Generally, the darker a person’s skin was, the worse her mother felt about them. Unfortunately, Harmony’s skin was as dark as coffee beans, and under the summer sun, Harmony would become at least three shades darker.
“Harmony, child, you look like an underground railroad escapee. Stay your ass out of the sun before we have to use your teeth to find you in the dark,” her mother would say cruelly. Harmony dreaded the summer for that very reason.
Just the day before, the news had announced a heat wave would be sweeping through New York City.
“Well, if the heat wave starts at nine in the morning, y’all asses will be out there from five,” her mother had barked.
Sure enough, she kicked them out of their beds at five o’clock sharp the next morning. Her mother made Harmony and her sisters call her Ava instead of “mom” or “mommy.” Ava thought being called mommy made her old. In Harmony’s eyes, Ava was not a stage mom; she was a stage monster.
“Start over! Goddamit! Start over!” Ava screamed like a banshee, her fair skin turning bright pink.
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Harmony, Melody, and Lyric. They all stopped mid-motion; their faces folded into frowns. They had been practicing for four hours with no breakfast or lunch. Lyric whimpered, struggling to keep her feet in the oversized stilettos she wore. Although her youngest was only nine years old, Ava made all of her daughters practice in at least five-inch heels.
“You bitches want to be stars or you want to be in the same position next year? Practice makes perfect. Y’all think any great girl groups got to the top of the charts lying around not practicing for hours and hours? Hell no. It doesn’t work like that. These record labels ain’t going to even sneeze at y’all asses if y’all don’t step the fuck up and get it right. Now start over!” Ava barked, pacing like a prison warden in front of them, her heels snapping like a whip on the backyard pavers.
Harmony squinted her eyes into dashes. She couldn’t believe this monster had given birth to her.
“Get back into position right now or we’ll be out here until the sun cooks y’all asses dead. Lord knows if Harmony bakes anymore we won’t be able to see her ass at night,” Ava announced.
Harmony hung her head. Those words hurt like a hard slap in the face. She rolled her eyes and bit into the side of her cheek as she reached down and rubbed the calf muscle on her left leg. She could literally feel her muscle bunch into a ball, an advance warning of the Charlie horse that would surely follow. Harmony punched at her muscle, praying the knot would dissolve.
“You better stand up straight and get into position,” Lyric whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “If she sees you we will be out here longer.”
Lyric’s chubby baby face in that moment reminded Harmony that they had all given up their childhoods to become, as Ava pounded into their heads, “the greatest girl singing group since the Supremes.”
On cue, Harmony slid her foot back into the stilettos and gritted her teeth against the pain. For what seemed like the thousandth time that morning, Ava looked at her daughters evilly and ordered, “From the top! Five, six, seven, eight!”
Like show dogs, they all responded to her commands. Each of them moved rhythmically, swaying their hips in unison. Harmony was painfully aware of the strained muscles in her legs and was careful not to twist her ankle.
The Love sisters harmonized the intro three times before Melody came blazing through the middle, one leg jutted in front of the other in her model-on-the-catwalk style. Her stilettos rang like gunshots on the ground. Melody was younger than Harmony, but much thinner and taller. Harmony always guessed that her sister took after her father, the famous Academy award–winning actor Charles Monroe. Melody was beautiful and talented, and of the three sisters, she resembled Ava the most. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Melody had slanted eyes, coupled with honey-colored, radiantly clear skin. Her body was slim but curvaceous. Even after horrendous practices, when Melody’s oval face gleamed with fine beads of sweat, she still looked beautiful. Her long, sandy hair whipped around as she sang. She could move her body like a grown woman. She strutted in those stilettos like she had been born in them. Harmony envied her for her effortless beauty and grace, but Harmony also loved her sister. With each practice, however, the strain on their relationship was almost more difficult to bear than the strain on their bodies.
Melody’s red painted lips were pursed into a seductive kissing pucker, and she licked them and opened them wide. Harmony could see her in the large mirror Ava kept in front of them so that they could see how they looked on “stage.”
Harmony rolled her eyes again. At that moment, she couldn’t love Melody even if she tried. The love was drowned out by the jealousy. Melody had begun to act more like Ava than herself.
With thoughts swirling in her mind, Harmony moved her body harder, trying to imitate Melody’s effortless, graceful moves. The heat of envy rose onto Harmony’s face, setting her cheeks on fire. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes. She wanted to impress their mother too. She wanted her mother to love her too, but Ava’s eyes remained focused on her favorite.
“I don’t love you no more. Boy, you played me for the last time. The last time,” Melody belted out in a range that could hold court with any superstar. “I . . . I . . . I don’t love you no more. No-o-o-o. You played me for the last time,” Melody crooned, the microphone gripped in her hand as she whipped her hair and body like a diva. She bent forward and sang her next note like her life depended on it. “I’m done playing the fool! Oh-ho for the la-aa-st time!”
With the next bar of the instrumental music, Melody fell back into step with Harmony and Lyric. They all stepped sideways in unison, their hips moving together in synchronized motion. Ava smiled, pride glistening in her eyes. Harmony rolled her eyes and winced against the pain—both in her legs and in her heart.
“Played me. For the last time.” Harmony and Lyric harmonized, stepping back into their rightful places behind their newly dubbed superstar sister.
Sweat dripped down Harmony’s back as the sun beat down on her. Harmony lifted her arms up and then out as they’d rehearsed. Her muscles burned. Harmony looked over at Lyric. She was also grimacing from the pain. Still, they picked up their signal and harmonized yet another note.
“Last time!”
Harmony and Lyric swayed their bodies in opposite directions and fell into step with Melody, who was out in front of them again, reveling in mother nature’s hellish spotlight.
“Harmony, you missed that entire step!” Ava chastised over the music.
Harmony kept on going. She jerked her back and sashayed as hard as she could. Sweat pooled all over her body, and her underarms itched.
“Did you hear me, darkie? I said you missed a step.”
Harmony closed her eyes and without even having to look, she crossed Lyric and executed their rehearsed back-up-singer moves perfectly. Harmony never let Ava’s voice and cruel words ruffle her. She knew Ava’s dirty tactics by now. Harmony also knew she hadn’t missed any steps, that this was just one of her mother’s “tests” to make sure she would be able to handle any distractions from a would-be audience. If Harmony had paused in response to Ava’s distraction, she would’ve made them all start from the beginning.
Lyric was panting like she only had one lung. Harmony looked over at her sympathetically. Harmony could tell that Lyric’s mouth was cotton ball dry because hers felt the same. Finally, Melody held her last high note, slung her head back, and lifted her arms Dreamgirls style.
Ava clapped and smiled with pride. “Bravo, Melody! This apple didn’t fall far from my tree for sure,” Ava complimented, beaming. “Those other two . . . we got to work on them.” She snickered as Melody basked in her praise. Harmony could feel her insides on fire. Ava never gave Lyric and Harmony compliments.
“Good enough for today. Everybody go inside and get some tea and honey right away. Rest those voices, especially you, little diva,” Ava called
out, patting Melody on her shoulder.
Harmony sucked her teeth and let out an exasperated sigh. She kicked off her shoes and limped over to an old, rickety patio chair in their small backyard. All of the patio furniture had been purposely crowded to one side to make space for their stage. As hot as it was, Harmony was in no rush to go into the house and listen to Ava critique her appearance or performance.
Lyric took a chair next to her big sister as they watched Ava and Melody disappear into the house, laughing like schoolgirls. Harmony often wondered if Lyric was too young to understand what was really going on, although the youngest sometimes seemed quite intuitive. Harmony always hoped to spare her feelings in regard to their mother and Melody, but sometimes the bias was too obvious to dispute.
“I can’t stand her.” Lyric pouted. Harmony raised an eyebrow at her. “Mothers are not supposed to favor one kid over the other one, but Ava sure doesn’t hide it. Melody this, Melody that. Why don’t she just make her a solo singer then? I hate singing, and I hate her too,” Lyric complained, folding her arms across her chest.
Harmony couldn’t agree more, yet she didn’t voice her opinion. Why rub salt into an already opened wound?
“She just wants us to be great. One day all of these practices will pay off when we all make it to the big stage,” Harmony said, smiling as she leaned back and squinted up at the sky dreamily. It was always her plan to take advantage of what Ava was teaching them so she could become wildly famous and break away.
Lyric wasn’t buying it. She sucked her teeth and blew out her breath. Harmony knew she was probably thinking she sounded like a sellout.
“Look, you’re too young to understand her right now, but she loves you, Lyric.” Harmony tried to assure her with a phony sincerity in her eyes. “She loves all of us,” Harmony said, her voice trailing off.
Lyric looked over at her out of the corner of her eye, and Harmony could see the doubt. Harmony felt the same level of doubt in her heart, but she reached out and grabbed her baby sister’s hand anyway.
“More importantly, I love you,” Harmony whispered. Even if their mother didn’t love them the way she loved Melody, at least they could find comfort in having each other.
* * *
It seemed like Ron had been holding Harmony in his arms for an eternity. Finally, she pulled away. Her tears had dried into two ashy white lines on her face. Ron smiled, licked his thumb, and used it to wipe away the tear marks.
“I love you, Harmony. This is going to be all right,” he comforted.
Harmony smiled back. “I know. I just . . . I just have to be prepared to see my sisters again after everything that’s happened,” she said ruefully.
Ava’s death wasn’t going to be the hardest part. Facing Melody after three long years of no communication was going to be even worse. Harmony had watched from afar as her sister’s career ballooned to heights she’d never imagined for any of them. It still hadn’t eased or eliminated Harmony’s deep-seated, and in her opinion, well-deserved resentments against Melody. After all, Harmony felt like Melody had stood on her shoulders to get to the top.
Harmony also dreaded facing Lyric, who she’d cut off six months ago on the heels of a heated argument about Lyric’s embarrassing appearances in gossip magazines and on blogs. Lyric had said some pretty cruel things to Harmony during their last conversation. Just the thought of it made her shudder. If Harmony could purchase a mental suit of armor, she would. Considering her last encounters with her sisters, she would need that and more.
Chapter 2
Melody
“Take it from the top. It has to be perfect or I’ll be firing a bunch of people today!” Melody screamed so loud the veins in her neck corded against her delicate skin. She squinted her eyes for emphasis as the six leotard-clad dance hopefuls scrambled to get into place. Melody twirled her pointer finger in the air and within seconds, the music blasted through the dance studio speakers. Melody took her place in the front of the pack, as usual. She stood with her feet shoulder’s length apart, her fists on her waist, wearing the look of a hungry lioness on her face while she waited for the right hitch in the beat as her cue to start.
Melody stared at herself in the wall of mirrors in front of her. She knew she was special. She’d known all of her life, from the time she was a baby, that she had the juice. As a child, before she had become wildly famous, strangers had often told her that she was a beautiful girl. Melody had always believed that one day, with her looks and singing ability, she would be a huge star. Even after things had gone awry with her sisters, Melody still pursued her dream relentlessly.
Now, she topped all of the charts, this time without her sisters. She had three solo albums that had won her six Grammy awards, eight American Music Awards, five Billboard Music Awards, and fifteen MTV Music Awards. Melody had graced the cover of not just every black magazine, like Essence, Ebony, Vibe, and Complex, but she’d also broken the mold and graced the covers of Elle, Vogue, Glamour, InStyle, GQ, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Time, Allure, Forbes and Sports Illustrated, to name a few. Call her a diva or not, there was no denying that Melody dedicated her life to her craft, and she excelled because she worked harder than any other diva in the industry.
“Again. Again!” Melody yelled. She stepped forward, bent her knees, tilted her head, kicked her feet, and twisted her torso to the rhythm of the music. It was a new move that the choreographer she’d flown in from Mozambique had painstakingly worked on with her until she had perfected it. Melody was a quick study. A natural.
“You in the green, move your hips or I swear you’ll be out of here,” Melody shouted as she glared at the girl through the mirror in front of her.
Melody hadn’t missed a step. She jumped up, landed on her feet, bent at the waist, and twisted her head in a circular motion, letting her huge mane of hair twirl around wildly. When she lifted her head to execute the next move in the routine, she noticed Gary, her manager/ BFF, rushing through the studio door.
Melody rolled her eyes and her nostrils flared, partly because she’d been dancing so hard, but mainly because Gary knew better. Her rehearsals were off limits. There were to be no interruptions, under no circumstances, for any reason.
“No distractions. Move your bodies. Time is money,” Melody barked, glaring over at Gary, who was now flailing his left hand effeminately to get her attention.
Melody was preparing for the kickoff of her 1 Night Stand Tour, and she was in the middle of a set for her number one Billboard hit, “Liar, Liar.” She rolled her eyes at Gary again. She wasn’t about to stop dancing. She was feeling the vibe, and the backup dancers had finally gotten their routine correct after hours of coaching and screaming. Gary continued to wave like his hands were on fire.
“This asshole,” Melody grumbled under her breath.
Still, Melody set her jaw and bucked her waist to the swell of the music. Everybody knew that when Melody Love rehearsed, the DO NOT DISTURB sign was turned on.
Melody started to move into the next set in her routine when Gary did that stupid, desperate hand motion again—only this time he bounced on his legs like a child about to throw a tantrum. The mere sight of Gary was wreaking havoc on her concentration, and Melody made a wrong step, nearly twisting her ankle. Melody let out an audible groan this time. She finally stopped rocking her hips, kicked off her heels, and sighed. She signaled Leslie, her personal assistant, to stop the music. Melody crinkled her face into a hard scowl, letting Gary know he was about to get cussed out. He waved again, a nervous look in his eyes.
Gary and Melody had been friends since she’d gone solo. He knew firsthand how mercurial her moods could be and how fast her temper could flare.
Breathing hard, Melody stomped over. “Gary, Are you fucking serious right now?”
Gary moved like he had to pee.
“You know damn well not to disturb me while I’m rehearsing and in my zone. I was in my zone, Gary. Or did you fucking forget the tour is really fucking close?” Melody sno
rted at him like a bull seeing red at a Spanish bullfight.
The look on his face gave her pause. Gary was as pale as a piece of loose-leaf paper, anxiety scribbled all over his face. His natural complexion was high yellow, but right now he looked plain ghostly. He was standing stiff, like someone had put a rod up his ass and not the way he liked it either. The last time Gary looked this upset was when he had told Melody she’d been turned down for the leading lady role in the movie version of Dreamgirls, beat out by her nemesis in the R&B world.
“Melody, we . . . we need to . . . um . . . we need to talk.” Gary stumbled over his words. His eyes roved over toward her assistant and the six dancers. “In private,” he said in his stage whisper.
“Gary, I am rehearsing. Do you or do you not know the tour starts in the next three weeks? This has to be perfect. I have a reputation to maintain,” Melody hissed, yanking a black hair-tie from her wrist. She smoothed her hands over her head, pulled her long weave into a high ponytail, and wrapped the hair-tie around it.
“Mel, if it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t dare interrupt,” Gary said, his voice quivering. “It is that important.”
Melody pulled the holder out of her hair again and replaced it, wrapping it tighter this time. Playing with her hair had always been like a nervous tic. Melody’s face was stoic. She hated to show emotion, but Gary had her heart racing right now. He was obviously scared shitless about telling her the news.
1 Night Stand Page 2