~12~

Dinner was phenomenal! Since meeting Ragee McKinnon, I realized how poor and underwhelmed my diet was. He and I shared the same selection, which was a fish I couldn’t pronounce with a vegetable medley I’d never heard of, and risotto with prefixes I wasn’t familiar with. As usual, I cleaned my plate. When my head had come up to breathe, Raj’s auburns were on me, sparkling mischievously.

“I miss that?” he leaned into me and whispered.

“What?”

“Watching you inhale food.” The dig in that was softened by the gift of his smirk.

I’d missed that.

It reminded me of earlier, when the bride and groom entered the ballroom smiling wide and boundless. Elle broke out into a twerk-a-thon for a surprised Jackson. And his amused and seductive expression was one I’d seen on a man. The man who was now claiming he was in love with me. When Jackson danced with his mother, I didn’t miss how his eyes often traveled over to his bride, who waited at the top of the dance floor. It was clear she waited for him. It was also clear to me, no one shared their bond as a couple. Elle didn’t participate in the traditional father and bride dance. When Jackson was done with his mother, Elle was already on the dance floor with clasped hands and a formal smile. Call me crazy, but she wanted to be the only woman in her man’s arms.

Damn! That was touching…

I observed them through all the reception rituals, and was reminded over and over again, I’d come close to the blissful bubble they shared. And Raj was doing a damn good job at reminding me, too. His touch was constant and gentle. It was affectionate and not seductive. He invited me into conversations at the table and constantly whispered, asking if I was okay, so no one could hear. Initially, I questioned his etiquette in honoring the contract he now held. But after some time, that suspicion faded, and I began to simply appreciate his care.

The performances were incredible. It felt like I was at the damn BET Awards show in April. Several artists took the stage and performed cuts that had folks’ hands in the air and some on their feet. Many of the acts I knew like Dale, Jill Scott, and Stevie Wonder. Then there were those I wasn’t familiar with such as Shirley Murdock, apparently one of Elle’s favorite vocalists. It took no time to understand her belief in that. The woman had pipes. Another name I wasn’t familiar with was saxophonist, Boney James. That was a white dude with soulful instrumentation.

I didn’t know if I should have been simply grateful to take part in this day or intimidated. This was Jackson Hunter’s wedding. The man I was hoping would sign me to his record label.

“You know we got that track with him still stashed. Right?” Young, who shared our table asked Raj with slanted eyes, telling of his inebriation.

Without looking at him, Raj reached over the table for his tumbler, nodded, and took a sip before reclining back into his chair.

Triple weird…

And that… As festive as the evening had been, Raj was clearly throwing crazy shade to Young Lord. At the church, it could have been questioned whether his decision to decline Trent’s invitation was due to Trent or Young. But since we’d been seated together for over an hour, it was clear who Raj had the problem with. He and Trent had hooted it up, clanked glasses, and even stood to engage in small talk with Pastor Carmichael when he visited the table.

But when Lord would toss a question to Raj directly, his answers were delivered with brevity and without his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed by even Kennedi, whom he was more conversant with. Way more. They laughed together and joked. At some point, Young withdrew, making the tension that much greater. But for the alcohol and entertainment.

Now, Stenton Rogers was on his way up to the stage. Stenton. Fucking. Rogers. Stent-fucking-Ro! I needed to be pinched to be sure this was not a dream. Under Raj’s arm, I heard the applause around the room and the whistles as his lengthy frame sauntered to the stage. He and his wife sat just behind us at a table filled with more celebrities. The moment he took the stage, the live band began to play softly. Stenton first congratulated the Hunters and spoke kind words to both their characters. He then went on to share how he knew Jackson. Apparently, Stenton and Jackson’s father, Quincy, were good friends. And it was obvious that Quincy was extremely close to his son, and the man had lots of ties in the industry.

As Stenton spoke, a grand piano was rolled onto the middle of the dance floor that was dimly lit. A few guys—three—ambled over there with bowed heads, clearly trying not to take the attention away from the speaker.

Stenton’s head was toward the floor as he rocked left to right, clearly fighting his emotions, when he mumbled, “He was a friend to so many of us young cats. Reached lots of people, who didn’t know his name, and touched lives that’ll never be the same.” His head dipped even more and he took a moment to collect himself. “Quincy, you’re missed. You’re still loved, and on the day your seed takes on his queen, we wanna acknowledge you. Your friends wanna say hi…”

In that moment, spotlights hit the center of the dance floor. The room went up in applause at their presence. One sat at the piano and his fingers began to tickle the keys. The other two held microphones as they either lifted their chin or bowed their head against the blaring claps and whistles. Of the two with microphones, one had a stark gray beard and sunglasses. The other had a shiny bald head with sunglasses as well.

“Oh, shit!” Raj sat up in his chair, lifting his arm from behind me for the first time tonight.

I caught when Young Lord’s eyes shot over to him, narrowed, then slid away with an unnamed emotion. He, too, now sat with an erect spine.

A track began bursting from the speakers throughout the room and the grand piano played against it. The bearded older guy began with runs before going into the first verse of a song that sounded dissonantly memorable. The bearded guy sang about having sung a lot of songs and given bad advice. He mentioned acting out his life on stages with people watching. And then the other guy, who the room went crazy over, crooned about treating someone unkindly he was close to. Just before the chorus, when the ballad asked to listen to his melody, it hit me. The reason it took so long to recognize the song I’d heard my favorite vocalist sing just days ago, was because their delivery was strained and off key often.

Listen to me, talking about off key…

It was the same song Raj sang to Zebedee at his birthday party. My eyes brushed over to him, who sat with an erect spine, raptly observing the performance. Oddly, the bald guy broke down before they made it to the second verse. When the pianist did a solo run, I had time to think. These guys didn’t sound as supreme as the previous performers. They were old—the gray hair gave that away. But honestly, they sounded god-awful.

Poor Jackson stood as they progressed in the song. The bald guy began to cry. The one with the gray beard shook his head, missing the lyrics. The bald one finally tapped the shoulder of the pianist then sliced at his own neck, killing the song.

The room, as if on key, stood and clapped, accepting their emotional display.

“Man, fuck this,” the bald one declared, and I was frustrated with not remembering their names. Zebedee mentioned them. This was apparently he and Raj’s favorite rendition of this song. “Stop the track, too!” he demanded. “Let’s get some young blood up here to finish this for the greatest to ever do it!”

Another applause burst through the opulent room. Mumbles ripped through the air at that request. People were trying to figure out what was happening and who could resolve it. I’ll be damned if Jackson didn’t shout Ragee’s name. Stenton repeated it. After that, it seemed like the whole gargantuan room did. Young’s raven eyes shot over to Raj but didn’t speak. Trent hooted for Raj to go.

Raj’s head collapsed to his chest and my heartbeat thundered in my chest. I had no idea why. Maybe because he was so relaxed and had been drinking. I didn’t know. But I knew he could deliver the song; I’d witnessed it three days ago. Plus… He was dammit Ragee! A squeeze of my hand over my lap woke me from my rumination. It was Raj. He then stood and made his way to the dance floor with a resounding applause all around.

What the fuck is this?

The pint of Mauve in my belly didn’t help. I’d never been in an environment like this to know if it was normal. Kennedi next to me chirped her excitement, palms met repeatedly on a clash as her boobs lolloped in the air. She was excited for her friend in spite of the shade he’d been throwing her husband—a husband I wasn’t too sure how long would tolerate my legal husband’s mercurial nature.

After whispering to the guys and then the deejay, Raj accepted the mic from the bald, chocolate man. The room began to applaud as Dale made his way up to the dance floor. The guy with the gray beard damn near pushed his microphone into Dale’s chest the moment he was near. Dale then whispered something to Raj, who nodded. The pianist cued Raj and was met with another nod.

Raj began to belt about how he wanted his image to be. Guests exclaimed their approval. Dale added riffs and vocal runs to back up Raj. The song was played just as dramatically as it was when Raj performed it alone, only here the track running behind them made it more compelling. Also, tonight was a choir component Raj didn’t have at Zeb’s party. The crowd roared their approval. Dale and the two guys began to rock left and right, singing along. People began to shoot to their feet, crowding my view. Even Kennedi and Young were up to my left. Trent and his wife followed suit on my right. And straight ahead, I could see Elle joined Jackson as he held onto the table, hunched over in a display of emotion.

That’s when I stood to my feet, instinctively drawn to Raj’s absorbing tenor. His register and pitch were perfectly blended with raw emotion as he led the chorus. It was moving. Everywhere my eyes landed, folks were up with their attention locked to the center of the room. Raj made it personal, reciting the man, Quincy’s name as he sang. The bald guy, who couldn’t deliver the song in the first place, held on to Raj’s shoulder as he cried. Again, moving. I don’t think I breathed. They sang until the track ran out. The gray bearded guy motioned for Raj to keep going acapella. This was when you could hear Dale’s vocals. A few others joined to assist. This went for at least ten minutes with Raj singing his heart out, emotionally connecting with the groom of the hour, Jackson Hunter.

The dance floor crowded with people’s reaction to the impromptu emotional presentation. I didn’t know much about that Quincy Hunter but could now easily assume how powerful his presence was on Earth. These were grown men curled over not much different than his son in reaction.

Before I knew it, Raj was at my side again. It surprised me because the room was still in disarray like the end of a good concert.

He stood, gazing at me with his face angled and hands behind his back. My eyes followed his line of vision and I saw my hands threaded at my chest, telling how enthralled I was, too. I couldn’t help myself when I moved to him and tossed my arms around his thick shoulders and held him.

“That was incredible,” I shouted in his ear, standing on my toes to reach it. “My damn uterus is jumping!”

Realizing my emotional slip, I pulled my head back. Maybe it was the Mauve, but I didn’t know where that damn statement came from.

His cheeks rose above the beard and brows met. “You mean your bladder?”

I swear, though he was joking, that’s when it hit me. I had to pee.

My face dropped. “Yeah…” My eyes circled. “That’s it.”

I withdrew my arms to spring into action. But Raj’s big hands landed just above my ass, holding me to him.

“You want kids?” His expression deathly serious.

My face mirrored his. “Hell no. You know that.” Then I thought. “You?”

He nodded then shook his head even longer in correction. And while I believed he was being honest, it was clear even in my tipsy state there was more to that. I didn’t have time to investigate it. I had to pee.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you,” he informed over the clatter of the room.

Trent was at his back along with another beard. Their pastor. They were congratulating him on saving that damn song.

I squeezed his thick arm. “You stay. I’ll be right back.”

Hesitantly, he nodded. I grabbed my clutch and shimmied out of there around a sea of tables. The hall was much quieter and the bathroom damn near empty. I was grateful to steal a stall right away. When I was done washing my hands, I touched up my makeup. My eyes were smudged, likely from what I’d just experienced. After touching up my lips, too, I slipped out, not being able to wait to get back. There was something about Raj that was different than the one who picked me up in Los Angeles.

This Raj was more self-controlled in temper and less with expressing his feelings for me. He was an attentive gentleman. And like a damn moth to a flame, I was foolishly drawn to him. I decided to try again at talking to him, to try to find out exactly what the hell happened before I left for Arizona. What caused him to withdraw from me. My feet in five-inch heels couldn’t get me to him fast enough.

“Damn! You moving faster than you did to take a leak.”

The sound of that voice broke my stride. It didn’t take long for me to see Teke approaching me from near a large potted plant. I’d forgotten all about him. Good company, food, entertainment, and brandy could kill anxiety.

The smirk he sported reminded me right away why I shouldn’t have given him the time of day.

“Did you follow me out here? We need to add stalker to your resume, too?”

He had one hand buried in his pants pocket and the other holding a wine glass. And Teke wouldn’t kill that slick ass smirk. I saw one of his eye sockets was darker than the other, reminding me of Raj’s quick and silent temper. 

“What else’s on there?”

“Daydreamer.”

He tossed his head back and chuckled. “Yo, you one of the funniest females I ever met. I love that about you.”

“You don’t know me. You like to make up lines in a song about what you want to know about me.”

Teke’s face contorted. “That?” He blew out air before taking a sip of his wine. “You feeling some kind of way about a song?” He shrugged. “I thought it was dope.”

“My husband may feel some kind of way about it.”

“I ain’t write it about him.”

“And you ain’t write it about me. You wrote about a damn fantasy.”

“You can prove that?”

I sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get back in there. Pretty sure my husband’s waiting on me.”

I kept using the term husband to piss him off. I knew Teke was crushing in boot camp; however, I didn’t know he was unhealthily enwrapped. I didn’t like feeling preyed upon. There was something to his fixation of me that I could sense was extreme. My gut told me it had nothing to do with my naiveté in thinking he was harmless in his crush.

“That ain’t ya real husband.”

Whoa…

I prayed he couldn’t see my gut blow reaction to that. What did he know? Was the word out now and I didn’t know yet? I almost drew my phone to my face to go straight to Google or Spilling That Hot Tea, but after years of shock-proof training with former inmates, I slowed my actions and thought about what my next move should be.

“Can you prove that? Or are we daydreaming again?”

Teke snorted. “I saw you. ‘Memba that night at the beach?”

“When you saw a woman beefing with her husband? Yeah. Crisply.”

“Nah. It’s more to the story and you know it.” That smirk wouldn’t fade.

I turned to him. “The story is one you don’t know, didn’t know, and will never know. You don’t know me, and you don’t know my husband, Teke!”

His green eyes lifted from me to over my head and his grin dimmed. And that’s when I knew.

Ragee…

My eyes collapsed, squeezing with anxiety all over again. If he would have just given me a couple more minutes, I would have been back in there, avoiding another spectacle. I wasn’t a fan of violence, and Raj made it very clear he was its ally.

“You good, baby?” I heard the ocean deep sonant of his chords.

My back was to him and I believed I could stall what was about to go down by staying still. I didn’t want this for Raj or me. Hell, I didn’t even want it for stupid ass Teke, behaving like a daredevil by being out here with me. But I didn’t know what to do.

“Wyn—”

“I’m good, Raj,” I hissed, finally opening my eyes and turning to him. I was able to muster a smile on my way to him. “Can we please go back inside to the festivities?”

“Nah.” His eyes roved behind me to Teke. “I wanna see what’s causing the party out here?”

“Raj…”

Just then, Jade Bailey strutted out the door. She paused at the sight of my palms on my husband’s chest as he flexed over me. Quickly, she then made reverse steps back into the room.

Shit…

“Raj,” I tried whispering. “Let’s go.”

“Nah. I wanna kick it with Teke for a minute. Seem like he got lots to say to you and about you. Let him address those things with me,” his voice was deceptively tender.

I moved into him, bringing my arms around his tailored waist. “We’ve had a good night. A damn good night. The type of good night that tells me I won’t be pulling back the sheets alone tonight. Please… Don’t do this.”

It was true. I’d pretty much been plotting on how I could fuck Raj tonight with little incident since I heard Elle’s vows. Today inspired me to lighten up on my stance with him. No, I didn’t believe I had with Ragee what Jackson had with his wife. But it did tease me enough to let down my guard once again to explore what had happened last month. Especially since Raj had sworn he was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again.

Raj didn’t respond. His gape didn’t move from over my head. Neither did the hands that secured me all day meet me in assurance.

“You touch me this time,” Teke rumbled, “you go to jail.”

My chest began to pound against his that was raging in pulse. My fingertips ran cold when I decided our names and faces would be all over the blogs tomorrow, and worse: Raj would be arrested this time.

The harsh cool air Raj pushed from his nostrils as he snorted had the hairs on the back of my neck standing erect. “Jail? You think I give a fu—” he stopped. “You think I care about going to jail for checking your chin about coming around my lady? You think I’mma cower at jail?” A derisive chuckle vibrated from his chest against me. “That’s when you show your Cranford panties, Teke. I’ll sit easy in jail, pay the bail, and be right back at your jaw.”

Teke didn’t respond, but the door sounded, and I heard a voice behind Raj.

“What’s going on out here?”

“You need to get ya boy,” Teke warned. “You talked me out of suing his big ass before but let him lay a single finger on me tonight. That G550 gone have B City printed on the tail.”

“I ‘on’t know,” Raj answered.  “I just came looking for my wife and found her out here with your pretty-eyed crooner, keeping it trill about not knowing her or me.”

“Oh, I ‘on’t know you, Raj?” Teke challenged.

Young stepped into my peripheral, looking disturbed in his all black. His eyes were locked to Teke at first. Then he turned to me.

“You good, Wynter?”

“Wynter ain’t your problem. Your lil artist here is. He ‘bout to have a serious problem if I find him around my wife again.”

“How you know she wasn’t around me?”

I flew in the air turning completely around. “I wish you would fucking lie on me again!”

“Whoa!” I heard another deep voice call out.

Then Young jumped to move. Raj was circling around me for Teke and I didn’t even know it. Thank god his friends caught him.

“Yo, Teke, man, what the fuck you still doing here?” Young asked.

Teke lifted his glass. “I was just having a drink.”

“This long after the cocktail hour? Where the hell is your crew?” Young glanced around.

“They clocked out.” He scoffed, “I ‘on’t need them with me at all times.”

“But you looking like a fucking stalker then,” Young charged.

“That’s what I said!” I shouted.

Kennedi appeared out of nowhere, taking to her husband’s side. Guilt began to pour in. I didn’t want to make a spectacle at his friends’ wedding around the people he was coolest with. The sight of Kennedi seemed to upset Young and likely because he didn’t want her involved in this craziness.

“Raj, homie,” Young turned to him. “Take them inside. Have a drink an’ chill.”

“Why?” Raj asked. “So you and ya lil artist here can write another track about my wife?”

Young recoiled, his face tightened. “Yo, that’s why you been acting mad funny style all fuckin’ day?”

“Nah. Funny style is jumping on a track with a rookie when he’s taking shots at your soldier.”

Young’s face wrinkled even more. “What shots?” He turned to Teke then back to Raj then back to Teke. Teke’s smile was brighter in his eyes than his mouth. He was taunting Raj. I couldn’t believe three weeks of nothing—absolutely nothing—between Teke and me had turned into this gathering in the vestibule of LaChateau? “That track was about Wynter?”

“Hell fucking no!” I shouted, wanting no ambiguity. “I don’t know Teke like that.”

“But your”—He used air quotations—“husband knows me. Don’t you, Raj? Or are you too big now to remember?”

Raj charged at him again and this time it took four of us to break his movements. “Don’t bring that up in here!” Raj barked.

Then Jackson was in front of Teke, holding him back. But his words to him were audible.

“Why’re you still here?”

Teke raised his glass to start his explanation, but it was stalled by Young Lord’s revelation.

“Yo, I ‘on’t know what the fuck went down between your wife and that mufucka, but I can tell you this, ain’t no fuckin’ way I’mma break bread with a nigga coming for my peoples. I sent you the track before it was engineered.” Lord lifted his index to Raj, though a couple of yards away. “If ya sometimey ass would keep in touch on a regular, you woulda heard the track and it woulda been dead before it hit the airwaves.”

“Man, I ‘on’t know about no email,” Raj returned. “If I missed it, my bad. I been dealing with some shi—things!” he added with a mocking tone.

“Beyond that, if you gotta beef with me, as ya mans, you come to me!” Lord continued. “You mean you been actin’ like a bitch all fuckin’ day over some busta type shit this nigga that don’t mean shit to me did? Over some child’s play? That’s fucked up, Raj!”

I stepped back into Raj with pressure. No fucking way did I want these two fighting. They were friends, and Young was right. The way Raj had handled him all day was wrong if this was why. I had no clue. I felt like shit. All of this because of me. No matter how many times I said it, who really believed I didn’t sleep with Teke? I mean… Really?

And what was up with Raj telling Teke not to bring that here? Bring what? Something didn’t feel right.

I turned to Raj, whispering again, “Let’s go. We’re making a spectacle.”

“What?” Teke shouted angrily out of nowhere. “Over this nigga? Man, fuck him!” He spat at the floor. LaChateau’s fucking floor! “He ain’t god. That bitch ass nigga ain’t nothing to me! Fuck him. He ain’t even on the label!”

I didn’t know what was said to him. All I saw was Jackson and now Lord in his face.

“Fuck outta here!” Lord shouted at him, pointing toward the elevator.

Then security appeared, and Jackson stood back with his arms crossed, looking stately, and reminding me of the occasion.

Security surrounded him, closing my vision of Teke. There was scuffling and grunts.

This shit is wild!

“Fuck you! Fuck him!” Teke bellowed. “Oh, you ‘on’t know me, Raj? Bitch ass! You ‘on’t know me? Bet you remember my mother, bitch! ‘Memba fuckin’ her in the damn garage? Huhn?” He shouted as he was carried to the elevator and the call button was pushed by one of the beefy security. “You remember getting caught bustin’ her down by my brother, who ‘posed to be ya friend? You think ‘cause it was fifteen years ago, everybody ‘posed to forget? Fuck that! I’m suing ya ass for sneaking me in L.A., nigga! I’ll take ya G550 and ya bitch, nigga!”

Teke shouted all the way into the elevator, even after it closed. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. Couldn’t believe that was the Teke who seemed level headed and prideful on the West Coast. I didn’t feel myself turning to face him. My hands covered my face, though. Sheer fucking shock! But I schooled myself. We were in public, and the moment I saw the pain and shame in Raj’s eyes, I knew I had to act.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to me. Then I glanced around for Trent or his wife…or Kennedi. Trent was right by Raj’s side with his arm on his shoulder.

“You mind grabbing his jacket from in there and taking it home and we’ll get it from you?” My pulse was on my damn tongue and I swallowed mechanically before I could complete the sentence. I hadn’t been this nervous and embarrassed in years. But Trent understood and nodded with sympathetic eyes. “Thank you.”

I tugged at Raj’s heavy arm and led him over to the staircase, not wanting to wait on the elevator. I needed to get out of here. No one spoke to us as we made our way there, graciously allowing us space. Before we descended the curling staircase, I reached around Raj’s waist for his pocket and pulled out his phone to text the driver we were on our way out. Raj didn’t speak, didn’t object. He just hung his head and trudged down the gazillion steps with me in silence. His pain emanating from his big body like heat. It took us a while to arrive, but by the time we hit the ground floor, the driver texted back he was outside. I quietly sighed in relief. I was sure paparazzi was around. This event was just as star studded as the damn Soul Train awards.

We dipped out against clicking cameras and jumped into the truck as the driver held the door for us. The ride to Jersey City was brief, only separated from the City by water. But I’ll be damned when Raj opened my door to let me out at the apartment building, the first tear fell. When the second did, I knew I was done. I covered my face with my little clutch, rushed through the lobby and onto the elevator. Raj spoke to the concierge and elevator attendant as I tried to control my sobs. He held me to his chest inside the elevator, rubbing my back. 

All I could envision was the oversized kid, being seduced by another mature aged woman. Teke said this was fifteen years ago. Raj was twenty-three, brain still not yet fully developed, and I imagined still very much in pain and confused about his sexuality. Pair that with the raging hormones of a young man his age. All Teke mentioned was his mother smoking weed with his brother’s friends. That bitch was fucking at least one of them, too. My heart bled for him. What was his sex life like before me? Had he ever been in a healthy sexual relationship before?

With my chest against his, I could feel the hollowness of him. The brokenness. Why did I feel an innate pull to it? I didn’t understand my anomalous desire to heal it. Or was there something in me naturally receptive to brokenness, to troubled spirits?

The elevator door opened to the spacious two-toned foyer accented with gold trim. It was dim inside, encouraging my thoughts and fears. Ragee held the door with his hand. His eyes on me were inconsistent. He was ashamed, and respectfully cautious. I now knew the reason for the Apa piercing. Teke’s brother was the friend he’d betrayed. That was what made Raj go out and puncture possibly the most sensitive part of his body. That was why he wanted to punish himself. To ugly himself in the area he felt most ashamed of. But I didn’t see ugly when I looked upon him.

What I saw was the man Young Lord claimed was hot and cold. The man whose powerful pastor and celebrity football playing friend cheered on, wanting him to feel appreciated. The one who others thought of as peculiar, weird, and even gay. Once again, he was letting me go so he could return to his reclusive ways. Fight his demons alone. His friends didn’t have a choice when Raj withdrew. I understood this now.

 “Sorry about this,” he mumbled so lowly, I hardly heard him. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “My bad for everything.”

I knew I’d regret this. Maybe not tonight while he was drilling between my thighs, maybe not in the morning when I decided to brush my teeth before touching his lean body, or maybe in a year when he turned moody, yet another time and that time was my limit. But I didn’t care. I felt an unnamed pull to this man. I felt so at home with him—more than I had with my family. I felt…my purpose. For the first time in my life, I saw my fulfillment in human form.

Ragee McKinnon.

When he began to retreat into the elevator, I grabbed his wrist. His eyes finally landed on me, surprised by my touch.

“You don’t deserve”—I hiccupped from a burgeoning sob—“me.”

Raj’s regretful auburns danced with mine before he shook his head softly. “Maybe I never will.” His tongue swiped his lip and he swallowed, brows furrowed. “But I plan on trying until I die.”

I nudged him at first then yanked him off the elevator. Raj lost his balance and I caught all six-two of him as I reached up and snaked my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling his head down and face to mine. Without too much hesitation, he opened his mouth and received my oral yet non-verbal acceptance of his broken nature.

A hot wetness stirred my sleep. It was soft. Silky on my dick. Then my stomach lurched and I was awake. My eyes opened, and the sun was barely up. But my cock was up and raging. I glanced down and saw the top of her head. When I squinted, I could see her tongue darting occasionally. My head slammed back down on the pillow. Wynter giving me head was every bit of a fantasy to me. I didn’t feel worthy.

When her soft, little hands joined in, my whole body heated. I swallowed even though my mouth was dry. How did I deserve this? What had I done to have this happen to me? Her happen to me.

Last night, she pulled me back here to her old room and shed both our clothes then walked me into the bathroom. As she started the shower, she told me to tell her about that morning I sent her to Arizona alone. As cowardly as it sounds, if we weren’t naked when she pushed for it, I wouldn’t have told her. This fear I carried of Wynter leaving me for good was stifling. But I told her. As she washed me from head to toe, I told her everything, starting with that night, years ago when Pat came by Checkerboard to blackmail me. As she washed herself, I told her about the guilt I’d carried for not jumping out of the truck and telling her she was being given bad dope. I even shared how I not only paid for her funeral, I sang at it. Got lost in a hymn as Pat’s cold body lay lifeless in a box where her flesh would remain until God had His way.

She held me afterward, sharing body heat under a stream of hot water cascading over my naked truth. Then she dried me like a kid, dried herself and walked me out to her bed. After getting in, she wrapped herself around me like a vine and asked me more. I ended up sharing with her my fears from abuse. How for years after, as an adult, I didn’t have sex. I masturbated a lot and when that didn’t satisfy me, chaos did. I fought a lot, participated in robberies, intimidated people to feel good about myself. I shared how there was a period I thought I was gay. I considered it. The only problem was I had no attraction to men. Zero. That period didn’t last long because it made no sense that I’d only be mentally gay and not physically.

She held me, not saying much at all. What was crazy was how I talked so much, opened so much, we ended up crying. Together. Wynter cried into my chest and I let a few wet ones slip over her head. It wasn’t something I’d ever done before, but it felt right. With her I felt so safe. That was the last memory I had of last night. At some point I crashed, physically and emotionally drained.

And now she was blowing me, and so well. The bad thing about the Apa was deep throating was almost impossible because of the hard barbells. But Wynter took me in as much as she could and upped her fisting game, making the bottom of my feet heat. So I wouldn’t bust, all I could think about was returning the favor. I wanted to eat her pussy. To buy her diamonds for her ankles. Tell her thirty-three was my stage age and I was two years from forty—or had I told her that? It was easy talking to Wynter if I could put aside my fears and open to her.

Just when I thought I was going to have to shoot up her mouth, she lifted, pulling off the head of my cock with a pop. Her lips were swollen and her eyes dark as she stared at me. She crawled up my body slowly, revealing her bare tits, bouncing along the way. I wanted to toss her onto her back, bang her out, using all my might to show her how bad I wanted her in my life. But in this short period, I knew Wynter well enough to let her lead when she pounced on me.

Her parted lips got closer and closer. Then I felt her hand on my dick as she reached behind herself to align us. I wanted to moan, smelling her all over me. Feeling her heat again was a miracle. A privilege. Before I could even tell her, she slipped her tongue in my mouth. An angry moan pushed from my belly and released through my nostrils. Her mouth was hot, wet, and slightly stale mixed with the musk of me. I missed this. Her aggression, my need. Her greed and my obsession. Her tongue swirled and only slowed when she sank down on me, trembling along the way. Her mouth went lax against mine, but I was super charged and pushed my tongue into her mouth. I held her at the back of her head and kissed her like my life depended on it.

When she started to bounce over me, Wynter moaned so deliciously. It made me crazy. I pushed my dick up, slowly at first, making sure she took in all of me. Her body misted and shoulders shook as she strained to swallow me whole.

“I wanna make you mine. For real this time,” I growled, mouth so close to hers, her breath cooled my face.

Wynter’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she rolled her hips over me. She dipped and lifted, squeezed and pushed. I grabbed her tits, massaging them then twisting the peaks. She moaned again, sitting straight and strengthening her thrusts. I sat up with her, bringing her left tit to my mouth and sucking on it. Her hands at the back of my head felt divine. Those moans that were driving me crazy came more often and grew louder.

“Oh, baby…” she cried.

She called me baby. That common title made me feel affirmed and loved. It made me want to suck harder and meet her pussy smashing onto my cock. And I did, resting on one arm behind me. I drove into her, trailed my tongue from her tit to her neck, around to her right nipple and sucked there, too.

“Shit…” she breathed, squeezing her arms around my shoulders to keep me close.

Then her ass began to shake over me, her pussy started to buck, and her head tossed back. Wynter breathed through her orgasm as she held on to me. As I pelted into her, I watched her every expression as she came. When her head came up, her eyes were lazy as she tried to look at me.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whispered while she still moved over me.

“Shhhhhh…” she shushed me. “I’m here.” Her lips brushed over mine.

“For how long?” I hated the desperation in my voice.

“Forever, if you’ll have me.”

Did she—

I couldn’t trust my ears as she danced over me.

“C’mere.” I pulled her by the back of her head and threw my tongue in her mouth.

Wynter pulled her legs up, planting her feet next to my hips and danced over me. She threw her pussy into me even more in this position. She wanted me to lose it. It didn’t take much work on her behalf. With her whole body wet, slipping on and off of me, her tits bouncing softly against my chest, and the smell of her pussy so close to me, I lost it. My hips bucked as my balls went tight and I skee’d all in her box. And Wynter danced until I emptied into her, my body wrung out from withholding nothing.

I fell back on the bed.

“You okay?” I barely heard her over my heavy breathing.

My heart pounded against my chest.

When I opened my eyes to respond, I realized she was asking about my bed phobia. I smiled, guilt haunting me. But I knew it wasn’t the worst thing.

“I’m with you. I’m good, Wynter.” My eyes were closed as I tried catching my breath.

She lay over my chest with my deflating dick still throbbing inside her.

“You’re not in your bed, so I suppose you are. But this is your apartment.” I heard her reasoning, but didn’t see the need to answer until she asked, “What was this room before I moved in anyway?”

“My prayer room.”

I heard her gasp. “Really?”

I nodded, still breathing deeply. “I kept junk in here but carved out a spot to pray alone.”

“And the bathroom in here?”

I shrugged. “I may have used it once.”

Wynter laughed as she lifted her chest from mine and wiggled what was left of my erection out of her. She jumped off the bed from what I could hear, then I felt a cloth near my leg. I cracked open one lid. She was handing me my tank tee from last night to clean myself.

“I’m going to shower then I’ll make you something to eat,” she shared while walking and holding her breasts. “Jashon texted you first thing this morning. I replied for you.”

My face went tight as I processed that. “And said what?”

“Something like, ‘give me a second. I’m about to fuck my wife. I’ll hit you when I’m done.’ I think.” She giggled and her booty jiggled all the way inside the bathroom.

That had me cracking up first thing this morning, and after a draining night. After I wiped myself off, I looked for my phone. It was in the nightstand. I only had eight percent of my battery left and a bunch of notifications to say Wynter had opened my phone already. I could hear the toilet flush in the bathroom then the shower started as I began replying to my texts. I started with Heather’s about Pastor’s Appreciation Day at my grandmother’s church. Of course, she wanted me to come. I rarely did. But I tossed it in the back of my mind to ask Wynter if she’d like to go.

I couldn’t front. That was hard to get used to. Wynter was here. She said forever, but I couldn’t trust that. I had so much mess with me. So much junk I was trying to set right. Last night was evidence of what a process this would be. So many times last night, I wanted to go against every promise I made to God about my conduct. I spent the three days, after picking Wynter up from boot camp, praying and fasting. I hid out, didn’t take any calls, and ate very little to kill my flesh. I needed to reconnect with my Savior. Things were spinning out of control and I felt it. The problem was I couldn’t regain the handles.

“You will be dealt with but covered. You need to stop leaning unto your own understanding and thinking it’s up to you to clean up your mess. All you have to do is surrender all. Totally. Completely. And finally.”

Grandmother McKinnon’s prophetic word was right. After Wynter spazzed out on me on the plane, I thought I lost the one true gift I’d been given in a long time. No way could I begin to fix this. I had to cleanse my spirit and reconnect to the vine. I had to surrender my need to control the situation and recommit to having faith that He’d supply all my needs. It would be a struggle, though. Wynter still didn’t know the contract was now void. Bogus. Mike Brown’s lawyer sent over all resolved paperwork regarding our business to my attorney, Chesney. That was a relief. One of my many major stressors since losing Mike was the contract getting in the wrong hands and being exploited. Jerry wasn’t beyond it.

Wynter stepping out of the shower caught my attention. She was wrapping her hair up into a ponytail.

“You need to call your friend, Young, and apologize for the way you treated him.” She slipped on short shorts as she spoke.

My dick jerked at the sight of that.

She was right. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was only right. I mentally put it on my morning to-do list as I scrolled through comments on an IG post.

“What’re you looking at?”

“Pix from last night that got leaked to the media—no,” I corrected myself. “Pix Spilling That Hot Tea seemed to have had exclusively and are now all over.” I scrolled. “By the way, I’m glad you responded to my assistant like that and not my PR people. They’ve been blowing me up all morning.” I glanced up at her with a smirk.

Wynter shook her head. “That fucking Spilling That Hot Tea is relentless. They kept posting shit when I was in Arizona. What are they saying about last night?”

“That I had Teke kicked out of the wedding because you two slept together.” Those words spilled easier than they felt.

To my gut, that thought twisted like a sword.

Wynter sucked her teeth and walked off. “Well, now I join my fake husband.”

“Join me how?” I asked to her back.

“I know how it feels to be lied on. You’re gay and I slept with Teke.” I froze and she peeped me over her shoulder. Wynter winked, leaning into the doorway. She smirked with sad eyes. “You never asked me.”

“I was afraid to.”

“We have so much ground to cover.” She shook her head as she left out of the room.

I lay back down on the bed, wondering what that meant. Was it bad? Then I decided to face the noise and call my PR people then Chesney, who’d been calling, too.

As I finished up with Chesney, who said he hadn’t heard anything about a lawsuit from Teke, I decided to shower in my bedroom en suite on the other side of the apartment. I still smelled like Wynter: her sex and sweat. I loved it, even though it reminded me of having to apologize to Young. I crossed the apartment, passing the kitchen where I smelled food and heard Wynter talking to someone on the phone. By the time I made it to the other side of the unit, I was done with Chesney and jumped in the shower.

When I was done, I sat on the bed with a towel wrapped around my waist and a heavy heart. After praying in the shower, I knew what I had to do, and right away. I dialed him. After three rings, he picked up.

“What it is?”

“I thought you weren’t gone answer,” I joked, not knowing where to start.

“I ain’t you, nigga.” I heard the amusement in that.

“Nah,” I sat up, sighing. “You’re better socialized than I am. I’ll admit that. My bad on this, Lord. Stress been eating at me so much, I guess I shut in. I was wrong.”

“You were,” his tone was confident. “The record is out. Ain’t nothing Jax and them gone do about that. The streams are off the chart, but that’s all that’ll be coming out of it.”

“I appreciate that.” For weeks, I’d been waiting to make a power move only I could pull off from my unique situation with L.I.T. Music. They wanted me. And from the day I saw Teke was moving too close to Wynter, I knew I could dead his career. After my shut in session, I realized that was one of the many things I had to give to God. I wouldn’t use that power play. I’d let the chips fall where they may. “I just wanna make sure we’re good.”

“We good. I get it. Pussy makes you crazy.”

I laughed at that. The pain of “yesterdays” from this arrangement with Wynter still echoed in my chest.

“Yeah. That, too.”

“So, y’all official?”

I brushed my hands down my face, struggling with that question. “I’m making it happen.”

“If it helps, word around here is he ain’t hit.” I exhaled, happy for the confirmation.

I knew Young had eyes in the program. That’s how I knew so much of what happened, but there were lines he and I didn’t cross, which was the status of my relationship with Wynter. He didn’t know about the blackmail. He didn’t know about my abuse. He only knew I was peculiar. And he chose to rock with me anyway. So, the favoritism shown to Wynter was on the strength of me, but the talent I’d heard about and how quickly she absorbed everything was exclusively her.

“Yep…” I exhaled again, fighting the awkwardness of this conversation.

It isn’t easy for a man to discuss his lady’s unfaithful pussy with his friends, whether it’s true or not.

“Anyway, think you should know, he’s been axed.”

My head shot up. “B City?”

What would happen to them?

“Collateral damage,” he explained.

“Man…”

“Jackson hit me this morning before they left for their flight. The lawyers’re on it now.”

I knew what that meant. Their lawyers would devise a plan to keep B City under L.I.T. Music but shelved. By the time their contract was up with the label, they’d be past their prime and not likely to sign to another legit deal again.

“If this was for me, I—”

“Nah. Teke made a few missteps along the way. Jax was beefin’ with him before boot camp. He let him go to redeem himself, but the thing with Wynter played out wrong. On top of that, he was taking shows without authorization from the label. Teke was being a wild bull. I ain’t know Wynter had shit to do with that record. B City was only supposed to do the cocktail hour. Elle arranged for that months ago and Jax ain’t wanna shut her down. None of B City stayed after the cocktail hour but Teke. He knew what he was doing. Staying at the boss’ party and getting drunk just to upset the boss’ guest ain’t cool. He’s done, yo.”

I nodded, understanding there was more at play in this than my relationship with Wynter. But for Teke, I knew this wasn’t about her. It was about him getting at my wife as an act of revenge for what went down between his moms and me. 

“Look. I ain’t tell Kenny much about this shit between you and Wynter. I ‘on’t wanna dampen her perfect impression of you. You know she sees you as some wounded knight, who needs love.” He snorted. That image didn’t make me feel any better. She was probably right. “I don’t get the impression Wynter told nobody at camp either. So you good on that end, too. Plus, it lets me know Wynter’s a real one. I watched her, made her uncomfortable, but she ain’t show nothing I felt was suspect.”

“I appreciate this, man.”

“Not a problem. That’s what I was calling you for when you left L.A. But you ain’t pick up.”

Because I shut in, man.

“Again. My bad. You’s a real one, Young. Wisdom surpassing your age. Salute, king.”

Although I used charm, I meant it. Young was built different.

“A’ight.”