was on calm, serenity.
She was so engrossed in relaxing herself she hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t felt the quick blast of cool air as Akil stepped into the shower stall with her.
Blood pounded at his temples as he remembered what had transpired at the club. T.K. was in Miami and was following his usual M.O. Everybody owed him something, money, opportunity, his very presence meant he should be important, known, recognized. Akil knew all this, remembered it from their time spent growing up. He hadn’t liked it then and despised it even more now. This was a grown man, two years shy of being forty, and he was still living under the same BS philosophy of not working for anything but bullying his way to each and every meal. It was sickening and had Akil so angry that he’d almost punched his old friend right there in the middle of the club, on Charlene’s big night.
He felt like scum for even having the thought and hadn’t shaken the mood by the time she made it back to the table. He knew she saw the change in him and that only angered him more. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this moment for her. Damn T.K. for showing up and damn him for falling right back into that old mentality that he needed to get rid of T.K. for good. That he should have done it a long time ago. Just the thought made him feel ashamed, evil, demented. It was part of what he’d run away from years and years ago, part of what he’d prayed would stay in his past. But sometimes—Akil knew this better than a lot of other people he associated with—sometimes, God didn’t answer all prayers.
The look in Charlene’s eyes as she watched him for the duration of the night had almost destroyed him. The mixture of pity, misunderstanding, question, anger, it all tore through him like a jagged-edged knife. He hadn’t known what to say, how to shake the mood, how to fix things with her. The ride home had been tense and uncomfortable for them both. He’d fooled himself into believing they’d get home—his home, funny how he’d begun to think of it as theirs—go to bed and wake up to sunshine and a better day tomorrow.
She’d walked away from him.
He deserved it, he knew, but it stung just the same. And tonight of all nights he couldn’t stomach another woman he loved walking out of his life.
So he’d come to her. Not knowing how to do anything else but what he was doing now. Reaching out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his naked body. For one brief second she was startled, then she settled a bit, her body stiff against his.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he said, burying his face against the softness of her neck. “It seems like I’m always apologizing to you.”
She didn’t speak.
“I’m trying so hard to be the man you desire. Help me, please.”
Her head lay back against his shoulder, one of her water-slick hands reaching up to cup the back of his head. At her touch every tense muscle in his body relaxed, every bad memory of the evening and his life before vanished. There was only the here and now. There was only Charlene.
He kissed her neck, his tongue mixing with the warm water along her silken skin. His hands moved upward, gripping her breasts and squeezing. Against her soft bottom his sex jutted and strained against the condom he’d donned before entering the bathroom. He needed to be inside of her, to feel her completely surrounding him. He needed that like he needed his next breath.
And she knew it.
Covering his hands with her own, they pushed her breasts together, massaged, toyed with puckered nipples and moaned with delight. His mind was a thick haze of desire, like music if sound could be seen and not heard. One of her hands slipped down and back until her deft fingers were wrapping around his thick arousal. He gasped, stroked his tongue over her shoulder, then nipped lightly. Without preamble she guided him between her cheeks, into the dewy haven that he sought. With a ragged moan he slid into her like a moth to a flame, a key to a lock, a player into home base. He was there, safe, finally.
Lifting her hands, he flattened them on the wet tiles in front of them, gripped her hips and pushed deep inside her. Her head fell forward as she moaned, her body shaking with every stroke and retreat.
They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to because their bodies were totally in sync with their minds. She knew what he needed. He knew what he wanted. The hows and whys didn’t really matter at this point.
She bucked against him, pressing her plump bottom into his groin, her sweet walls clasping his erection like a glove. He pulled out and slipped back in, loving the slick heat, the tight and precise fit as if she were made specifically for him.
In and out. Out and in. The timeless motion seemed to go on forever. Until her thighs began to quake, her arms shaking as they were extending above her head. His spine tingled, his scrotum tight and heavy with anticipated release. He closed his eyes, let the swirling vortex of pleasure engulf him. Two powerful strokes later and his release soared through his system, halting in the condom, yet connecting them on a higher, more emotional plane.
For endless moments he held her right there, against the tiles, the water growing tepid. Pulling back only enough so that he was not embedded inside her anymore but their bodies were still pressed tight, he whispered over and over again, “I love you, baby girl. Love you. Love you. Love you.”
* * *
It had been a week since Charlene’s performance at the club and Akil hadn’t heard from T.K. He wanted to believe that was a good sign, but knew differently.
In addition to money, T.K. wanted a job at Playascape, something high-profile, he’d told Akil. He wanted to keep his money rolling in. And he expected Akil to oblige. Just like that he expected Akil to give part of what he’d worked for to a man who was determined to do anything with his life but work.
He and T.K. had grown up together, had been through some really tough times, had seen some pretty brutal things. They should have been as close as blood brothers. Instead they appeared to occupy space on two different planets. Akil’s answer to their childhood struggle had been to study, to find a goal and work hard toward it.
T.K.’s mind-set was that he was owed by any and everyone, especially those who knew him best and had something. He’d grown up hating the black cop who’d picked his mother up for prostitution yet had her sleep with him for free to keep from going to jail. He hated that his mother had gotten pregnant with him that night in the back of the police cruiser and that she’d spent every day and night after that getting high and continuing to sell her body. Because that jackass cop hadn’t looked at her again after throwing her limp body out of his car. For years he’d rolled through their neighborhood arresting some drug dealers, stealing from others, threatening the users and their kids. He knew who T.K. was, found out the first time he arrested him when T.K. was eleven years old. “You ain’t nothing, just like your dirty-ass mother,” he’d said, then opened the back door to the cruiser and kicked T.K. out after he’d driven him far from the city into Harford County and stripped him of al
l his clothes. A county cop had brought T.K. home that night but didn’t believe his story. Rosita had smacked T.K. so hard when he told her, his bottom lip bled for hours. From that point on T.K. had sworn to kill Officer Thomas Keith Dupree, Sr.
The year they turned eighteen Officer Dupree’s body was found in an old crack house two blocks from where Akil and his family lived. He’d been stripped of all his clothes and shot at close range in the head. His killer was never found.
But Akil knew who it was.
He had a secret on T.K. just like the one T.K. had on him. Only nobody would care about a half-assed drug dealer shooting a crooked cop almost eighteen years ago. However, the deeds of a famous music producer making more money than a lot of white men in the country would be made an example of if his past were ever revealed.
The deal he’d just worked out with Sony Electronics for a line of studio equipment would most certainly disappear. Ace, his new clothing line, would never make it to Fashion Week. And his artists, they would suffer, as well. The bad publicity would surely attack their sales.
Then there was Charlene.
He stood to lose the most with her. He loved her, had admitted that to himself and to her. He’d never thought he’d have these feelings for a woman, especially not a woman in the industry—his mother and sister had really jaded him in that area. He wanted to be with her, wanted her to want to be with him.
If T.K. talked that would all change.
But he couldn’t, would not, give in to blackmail. It went against everything he’d ever believed, ever fought for. He wouldn’t be used by anyone, ever again.
“I’m ready,” Charlene said as she entered the living room. “Are you okay, Akil?”
“I am now,” he greeted her with a smile and a hug. With her in his arms, in his life, he was more than okay. He was perfect and he intended to keep it that way.
Chapter 18
Cine Citta Cafe was one of the trendy restaurants in the Miami Beach area. Akil said he liked the food here and the low-key atmosphere.
Love in the Limelight: Volume One Page 29