Dreamz laughed. “You ain’t ever bought real diamonds before, huh? This isn’t Tiffany’s where they mark up the price a thousand percent. This is how you get real shit and not go broke.”
But seventy-five thousand for the stones and another fifty for the gold rope setting is only going to set me back less than a hundred and fifty grand. I know Xavier paid at least one point five million for Sunny’s engagement ring. What if she thinks I’m being cheap?
Giovanna scoffed at the notion. She and Ahmed explained the weight and clarity of the diamonds and showed me the GIA certifications. Dreamz was right. The rocks were legit. I came to New York ready to throw down millions but I was getting off easily. Sunny never has to know how much her ring cost. I had Paulie run to Bank of America to get Ahmed a cashier’s check for a hundred grand. Might as well let Giovanna make the wedding bands too since they’re supposed to match.
Once that business was done, I was able to relax a little and get down to this music business with Dreamz. Joey is ready to pay his actual rate for him to produce at least three tracks on the Final Hour project. I get that Dreamz is a super producer but two hundred grand per track for the beat and the mix? I produced nearly every track on Erica’s LP and barely made two hundred grand. I gotta step my game up.
“Yo, I’m cool with getting’ in the studio with those guys, especially if I can get a solo or two from you.” Dreamz nodded his head and rubbed his hands together. “I got some tracks that would be perfect for an old school group makin’ a 2015 comeback. But I’mma be real as hell with you, A.T. Workin’ with those guys is a good look for all of us but I’m really tryin’ to get in the studio with Erica’s fine ass.”
The way his eyes lit up at the mention of Erica’s name made me laugh. Erica would risk twenty-five to life if I told Dreamz that she said the same thing about him. Erica isn’t one of those tell your friend to call me type of women. She enjoys the chase. If she can’t get a man on her own, she doesn’t want him so I didn’t say a word about her wanting do more than just work with him.
“You sure you want to do that? You know E doesn’t sing, right?”
“I mean, she’s no Whitney, but she sings good enough. Janet and J-Lo aren’t the greatest of singers either but they’re some of the best performers to ever tour. I ain’t tryin’ to make Erica no Beyoncé because she’s good doing exactly what she does. She’s doing for the sax what Sheila E did for the drums. People are paying attention. Plus, that’s one fine woman. I’m tryin’ to make more than some music with her.”
“I’ll let Joey know then. He’ll probably agree to it.”
“What? She ain’t workin’ with you on her album? Why? Because of that engagement mess?”
“She said she didn’t have a problem with working with me but Joey thinks it’s better to let him handle this one.”
“She won a Grammy off the one you produced though. Why mess up a good thing over something as dumb as relationship drama?”
I had to laugh. “Well, Erica and I don’t have that good of a history of not letting the personal get in the way of business. I’m gonna let Joey handle this. But if it doesn’t sound the way I think it should, I’ll step in and add my voice to the album. We’ll get her another Grammy, for sure. And,” I dragged out the word. “I thought you were about to be off the market anyway. I know I heard something about you, twenty chicks, and a reality show.”
Dreamz rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Man, that’s some bullshit Aubrey talked me into doing. She and my manager think the best way to get the attention off all my baby mama drama is to prove that I’m not really a playa and want a good girl to settle down with. It’s dumb as hell but Aubrey thinks it’s the best idea ever.”
Right away, I could tell that his sibling’s lame idea was getting on his nerves and he was only doing it because it was his sister who asked him to. Right then, I knew that me and Dreamz were going to be cool. Not only did we have music in common, I’d do anything for my sisters too.
Chapter 22: Los Angeles, CA
The Big Day
Coltrane’s Blue Train album played at a low volume as I sat in my music room trying my damndest to be inspired by something in order to write my next album. I’ve listened to Albert King, Hendrix, and even some classic Luther Vandross thinking something is going to cause a spark. So far…
Nothing.
To be honest, I’ve only been trying to write for a week and it does take me a lot longer than that to really get into it. Still, I told Roxy that I’ve been working on it for a month, thinking that what she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her even though she acts like my lack of focus is going to be the death of her. Then she told Joey so now my boss is demanding to hear something soon.
I don’t believe that it’s my fault that the only thing coming out of my pen are mushy love ballads better suited for D’Angelo or some other R&B crooner than the badass blues guitarist that I am. I’m not getting in anyone’s studio singing about my feelings. Maybe I should sell them because they are good songs.
Then again, I’ve never written a relationship album. My music has always been about personal growth, being misunderstood, and not getting what you want. A relationship album might be something that my fans want to hear from me. Lord knows, the relationship that I’m in definitely provides enough material for a thirteen-track album.
I turned off the album and placed the rare vinyl back on the shelf with my other Coltrane albums. When I checked my phone, I had missed the call from Tom at Fender, but I already knew that my guitars were ready. The limited edition replica of my signature Stratocaster is my first big project this year. Only five hundred of those babies are coming off the line! I’m sending one to Kameron for Christmas. He’s gonna freak.
I check in on Kam and his family all the time. He texts me every day. That kid is hilarious…and talented. He’s definitely going to play for the Tigers or have a record deal by the time he graduates from high school. Hell, if I thought Karmen would approve, I’d sign the kid as soon as he got his driver’s license.
“Mom!” I yelled when I walked into the living room, but didn’t get an immediate answer. I called her and Sara three times before Tahir walked down the stairs holding the baby.
“They’re out,” he said.
“What’s up, bro?” I said as I peered over his arm at my little nephew. “You off today?”
“I worked a half day,” he replied. “Sara wanted to go shopping with your mom and Delilah so I came home to watch the baby.”
“That wasn’t necessary. I’ve been home all day.”
“We didn’t want to inconvenience you.”
I was just about to respond when the three Amigos walked through the front door with bags from BCBG, Guess, and Armani. You’d think they’d be bored with Rodeo Drive by now.
“Aiden!” Delilah squealed. “I found the perfect outfit for you to wear tonight!”
She started tearing through bags and garment bags from Armani. Sara and my mother looked at me with confused expressions.
“What’s tonight?” my mom asked. “You have an event?”
“Yeah,” Sara added. “What’s going on? Delilah had us in the Armani store for hours. I thought Sunny was styling your red carpet looks.”
I shook my head and was about to come up with an entirely different answer than the one Delilah blurted out.
“He’s gonna propose to Sunny! Show them the ring!”
The way the words came flying out of my sister’s mouth, I knew that she had been holding onto the news since yesterday and it was probably the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. If Delilah had to wait another hour to spill my secret, her head probably would have exploded.
Sara gasped. “Are you really?”
My mother smiled happily. “Oh my God! This is so exciting.”
“It’s supposed to be a secret,” I replied.
“Yeah, but you told Delilah,” Tahir chuckled. “You really didn’t want it to remain a secret, did you,
brother?”
He definitely had a point, although I didn’t have a choice but to tell my nosy little sister. She was down at my office when the courier delivered the ring yesterday. Having no other choice, I told her my plan. Then she took over and did everything she could to make my proposal idea a zillion times better than I planned.
In less than twenty-four hours.
The girl is a machine.
And a Godsend.
I took the black velvet lined box out of my pocket and flipped it open. Sara almost dropped her baby when she saw the custom ring. Sunny fell in love with an 18k gold rope ring at Tiffany’s, but she wouldn’t let me buy it because it was about twenty grand. What Giovanna t came up with was so breathtaking that I fell in love with it on paper. Having it in my hand was overwhelming.
“That’s definitely Sunny’s ring,” Sara said. “You did well.”
“I’m so glad you went with gold,” my mother said and looked down at her own gold wedding band. She wiped at the corner of her eyes. I knew she was going to cry. “No one ever wears gold anymore.”
Both of my sisters have platinum rings and wedding bands. The ring that Xavier gave Sunny was a platinum and iced out monstrosity that only basketball wives and rappers’ wives wear. It didn’t seem like he’d given Sunny’s engagement ring much thought. He probably called up Johnny Dang was like ‘bring me an engagement ring for my girl.’
This is the ring that Sunny is going to wear for the rest of her life. She wasn’t happy with a five-carat diamond. She’d want something smaller, dainty…pretty yet subtle. A ring that spoke to her sense of style. That’s what I have; a twenty-four carat gold yellow and chocolate diamond halo engagement ring.
“And he’s got the most romantic date planned,” Delilah gushed. “I put it together and she has no idea!”
“Will you please stop?” I begged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“The hell!” Sara shouted. “You’re finally going to marry the right girl…your soul mate. This is a big fuckin’ deal!”
“She’s right.” Of course Tahir would agree with his wife. “Marrying the mother of your child is a very honorable thing to do. How are you going to propose?”
“We’re just going to have dinner-”
“Let me tell it,” Delilah interrupted. “You’re just going to mess it up.”
Dramatically, Delilah turned to her audience. “They’re going to have a candlelit dinner in the Parisian Suite at Villa Delle Stelle. This is like the most romantic hotel in Los Angeles. The suite is absolutely gorgeous. It has beautiful gold accents and soft colored walls. They say it’s inspired by Grace Kelly.”
“Oh my,” my mother whispered, completely captivated by her daughter’s knack for storytelling.
“I have white rose petals strewn all over the Turkish rugs so when she walks, it’s like she’s gliding on a cloud. I hired Chef Felix, her favorite chef in LA to cook a four-course meal and they have two servers. I have champagne on the balcony for pre-dinner drinks. Then they’ll eat, and after desert…,” Delilah stopped and looked at me.
“Go on,” I said. “You were doing so well.”
“Tell them the best part,” Delilah insisted, nudging my shoulder.
“Dee-Lee!” I grumbled.
“What’s the best part?” Sara practically whispered. Her eyes were lit up like stars.
I sighed. “I wrote her a song.”
“He wrote her a song,” Delilah sang, practically clutching her heart. “It’s so beautiful. He’s talking about the day he first saw her and when he fell in love.”
“You heard it? Why’d she get to hear it? I want to hear the song.” Sara looked mortally wounded at the idea that I let Delilah hear Sunny’s proposal song and not her.
“She didn’t hear it,” I assured Sara. “She read the lyrics in my notebook. Look, I’m begging you not to make this bigger than it already is. She’ll probably say no anyway. I just want to have a nice night with my girlfriend.”
“You’re nervous!” Sara giggled. “Isn’t that cute?”
“It’s not cute,” I replied sharply. “She may not be ready.”
My mother put her arm around my shoulders and smiled softly at me.
“She’s not going to say no, honey. Sunny loves you. She’ll say yes.”
***
Four hours later, after ditching Delilah’s idea of the perfect outfit, a navy blue Armani suit, and promising her that I would wear it for my Good Day L.A appearance, I put my own outfit together. Black button down, dark jeans, and black blazer that Sunny loved (and I hated) completed my ensemble.
I pulled my midnight blue Lamborghini Gallardo out of my driveway and drove to Sunny’s house. I didn’t want to admit I was nervous in front of my sisters, but I did tell my brother-in-law…both of them. Paulie and Tahir have done this before. Plus, both of them know Sunny. They assured me that I was doing the right thing, and despite only being together for five months, Sunny and I are ready to be husband and wife.
The ring box in my pocket felt like a five-pound weight. Five months isn’t a very long time to in a relationship with anyone, even if that person has been your friend for over a decade. I’ve loved Sunny for that long. I don’t want to rush or scare her off, but I don’t see myself wanting to be with anyone else…ever.
I parked the car behind Sunny’s Mercedes and walked up the pathway to her front door. I let myself in. There was no way I wasn’t going to have a key to the house I bought.
Bob Marley’s “No Woman No Cry” was blaring from Sunny’s sound system when I walked into the living room.
“Baby!” I called from the foot of the stairs. “You dressed?”
“Don’t come up here!” Sunny yelled. “You’re going to ruin my entrance!”
I sat down in the living room instead. Sunny’s moleskin journal was sitting in the middle of the coffee table on top of her MacBook. I fought the temptation to grab it and read a few pages, knowing that Sunny would never forgive me.
A few minutes later, I heard Sunny’s stilettos clacking on her hardwood floors. I stood up and turned around. My heart jumped into my throat. It’s been a minutes since I’ve seen my woman dressed to impress. I know nothing about women’s clothes, but I know that I liked her dress a lot.
The short white dress stopped about mid-thigh with a plunging neckline. The white material contrasted beautifully with Sunny’s pecan tan skin tone and hazel eyes. Her new dark hair was just one color tonight and cascaded down her back in deep waves. Her sparkly gold shoes made her legs look longer and if possible, thicker.
“You look gorgeous. I mean…damn,”
A smile as wide as the Earth spread across Sunny’s face. I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and snapped a picture.
“Do not tweet that,” she said with a laugh.
I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close to me. She smelled like lemon scented body wash. Sunny doesn’t wear any type of perfume ever. She prefers body wash and body spray. She says perfume doesn’t smell natural. I don’t disagree.
“Are you going to be mad if I mess up your lipstick?”
Instead of answering, Sunny pressed her lips against mine, sweetly brushing her tongue against mine until I didn’t care about her makeup or her outfit. Until all I wanted was to take her upstairs to her bedroom. Then she pulled away with a smirk.
“I’m starving,” she said coyly. “Let’s go.”
“Save that for later,” she added, looking down at my slight erection straining the crotch of my Armani slacks.
I took her hand and led her out of the house. She whistled when she saw my car shining in the moonlight.
“You pulled out the Lambo,” she teased. “I must be something kind of special.”
I opened her door. “Yeah, but you’re still not driving it,” I said as she got in.
I didn’t tell Sunny where we were going and she didn’t ask. Instead, she talked about work and her other assistant, Kirk. She went on and on about he
r new clients and her new line, but I was barely listening. The ring was burning a hole in my pocket as I sped down the interstate to the Villa Delle Stelle.
When I opened the door to the suite, Sunny sucked in her breath sharply and squeezed my hand. The room was lit with so many white candles that I’m surprised Delilah hadn’t set off the sprinkler system. The soft glow of the candlelight made everything look a hundred times more romantic than it had when I was here earlier, if that was even possible.
“You did this for me?” Sunny said in awe as she stepped onto the white rose petals scattered on the floor. “I had no idea you were so romantic.”
“I hope you don’t feel like you wasted a perfectly good dress since no one’s going to see you in it except me.”
“You know,” Sunny said as she brushed her hand down the side of my face. “Sometimes, you’re the only who matters.”
I could have dropped to one knee as soon as she said that, but I didn’t put all this together to blow my load prematurely. Instead, I led out to the balcony for our pre-dinner champagne. There was a small table with an ice bucket and a bottle of Perrier-Jouet chilling on ice. I popped the bottle and poured two glasses of the rose-colored champagne. I don’t usually drink such a girly champagne, but it’s Sunny’s favorite. At $280 a bottle, she’s too cheap to buy it herself.
I could tell she was impressed with what I’d put together, especially when a waiter emerged from the kitchen to seat us at the white linen covered table in the full dining room. Sunny’s eyes lit up when Chef Felix present our first course.
“You know,” Sunny began after taking a bite of her heirloom tomato salad.
“What?”
“I’ve been waiting to see your romantic side; that spontaneous ‘let’s get married in Vegas’ ‘propose on stage’ side of you. I was hoping Ramey and Erica hadn’t ruined it for me.”
“Wasn’t I romantic on Guana Island? That was some ‘make love on the beach of jet black sand’ type of romance, right?”
“Although your ability to quote 90s R&B lyrics is absolutely remarkable,” Sunny smiled. “I knew you could be more romantic. Guana Island is romantic by itself. There’s no work there. This type of romance takes effort.”
Love Notes (Friends Lovers or Nothing Book 4) Page 19