“That’s some primo shit.” Lyric giggled.
She kept complimenting Kim on her new drug because she couldn’t get over how good it was. Lyric swayed her body to the sound of the loud music filtering through the club’s bathroom.
“It’s a celebration, bitches,” Lyric joked. She danced over and planted a playful kiss on Kim’s cheek. “Thank you for celebrating with me, best friend. That’s my best friend. That’s my best friend,” Lyric sang.
Kim giggled. “Well, you getting back out there, making moves is cause for celebration,” Kim said. “And a tour with Melody Love is fucking big. I mean, she’s your sister and all, but to the world she’s like a god. I’ve been waiting for you to patch things up with her so I could just meet her one time. I think if she shook my hand I wouldn’t ever wash it again. I am definitely part of the Melody Army.”
Lyric had told Kim all about the fact that she was going back out on tour, and how it wasn’t going to be long before she had her own money, her own big house, and a Tribeca loft.
“Naw, forget Melody. That good shit you got right there is cause for celebration. That’s what we should be worshipping. You can change the world with that,” Lyric replied joyfully. She felt damn good. Lyric didn’t think she had felt this great in years. She danced around some more.
“I told you,” Kim said, bending down and sniffing up her own dose of her supply. “My guy told me this is what his richest clients use. He hooked me up. I mean, I had to give him a little something, but it was worth it.”
“He hooked you up for real. That shit so good, I’d give him some ass too. I’m ready to take on the world now,” Lyric cheered, raising her hands over her head and clapping.
“You just graduated, chick. This is better than that depressing-ass smack. That shit is a downer, and it makes you look terrible too. Uppers, girlfriend. You can’t beat this high. This is the new wave shit, and I made sure you had it first. You can’t be stopped now,” Kim said, cheering Lyric on even more.
“Let me have one more hit,” Lyric begged, spinning around like a ballerina, her dress riding up her thighs.
“No more hits yet. You need to take it slow. You can’t hit this like it’s that regular half-pure street junk,” Kim warned for the third time.
“Let’s go party. Shit, you know I can get us into V.P. I mean, you are celebrating, right?” Kim said, leaning over the bathroom sink so she could apply another coat of lip gloss to her full lips.
“Ah, VIP. We big time again?” Lyric giggled, holding her fist up as a show of power. “I can definitely dig it. I could really dig it if I could hit again.” Lyric winked.
Kim looked at Lyric and smiled. Lyric hadn’t been this excited and happy in a long while. Kim had seen Lyric at some of her lowest points, including Lyric’s suicide attempt that had scared the shit out of Kim and made her fly right for a few months. Kim was definitely happy that her friend was finding a renewed sense of fulfillment. Kim wished she could keep Lyric happy like this for life.
“Okay, look. One more tiny line before we go get our party on,” Kim said, dumping a tiny hill of drugs on the mirror.
“Hell yeah,” Lyric cheered, rushing over to the sink.
She quickly snorted the line. Within seconds, she was ready.
Kim watched as Lyric’s eyes rolled back in her head. Lyric’s back went straight and stiff for a few seconds.
“Lyric? You all right?” Kim shook Lyric’s shoulders.
Suddenly, Lyric seemed to come back. Her eyes returned to normal. She sniffled and brushed her nostrils off. “I’m good! I’m real good!”
Kim’s faced eased with relief. “C’mon. Let’s go have some fun. Let’s go celebrate your rebirth,” Kim said, pulling Lyric’s arm through her own as they exited the bathroom and headed into the bowels of the club.
Lyric and Kim sauntered through the club, attracting a lot of attention. Lyric hadn’t felt attractive or beautiful in a long while, but now, with the drugs giving her a newfound dose of confidence and courage, Lyric stopped on the dance floor and began dancing up on several strange men. She let the music reverberate through her body and soul while she made herself forget about Rebel, Ava’s death, Harmony, Melody, her past . . . everything.
As Lyric bucked her body vigorously to the beat, she remembered all of the times she and Melody had partied in their girl group days. Harmony had never been one to go out and party, but Lyric and Melody had done enough for all of them. When Ava finally let them out, they were like animals out of a cage. Industry parties had been everything back then—the expensive drinks, the high grade weed, the special treatment from club owners, and just the rush of the nightlife had been a form of escapism for Lyric. She used it to escape thoughts of Andrew Harvey touching her. She used it to escape the fact that her mother hated her.
When Melody went solo, she focused on her career and left Lyric behind like she had never mattered. Lyric had missed the fun days after that. She had missed the days when she didn’t have to worry about having money, or when people still recognized her as Lyric Love and not as Melody Love’s sister. Lyric had missed being able to say she was actually a celebrity. Those days were the only times she could put the abuse out of her mind. Lyric needed the attention like she needed air, food, and water.
Lyric was getting all of the attention now. She closed her eyes and let the music soak into her soul. “Ow!” she sang, rocking and letting all of her problems fall away, even if just for that moment. Lyric shook her hips and sandwiched herself between two dudes. One grinded her from the front, and one grinded her from the back. She was loving it. She didn’t care about their hands on her thighs, on her ass. It was the attention she craved. Lyric pulled the dude behind her in closer and threw her arms around the neck of the dude in front of her—until Kim rushed over and grabbed her arm like a parent chaperone at a high school dance.
“What? What’s the matter? I’m having fun.” Lyric’s eyes popped open.
Kim clutched onto her tightly and dragged her off of the dance floor.
“I’ll be back, cuties.” Lyric flirted with her two confused dance partners.
“Girl, no. You are about to be a big name again. You can’t be dancing with the local yokels, looking like a thot out here. We fuck with VIP status dudes only. Did you even look at those lames you were dancing with? Had their damn hands all up your dress and on your ass. Yuck, Lyric,” Kim scolded. “You and I have a reputation to uphold, and it is of style and class, not ratchetness. Do I have to teach you everything? Better start getting back in that A-list celeb mind set. You think Beyoncé would be out here on the dance floor, grinding up with some lames with her ass all out?”
“First of all, I’m not Beyoncé. More like Solange, or not even Solange. Shit, right now I’m more like that washed-up-ass Michelle.” Lyric busted out laughing at her own joke. “And why the hell else did we come to the club if it wasn’t to get our dance on? I damned sure didn’t come to sit around and be cute, acting like some stuck-up celebrity prude like my sister,” Lyric replied sassily.
Lyric loved to party hard. Her idea of coming out was to dance and have fun, not sit like a princess on her throne, decked out in the latest fashions with a high-priced purse in her lap, just to make other women jealous.
Kim sucked her teeth and continued dragging Lyric toward the VIP. “I come to the club to listen to the music, have a few drinks, and do a few lines. In VIP,” Kim stressed.
“Stuck up,” Lyric mocked. “You could’ve been Melody in another life.”
“Yes, call it what you want, but I keep it classy all the time. I don’t let people make me sweat, and I certainly don’t dance with club regulars who come to the club with five dollars in their pockets and try to get a free feel,” Kim answered. “Shit, they ain’t even have to buy you a drink and you gave them free feels!”
“Yeah, yeah, Mother-may-I. You sound like Harmony with the lectures. I need a hit,” Lyric grumbled. “You blew my high all the way. Shit, I might as well ha
ve come out with Rebel, the biggest hater of all.”
“One more hit and that’s it for the night,” Kim warned, storming back into the VIP section. “And I mean it, Lyric. Don’t ask me for anymore after this.”
Lyric followed Kim to a darkened corner in the VIP section like a horse following a carrot. Kim looked around to make sure they were all clear, then she dug into her bag and handed Lyric a small glassine envelope.
“Hit it easy. A little bit at a time,” Kim instructed. “I already told you this stuff is not to be fucked with.”
Lyric waved her hand dismissively. “You worry too much. Damn. If I wanted to be out with my sisters, I would’ve invited those bitches,” Lyric grumbled.
“Just hurry up before someone sees.” Kim spoke directly into Lyric’s ear.
“Okay. Okay.”
Kim turned her back so that she could play lookout just in case any of the club’s security guards wanted to get nosey. Kim listened as Lyric snorted a couple of lines.
“Lyric, I told you a tiny bit. You sound like you took too—” Kim spun around to warn Lyric again about the potency of the product, but Kim’s words got stuck in her throat. Her mouth hung open in an O before any words came out.
“Lyric! Lyric!” Kim screeched at the top of her lungs.
Lyric was at Kim’s feet, her body twitching like she was being electrocuted. White foam bubbled from Lyric’s lips, and her eyes were wide open, glassy, and even in the darkened club Kim could tell they were staring at nothing. Dead.
“Lyric!” Kim fell to her knees and began shaking Lyric’s limp body vigorously.
“Oh my God! Help! Help!” Kim shrieked, pulling Lyric’s head into her lap. “I need help! Help! Please! Call an ambulance! Lyric! Please don’t die! Lyric!”
Chapter 16
Harmony
It seemed like Harmony had just fallen asleep when she heard the click of the hotel room door. She jumped up and off the bed in one swift motion.
“Ron. Oh my God. Where have you been?” Harmony rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I was so worried.” Her words came out in a breathy rush and her tears spilled in fast streams. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry.” Harmony clutched him like she didn’t believe he was staying. “I want to make things better.”
“I’m . . . I . . . I’m sorry,” Ron said as he tried to fight back his own regretful tears.
He didn’t lift his arms to return Harmony’s embrace; instead, he sobbed.
Harmony inhaled and released her hold on him like he’d suddenly turned into a venomous snake. “You’ve been . . . you.” She stumbled backward a few steps, shaking her head no. She smelled the alcohol reeking from his pores.
Ron put his hands up in front of him. “Harm, let me explain.”
“What have you done?” Harmony screamed. “Ron, what have you done?” Aubrey began crying, but it was as if neither Ron nor Harmony could hear her.
“Ron, what have you done?” Harmony’s legs got weak. She bent at the waist like she’d been gut-punched. “Oh God,” she cried out, crawling to a chair. “Ron!”
“A few drinks . . . nothing more. It . . . was just—” Ron stumbled over his words. “I swear, Harm. I will never do this again. I’m okay.”
Harmony couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She hid her face in her hands. She knew his story. When they first met, Ron had admitted that his addiction started with alcohol. The free drinks at the industry parties were the gateway to his drug use.
“No drugs, Harm. I . . . promise. Just the drinks.” Ron pled his case. “I’ll never do it again. I swear. I’m okay, Harm. I promise. I can control this. I swear.”
“No. God, why is this happening? Why?” Harmony wailed. She had heard all of his promises before. It had taken two tries before Ron had gotten clean and sober. Harmony had witnessed him relapse. She had dealt with the lies, the secrecy, and the total rock bottom behavior before. She’d stuck by him, but this time, after everything, this relapse was something she didn’t think she could endure. It was a long rough road before he’d gotten clean and stuck with it. Harmony knew how hard Ron could fall. She’d cleaned up his mess enough times to know that it had gotten worse each time. Now this.
Ron rushed over to Harmony and grabbed her wrists. “Harm, listen.”
“Get off of me,” Harmony screeched, recoiling from his touch. “All that I’ve been through with you. You threw it all away. You threw it all away.” She yelled so loud her throat itched.
Ron pulled his hands back in surrender. His jaw rocked and he had to fight to slow his rapid breathing. He swallowed hard and blew out a hard puff of breath.
“Harmony, just listen to me.” Ron tried to level with her. “After our fight, I was upset. Emotional. I felt like you were betraying me. I felt hopeless. I didn’t mean to have those drinks; it just happened. I felt lost. Alone. I was walking the streets, and I don’t why, but I just wandered into the bar. It . . . it was the place that felt most like home to me at the time,” he explained.
Harmony belched out a few sobs.
“I swear, Harmony, if we just leave now and go back home, it won’t happen again,” Ron implored. “We can fix it. I can fix it.”
Harmony looked up at him, her eyes sagging at the edges. She shook her head in disbelief. “All it takes is this to get you all the way back to the beginning, Ron. I don’t know if I have it in me to do it again. Going home is not going to change the fact that you . . . ”
She couldn’t say the word relapse. She couldn’t conceptualize the idea that she might have to watch her husband crawl around on the floor of their home, searching for a crack rock, or that he might clean out their bank account and go missing for three days.
Harmony threw up her hands and stood up. She snatched her cell phone from the small hotel desk and her jacket from the back of the desk chair. She headed for the door without any regard for Ron or her baby. She just needed to get away from him, from everything and everyone.
“Wait, Harm. Where are you going?” Ron called after her.
“I need some air. I don’t know what’s happening to me . . . to us. I’m so . . . we are so . . . lost,” Harmony said through her tears. With that, she let the door slam behind her.
* * *
An hour after she’d stormed out of the hotel wearing a pair of joggers that doubled as pajamas, a head scarf, and a workout jacket, Harmony found herself standing in front of Ava’s house. She didn’t know why she felt so compelled to go there after her fight with Ron. It was like she had been drawn there. Harmony lifted the rickety front gate up and entered the yard. She moved the old, weather-stained and cracked adobe flowerpot at the bottom of the stoop and retrieved the house key. Harmony shook her head at the fact that Ava had never moved her key from that old spot.
Harmony entered the house and closed the door behind her. She stood still for a few minutes, her heart drumming in her chest.
“You came here. Now deal with the feelings.”
Harmony set her jaw and slowly climbed the stairs, each one creaking under her feet. She remembered how many times those creaking stairs had warned her that Ava was coming. The same thunderbolt of fear that used to hit her back then hit her now. She shuddered.
Harmony made it to the top of the staircase. She blew out a shaky breath and shook her arms. She fought to be brave as she entered Ava’s bedroom. Harmony stepped over the mess—scattered clothes, broken perfume bottles, and shattered picture frames.
“What happened here, Ava?” Harmony whispered, bending down and picking up one of the shattered frames. She removed a piece of the cracked glass so she could see Ava’s face clearly. Harmony’s stomach knotted.
“Why, Ava? Why did you do this to us? We can’t even stand to be sisters; we’re so screwed up. I can’t be a wife or the mother that I really want to be. I’m so scared of being hurt. All I ever wanted was for you to love me. Why was that so hard for you, Ava? What mother can’t love their child? I can’t remember you ever giv
ing me a hug or a kiss or telling me that I was beautiful. Beautiful? I never heard that word as a kid unless you were saying it to Melody. No, all I ever heard from you was how black and ugly and terrible I was. Sometimes, even now, I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror because all I see is that tar baby, jiggaboo, nigger-naps, escaped slave you always talked about. Why? I can’t ever remember you ever telling me I did a good job at something. No, I was always the worst at everything that I did. So, I was your ugliest child and the worst at everything? That’s impossible. Everyone is good at something. Why, Ava? And let’s not even get into what you did to Lyric.” Harmony’s voice caught in her throat. She had to swallow a few times to find her voice again.
“Lyric . . . she . . . was a baby. She didn’t fucking deserve that. She didn’t deserve to be sold off like some sex slave. You stood there while that nasty bastard sized her up and played out in his sick mind what she could do for his sordid pleasures. You gave him permission to rape her over and over again. Your child. Your baby. For God’s sake, why? She was a baby. She was a goddamn baby, Ava. Why? What happened in your life that would make you capable of such evil things? What could’ve possibly made you so heartless? Tell me. Tell me.”
Harmony screamed as if Ava could somehow telepathically hear her or answer the questions she had been holding in and wanting to ask most of her life.
“I hope God has mercy on your soul, Ava. I’ll never get to tell you face-to-face just how much you ruined us, and that’s my fault. I should’ve come back. I should’ve made sure you got the message. I should’ve wrote you a letter. Maybe that would’ve helped me. Maybe it would’ve helped Lyric. It’s my fault that she’s suffering. I should’ve stepped in and been a mother to her. I should’ve picked up your slack because I benefited from her pain too.
“I’m going to save her, Ava. I’m going to be better to her than you ever were. I just want you to know that I am trying to find it in my heart to forgive you. I can’t have a good life if I don’t forgive you, but I just can’t. I want to, but . . . ”
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