~5~

The morning after my return from the Drai’s party, I strolled into the closet to dump my duffle bag and was unusually struck by her scent. It stopped me in my tracks, one foot firmly on the ground and only the other heel planted in the carpet. My face held empty, but my eyes brightened in curiosity and pleasant memory. God knew I didn’t live with many of them. I was crazy. Had to be. I knew I was and didn’t care as I followed my senses to the other side of the closet. The one she occupied. Her clothes were all still there, though not as many as mine.

The tips of my fingers brushed against the fabrics of her scented clothing, my touch as delicate as our relationship. Our marriage. Between the touch and scent of her, flashes of good days and bad shot like lightning in my brain. The sounds of her breathy laughter. The image of her eyes squeezing together as she laughed at her funny jokes—because mine were never half as humorous as hers. And the glint of sexual mischievousness in her eyes when she was ready to get it in. Her girls were right: Wynter was a freak.

As my nose grazed the green, flowery sheer beach dress Jashon copped her for in Saint Justin, I could swear to tasting her pussy. It was a stark memory because when I saw her in the low plunged neckline dress, that was all I could think of, but didn’t act on at the time, paralyzed with fear. That was until I couldn’t take it anymore and finally did it that night, after singing for her at the restaurant.

“Uh!”

The sound of her crying in ecstasy had me dropping to my knees with my eyes squeezed shut. Her body was tighter. She’d been working out. Still. But she was smaller. Wynter was the type who wore her weight well. I still couldn’t believe she was damn near two-hundred pounds when I met her. She looked damn good. Even with a belly. Her face was thinner, deepening my detachment from her. She was turning into a new person.

The old her was perfect…

This shit hurt. Like nothing before it. How was I going to do this? Where was my plan to get her back? Would she want to come back? How could I move on? From her. I rolled over to sit on the floor, stretching my legs out and leaning on a divider. My arms stretched back as my head reclined on the divider. But my right hand hit a box. My neck snapped down to peep it. When I pulled it from beneath the hanging dresses, I saw it was an electric blue box that seemed too big for shoes.

On it was her handwriting. A bitch’s shit! was scribbled in silver, some kind of marker.

An unexpected chuckle hurled from my stomach, but my heart thundered in my chest because of what it had decided to do already. The tremble of my hand couldn’t be missed as I lifted the lid. Lots of papers and a photo album was the first I could see. I lifted the book from the pile. The first thing hitting my vision when I opened it was a picture of a teenaged Wynter, standing on one hip with her ankles crossed and holding on to a dining room table.

It had me spitting laughter. She had two braids on both sides of her head and beamed with a smile full of gaps. And she was skinny. God, she was slender with beestings for tits.

Nothing like when I met her…

I pulled it from the plastic and flipped it over. On the back, in someone else’s handwriting it was noted: Wynter Haile, 12 y/o.

On the same page was a baby picture I could only assume was her. She couldn’t have been more than a year old, making the sniffling face I’d seen Heather’s kids make in recent years. She was adorable. And not because I was so fascinated by her, but because she…just was. There was a picture of a woman with similar features to my wife, just more mature based on the quality of the picture. It was an old one. The woman had caramel skin, a head full of wild hair the shape of a mushroom, a modest waistline and broad hips in short basketball shorts. Her legs were thick in long, white crew socks with colored stripes at her calves, and old school white Nike’s. She held a baby with a similar skin tone and cheekbones as her. The baby had one hand in the woman’s hair, partially facing the camera, as though caught turning her head mid-shot. Behind them was a large sign: Healing Hearts Rehabilitation Center.

My mind churned with the story behind the picture. But never leaving my thoughts was the eerily similar structure of the woman’s thighs. They were meaty and spaced like something I’d seen before. Tasted before. I flipped the picture over and peeped the caption on the back. Charlene with baby Wynter. Mommy and daughter reunited.

I moved on to the next page where Wynter, who had to be about nine-ten years old was with the same woman, Charlene, and with two older people: a man and woman. The adults stood behind, connecting with arms and smiling while Wynter was in front with her arms stretched wide, trying to impossibly block them. The older man and woman had to be her grandparents. The older woman was thick, similar to Charlene. Both their frames resembled the Wynter I met: thick and shapely. It was crazy. But overall, Wynter didn’t look a whole lot like her family.

Another picture was there of her and a guy. He had cornrows with a receding hair line. They were in dark baggy clothes. Wynter looked like a kid. And she was high. I knew this because he held a lit blunt as he glowered into the camera. Wynter tried to smile with eyes so slit, they looked closed.

My wife smoked trees…

Immediately, I was infuriated, but not by the weed. I’d done more than that to numb the pain over the years. It was her proximity and comfortability in dude’s person. I flipped that picture and found a penmanship again. Van and Wynnie.

Van…

This was what the infamous Van looked like before going bald and having the stress of life add years to his face. I wondered how old she was here. Van had a mustache, but Wynter… Her eyes were hardly visible, but the twinkle of innocence could still be seen. Those two seemed tight. It made me wonder how his case was going. I never asked when I saw him. I could call Chesney, but that would involve too much of a communication train. And what I did to her was so foul, I didn’t deserve an update on her uncle. I knew the only reason he asked to see me was because he didn’t know I’d let her down, sending her off alone like that.

I dumped the picture and dug more into the box. I came to a bundle—bundle of nameplates. One was silver and two were gold. Charlene Blue. Charles Blue III. Sallie P. Blue nee Brown. I knew what they were right away. I had one of my own. Casket nameplates. Like the one I’d kept for my mother, these must have been for her mother and grandparents. Funny, I didn’t see one for her father. Then I remembered her saying she had a sister, so maybe the sister had it. Mentally shrugging, I went back into the box. There were folded letters rubber banded together.

Yeah, I knew I was wrong, but it didn’t stop me. Other than that “quickie” of her time in Arizona, this was the closest I’d felt to her since I sent her across the country alone on my jet.

Dear Wyn,

 

I got ya letter. And hell yeah I’m mad at you. What you did is fucked up. You the last person I thought would go behind my back. That shit hurt like a motherfucker. And Sheldon. We ain’t gone never be the same. I don’t give a fuck how much you beg me to. He twelve years older than you. That’s nasty as fuck. I knew my boy had his shit with him but ain’t never believe he would violate me. Fuck him.

As far as you concerned as much as I wanna say fuck you too I can’t. And you know why. You and me got a bond that I couldn’t break even if I wanted it to. We know who we is to each other. That motherfucker do too! He know our secrets. He knew ya moms when she came around the way. He knew when Pops was dabbling in that powder at the same bar. We used to sell bricks back there.

Anyway with that said you my sister forever. That bitch ass was a friend. And stop writing me while you up there with them scholarship people. Secure them funds heffa and stop stressing over what’s going down this way. I’m mad as hell at you but proud of you. Never forget.

 

Love you always,

Donovan

My eyes were wide with revelation from that. I wasn’t too surprised: she’d gone through lengths for his freedom. It made sense they were tight, according to her. I felt a twinge of jealousy at her being close to anyone. Wynter seemed to be a loner like me, only she was low key with hers. She’d been in my homes for six months and survived my moodiness like a G. Now, my silly ass was sitting here, wishing I could go back to the first day we met, pick up the CD that wasn’t mine and try to convince her to vibe to my music. To me. 

I leaned my head back on the divider, eyes closing as though that would stop my chest from aching.

God, this is the worst punishment I could ever endure…

I sniffled a laugh, swiping my nose with my finger. My sad, sappy thoughts reminded me of Young Lord and how he showed up at my apartment in L.A. late one night, straight wasted. This was before he married Kenny. His security, Belly, had to walk close to him to make sure Young didn’t topple over. He threw himself on the couch in the small studio there and covered his eyes with his arms. I turned to the mixing board and kept working…until I heard that nigga start singing 112’s “Throw it All Away.”

I remember turning to Belly, who shrugged before going back to his phone. Lord sang his heart out and I knew something was off. I cleared the studio and let him sing it off his chest with patience. That was until he demanded I sing the chorus and help him stay on key. Having him stay within the correct notes was impossible, but I tried to keep him in range. I didn’t know the details, but one thing was clear to me. Young Lord suffered from a broken heart. I couldn’t believe it was possible.

I sighed deeply.

The least expected ones are always the best victims.

The melody of “Throw it All Away” thickened on my chords and I realized I was humming it. But this time, I sang the song to myself. This was my fuck up. My misery to own.

“Yo, Raj!” I heard from outside of the closet, snapping me out of my stupor. “Raj!”

Leech’s call sounded urgent.

“Yeah. In the closet!”

Seconds later, he was at the French doors, his short arms stretched from the closed one to the frame on the side of the other. He was out of breath and squeezing his eyes closed as though he was trying to catch it.

“What?” I demanded.

He dropped his hands to his knees, bending over. “Mike…” He tried again, licking his lips. “I just hung up with Jerry. Mike Brown died about a hour ago.”

Slowly, my eyes closed, and I wished I could wake up from this fucking nightmare.

Lost in fading memories of better days, I shook my head. “That’s everything.”

I stood in the tiny room off the studio of my apartment in Jersey City, looking at the open file cabinets I hadn’t touched, much less thought about, in years. Apparently, Mike had.

“You sure?” Mike’s nephew, Carl, snarled while holding one of the crates we piled paperwork from the cabinet in.

It was filled with shit Mike kept here when I first copped the apartment and paranoid Mike needed a place to keep his business before he got his office space in Maplewood. I could still remember clowning him over the location of that place. It was way outside of the City. His little ass apartment in North Bergen was closer to the business of Manhattan than the office was. But Mike was determined to make himself feel like a legit business man. When he moved into the business park, he never cleared out all of his things here. He would say he couldn’t leave all his crumbs in one place. Digging it up brought about emotions I forgot I was capable of feeling for him. Things had somehow turned bad for Mike and me in recent years.

I nodded. “Yeah. That’s everything.”

From my peripheral, I could see little Carl—who wasn’t so small, just crazy short and only about twenty-two years old—flicking his chin to his boy, who looked to be around the same age, just double Carl’s five-feet, two-inch stature. I guessed he thought he was making big moves now with Jerry sending him over here ready for a war I wouldn’t give, over shit I didn’t care about. I remember seeing little Carl off to his senior prom in Brooklyn a few years ago. I wasn’t even about to pull his G card about coming over here to snatch up everything belonging to his uncle. It was enough that I was mourning my old friend’s death.

I came here specifically to let them in for this. Carl called last night, a few hours after I heard about Mike’s passing, saying he was coming through today for it. I heard the flexing in his tone over the phone but didn’t feed into it. I understood hurt people hurt people. My pastor painstakingly taught me that during my years of therapy.

I glanced over to Danny G, communicating to let them out the room then lead them out of the apartment. Slowly, he backed away, not feeling as compassionate as I was because he and Mike Brown fell off years ago. Reminding his little nephew he wasn’t tough as he was posing to be would have brought him undue pleasure. 

“Damn,” the big kid with Carl barked at Danny. “You could move any fuckin’ slower?”

Why the fuck did he say that? Danny G would drop his big ass with a quick one and lay him over the crate he carried. Instead, he crowded his space, challenging the kid. I shook my head, calling him down. He wasn’t worth the trouble. I was sure they were told to be ready for a brawl and they could handle it if it came down to it. It was sad because these kids couldn’t handle shit we could bring them if it came to it—with just the hands alone. Lucky for them, I wasn’t Mike. My compassion extended to his family, as well as his loss. I could ignore little Carl coming into my home, playing gangster.

After murmuring what I knew was a clear and plausible threat to the kid, Danny backed up and gave them room to leave.

“Aye, Raj.” My head snapped up to find Carl in the middle of the doorway. “I ‘on’t know what went down witchu and Uncle Mikey, but you always been a real one to me.” His eyes fell to the crate he was holding, and he shrugged. “Sorry the shit had to come down to this, but you know it’s family over everything. Right?”

Did he realize what our reality was right now? I’d just lost my business manager, and one time friend to a ruthless and brutal crime.

My phone rang, breaking my confounding gaze from Carl. When I saw the name across the screen, I exhaled, not prepared for this conversation. My eyes closed as I lifted the phone to my face.

“Whadup up, bruh-bruh?” In my peripheral, I could see little Carl tottering away with the crate bumping his legs with each step he took.

“Uh… Gee-Gee?”

“Yeah, man. I’m here,” I breathed.

“Did you call her? Call Wynter?”

I shook my head, a throb starting in the back of it. “Nah, man.”

I could hear his gasp. “Well, what’re you waiting on? It’s been sixteen days!”

I fuckin’ know, Arnie!

“I know, man. I know…”

“And I need to hurry up and order her things before she comes back home, or it’ll ruin the surprise, Gee-Gee.”

“You told me already.”

“But you ain’t called her yet.”

“She’s busy at work. I’m trying to wait till she gets a minute to talk, man.” I tried keeping my cool with my brother. He couldn’t begin to understand how complicated my marriage was. 

My damn life.

“She should have called me, Gee-Gee. She said she would!”

You told me already!

“I know. It’s just that in this business, especially when you’re so far away, it gets so busy.”

“Yeah. Well, I think it’s strange that my sister-in-love ain’t call home yet. It’s dangerous out there, Gee-Gee.”

I dumped myself in a rolling chair near the mixing board. “It is.”

“But her job is almost over. Just three weeks. Twenty-one days and she’ll be done and back home with the Michaels-McKinnon men. Right, Gee-Gee?”

That question… The expectation had my chest aching now. I’d been thinking about what my move would be when the L.I.T. boot camp was up. The only thing I was sure of was she wouldn’t want to come to Sparta. And I hadn’t dealt with Myisha yet. That shit was stressing me the fuck out, too. If I told her to leave, she could go to the police with what she knew. Without Mike Brown here I didn’t know if that helped or hurt. I just didn’t know what the hell to do!

But I was running out of time. I couldn’t let Wynter slip through my fingers. No fucking way I’d let her get away from me now. I just needed a break. Something I could use to get us in the clear to be what we wanted to be—if she wanted to be with me like I wanted to be with her. Hell, I’d do anything to make her agree to stay in this with me.

God, if you just let her want to finish out the three-year term, I’d be grateful…

By then, I’d convince her I could be a good man.

“You there, Gee-Gee? Hello! Hello—”

I cringed at his shouting. “Yeah, Arnie! I’m here, man!”

“Are you yelling at me again, Gee-Gee—”

“No!”

“Because you know it’s not nice!” He was now barking, and at times like this I had to remember although he sounded like a grown ass man raising his voice to me, he had the mind of a child, who lost his cool, too.

My eyes closed again. “Nah.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “It ain’t cool and… My bad.” I thought again. “I mean, I’m sorry,” I grumbled, body tensing all over.

The thing most frustrating about having a loved one with limited mental capacity is having to always be patient with them, even when they’re not patient with you. I needed my brother to be easy on the Wynter tip. She may never come back now that Mike was dead. I may have lost her for good: Fuck these three weeks.

“I forgive you, Gee-Gee.”

I was able to croak, “Thanks, man.” Then I pushed my elbows into my knees, trying to catch my breath. “I’m gonna have somebody check in with her for you. Okay?”

“For you, too, Gee-Gee. She’s your wife,” his tone was accusatory, more than he knew.

“I know, man. For me, too. I got—” Another flare of pain struck my chest. “I gotta go now. Okay, bruh-bruh?”

“Okay. Bye-Bye.” He hung up the phone right away like he always did.

Before I could lay mine down, it pinged.

Tori McNabb: You need me to warm that right cross for you?

There was the fist punch emoji icon and underneath, a link. My heart fell from my fucking chest on sight. Lately, when links came, my anxiety shot to heaven levels because I’d finally had something out there I actually cared about and didn’t want exposed. Wynter. She was attached to me and now known and out there by herself.

The link was to Teke’s Twitter page where he recorded a video of himself in the studio. I could see a few heads around, all seemed to be working, and some oblivious to his recording. Then he walked up on a woman who was at the mixing board with her head down. I could see a piece of a leather portfolio sticking out from under her arm. Slowly, Teke lifted the ends of her hair to his nose and sniffed it. His eyes closed as though he was in heaven from the scent. Someone near him snickered and that had him opening his eyes and laughing, too, after he dropped it and stood up straight. Then he turned the camera a new angle, and Wynter’s head was up and searching for the reason of the giggling around her. It was then her leather writing portfolio I’d seen so many times was clear. She was the woman with her head down.

The woman’s hair he fucking sniffed.

Fucking Teke and his bum ass…

I could kill him. Put a bullet in his fucking head. He’d done this before. Posted innocent-appearing shit and included Wynter. The first one was Jemah, a producer out of Chi-Town, Diane Roberts, and Wynter posing for a picture. He put the thumbs up emoji icon over Jemah and Diane’s heads. But over Wynter’s was a heart icon. Subtle, but a clear message that Teke still had a beef with me after all these years. His brother, Sean, seemed to be cool with me when I ran into him at Checkerboard after its grand opening a few years ago. Right now was not the right time for Teke to be seeking revenge on some old bullshit that happened fifteen years ago.

Or is it?

Without thought, I tossed the phone to the wall and watched it shatter into pieces. Fuck. I was out of breath and needed to do something. Hit something. Fuck up something. I stood, glancing around. My life was fucked. Mike was dead. He’d betrayed me in his last days. Myisha fucked me over, threatening my freedom, my damn livelihood. I fucked around and caught something beautiful from this chick I fake married. I couldn’t keep it to explore it because like a fucking sucker, I let her walk out of my life and supplied the transportation to do so. Pretty soon, I’d have to answer publicly for the lies. I’d lose my relationships in Hollywood, could forget about getting a decent role for years. And most of all, I could forget about her.

I felt lightheaded. Hot. Armpits wet. My eyes closed from the dizziness I suddenly felt. Faintly, I could hear footsteps nearing the studio. My hands began to tingle, jaw locked and lips went tight. Air was coming in and leaving out in short spurts as I glanced over my shoulder to see who was coming in. I swear if it was little Carl coming back, I was ready to body his fat ass.

But it wasn’t.

I was fighting to breathe and regain my body, but through blurred eyes, I recognized him. My friend, mentor, and pastor.

Ezra stood in the wide doorway with his hands gripping his waist. Lil Bruh was behind him, flexing and confused. Someone else was with them, I could tell, but not see clear enough to know. Right now… It was not a good time. But I knew Ezra. Knew he ain’t give a solitary fuck about my convenience.

“Kindly ask your security to stand down,” his voice—deeper than mine at the moment—rasped.

My eyes swept over to Danny G walking up on the scene. All eyes on me. My chest pounding and tender from pain. My shoulders heaving and my face hard and aching. I needed a minute to myself. To clear my head. I felt like I was about to break down. I’d never felt this shit before. I couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe.

Ezra turned around. “Thaddeus, please call Geoffrey at the lab and ask him to cancel the staff meeting this afternoon. Then call my wife and tell her I will not be in for dinner tonight, I’m with Ragee.”

My back was turned at this point. I was trying to breathe and could hear footsteps moving away from me.

“Brother Danny,” Ezra rasped. “Please. You know this isn’t my usual fashion, and you also are aware of the delicate givings of our relationship. Please. Allow me privacy with him.”

“Raj, man,” Lil Bruh tried.

“Go now,” Ezra demanded.

And within seconds, I heard more movements leaving the area. My head rocked back and forth, breathing grew more shallow. I didn’t want to turn around. Wasn’t ready to face the noise. The mirror. I wanted to stay on my bullshit just a little longer.

Hurt something…

For a while, all I heard was the ringing in my ears, the sirens in my head, and the wheezing of my lungs. Low key, I was panicking. What the hell was happening to me?

“You know, in East Asia and some parts of the U.S., there’s this unique flower called Diphylleia grayi. Its white petals are nothing particularly unique in full bloom. In fact, they could resemble those of the white orchid to some. But the astoundingly inimitable trait of the Diphylleia grayi happens when it encounters rain. The petals become transparent. Clear! Its beauty happens when an element of nature meets its petals.”

I could hear my harsh breaths just as loud as I could his words. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but knew I’d find out. He quieted for a moment, beginning to confuse me. I couldn’t turn to look at him. Hell, I couldn’t control the rapid blinking of my fucking eyes.

“Christ!” he breathed behind me. “Cry, Ragee! Let them fall naturally. Expressing pain, anger, and hurt is a natural emotion for humans!” he barked.

And that quickly, feeling something equivalent to a gut blow to my abs, I hurled over and howled louder and harder than I could ever remember being able to do.

“Thanks, man,” I muttered to Thaddeus as he handed me a bottle of water before leaving back out of the room.

Ezra peeled off his blazer and hung it on the back of the rolling chair he pulled up to the mixing board, a few feet away from me. He yanked his beard before sitting up straight.

“This is bigger than you falling for a woman unexpectedly, though that’s a separate issue unto itself,” he began after I’d just spent the past thirty minutes sobbing like crazy then spilling out all of my bullshit over the past seven months. And I mean everything. I told him every detail short of having my asshole rimmed in nifkin play. “I do believe having Wynter enter your life at the capacity she did triggered much of it.”

After swallowing back a few ounces of water, I closed the bottle. “What do you mean?” I rasped, sounding like him.

“You asked her to be your wife just on paper when you married in October. However, you had her do it in partial function when Pastor McKinnon came to stay with you. Having her in your bed, in your private quarters, began the clock on the ticking bomb. It forced you two to spend time together in close proximity and you got to know each other: the good, bad, and ugly.” His face lit with half a smile. “I can imagine what it feels like to discover a stranger’s retainers on your bathroom countertop. That and the do rag thing can throw the fantasy of sharing your most intimate space with a woman.”

We both snorted at that, mine dryer. I mentioned seeing Wynter’s retainers for the first time and believing that’s when I knew I wanted her around for a while. Odd but true.

“Having her around lowered your guard…knocked off your protective lenses and exposed her beauty, inside and out. It’s human nature. I suspect her experience was the same regarding you. But having her there…your grandmother there triggered the leaking of old, traumatic retentions.”

“Exactly. Things I thought I’d gotten over.”

“You don’t necessarily get over trauma, Ragee. You manage it. You process and store it in a place in your brain to help free you of the stressors of it, but it doesn’t always depart. In fact, this could have happened under the normal circumstances of boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, marries her, and moves her in. This was likely unavoidable. However, the debris of the trauma is another matter.”

“Like what?”

Ezra shrugged by twisting his neck and lifting his brows. “Well, one of many is the Teke—”

“Nah. I ‘on’t even wanna hear dude’s name.” I wanted to be clear.

“Okay.” He sat up, lifting his ankle onto his knee. “Myisha. You need to talk to her.”

“I know.”

“But you haven’t. You can’t begin to deal with a threat you don’t explore. Patty’s death is an example of debris from the trauma. You carrying the guilt of it is another. Ragee, you didn’t kill Patty. Her addiction did.”

“But I could’ve—”

“You could have jumped out the vehicle, snatched the crack from her hands and she would have done the equivalent of spit on you and got her hit from somewhere else. Hard living catches up to us all. You continue to contravene your state of mind when you saw her receiving the drugs. Your brain didn’t act rapidly because it was busy processing damning information you were just given by her minutes before. Learning you impregnated your aunt influenced your processes. Your faculties were under duress as you witnessed the exchange.”

If I had a dollar for each time he’d said this to me. We’d been down this road so many times over the years.

I exhaled. “I get it. I do.”

He took a deep breath. “How many times must I say this? I can come up with two more variations, but after that, I’ll have to start all over again.”

I tried to manage a smile. Ezra wasn’t the type for jokes and pleasantries. He was usually intense. Here, I felt he was trying to compose me.

I shook my head, eyes into the distance. “I just feel like everything’s catching up with me at one time when I finally have one thing I want so damn bad.” I groaned. Then I chuckled, scratched underneath my bottom lip. “Wanna hear something funny?”

“I think.”

“Grandmother McKinnon gave me and Wynter a Word before she left. She told me it was time to clean house and I would be dealt with.” My eyes glided up to him. “Said I have to stop thinking it’s on me to clean my life up.”

His brows lifted again. “Is that all she said?”

“Nah.” I shook my head softly. “She said a mouthful.”

“What did she say the Lord would do or allow?”

I shrugged. “She said I’d be covered.”

“And there it is. If He’s warning, He’s telling you what will happen. Forgive me for being so aboveboard, but count it all joy. When your entire world is shaken up, it could be a cleansing taking place.”

“You mean Mike?”

His chin lifted. “I mean everyone God has not ordained to have a front row seat to the stage that is your life.”

That hurt.

“Ezra, man, I know you warned me about Myisha years ago, but for so long, she’s felt like all I had. The only pure thing I brought with me from my childhood. No matter how messed up what she’s doing is, I’m struggling with what to do. She only knows my business. What she gone do without me?”

He shrugged with his lips, shaking his head back and forth slowly as though in a daze. “I don’t have an answer for that. But I will say, ill-intended or not—genuine when you exchanged those vows or not when it happened—you’re a married man. Do you want to authenticate your marriage?”

After blinking a few times, I nodded, repositioning myself in my seat.

“Then you have to ‘leave and cleave’. You cannot have the historical issues you’re bringing to the marriage and have a fully developed adult with the slightest opposition to it in your home. There’s no way Wynter should tolerate that.”

My forehead stretched. “You got Ms. Remah.”

“Ms. Remah is on my property. Not in my home.”

I chuckled at that. Ms. Remah was a mother figure to Ezra’s wife. They came as a full package, he once told me.

“You’re smiling again.”

“Nah. I’m laughing. But it feels good. I feel so damn drained, man. Like I just ran a marathon.”

“You’ve been juggling too many things on your own, and unnecessarily.”

Shit…

“I know, man. It’s just that—”

“I’m not perfect either, Ragee. I can’t begin to share my bed of sins. But I will say the only difference between you and me is our calling. I was born to lead and govern spiritually…whether I like it or not.”

I nodded, understanding. Ezra just wanted me to respect his role in my life. His responsibility to me.

“Can’t front.” I scoffed. “Do feel like the pressure on my chest let up a little. But I’m still waiting on the hammer. I ain’t get my lashings yet.” I laughed and he shook his head. “This really it? No hundred Hail Marys for a week? No instructions on how to get my lady back?”

He sat forward. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t. Moreover, the longer I’m married, the less confidence I have in painting the world black and white. But I do know I’m ordained to listen to you, to not condemn you when you make a wrong move. Instead of running from what I was born to do in your life, just take advantage of my assignment. Had you reached out to me after Mike Brown’s proposal of this spurious wedlock, I would have advised appropriately.”

“And I wouldn’t have met Wynter.” My forehead lifted.

I hated to sound rebellious, but it was true.

“What if you wouldn’t have met Wynter the iniquitous way? There’s a consequence attached to every ill-action.”

“I know. I lied. Lied about really being in it with her.” My head tossed back and I cracked up, in full on pain. I was sure it sounded like a hybrid of a laugh and cry. “But I was eventually. Fell hard for the girl. Finally get what the old R&B acts sang about love.”

“But you didn’t do it right. The Bible says, ‘A man who finds a wife, finds a good thing.’ You didn’t find Wynter. Mike Brown brought her to you as a tool to deceive.”

That brought my head up and spine straight. Ezra’s eyes were hard on me. And I knew that chastisement was here. Knew I wouldn’t get away with my bullshit when he finally caught up with me. I braced myself for it. I was a man of God. Not a boy of the world, no matter how much I acted like one. I’d take my L on the chin. I braced for what was coming next.

“But because you serve a loving, forgiving, merciful, and provisional God, you’re covered.” Ezra’s rasp was clear and authoritative unlike anyone’s I knew.

As understanding hit, I closed my eyes and nodded my head. “Like Grandmother McKinnon said.”

“She’s not perfected, but the woman of God is anointed.” His eyes skirted around the studio, fingers tapped the edge of the mixing board. “So, what have you been working on?”

I sat up. “So that’s really it?” Ezra’s brows lifted. “That’s all you gotta say after all the stuff I just copped to?”

This didn’t feel right. The box of autonomy he put me in was too airy. I needed closer parameters. More guidance.

For a while, Ezra sat frozen in his chair. Then he took a deep breath, scratching his cheek beneath his beard. “Ragee, I have a toddler with a chock full o sass, and a demanding newborn in my house as we speak. I have roughly ten thousand parishioners who do not take turns engaging in quagmires. A lab full of staff, most of which are under thirty-five and like to ‘turn up’ when I’m away. In addition to all of this, my wife is researching a cosmetic surgeon to undergo an abdominoplasty. There’s no way you can expect me to always be up for the hocus pocus.”

“A tummy tuck? Lex don’t want no more kids?”

Ezra shook his head. “And neither do I. The well has run dry on reproduction for me. Children are draining.”

“And blessings, man.” I laughed.

“Undoubtedly. However, not ideal when you’re still trying to extend the honeymoon period which ended when conception decided to happen. Life’s ever challenging.” His eyes swept the studio. “But I do receive gratification being able to hold an honest conversation with a friend.”

I took a deep breath. “Same here, man. But I can’t lie. I was looking for something else when I finally had to square off with you.” I stomped my foot, messing with him. “No prophetic word on what I need to do to clean my life?”

“Okay.” Ezra sat up straight, opening himself physically. He breathed out, “Rhema or logos?”

I laughed. “Man, I’m so desperate at this point, I’ll take whatever you got.”

“Good. Because I gave a rhema earlier and that’s all I had, so logos it is.”

Still cracking up, I admitted, “I’ll take it.”

I was desperate for help.

“When I woke up this morning, I went about my”—He coughed, glossing over something that took a second for me to get—“ritual as usual. I showered and while I was at it, I heard Amos 9:11-12 echoed in my heart. ‘But also on that Judgment Day I will restore David’s house that has fallen to pieces. I’ll repair the holes in the roof, replace the broken windows, fix it up like new. David’s people will be strong again and seize what’s left of enemy Edom, plus everyone else under my sovereign judgment. God’s Decree. He will do this.’”

I mouthed the scripture as he spoke it, recalling Amos was the first prophet to have a book in the Bible.

“And right then, I began to bless God in a boisterous manner, feeling an unexpected sense of relief and gratitude. It was strange yet compelling and I didn’t mind praising, so I went with it. In the car, on my way to work, I blessed God with fervor. In my office, once I logged into my desktop, words of praise fell from my lips. I didn’t get it but didn’t fight it. My day progressed, and it was filled with the usual tasks. It wasn’t until I got the call from Dwayne about Mike Brown that I heard the scripture again—instantly. It was also when I decided to end my quest to give you due space and see about you.”

My chin dipped and forehead wrinkled. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s difficult to explain the phenomenon. But when I heard about your manager, an image appeared of you hunched down in a corner sobbing uncontrollably. You couldn’t see them, but before you were demons of varying assortments, taunting you. So, as I approached to clear away the debris that was them, the Amos passage was in my belly. Instead of seeing your current posture, I felt your deliverance. That’s when I knew I had to take the chance on coming here.”

What was crazy was I hadn’t been here in a while. I’d been in Sparta full time since December. With Wynter.

“Ah… That debris,” I noted the repetition of the word.

“That’s what your issues seem to be. Debris. Perhaps that’s why Pastor McKinnon mentioned cleaning house.”

I nodded, eyes toward the floor as I considered what that meant exactly. Mike had been in my life since the ascension of my music career. It was at his side that I was able to make some noise in Hollywood, going further than any of my R&B contemporaries have. We came up together, and now he was gone. Myisha. I couldn’t stand the sight of her. Every time I thought about her threat, her betrayal, something in my belly jolted. For so long, those two had been at the core of my circle. They’d been there, in the trenches with me, pushing me to the top. And now…

Ezra clearing his throat brought my attention up and to him. “I deeply apologize for the loss of your manager. You’ve shared with me the degeneration your friendship with him over the years. It saddens me it had to come to this, especially before you could repair it. I’ll also be covering you fervently regarding your relationship with Wynter.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” I moved to shake his hand.

Ezra’s eyes kept going to the equipment.

“I’m sure these recent events have inspired new music. You’ve always been keen on turning pain and storms into melodies.” He tapped a nob on the mixing board. “Again, what are you working on?”

I let out a breath, glancing over to the board. “I’ve been inspired alright.” Leaning over my knees, I snorted. “Crazy thing is what’s been hitting at me ain’t gospel-inspired.” Ezra’s eyes narrowed on me, confused. “My new material’s been…” I licked my lips and my eyes narrowed in the air, feeling the flutters the thought of it accompanied. “Sensual.”

It was true. Usually, I would come up with uplifting lyrics or a stream of tracks on the beauty of love when I was stressed or just needed to create. The past two weeks had me craving a different kind of love. A more intimate one. Wynter put something on my ass. Something I felt compelled to share with the world. My popularity in music wasn’t born from a thematic work of sex like Wynter’s favorite R&B singer. I had a little of that in my catalogue, but my reputation was built on love and inspirational songs, short of the gospel definition. I’d done well without saturating my lyrics with stories of pussy and drugs. But now… I’d worked on twelve tracks in the past two weeks, all of them at the heart and art of making love.

“It appears she’s been a disruption of your peace.”

I chuckled softly, stretching in my chair. “I ain’t have peace since I was a tot, man.”

“You’ve actually created a form of peace with your wealth. You’ve withdrawn from the public and put space between you and the world, only coming out when you choose. You built a grand fortress in Sparta, spread out over what…? Nineteen acres? You want metropolitan privacy, you have this lush apartment in Jersey City. You want rural seclusion, you have Sparta. You want foreign recreation, you have the financial means to travel anywhere you desire. You do not have people around you don’t want there. I fully understand you only disclose to me what you feel is acceptable behavior, but I was aware of your methods of seeking physical release when you needed it in the past. You were even particular and unattached in that pursuit. You’re virtually untouchable.”

And all of a sudden, the room seemed small. He’d painted quite a visual.

“Wynter—no matter how abnormal—came into your life and interrupted your peace. She stirred the quiet emptiness of your heart and ignited your passion anew. There is no wonder your inspiration has turned sexual. Had you ever made love to a woman before Wynter, Ragee?”

My eyes tightened again, this time on him as I considered that question. When my answer formed in my mind, I thought of Young Lord and how on one of the tracks on his Chasing Sunsets album, he said he’d lost his virginity to love. After getting to know Kenny, I realized it was a metaphor to the realness of their relationship.

Ezra, once again, hit on something unexpected for me. Something I hadn’t considered.

I cocked my head to the side, turning my neck, and my face twisted. “You mean to tell me, Wynter got me out here like a kid with his nose wide open over his first piece of snatch, man?”

He shrugged with his head before standing. “I would have presented it with a little more dignity, but pretty much.”

I growled, holding my face as I stretched back in the chair.

“No need to be embarrassed. I realized soon after I married, my wife was the first woman I’d made love to as well. It’s a phenomenon we men take for granted, believe as long as we’re physically and occasionally mentally stimulated, we’re completely satisfied.” He shook his head, eyeing the keyboards across the room. “There is nothing equivalent to holding your heart in your hands as you drive all your soul into her. The most exquisite pleasure.” 

I watched him make his way over to one of the keyboards and take a seat behind it, amazed how that very phrase had been ringing in my mind about Wynter recently. This dude was so spiritually on point, it was freaky!

Ezra stroked a few of the keys, gaining his stride before creating a harmony.

He stopped. “You know what we should do?”

“What’s that?”

“Flesh out your new inspiration.”

I blinked hard. “One of my tracks?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure you have more that have not come to fruition yet. Why don’t I see what Dwayne’s up to and possibly get him over for a jam session?”

As much as I liked the sound of that because I was always down to work, I didn’t expect that from Ezra.

“Lex’ll be good with that?”

“It’s hardly lunch time. Maybe we’ll be done by dinner.” He shrugged, going back to the keys. “If not, I can use a night out.”

Damn. That offer for him to spend his limited time with me to help sift through the mess I’d made, eased the pressure from my chest. Especially seeing how I’d hidden from him like a potty-training toddler taking a poop in a quiet corner while making that mess.

I nodded. “You’re gonna have to make the call.” I stood from my seat, feeling lightheaded the moment I was on my feet. I grabbed my head on my way to the door. “I need to send out one of my guys for a new phone for me.”

“McKinnon,” he rasped after me. I turned to face him. “Thanks for allowing me to be me in your life. I sincerely appreciate our friendship.”

Then my chest tightened again, and I knew it was from guilt. I couldn’t speak, still feeling raw. After offering a neck bow, I tapped my chest with a closed fist, saluting my friend, mentor, and pastor before walking off.