Love in the Limelight: Volume One

by Brenda Jackson, A. C. Arthur

  “Oh, Akil,” Charlene couldn’t help saying. She knew he didn’t want pity, knew he didn’t want her tears, but she couldn’t help them. The more he talked the more her heart broke for the child he’d been, the years he’d lost and all he’d tried to do.

  “They just dropped us back off at home, told us to keep our mouths shut and we’d be safe. They never told us that I was the one who led them to the dealer who they’d been trying to get for years. Said they had an anonymous tip in court and watched him walk away with a life sentence for kidnapping, bartering a minor and drug charges based on what they found in the house. They knew that if word got out that I’d come to them I’d be labeled a snitch in the neighborhood and neither Lauren nor I would make it alive another year. So we all went on with our lives like nothing happened.

  “Betty died, ten minutes after I left her in that alley. We buried her the next weekend. About two years after that I found out that the drugs that killed Betty and the dealer who supplied them to her were a part of a federal investigation. They were somehow connected to a senator and his Colombian connections. But by that time I didn’t even care. I never looked back. Never regretted what I did,” he said slowly, then looked up at her. “Until now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” was all she could say. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Why? You were millions of miles away living a happy life in your mansion. What could you have done to prevent it?”

  She hadn’t thought she’d lived a happy life but it paled in comparison to his. Her battles with weight and her fight for her mother’s unconditional love were nothing compared to his fight to save his mother’s life and his burden to save his sister’s.

  “I don’t understand what T.K. wants.”

  “T.K. wants what everybody who didn’t make it out of the hood wants, Charlene. Money. Fame. Fortune. Purpose. The life they were denied. He expects me to give it to him because he’s threatening to tell what he knows about my past. I don’t do threats and I don’t owe him a dime.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He stood abruptly then. “I answered your question.” His voice was tight and Charlene felt like she was once again being dismissed. “We have a few more weeks to work on the CD but I think it would be better if you stayed in a hotel while we did. Cliff will drive you. I’ll leave a message with the hotel with the date and time of our next session.”

  She blinked rapidly, confusion blanketing her. “What? Hotel? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about us taking care of business. That’s what we should have been focused on in the first place.”

  “But, Akil, what about T.K.? What about the FBI looking for you?” What about us? she wanted to say but had too much pride to go there.

  “I’ll take care of me. All I need you to do is sing. Just sing.”

  Chapter 20

  The sound of rain tapping against the hotel’s window was dismal and monotonous.

  Charlene turned over in the bed, burying her face deep in the pillow. Breathing was hard this way, but not as hard as it had been since she’d left Akil’s house. A part of her was still there; miles away in that secluded mansion her heart remained.

  It had been three days. He’d called off all recording sessions, probably so he didn’t have to see her. The first day away from him she’d thought about how she could have handled the situation differently. But how did one act when they heard the man they were sleeping with had killed another person? And when that other person was their mother? After the initial shock she’d realized the man she was in love with could never take a human life, especially not his mother’s.

  She’d remembered that night he’d told her about his family and the hurt and despair in his voice when he’d spoken of his mother. He wanted her to get clean and to be healthy. He couldn’t have killed her. And when she’d gone to him for a complete explanation, the one he’d given her had broken her heart.

  How had he survived? How had he lived all these years knowing the moment he’d walked away from his mother in that alley she’d died? But she understood, there was nothing else he could have done. Betty knew that, so she’d sent him away to save her daughter, to save both of them. And Akil had done that. He’d walked away from his mother to save Lauren. But now look where Lauren was.

  Guilt must be a constant companion to him. Heartbreak like a close relative. She cried for him, for the way he blocked his heart to anyone else out of fear. She cried for his loss—his mother, his father, his sister. And she cried because she loved him too much to just walk away. She just didn’t know how to stand beside him right now.

  Steady knocking at the door meant she had to climb out of this bed, to move her body when her limbs were tired from not moving much the past few days. She didn’t know who was at the door but they were persistent. So she climbed out of the bed, grabbed her robe and shuffled barefoot across the room.

  “It’s about time. You could answer your cell phone, you know. I’ve been calling and calling. And so has your sister.”

  Marjorie Quinn came into the room like a summer’s breeze. Her salon-treated auburn hair was perfectly styled, her bronzed complexion highlighted just so with expensive cosmetics. On her arm was a Chanel bag—her mother only carried Chanel bags. She wore a cream linen pantsuit and taupe patent leather pumps. Her fragrance was light, breezy, sophisticated.

  “Mother?” Charlene said, a little blurry-eyed and a lot confused. What was her mother doing here in Miami? The last time she’d spoken to her had been weeks ago. Or rather when she’d called home the day after she’d arrived here she’d spoken to the answering machine letting them know where she was and that she was fine. She hadn’t received a callback, which made this impromptu visit all the more perplexing.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Just like I said, you haven’t been answering your cell phone.”

  Charlene shrugged. She hadn’t answered it because it wasn’t the number belonging to the person she most wanted to speak to.

  “I’ve been busy,” she lied. No way was she telling her mother she was screening her calls.

  “And you’re not staying at the address you gave me on the message.”

  So she’d been to Akil’s house. “No. I’m not.”

  “And you look an absolute mess.”

  That was said in the normal Marjorie Quinn “I’m so tired of going through this with this girl” voice.

  “Thanks, Mother. You look really nice.”

  Marjorie smoothed down her jacket and gave Charlene a weary stare. “You’re about to be a big music star, Charlene. Please tell me you’re going to do something about your wardrobe. Your appearance. Your father and I do not want to be embarrassed.”

  Her words stung. Charlene was so not in the mood for this. “Is that what I’ve always been? An embarrassment to you?”

  Marjorie shook her head negatively. “No. That’s the role you’ve elected to play.”

  “Maybe because of all the pressure you put on me to be like Candis. To lose weight, to model.” She was walking back and forth now, her arms flailing, her frustration clearly misdirected.

  “To make something of yourself. To follow your dreams. To not settle for just anything,” Marjorie finished. “That’s what I did, Charlene. I pushed you to reach your potential. I never asked you to be like Candis. That was all in your head.”

  “In my head! The diets, the exercise programs.”

  “So my daughter would be healthy. Do you know how many ailments start with obesity? I never once wanted you to be something you’re not. But you created that story and you’ve lived by it so long you believe it.”

  Charlene finally plopped down on the bed, the little amount of energy she’d had already gone. “Why? Why are you here now? Why are we talking about this now after all this time?”

  Marjorie sat beside her. “Because you brought it up.”

  Charlene sighed and Marjorie took her hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really
bothering you?”

  Truth be told, all the stuff she’d just mentioned had been bothering her for years. But her mother was right, it wasn’t foremost on her mind right now. And while her mother wasn’t her first choice of who she’d like to be discussing this with, right about now she was as close as Charlene was going to get.

  “How do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?”

  Marjorie chuckled. “You’ve said a mouthful there. I’ve been trying to help you all your life and you’ve fought me every step of the way.”

  “Mom, I thought we weren’t discussing ‘us.’”

  “Okay. Okay. Maybe we can finally discuss that later and put it behind us once and for all.”

  “Fine,” Charlene agreed just to be done with it.

  “Sometimes, Charlene, we think people need help. And if we care about that person then who better to offer that help but us? We never really think about whether or not we should help, or whether we should just leave well enough alone. You know, let the good Lord do His work, in His time.”

  Charlene thought about her words for a moment, wondering if they were talking about the situation with Akil or still the past disagreements between her and her mother.

  “But what if you really love this person? If you only want what’s best for them? If you just want them to know that you’re there for them?”

  Marjorie nodded with each of Charlene’s statements. “But you may be the only one who believes you can help them. This person may need to find their own way, make their own mistakes or decisions.”

  Okay, this was paralleling too much with her issues with her mother. She was talking about Akil, trying to help him. But he didn’t want her help. Would he want her love instead?

  “How will he know I love him and I care?”

  Her mother smiled as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell him.”

  Charlene looked at her mother, knowing definitely that what had just transpired between them was groundbreaking. It was taking their relationship to another level. “Thanks.”

  Marjorie held out her arms and Charlene went into her embrace. “I love you, Charlene. I love you because you’re you and you were stubborn enough to fight me on everything I did or said that I thought was helping you. You were strong enough to stand your ground and become your own woman. I’m so proud of that woman. And if this man is worth a dime he’ll love you for being there as well as wanting to help him.”

  “He’s worth it,” she whispered, her face resting on her mother’s shoulder. Akil was worth fighting for. All these years people had been letting him down, walking out of his life, and he’d been fighting to keep them there in any way he could.

  He deserved so much better. And for all that she was not model-thin or picture-perfect, she was good for him, she knew it with all her heart.

  What she also knew with a major degree of certainty was that there was no way Marjorie Quinn was going to let her off that easily. The next hour was spent telling her all about Akil, about the man she loved.

  * * *

  Akil was pleased.

  He’d just finished writing the lyrics to the song that had been in his head for much too long. Only yesterday afternoon had he figured out why the words hadn’t come to him sooner.

  Charlene.

  It was that simple. Just as she’d said when she first heard the instrumental version of the song, it was a journey between this man and this woman, falling in love. He’d written a few songs in his career, none that he’d sold or had published, but just a few projects he’d done on his own. This one was totally different.

  The woman was different and the timing was right. That’s all he could figure.

  He was tired of fighting demons, tired of carrying all this guilt. It was time for him to live and to love. That was basically what Mrs. Williamson had said when he’d been at the breakfast table alone yesterday morning.

  “Akil, I’ve known you a long time. I know things about you that I don’t think others know.”

  He’d only been able to nod, sure that whatever she was going to say would make him feel ten times worse then he already did.

  “You’re a good man and you deserve happiness. It’s time for you to let go of all that old baggage and move on.”

  He’d steepled his fingers and rested his forehead against them. “That’s what I was trying to do.”

  “Ha!” She’d yelled so loud he’d jumped. “That’s not what you’ve been doing. You’ve been hiding behind work, snapping at anybody that dared to get closer than your music. It’s a shame the way you treated that woman when all she wanted to do was love you.”

  “Are you talking about Charlene?”

  “You know good and darn well who I’m talking about. She may have come here to make a record but I think it was more. I think the good Lord brought her here for something more. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”

  He sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “That’s just fine with me,” she’d huffed and sat down across from him. “Don’t talk. Listen for a change. That’s a strong black woman. Strong enough to handle her illness and rise above all this petty talk about skinny women being the only beautiful ones out there. I ain’t never heard such foolishness. God created us all different. Beauty is in here.” She had pounded against her chest with a closed fist, her light brown eyes staring fiercely at him.

  “She has a lot to give and some man is going to take her up on that offer one day. It’d be a darned shame if it wasn’t you.”

  Just the thought of Charlene being with someone else had him seeing red. His temples had throbbed with the headache he’d had since the day before when she’d packed her things and left for the hotel. He’d wanted to call her back, to tell her he was wrong and to beg her to stay.

  But she would have turned and looked at him again, given him that look of pity he didn’t want to see again. His past was his past, he didn’t want pity for it, didn’t want anybody’s apologies because it wouldn’t change a thing. He just wanted it to be forgotten.

  Charlene wouldn’t forget, she would remember and she would probably love him more because of what he’d gone through. Every day she was with him he’d wonder if it were out of pity or something else.

  “She loves you,” Mrs. Williamson had said quietly. “I think it’s about time you stopped questioning that and just accept it. I believe you love her. Well past time you stopped running from that, too.”

  He couldn’t speak, he only looked at her.

  She had stood and gone to him, grabbing his face in her beefy hands and kissing his forehead. “Stop making me yell at you all the time. You’re not a stupid boy, Akil. You’re smart and talented and you should know a good thing when it’s staring you right in the face. Now get up and do something about it.”

  All afternoon he’d thought about that conversation and admitted to himself that Mrs. Williamson was absolutely right. So he decided to do something. He’d finish the song that Charlene had given him some lyrics to and then he’d go to her, begging for her forgiveness.

  But this morning there had seemed to be too many people in his house, so he’d gone to his yacht for some quiet time before going to see Charlene. That’s what he was doing when he heard footsteps on the dock.

  For just a minute he thought the footsteps would keep going. Then he expected his bodyguards to stop whoever was approaching. Of course that could only happen if he hadn’t given them the day off. Yeah, he knew T.K. was still around and that he wasn’t going to give up his quest for the money he thought was rightfully owed to him. But Akil didn’t care. He’d never run scared before and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Besides, it was probably just Jason. He would know where Akil had gone to get some peace and quiet. So Akil hadn’t moved to the upper level, just waited for him to come down the steps to where he was.

  “See, this is what I’m talkin’ ’bout. I’m gonna get me one of these real soon.”


  It wasn’t Jason, Akil thought, standing from the couch, where he’d been sitting to glare at T.K.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You keep asking me that question, man. But you already know the answer.”

  “I told you I’m not giving you a dime.”

  “Okay. You did say that. But I figured with our history I owed you one more chance to reconsider.”

  “There’s nothing to reconsider,” he said. T.K. stood about five feet away from him. He was wearing saggy blue jeans with a frayed hem over boots. His jean jacket matched his jeans, the Barack Obama shirt looking dismally out of place on a black man who refused to work for anything.

  “It’s simple, Akil, you cut me a check. Then I can even work for your company or something to keep the money rolling in. It’s either that or I go to the FBI.”

  “Go where you want, but you won’t be going with any of my money.”

  “You’s a stingy, ungrateful, nig—”

  Akil took a step closer to him. “Don’t do it. Don’t call me out of my name. I’m trying to deal with you like a man, T.K., but you don’t want to go that route.”

  “I ain’t gotta go your route to anything. Don’t forget I saw you in that alley. I saw you leave her there. You knew she was dying, you could have saved her.”

  Akil’s jaw twitched, the memories flashing back in his mind quick, like a trailer for a bad movie. “Yeah, you keep saying you saw me. But I didn’t see you. Why is that? Huh? Why were you in that alley, T.K.? And when I left why didn’t you help her?

  “She fed you, washed your clothes. Hell, sometimes she had to do the same for your just-as-strung-out mother. So I’m confused. Why didn’t you help her?”

  T.K. was up in Akil’s face now. “You don’t have to bring Rosita into this. We’re talking about you and what you did to your own mother. I took care of my mother until the day she died.”

  Akil nodded. “Yeah, you took care of her, all right. Probably put the needle in her arm for her.”