The LyricsTo His Song

by Krystal Armstead

  Antwan looked up at me. “Korey? Your manager?”

  I nodded. “Yes. He had the biggest crush on me. He couldn’t figure out for the life of me why I was fuckin’ with Sean. Sean wasn’t always this way.”

  Antwan scoffed. “The hell he wasn’t. He’s been that way for the entire six years that I’ve known him, shawty. I knew him a few years before he signed with Ervin. He was always that same, sneaky, grimy muthafucka. He was always fuckin’ someone else’s girl. I guess I didn’t have a problem with that shit until he started fuckin’ with mine.”

  I looked at Antwan. “So, is that why you signed me? Just to spite him?”

  Antwan looked at me. “Is that why you signed with me? Just to spite the muthafucka too?”

  I just looked at Antwan.

  “I found out you were the one writing Sean’s songs. He slipped up and told one of the dancers. Laurie, the same dancer who left us and went to A.J. Miller. And A.J. Miller wanted to work with Sean just to get to you too. You hit the club, Club Onyx in Towson, a few months ago with your girls, and I saw you out there on the dance floor. One of my dancers pointed you out. I was like, shawty is cute as a muthafucka. I couldn’t let you get caught up in that shit with your boy and A.J. Miller. I told Karen that when I came home after my tour, that I wanted to have a contest at my brutha’s club. I was hoping the crowd would pick you, but regardless, I had already chosen.” Antwan watched me take a huge bite out of that big ass chicken thigh.

  I looked at him, not saying a word until I chewed the food that was in my mouth. “So, you call yourself rescuing me. Is that it?”

  Antwan shook his head a little. “I can’t save anyone who doesn’t wanna be saved, shawty. Karen told me that she wants to sign you as her singer, and Sean told the entire tri-state area that you accepted his proposal. Looks to me like you got everything all figured out. That you don’t need my help. I could be wrong, but I think you actually think that that got-damn paper from the magistrate’s office is gonna change that nigga. That changing your last name to Lee is going to make him love you that way that you love him. I don’t understand how niggas like him get the good girls, and the loyal niggas like me get the gold diggin’, sleep-with-your-entire-squad, dick-hoppin’ bitches. Why don’t girls like you fall for guys like me?”

  Oh, I wanted to fall for someone like Antwan, but fuckin’ with him seemed like a lot of trouble. And he was right. The more I thought about having lunch with my family, the more I thought about what I was going to say to my family about my proposal. If I knew Sean, he was going to propose to me over lunch, in front of our parents, ya know, for shock-and-awe affect. He was going to slide that ring onto my finger in front of my father, the man who wanted to see his daughter get married. In front of my mother, who wanted me to end up with a man who could take care of me. And in front of his mother, who told him he’d never amount to anything, that he would end up in jail, just like his father, or dead, just like his brother, Johnny, who was shot by the police when we were just twelve-years old. We both had lost a sibling that was close to us; we both understood the loss of a loved one. Before Sean had the music, he had me. Once he got his time to shine, he didn’t need me anymore. He forgot that I needed him though.

  “The muthafucka was high out of his mind when I saw him at that party last night. I don’t know what the muthafucka took, but I saw him drinking some shit, smoking some shit, poppin’ some pills, and snorting some shit up his nose at my brutha’s club before the talent show yesterday.” Antwan shook his head. “But no amount of being high would make me smack the shit out of you. That’s what he did, right? You have fingerprints around your neck, too, like the nigga was holding you down by your neck or something. The nigga did more than smack you, didn’t he?” Antwan watched me not able to look at him. “A’ight, you wanna keep what he did a secret, then go ahead. It’s probably best that you don’t let a nigga know. Lyric, don’t marry this nigga. I promise, if you walk down the aisle with that clown, I’m gonna clown. You’re not my girl, nah, but you sure as hell have no business being his. I’ma act a fool on your wedding day so you might as well make sure I don’t find out the date, time, or place of that shit. Believe that. On my word, I’m gonna kill that muthafucka and any muthafucka who agrees with you marrying that muthafucka.”

  “Damn right!” Mariah cosigned from across the room.

  I shot her a quick glare before looking back at Antwan. “I appreciate your concern, but I can look out for myself.”

  “But you’re not by yourself. I got you.” Antwan whispered

  I sighed.

  “You’re the lyrics to my song, Audrey, not his. Remember that.” Antwan reminded me.

  I just looked at him, not really sure what to say. And not really sure what I’d allowed my heart to get involved with. I’d only known the dude for two days, but it was obvious that we’d connected. I wasn’t sure if it was his mother’s heart that led me to her son or if I was just drawn to him because I wasn’t supposed to be. Regardless, I sat there with Antwan for hours, talking to him like we were old friends catching up. It was funny because there were a lot of memories that Antwan told me that felt like deja-vu. Like I’d experienced those exact same experiences that he did or like I was there when his experiences happened. For instance, he mentioned having a baby with Brenda when he was just thirteen years old. I remember going to the neonatal intensive care unit at Johns Hopkins Hospital where Antwan said the baby was born. I remember asking about the little girl’s condition. She was a tiny frail little baby, couldn’t have been more than three pounds, if that. When Antwan mentioned that the baby died in Brenda’s arms when she was just three days old, I remember watching the two crying and wailing over the baby, watching them from a distance, holding the baby in the ICU. I even remember sitting in the audience at Antwan’s high school graduation. I remember how loud the screams were coming from the crowd of family members, school faculty, and his fellow graduates. Strangely enough, I even remember the lullaby that Antwan’s grandmother used to sing to him to put him to sleep as a child. His mother must have gone to see her boys on occasion; there’s no way I would have had the visions of her children the way that I did.

  After talking for about an hour and a half, everyone was ready to leave. All but Antwan, and myself, I hate to admit. Antwan told the others to go on without us. So, three bodyguards stayed behind with us, and everyone else left. I wasn’t sure what to think. I was so not ready to talk to Antwan on my own. He was a little too bold and assertive for me. The more I tried to deny my attraction, the more he did to draw me back in. It felt so nice to actually spend time with someone who thought about my needs and wants for a change. He asked me where I wanted to go since we were in D.C. I said I wanted to just walk along the National Harbor. It wasn’t too windy that day to take a walk outside. As a matter-of-fact, the sun shone bright in the sky that day. I needed some air before my birthday lunch with my family. The family I barely saw. The last time I had lunch with my family was the day of my little sister, Amber’s graduation, the Spring before. Almost a year without visiting home. I lived in Hanover, probably twenty minutes from my parents, and I never went home. I wasn’t looking forward to their lectures or of my mother ogling over Sean when she didn’t know shit about him. Even after all my mother had gone through with my father, that woman was still in love with the idea of being in love.

  “I can’t believe you are sipping on that cold ass smoothie in February, shawty!” Antwan laughed at me as we walked along the sidewalk of the National Harbor.

  I made a face at him. “What do you mean? This strawberry smoothie is giving me life!”

  Antwan grinned, snatching the cup from me, placing the straw to his lips and sipping from it. The look on his face though when he tasted how good and soothing it was.

  I blushed a little. “See. It’s good, right?”

  “It’s good, but I’m trying to taste what your mama made.” Antwan licked his lips as he handed the cup back to me.

 
I was confused. “What’s that?”

  “You.” Antwan grinned, watching my eyes widen. “You weren’t ready for that one, huh?”

  I shook my head at him. “You are really something else, Antwan.” I sipped from my smoothie. “So cocky.”

  “Cocky fresh, huh?” Antwan pulled his baseball cap down over his head a little.

  I liked the sound of that. “I could write a song about how ‘cocky fresh’ you are, Antwan.” I looked at his baseball cap. “So, what’s with this label you and your brother came up with? I see everyone rockin’ it. People go broke for this shit. I have friends who won’t even pay their bills just so they can get the clothes and the shoes as soon as they drop, Antwan!”

  Antwan grinned. “That’s wild. I wouldn’t go broke for no muthafucka. The point of this clothing line was to show everyone that just because you’re from the ghetto doesn’t mean you can’t overcome. Doesn’t mean you can grow. Doesn’t mean you can’t make it. We made it. I left the hood. Apollo is rich like a muthafucka. He rides around in a damn old ass Cutlass, while he has his girl riding around in a got-damn Benz. The only reason he doesn’t wanna leave the hood because his girl won’t leave. He’s been fuckin’with ol’ girl since like the third grade, man.”

  I shrugged. “That’s good, right?”

  “Nah, that’s stupid.” Antwan scoffed. “Yeah, me and my brutha are always foolish when it comes to love. We pick that one girl and stick with her.”

  I rolled my eyes, remembering all the stories that I would overhear Brandie and her girls talking about when they’d come to Foot Locker just to stand around, boasting about the shit.

  “Well, that’s not what I heard. You hoe.”

  Antwan shook his head. “Eh, when I’m single, I’m single; I do what the fuck I want. But when I find someone, I stick with her. It’s just me and her. I was in love with Brenda. I would have done anything for her. Was no way in hell I’d ever cheat on her. I was loyal as a muthafucka. You know how it is, Ma.” Antwan nudged me. “When you only want one person, everyone else is whack as fuck.”

  I nodded, thinking about how much in love I was with Sean’s ole stupid ass. “True. Wish it wasn’t that way, but it is.”

  Antwan looked at me. “We need to get back to the parking lot where my bodyguards are parked. I got a lot to do today. Maybe I should get you back to the crib.” Antwan watched the disappointed look on my face, and I think he was actually happy to see it. He grinned a little. “I wasn’t doing shit but planning for my meeting with my publicist and a few investors about some ideas I have. What are you getting into this afternoon? You got plans?”

  I hesitated. “Not really. I just wasn’t trying to go home or hang with Mariah. I already know she’s about to drill me about what went down with Sean last night. Not really trying to get into it with her either. It’s over and done. The muthafucka doesn’t even remember what he did to me. In his eyes, it’s like the shit never even happened.”

  I loved the sympathetic look on Antwan’s face. I didn’t get that look from any men in my life too often. I cherished the moments when men gave a fuck about me. The moments were brief and rare.

  I sighed, watching Antwan’s eyes dance from mole to mole on my face. I shied my gaze away for a few seconds before looking back up at him. “I’m just about to go home, get in the bed, pop open a bottle of Moscato, and watch Waiting to Exhale.”

  Antwan laughed a little. “Waiting to...? Nah. Roll with me to my condo in Bethesda.”

  I shook my head frantically. Wasn’t no way in hell that I was going anywhere alone with that boy. The only boy I’d ever been alone with was Sean. Antwan was like Sean in no way, but he was a man. A man who made it perfectly clear in front of his crew that he was going to get me at any cost.

  “I don’t know, Antwan.” I sipped from my cup.

  “It’s cool. It’s my home away from home. Not sure I wanna take you to my mansion. Too many paparazzi like to hang outside of my crib. I wanna take you somewhere quiet. No one knows where this place is but my bodyguards. Nobody who can afford to live in the building knows anything about me or listens to hip-hop. I go there when I just need to get away from everyone. You seem like you need to get away from everyone for a while.” Antwan looked down into my face as we stopped walking.

  I just looked at him.

  “Come on, shawty. We didn’t really get in any work today. We can write music together. You can trust me, Lyric. I just wanna know you. I think we have a lot to talk about. Shit, a lot to write about. Let’s go vent on paper.” Antwan grabbed my hand.

  So, I rode in the backseat of Antwan’s limo to his place. I sat next to him, dozing off, head on his shoulder. I don’t know why I was so comfortable with him when I should have shied away from him. My cell phone must have vibrated in my pocket twenty times on my way to Antwan’s place. And I didn’t have to look at the display to see that it was either Mariah, Sean, or my mother. I just wanted to get away from stress for a few hours. And apparently, so did Antwan. We stepped out of his ride that afternoon, standing in front of twelve story tall Lionsgate Condominiums. Antwan was right; just about everyone who passed us on the way into the building, and as we walked our way through the lobby of the building, looked like people who were too high in status to listen to hip-hop. We didn’t get any awkward stares and were greeted politely. I guess though they didn’t know anything about Antwan Jared, they knew the dude had to be somebody who was making bank to live in a place like that and to have three bodyguards surrounding him.

  I was in awe as I walked through the building. “This place is… wow!” I clenched his forearm tightly with both hands as I ogled over the glistening lobby, watching the attentive staff great Antwan with a smile.

  Antwan and his bodyguards laughed at me.

  When I stepped onto the gleaming hardwood floors of Antwan’s condo, I thought I had died and gone on to heaven. The place was spectacular. Luxurious living room decorated with the latest gray luxury modern furniture. Gourmet kitchen with granite countertops. Stainless steel appliances. As clean as that place was, I knew that boy had a maid or almost never came to the place. There wasn’t a speck of dust or fingerprint on anything. And the view from the eighth floor was magnificent. But what caught my eye was the piano that sat in the corner of the living room.

  Antwan stood in the doorway of his place, talking to his bodyguards, eying me as I walked towards the piano. “Eh, Gavino, y’all can roll out, get something to eat or whatever. Me and shawty are good.” He dapped the tall bodyguard.

  “You sure?” Gavino asked, “A’ight, well, ya know I live about fifteen minutes away, son. You need us, we’re only a call away. As a matter-of-fact, once we get something to eat, we’ll take turns parking outside of the building, a’ight? Too much crazy shit going on to leave you alone for too long, boss man.”

  I played a few notes on the ivory keys of the piano. I’d seen that piano before, or at least felt like I’d seen one similar. I sat down at the wooden bench, closing my eyes for a few seconds. In my head, I saw a little girl sitting next to a woman in a white dress. The little girl rested her hands on top of the woman’s hands as the woman played music composed by Chopin.

  Antwan cleared his throat as he closed the front door to his condo. “My mother did have a storage unit, shawty. When she died, they auctioned off everything. She was married to that nigga, Judge Troy Michael. A few days after my mother’s funeral, this nigga shows up to my mansion with this piano, saying my mother would’ve wanted me to have it. That …”

  I looked at Antwan as he walked up to me.

  “That she said if anything were to happen to her, to make sure that I got this piano.” Antwan sat down beside me, taking off his baseball cap, sitting it on top of the piano. “Judge Michael said my mother would stay up all hours of the night writing music. She even wrote songs about me and Apollo.” Antwan reached for a notebook that sat on top of the piano. And he handed it to me.

  I opened it, flipping the page to a song
she composed called A Song for my Sons. I glanced at Antwan before flipping to the next page. And the next. And then the next. The entire notebook was filled with music and lyrics for her sons. And I knew those songs. I flipped to a page with a son called ‘A Lullaby for Antwan’, the same song I remember his grandmother singing to him. She did, in fact, miss her boys. She did, in fact, love them. There were reasons why she gave her sons up. More to it than not being able to love them because she was raped.

  I looked at Antwan. “Has anyone else seen this?”

  Antwan shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t even showed Apollo.” He placed his hands on the ebony and ivory keys of the piano and played the most beautiful song. “This song is my favorite. It’s called, Taken From My Arms.” Antwan played the song for about two minutes before the pain set in his soul, and he couldn’t play anymore.

  I eyed Antwan’s profile as he sat there, shaking his head to himself, his eyebrows knitting together, his temples twitching. I watched as he slipped his hands from the piano. And I placed my hands on the keys, somehow continuing the song without even eying the sheet music that she’d composed. I was playing the song from what seemed like memory.

  Antwan looked at me, his eyes glistening. He watched me playing the song in its entirety. A song that I never even knew that I knew. Shit, I’d never played an instrument in my life, and there I was, playing the piano as if I’d paid thousands for lessons. And I began humming the melody to the song. There were words to the song, and I knew the lyrics.

  “I loved you both at first glance; you were so small, you fit in my hands. One had eyes the color of honey; the other’s eyes were as green as money.” I glanced at Antwan as tears slid down his face.

  “I held you close, kissed you both; it hurt to hear you cry. I hope you both remember me; I never wanted to leave your side. Oh, you boys were a sight to see. I didn’t leave you; they took you from me…” I stopped singing the song, my heart slamming against my ribcage, sharp pain in my chest. The memories were painful, literally for the both of us.