“What do you want, Sly?” Melody’s words came out in an exasperated breath.
Be strong, Melody. Don’t let him sweet talk you, Melody. Be strong, Melody. Damn, he is fine. Be strong, Melody.
“Why you acting like that?” He smiled again, moving toward her for a hug. Melody sidestepped. Sly looked surprised by her bold dismissal.
“It’s like that now, ma?” He chuckled. Melody could tell he was trying to fight the embarrassment of her rejection. That made her feel good for a second.
“Yes, it’s like that. I’m busy,” Melody said flatly.
Sly got serious. “I heard about Lyric.”
Her gaze snapped to his, and her eyes burned into his. “Is that what you came here for? After three days of no call, no texts, not one fucking thing, you came to tell me you heard about my sister’s unfortunate drug overdose?”
She was fighting the tears welling up in the backs of her eyes. Why couldn’t Sly just love her the way she needed? Why couldn’t he just love her like Ron loved Harmony?
“Nah. You’re right. That’s not what I came here for,” Sly said, his voice taking on a somber tone.
“Okay?” Melody replied quizzically, turning over her palm as if to say, “What?”
“Honestly, Mel, I came to tell you something else.” Sly let out a long breath. “Something that needed to be said in person and not through a punk-ass text or over the phone.”
Melody felt an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a wave of nervous nausea made her weak. She flopped down in the rolling chair in front of the mixing console. Sly took a seat at the edge of the black leather couch behind it. Melody swung the chair around so she could face him.
“I’m listening,” Melody said, twisting her lips to the side and wringing her hands in front of her.
Sly cleared his throat and lowered his head into his palms. He took off his Yankees fitted cap, scratched his head, and set the cap back on it. He repeated that three more times.
“You’re playing right now, Sly. I really don’t have time for it today.” Melody tapped her foot expectantly and folded her arms across her chest.
“Okay, okay,” Sly relented. He set his cap on his head and lifted his head a little bit so that he was stretching his eyes to look up at Melody.
Melody melted inside as soon as she looked down into Sly’s gorgeous, puppy dog eyes.
Be strong, Melody. Don’t let him sweet talk you, Melody. Be strong, Melody. Whatever he has to say, you stay strong. No matter what it is, stay strong, Melody.
“I wanted you to find out from me and not some blog or paparazzi magazine,” Sly said, his voice unusually mousy.
Melody hugged herself tighter. All of a sudden, she was so cold her teeth chattered. “Find out what?”
“First let me just say this, Mel.” Sly lowered his eyes to the floor like he had to choose his words carefully.
“No. Don’t caveat your news with a bullshit line about how you love me and how you want to be with me. Tell me what you need to tell me now, Sly,” Melody demanded, her patience wearing thin.
Melody had endured years of this type of bad news sit-downs. Her mind raced in a million directions now. Melody could only imagine what blog had caught Sly with what stripper this time, or what paparazzi had spotted him coming out of what club with what model hanging on his arm, canoodling like they were a couple. Melody had heard it all before—or so she thought.
Sly’s shoulders slumped. “A’ight. I’m just gonna come out and say it then,” he said, stalling some more.
“Fucking say it already, Sly!” Melody exploded. Her nerves were already shot to hell from everything else. “I mean, what haven’t I heard before? What did you do now and with who and—”
“Terikka is pregnant,” Sly blurted, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Melody’s lips snapped shut. She met his gaze. “And?” Melody’s head jerked back like he had just thrown cold water in her face. “Terikka is pregnant? And?” Melody repeated Sly’s words so that they settled in her mind.
Terikka was Sly’s little female protégé who he’d taken under his wing and signed to his record label two years ago. The girl was a beauty from St. Thomas with a sexy little accent and a beautiful face. Terikka had talent, and in the two short years she’d been signed to Diamond Records, she had eight number one hits. The girl was hot and had literally blown up overnight.
Melody always acted as if she didn’t care. Terikka still hadn’t caught up to her when it came to hit songs, net worth, and music awards, but Melody also knew that if anyone could, it would be Terikka.
When Sly had first introduced Terikka to Melody, she thought the young girl was cute, kind of skinny, kind of homely, and definitely had nothing on her. Of course at that time, Terikka was fresh off the island with four outfits to her name and a bad weave that looked like it was done in someone’s basement. Melody hadn’t felt threatened at all, but Terikka didn’t stay the homely, innocent little young protégé for long.
Terikka quickly made a name for herself as the pop culture bad girl. She had sex appeal, and she was unapologetic about it. Terikka wasn’t trying to have that pop diva reputation like Melody. No, Terikka was the new Grace Jones.
It wasn’t long before Melody had started to hear rumors in the media about a salacious romance between the much older Sly and Terikka. Sly had always vehemently denied it. Sly had even had Terikka and Melody at his industry events together to prove to Melody and to show the media that there was no beef in their camp.
Melody played along, but deep down in her gut, she had never fully trusted Sly and Terikka’s relationship.
“And, Sly? What does that have to do with me?” Melody pressed, her heart racing so hard the movement was visible through her clothes. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling.
Sly lifted his cap from his head and scratched his head again. Melody recognized that nervous tic. She knew it all too well. Melody slid her chair closer to Sly. She bent down and got in his face. “What does that have to do with me, Sly?” Melody asked again through her teeth.
“A’ight, man, I’m just going to say it.” Sly paused.
Melody narrowed her eyes to a pinprick and held her breath.
“Terikka’s pregnant and she is keeping the baby. I’m the father. I had to tell you now because she is planning on announcing it at the awards next week at the end of her performance.” Sly rushed the words out.
Melody fell back in the chair, sending it rolling backward a few inches. She felt like Sly had just kicked her in the chest. Melody tilted her head, and her teeth closed down around her bottom lip so hard she tasted her own blood.
“Mel, listen.” Sly reached his hand out toward her.
Melody leapt from the chair and charged into Sly with wrecking ball force. She was on top of Sly before he could react. Melody growled and hissed as she clawed at his face.
“Shit!” Sly exclaimed as the searing pain hit him from Melody’s nails connecting with his left cheek.
“I hate you. I hate you,” Melody yelled, flailing her arms, throwing wild punches at Sly’s face and head. Melody bared her teeth like a rabid dog and tried to bite Sly, but he was able to wedge his hand between her mouth and his face.
“Yo! Stop it,” Sly yelled at her. “You’re acting fucking crazy!”
“I hate you.” Melody caught Sly with a fist to the left side of his head. She was a scorned woman possessed. “I hate you. I fucking hate you. How could you do this to me? How could you? You knew I wanted a baby. You fucking knew all this time I wanted a family more than anything, Sly,” Melody screamed so loud her voice echoed off of the walls. Melody lifted her knee swiftly and caught Sly in the balls.
“Oh, shit,” Sly groaned, covering his private parts with his hands.
“You knew I wanted a baby,” she cried, the sheer pain of her hurt evident behind every word.
In that quick moment of his weakness, Melody caught him across the neck, her nails cutting into his skin like r
azors. Sly’s hand flew up to his neck. He felt the blood on the tips of his fingers.
“I hate you,” Melody screeched. She went to attack him again, but this time Sly caught both of her wrists.
“Stop,” he gritted. “Stop.”
Melody tried to break free from his grasp.
“Stop it,” Sly demanded, roughly flipping her down onto the couch. He pinned her wrists at the sides of her head and her body to the couch.
Melody tried to kick, but Sly’s weight held her legs down. He loomed over her as her chest heaved like a madwoman. Her eyes were wild, feral. Sly looked down into her face, the blood on his cheek and neck painting his skin deep red. Melody closed her eyes. She couldn’t stand to look at him. Every muscle in her body was tense and cording against her skin.
“Listen to me, Melody. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
His words made Melody try to free herself again. She turned her head to the left and tried to bite Sly’s hand so that he would release her. That just made him clamp down harder.
“Listen to me. I have been trying to tell you for years now that you needed to put down that wall you have up with everybody. Don’t say that I didn’t try, Mel. I fucking tried over and over again. I tried to soften your hard heart. I tried to love you, but you were unlovable most of the time,” Sly said, his words painfully true. “The only time you let yourself be a woman was when I was having sex with you. You know how that made me feel? I wanted you to be my lady . . . not my competition.” His words stung like openhanded slaps to her face.
Melody came alive again, kicking and trying to free her arms. She moved her head side to side, and like a crazy psych patient, she tried to bite Sly again.
“I tried, Mel. This news could’ve been about us. The world wanted to see us have a kid and make that billion together. I wanted that more than anything, but I couldn’t do it no more. Your mother turned you into a real fucked up, hardened person. Don’t be like her, Mel. Find that soft spot and open up to the next dude. Maybe you’ll get that family one day.”
Melody belched out sobs. Sly’s words were cutting into her like a surgical scalpel.
“I wish you all the best, but I wanted someone who would let me in. Someone who didn’t base her entire life on things. Material things. Money and fame don’t mean shit if you can’t love. I wanted a woman that could be vulnerable, not one that always wanted to be in charge or competing with me,” Sly continued, clutching her tighter.
Melody finally stopped moving. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Tears drained out of the sides of her eyes and pooled in her ears. She wanted to die. She literally wanted God to take all the breath from her body. She had never felt anything like this, not even after she’d found out her mother was dead. She felt like someone had her heart in their fist, squeezing it.
“All I want is someone to love me,” Melody whispered. “All I ever wanted was someone, anyone, to love me.”
Melody knew at that moment that the old, evil, selfish Melody was back. She didn’t care anymore who got hurt. From that moment on, she was going to protect her own heart. She was going to make them all pay for her pain. If she couldn’t be happy, then no one would be happy.
Chapter 21
Lyric
“Come on. Open up for the airplane,” Rebel joked, making airplane noises and waving a spoonful of applesauce in front of Lyric’s mouth. She was finally breathing on her own and had the tube removed.
“Get out of here.” Lyric giggled and turned her head to the side. They both laughed. Lyric was so happy to wake up and find Rebel at her bedside. He usually put up a hard, tough-guy act, but Lyric always knew he had a soft spot.
“Yo, you scared the shit out of me,” Rebel confessed, putting the spoon on the hospital tray at the side of Lyric’s bed.
Lyric lowered her eyes. “I know. I scared the hell out of me too.” She shook her head, ashamed. “But I remember that high, yo. It was like nothing I ever had before, Reb. I was wishing I could share that shit with you the whole time. I mean, I was flying so fucking high.”
Rebel reached out and squeezed her hand, halting her words.
Lyric looked down at the skull and crossbones tattoo on the top of his hand and then at his face. “What?” she asked softly.
“I want you to kick, Lyric,” Rebel said. “This is the end of the line for you and the life. You gotta get clean.”
Lyric pulled her hand away, put her head back on the pillow, and stared up at the ceiling. “Not you too with the lectures,” she groaned. “My sisters are going to be on that rehab shit. I already know. Not you too.”
“This shit ain’t for you, Lyric. You almost died and for what? Going on tour with your sisters. Singing and dancing. Being a beautiful young girl and living, enjoying life. That’s for you. That’s what you been trying to get back to all this time. I mean, you got the support right here, all around you.” Rebel opened his hands to drive home his point. Lyric sucked her teeth and closed her eyes.
“I’m serious, Lyric. Your sisters are in your corner for once. You should’ve seen how Harmony was ready to kick my ass when she thought I was the reason you OD’d. Man, she was ready to rip me apart with her bare hands. That means something, Lyric. That means you’re loved, even more than you know. Don’t blow it.”
Lyric swiped at the tears rimming her eyes. Thinking about rehab and having nothing to help her escape her pain made her stomach knot. Lyric couldn’t imagine life without getting high.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said, “so if kicking means I can’t be around you, then I’m not going to fucking do it.”
Rebel sighed. “Look at me,” he demanded. He met her gaze. “I ever tell you how I got hooked on this shit, Lyric?”
Lyric thought for a second. “No,” she murmured, embarrassed that she had been with Rebel almost two years and didn’t really know that much about him. Their relationship, very early on, had become about partying and getting high. Rebel’s eyes burned into hers.
“I was a kid when I took my first hit. When I say kid, I mean a twelve-year-old kid. My pops gave me my first one,” Rebel said, swallowing hard afterward like saying those words hurt his tongue.
Lyric’s shoulders quaked as she listened. The pain was evident in Rebel’s words.
“That fucking coward told me it was for my own good, but really, he forced it on me because he was afraid. He was afraid to be alone in his fucked up, miserable world. When my moms OD’d and died, he didn’t have nobody else to get high with, so I was the next best thing. I had already started dabbling in the music with a couple of my friends at school. My pops told me the smack would make me better.” Rebel’s voice cracked. He blew out a long, hard breath, like he was trying hard not to cry. Lyric noticed the dagger tattoo on Rebel’s neck moving in and out with the pulsing of his heart.
“It did for a while, you know? I was flying high all of the time. I could perform for a couple days straight, non-stop. The record label and my pops benefited off that shit. Everybody was collecting checks. I would get high and go like the Energizer bunny, show after show. My pops kept the drugs coming, and I kept going. When my single blew up, I was riding fucking high, literally.
“Then I started crashing. My body needed the smack to stay regular, not just for me to perform. I needed to hit it more often. I didn’t care about shit else but a hit. I started seeing the little bit of money they gave me disappear faster than I could blink. My brain got all fuzzy. I couldn’t write rhymes. I couldn’t go on stage. I couldn’t get in the studio. All I wanted to do was chase the high and keep myself from being sick. Then that stupid fuckhead pops of mine ups and dies. Endocarditis, the doctors said.” Rebel poured out his soul. He lowered his bald, tattooed head into his hands.
Lyric cried hard for him. She felt every ounce of his pain.
He lifted his head abruptly and parted an awkward smile. “Then I met you. From the gate, you were the best thing that happened to me. I know I did some foul shit to you, Lyr
ic. It was because I am sick. It was because I didn’t know how to fucking love someone as innocent and pure as you. I grew up around shitheads all my life. But you, Lyric, I have loved you from the day we met. It’s so fucked up that the only way I ever learned to express love was to get a person high. I thought by giving you that first hit I was showing you what my father showed me—love. That’s bullshit.” Rebel’s resolve finally broke. His bottom lip quivered, and hot, angry tears ran down his face.
“I know you love me, Rebel,” Lyric cried.
“That’s bullshit, and don’t you ever believe that me fucking up your life with this poison meant that I loved you,” he said through his teeth.
Lyric could see that he was angry at himself for everything. She reached out for his hand. Lyric looked down at the big, silver skull ring on Rebel’s left ring finger.
“I love you, Rebel.”
“I want you to kick, Lyric. I want you to know real love, and your sisters are going to show you that,” Rebel said, pulling his hand away.
Lyric’s eyes went wide with surprise. Her heart throttled up until it felt like it was beating in her throat. “We can do it together. I’ll only do it if you do it with me,” Lyric said, anxiety lacing her words.
Rebel stood up. He was shaking his head. “I’m never going to get better. But you have to, Lyric.”
Rebel backed away from Lyric’s bed. The jingling from the chains hanging from his pants pocket sent an ominous feeling over her, like she’d been tossed into a dark, haunted house alone.
“Rebel, don’t leave me,” Lyric begged, trying to muster her strength to go after him. “I won’t stay here. I won’t kick. I’ll find you. I’ll fucking hunt you down,” she screamed until her face reddened.
“You have to stay and get the help you need. I can’t be helped,” he said with finality.
Lyric threw back her hospital blanket and tried to yank her IV out. The monitors next to her bed began wailing and ringing. Lyric’s heart was pounding so hard she felt lightheaded and weak. She had to throw up.
1 Night Stand Page 19