~6~

 

I needed to stop and sit down. My breathing turned choppy, and as of late, I understood what that meant. Tears were looming.

What the fuck is this?

I cried. A lot lately. I swear, I must have cried every day since Ragee’s abrupt fuck session a few days ago. I was sick of crying and now could see why I never gave in to that emotion over the years. It was sickening. Weakening. Why the hell did I cry?

Mike Brown’s dead…

My head swiveled left to right softly as my eyes found a blind target and lost focus there. His death saddened me in an unusual way. No, I would not miss him, but for six months, his ideas and actions governed my world. I was bound to him by a contract I hated at first. Now, emotionally I hid beneath it. The one thing getting me through this music boot camp before Raj’s impromptu visit was the fact I’d see him again and again and again over the next two and a half years.

I turned my torso to browse back at the bed…the last bed we’d share. Now that Mike Brown was gone it meant the for real end of the SNAFU Ragee and I found ourselves in. That deeply saddened me. I needed to shake it off. I took a cleansing breath, remembering the task at hand. Nearly finished packing up all my things, I had to go soon. My eyes grazed the pieces of clothing I had to get into my suitcases. I tried encouraging my limbs to move off the bed. No way I could break down now. I had shit to do.

A sudden knock at the door had me sniffling back the impending tears.

My lids blinked successively. “Ye—Yeah?” I stood, going back to my chore of packing.

“Yo, Wynter?” I recognized as Irv’s voice. Or is that Jon’s? “Somebody here to see you.”

I stood erect, face folding with curiosity and eyes rolling around in my head. “Come in,” I invited hesitantly, my heart pounding in my ears.

One of the doors cracked and it was Irv pushing it in with a long arm, but he stood on the other side. Then strolling in was the last person I’d expected to see anytime soon, if at all ever. His suggestive gaze that used to make my skin crawl lingered on poor Irv as he passed him. And it was a long and dramatic stroll into the bedroom. His hair was nicely groomed per usual, his arms clad in a designer’s name I couldn’t pronounce, I was sure of. Then those gray globes under long curled lashes and stark arched brows swept over to me.

His smile lit the room brighter but turned my stomach. This was bad. Real bad, I told myself as Irv closed the door, leaving me to him.

“You look…” he delayed, eyeing me from head to toe.

In a blue denim, bell-bottom jumpsuit revealing my shoulders, I was dressed for the club because that would be our first stop apparently, tonight. I set to the side gold Giuseppe Zanotti mules to pair with it, one of the many flashy things Myisha outfitted me with months ago. I hadn’t put on any make up yet because of packing.

“Basic?” I turned back toward the bed to finish packing. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ll die that way. Say what you need to say and go. I have to go my damn self.”

From behind my back he asked, “Why the cold shoulder—or blemish-free back in this case—belle? I came all this way for the shade of Wynter?”

Taking a deep breath, I turned to him. “That’s why I’d like to cut to the chase and get to it, LeRoy. Why the hell are you here?”

His head leaned to the side and his brows narrowed, but his smile remained wide. “Because I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays, honey. Now, that’s not how you treat your best man.” He clutched his hands at his pelvic line. “But I’ll forgive. You go on ahead and say you’re sorry.”

The man actually stood in the middle of the room with his spine erect, waiting for something.

I swallowed and licked my lips. “I will not be apologizing for shit. You can, however, tell me what it is you need to tell me and get on.”

He hopped on his feet and neared the bed until he jumped on it, laying his large frame across and propped his elbow on the mattress. His smile was still deep. “So, where ya going?”

My eyes were closed and head shook as I answered, “L.A.”

“Ah! L.A.! What’s there, belle?”

I zipped up and grabbed my suitcase, carrying it to the door. “Work.”

“Really?” he breathed, dramatically expressing interest.

That’s when it hit me.

I cocked my head to the side. “Are you here to tell me I have to go home—to Garfield?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what you fucktards do. You play mind games…change your minds at a moment’s whim.”

LeRoy lay his head on his upturned palm. “I don’t change my mind, belle. Don’t play games either. I try to have it all.” He winked slyly. “I’m just here to make sure you remain on script.”

“That’s the thing: What’s the fucking script now? You people take these fucking private meetings about me behind my back and I can’t keep up!”

He blinked deeply, tucking his chin. “Belle, you’re the one posting baguettes, pearls, and shit on the ‘Gram.”

“I didn’t post that!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Well, then who—”

“Your camp, who writes the fucking script!”

“Sweetheart—”

“Myisha had all of my passwords, would post for me sometimes. Before…” I shook my head, rolling my eyes, frustrated with it all.

“Is that why you deleted it?”

“Yes. Although you don’t know me like you claim you do your brother-crush, I can assure you I’m no fucking gold digger. I wouldn’t know the first thing to look at in a damn Chanel store.”

“But you have a—”

“Myisha!” I reminded him. “Everything I have is from Myisha. The only designer piece I own not from her outfitting is this necklace.” My hand subconsciously reached for it.

“So, that’s what he picked out?” LeRoy squinted.

“What?”

“For your late birthday getaway…” He flicked his chin my way. “Is that what he picked?”

“What’s wrong with it?” My fingers grazed it.

LeRoy shrugged. “He was between three things. He asked my opinion, though I have no idea why. He completely ignores my suggestions—on everything.” He rolled his cool grays.

I wanted to inquire about the other two things but knew it was safe for me to stay out of that romanticizing lane.

“Is there a special reason you’re here? Don’t you have better, more exotic places on the globe to be?”

He tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I was in Genoa last week. You know that punk faggot, Christopher is from there?” My eyes circled as my mind whirled. “The only one we acknowledge…” he allowed a hint.

My forehead lifted, remembering the Jay Z line. “Columbus?”

“Yup. I wanted to spit on the steps of his place. It’s dilapidated anyways. Good for his ass. Someone should have bought and tricked it out in ethnic garb—all but his. Goddamn tyrant of a thief.” He rolled his eyes and that face-splitting smile returned.

“What took you there?” I mumbled, moving to the mirror to do something with my hair.

“A friend of mine launching a denim line had an event there.”

“In Genoa?”

Looking into the mirror, I could see he nodded behind me. “Genoa is the birthplace of jeans, belle. Levi Strauss is from there, though the line, they say, was born on U.S. soil.”

“Oh, yeah?” I brushed down the thick locks of my weave, happy about being close to returning to the East Coast. I needed this handled ASAP. “Who?”

“Oh,” he hummed. “A friend. You know me, I keep a gang of them.”

“This one doesn’t so happen to be from the eastern region of India, huhn?”

LeRoy’s knowing chuckle was delayed, but thick. “No. I’ve swung to the next tree—quite a few since then, come to think of it.” His brows narrowed. “My stream is fluid, belle. You should know that about me.”

I didn’t know LeRoy at all. I didn’t know any of them. That’s when I remembered.

“Why are you here?”

LeRoy sighed. “To check in on you. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Not to dismiss me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you people are erratic, is why. Fluid, just like your damn sexuality.”

He shook his head, absolutely unconvinced. “Ragee is not.”

“Oh!” I scoffed. “He’s the most capricious on the planet.”

A scowl warped on LeRoy’s face. “Is not.”

I nodded, eyes stretched and I didn’t try to fight the smirk on my face. “Oh, he is.” There was no convincing me otherwise. “You don’t know him as you claim, LeRoy.”

“Oh, I do. I know him better than anyone on the planet.”

I continued to shake my head. “You don’t.”

“I do!”

“You do not.”

His torso leaped from the bed, leaving him resting on one hip as he faced me. “Bitch, challenge me!” 

I pointed toward the comforter. “He ate my pussy right where your exquisite designer threads lay!” LeRoy’s neck gave out as his eyes pierced me. “Yes, LeRoy. The man eats my pussy. And better than anyone before him.”

It was delayed, but there was a comeback accompanied by a humorous expression. “You know he practiced on sliced watermelon for that. Right?” His head leaned to the side, smile cunning.

“Bullshit.” I crossed my arms under my chest and widened my stance. “He practiced on me. He’s done it quite often, the practice runs. I’m his muse. And”—A damn cry shot up from my belly, but I caught it. All cockiness shot to pieces—“he claims he’s in love with me.”

His eyes widened again. “He confessed to that?”

“Yeah. So, you did know that?”

LeRoy scoffed, nose flaring. “I told you I know everything about that man.”

It was only a comeback. I knew that, but it still drew something emotional out of me. Who was this man, Ragee McKinnon? It was my turn to dip my chin. And that’s when the stupid ass waterworks began. I smashed my face into my palms and cried forcefully.

“Oh, belle!” he breathed calmly, was on me in an instant. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just didn’t know he finally got off his ass and reached out.”

“I’m okay.” I sniffled, trying to step out of his hold. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re hurt. There’s nothing wrong with feeling it.”

My neck whipped up and I peered into his stark pewters. “Why should I? Why should I feel shit for him? I didn’t sign up for this.”

LeRoy smiled softly, his regard sweeping my assigned room. “Seems like you’re getting something out of the deal.”

“But at what cost? He just tossed me out. I thought we were friends.”

“Oh, belle.” He flipped my hair over my shoulder. “You and Gee are more than friends. His learning curve just isn’t as advanced as yours, but he feels. Shocked the hell out of me, but it’s true.”

“What’s true anymore?” My arms shot into the air.

“Whatever you felt for him was mutual. I swear it to you, honey.” I’d never heard his tone so soft, convincing. I’d heard it hurt, betrayed, threatening, and angry, but never beseeching. “You did it. You got close to the troubled dragon. That’s never happened. I told you he’s a unique creature. But you’ve slain him with your ‘basic’ bow and arrow, something we all thought was impossible.”

That! 

“And your fluid ass was mighty selective, leaving out the reason his aunt was a…” I tapped my chin, eyes swept the ceiling, “crackhead, cunt bitch? Or whore ass cunt of an aunt was because she molested him.”

LeRoy’s grays grew to the size of bowling balls.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot. But no thanks about being the heroine to slay the dragon with love. Raj has deep issues—that damn Myisha does, too—and you…” I’d be judging if I went any further.

“We need a fresh breeze in our circle,” he noted, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I heard about your professional background. Maybe we need a feminine, experienced, loving touch in our crew.” He smiled gently, a far cry from the cunning wolf that waltz in here.

“Then call Pastor McKinnon. I’m over it all.”

Softly, and with that beam in tow, LeRoy shook his head. “If Grandmother McKinnon was the answer, the dragon and dragoness that are Ragee and Myisha wouldn’t exist. You’d just be left with my shit. The pastor is good at some things, but bad at focusing on immediate family. Trust me.”

There was so much truth in his words. Grandmother McKinnon’s culpability in Raj’s and Myisha’s abuse had been considered heavily in my heart, night after night since I arrived in Arizona. It was one of many thoughts of Ragee that followed me to sleep.

A knock had me leaping on the balls of my feet. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

I watched as LeRoy eyed me suspiciously and understood why. Little did he know, I never had visitors. Not even the type who stayed here with me. We were together so much, our rooms were our sanctuary from each other.

The door opened and another set of exotic colored eyes peered in.

Teke.

“Hey…” I breathed, uneasy about how this may appear.

Teke’s eyes scanned the room after recognizing the tall zesty figure towering over me in close proximity. LeRoy had the nerve to close the nano-distance between us. 

“Oh, look, belle,” LeRoy all but growled, “your house mate is in your…” He peered down on me, “…bedroom.” He then turned back. “Teke,” he greeted with that clever smile.

“Oh. What it do, LeRoy?” was not posed as a question before his eyes swept over to me. “I was coming to see if you needed help with your bags, Wynter. The car just pulled up.”

“Not you,” LeRoy remarked.

My neck snapped over to him.

“What’s that?” Teke frown, confused.

“A double entendre, son. You see, you asked what it do, to which I answered not you. As in I don’t do you and my belle here doesn’t either.” He referenced me by flicking his wrist as though presenting my majesty. “The other context is not you as in, you appearing at her door. You won’t be helping her downstairs. You can, however, have my guy down there come up for that very reason.” LeRoy’s smile remained bright and brows hiked to dull the shade in that.

The wrinkles in Teke’s forehead deepened even more, but before he could speak, I interjected.

My hands absentmindedly went to LeRoy’s chest tenderly, as though I wanted to calm whatever bullshit storm was brewing inside him. “Thanks for thinking of me, Teke. I’m fine, though. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Almost done.”

After a few seconds of deciding his next move, Teke quietly nodded his acceptance and slowly walked backwards to close the door.

Immediately and ever-dramatically, LeRoy’s head swiveled to face me. “Be careful of the serpents, dear. You may have had the power and competence to take down the dragon, but creatures like that one are harder to see coming. You need the big foot of a dragon to crush it, belle.” For the first time since he arrived, I saw the rawness of his gray orbs. LeRoy was unmistakably serious. I just didn’t understand why. Slowly, his smirk returned. “Which bags are ready to go downstairs, belle?”

I blinked a few times, the frozen state of my face thawing as I considered his question.

“Ummmm…” I swallowed hard, realizing I had no time to extrapolate that sharp warning. “The two by the door.” I shook my head with squeezed eyes. “The last one isn’t done. I still need to put on makeup.”

“Take your highness time,” he granted before going for my luggage.

Eventually, I was able to move to finish getting ready. Our flight to L.A. was due to leave at nine. I still found it odd how LeRoy’s pop up visit was even possible. He didn’t seem surprised or rushed by the timing of it all either. As I focused on trying to cover the puffiness of my eyes from my earlier tears, I couldn’t decide if his presence hurt or helped my disposition. It certainly didn’t clear anything up to help me along. Either way, I had to keep it going. Needed to keep a clear head—or present as though I had one—to finish what could be a life-changing event.

Once I was done with my makeup, packed it up, and slid on Ase Garb loafers to wear until the club, I gathered my things and gazed around the room for what would be the last time. What was once a foreign box of four walls was now a box with bittersweet memories. Possibly the last place I’d experience passion with my fake husband.

Damn…

I closed my eyes, annoyed all over again.

“Ready, belle?” I didn’t react to that voice. I knew who and why.

I turned for the door and handed the duffle over to LeRoy’s outstretched hand. Then I halted my steps.

“What?” he asked.

I turned to him. “You didn’t give many clapbacks.”

“What?”

“Your comebacks, they were few and not strong tonight.”

Then the muscles in his face loosened with understanding and he smiled. “I only do that when I want to manipulate you into doing what I want you to do.” That beam deepened. “But you’re already doing it.”

My face tightened, but I couldn’t hide my humor. “What are you trying to manipulate me into doing?”

“Wanting the dragon. Using that bow and arrow until he finally lays down.”

“Why do you want that?”

“Because you’re the only woman in his life who’s been able to captivate him—and then in such a short time. It makes him weird—he’ll always be weird.” His brows furrowed. “But it actually makes him happy.”

“What about Heather?”

“Heather?” I nodded with wide eyes. His face folded again. “Heather doesn’t have the real world experience needed to encapsulate him. She only knows him from a world he knew long ago. She could never handle the bigger world he’s created for himself.”

“That’s no different from me. I’ve never traveled…don’t have any grand life experiences.”

“Trust me, compared to Heather and these other women he uses for a wanton release, your mind is big enough to fit into that world of abundance. And to accept all of him. You “get” him. And that’s all Mr. Dragon really wants is to be understood and loved. Shit. It’s all any of us fucktards, as you put it, wants. His entire clan, belle.”

Although with that analogy, LeRoy presented a boundless prospect of Ragee’s needs, he also made me think of how relatively small Ragee’s demon pot was when I thought of LeRoy’s issues. I was sure he was a lot more complicated than Raj, considering his sexuality and abandonment as a minor. I quickly decided to not minimize Ragee’s problems. The bottom line was he was the most complicated man I ever had a romantic relationship with and was plagued with issues that would take years to conquer and they may not all ever go away.

I began out into the hallway, toward the steps.

I didn’t want to deal with complex adults anymore. I’d left that lifestyle when I quit my job. I was on a new path. Literally. Tomorrow, we would begin our last segment of the program headed up by Young Lord. We’d be spending the next few days in L.A., learning about collaborating and artist development. That would be my new focus.

Not goddamn dragons, serpents, and fluid sexuality.

I hadn’t been to a club in years, and if they were anything like Cobalt in Hollywood, California, I’d been missing out big time. The place was so spacious, contemporary in décor, and vibrant in energy. There were three levels, and all were filled with people of all races and shades. The place was undeniably classy and charming. We had one of the few gigantic booths that was so high, we had to take steps up and around to sit at its V.I.P. table. From up here, we had a view of practically the entire club. The place was lit as fuck. Lights flashing, sexy women in leotards walking around serving food and drinks, and stallion buff men doing the same with simple vests and jeans fitted enough to expose the shapes of their muscular thighs and asses. I was impressed.

On the flight into L.A., the guys shared this was one of the hottest clubs in the country and owned by Azmir Jacobs, aka Raj’s friend I met at the Super Bowl. That made the industry feel as small as most said it was. Everyone was hyped. I knew some of the group had gone out to clubs in Phoenix since we started boot camp, but this was the first time we all went to one together. I had my reservations about it, but Dave said it was Young Lord’s idea. I didn’t understand its correlation to the curriculum, but Cobalt, in no time, it had become a highlight of this L.I.T. Music program experience. 

The house specialty drink for the night was Brimm’s Lemon Drop. It was a delicious demon. The taste was light and refreshing, but the alcohol snuck up on you. After just two, I was loose and filled with energy. Jemah sat next to me and chowed down on deep fried soft shell crabs while dancing in her seat. Jon was to the left of me, drinking a beer and in his phone. He’d been brooding since we got off the plane.

“Dude!” I yelled in his ear. “What’s bit you in the ass?”

I giggled as I shoulder bumped him. He didn’t return the humor. Instead, he showed me his phone, sharing the texting argument he and his girl back in Newark had been engaged in. Apparently, she was pregnant and hella insecure about the picture floating around with Jon and nameless sexy and eager-looking women while he’d been away. Jon was no angel. I knew this by the company he’d been keeping since we met, but I didn’t get her expectations of him.

“What the hell is she going to do when you go out on tour in a few months?”

“What did you do when Raj was on tour after your wedding?”

His austere expression and unexpected sobered me a bit. I had to remember details of my life had been shared with the public. It made me think back to that time in my life.

“I lived my damn life while he did his!” I had no idea why I gave so much attitude with that answer.

“I wish she could feel that way.” Jon shook his head.

“Not to be funny, but do you think you can take on a serious relationship at this point in your life? You’re young, and now, wildly popular.” I swung my arm out to the open and spirited atmosphere of the club. “I’m surprised you haven’t combed the place yet.”

Jon bit his lip, appearing frustrated and contemplative. He moved in to whisper to me. “I don’t want to hurt her. She a good girl, yo.”

“I don’t think you have a choice. You’re not faithful to her. Why string her along?”

“She’s carrying my baby. I want her happy.”

“Then keep your dick in your pants. But judging by her accusations in the texts, she’s not doing well with the perception of your behavior. The fuck she gonna do when she finds out the activity of your actual dick?”

“Maybe you can talk to her for me,” his tenor was deadpan.

I scoffed. “You serious?” Jon nodded. “And say what?”

He shrugged before leaning in to me again to speak over the blasting music. “Tell her how to be with a man in the industry. You know…”

“No. I don’t.”

“C’mon, Wynter. Like how you do. You been out here all this time and Raj ain’t been around. You don’t sweat him. Don’t talk about him. He ain’t trippin’…back home doing him. You know what I mean!”

My eyes focused on some random spot on the second level. Ella Mai’s “10,000 Hours” poured from the speakers, striking a tender spot in my heart. It sounded sped up by the deejay to maintain an up-tempo vibe. This is what my life had come to. Living separate lives from my husband. A husband who isn’t a real husband, by the way. But someone who meant something to me.

Foolishly…

Just when I was going to give him some bullshit line about charting his own path, I heard, “Hey, lady!”

It was Azmir’s wife. Her name didn’t come to me right away because of my tipsy brain and near blue moment Jon nearly cast me into. But Rayna came back to memory because she was one of the very few divas I’d come across, who could be dressed to the nines, but have a humble yet regal presence to her. She wasn’t alone. Flanked to her left and right were beefy men with their hands clasped at their wrists uniformly as their sights scoured the booth.

My eyes grew wide before I thought to move. “Hey! Rayna!” I tried scooting to the right, not realizing Jemah had left at some point.

I made it to Rayna without thought of what to do once I arrived. She made it easy by offering a hug.

“Good to see you,” she welcomed, smelling royal and looking the same. “Is this your first time here?”

“Yeah.” My eyes circled. “It’s amazing!”

“It is,” she agreed. “Azmir tried to sell it a while back and I told him absolutely not. It’s special.” I nodded, understanding why. “It’s where we met—originally.”

Realization hit as to her real meaning and my eyes shot wide. “Oh! Sweet!” I found myself giggling as she smiled warmly. “I wouldn’t sell either. This is special on several fronts.”

She nodded then glanced around. “I see your party’s enjoying the menu for the night. Azmir made sure to put the best sellers on for tonight when Young told him you’d be here. He wanted to be sure you guys had the full experience.”

What?

“Wow!” My eyes went to the table where mostly ravished appetizers were eaten. “Well, it’s appreciated. We were starved…came here straight from the airport.” Rayna nodded humbly. Her long blinking of the eyes as she gave a neck bow showed how striking her beauty was. She was a gorgeous woman at the Super Bowl, but her night look showed a sultrier Mrs. Jacobs. I couldn’t share that and didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to talk to millionaires. So, I said the first thing that came to mind. “You come here often?”

“Not really.” She glanced around again. “I try to come every few months. It’s hard with the twins. You know?”

“I can only imagine. I have an eight-year-old niece—cousin—who’s more like a big sister. Even when they don’t need much care, they’re a lot to handle.”

“Absolutely.”

“So, what do you do?” I expected to hear something industry or corporate related to her husband’s conglomerate.

Shock couldn’t quite describe my reaction when she shared, “Physical therapy. Nowadays, with the twins, I’ve been doing more admin duties as the office manager, but I still fit in a few hours of attending each week.” Her eyes skirted around again. “And then with Azmir working on the new jazz club on a beach of all places, it’ll be even harder to come often. But I love it. Cobalt is doing so well.”

“I can see why. It’s super lit in here!”

I gave that compliment a lot of energy to conceal my shocked reaction to her being a professional in a traditional industry—like me. Shit… Azmir Jacobs’ wife was a health professional. Not a record label executive or an executive at Mauve.

“The big guy would love to hear that.”

“I can’t wait to tell him.” I glanced at her security. “Is he downstairs?”

Rayna shook her head. “He’s out of town…won’t be back till the morning. But he wanted to be sure I was here to welcome you. I wish Raj were here, too. We could have dinner and catch up. I haven’t picked his brain in months.”

I wish my life was as simple as anticipating Raj back in my arms first thing in the morning. My brows lifted as I blew out a quiet breath. The mention of his name did shit to me. One thing was bring about anxiety regarding the big lie of our relationship.

“We know how incommunicado Ragee McKinnon can be,” I tried with a knowing grin.

“That’s too funny.” Rayna covered her partially exposed belly. “It’s how my husband refers to me. Can I get you another drink?”  

“Sure. I’ll walk down with you.”

I needed to break the awkwardness of this conversation before I gave away my false identity. I was sure Rayna Jacobs had better things to do with her time than babysit Ragee’s fake wife. Especially seeing it may be over any day now.

We made our way to one of the bars and it was eerie to see how the sea of people opened at the command of one of her security guards to give us direct access to the bar. I followed behind Rayna, finding my regard on the back of her gold Tom Ford high-heeled sandals. The small, gold padlocks dangling from her ankles gave it away. Myisha taught me… They went well with the black, cropped leather pants, a cropped gold metallic blouse with straps that wrapped and tied around her midsection, and an off-white tailored blazer long enough to cover her ass and with high shoulders. Classic and sexy. Of course, I expected nothing less from Azmir Jacobs’ wife. 

I ordered another lemon drop special and learned it was named after Rayna as it was her favorite cocktail. She mentioned how corny it was of her husband to do it, but she was a sucker for his romantic gestures and had grown to appreciate the moniker. Rayna walked me around the place, introducing me to deejays and managers. Apparently, Raj came to Cobalt often, performing and hosting parties. We chatted for a bit more before she announced having to leave.

“Listen, this was fun, as brief as it was. I’m glad I came out.” She beamed sincerely.

“Awwwww! Thanks, Rayna. You leave me after my nerves have been annihilated by our favorite drink.” I winked before tossing back the rest of the glass.

Rayna cracked the hell up, placing her empty glass on the tray of a sexy ass male waiter, who stopped at the sight of it. My eyes swept over him as I set my glass on the out held tray.

“Mmmmmhmmmmm!” Rayna hummed with arched brows and a conspiratorial smirk. “Fine ain’t they? That…” she pointed to the thick ass walking away with a tray in the air. “…was my touch. What’s good for the goose…” She rolled her eyes and neck.

I spit a laugh, giving her a high five.

“Now that he’s married, I have someone tangible to hold accountable for having him visit. Please keep in touch,” Rayna offered.

Why did that seem sincere? Why were people so attached to him as weird and reclusive as Ragee was?

“I’ll try my best. But as for my crush, Dasu, your little prince owes me a dance.”

After a parting laugh and a few words of see you later, Rayna and I separated. As I tried finding my way to the big ass booth, I was pulled into a tall frame. My wooshy mind processed Teke eventually as he danced in front of me. His lips poked as he wore sunglasses in the dim club, looking so “Hollywood.” A smile broke out on my face when he turned and pulled Jemah close into him. She obliged by getting low, tossing her hands in the air as they bounced bodies off each other.

He then turned to me, grabbing my arms and tossing them into the air, demanding I dance with him. Figuring what the hell, I began to dance, tossing my inhibitions to the wind. I hadn’t done this since stepping off a G550, subdued with fear and betrayal. Before long, the Drake featuring Rihanna track, “Too Good” had me loosening even more. The club was live, and it fucking thrilled me! I realized Jemah and I sandwiched Teke, though I kept a decent distance. This was confirmed when I randomly looked up from my feet while dancing and saw a phone in my face. The flash was on as Teke laughed playfully, holding it to us. He invited me, and I obliged, fixing a silly face as we grooved. I blew a kiss to the camera before I leaned on my toes and spun my body around. 

My eyes immediately landed on Jon. He had a smoking Latina in his arms. She was giving him lots of work with her creative sensual moves. My body was spun again.

“You’ve given everybody your time tonight except for me. We ‘bout to be done with this shit and gone blow up. I wanna make the most of it with all y’all,” he shouted in my ear. “Give me my time, dammit!”

Teke swung me around again, holding my arm in the air. He yelled at Jemah not to go far because he wasn’t done with her.  His jovial enthusiasm was like water in a desert. For the first time, I could admit I actually liked Teke. Why had I waited so long to lower my guard? Assholes were good people, too.

At some point, Teke had Jemah and me under his arms and shouted over the music into our ears, “When we leave here, we should do another song together. Start something fresh. Y’all down?”

“Fuck, yeah!” Jemah pledged as Irv was bringing a tray of champagne over.

I grabbed one and sipped before nodding my accession, then raised the flute into the air. The group followed suit and we did the L.I.T. Music boot camp chant Rico made up last week while we were out at a restaurant.

That’s when I felt a soft tug at the back of my shirt. I turned and saw another pretty face my fuzzy brain registered as beautiful and familiar but couldn’t quite grasp it. She took me at the hand, backing me from my classmates, and I followed rhythmically as I tried remembering. It wasn’t until her face dipped toward the floor and I saw the tapered boy cut as she danced in front of me that it hit me.

Before I could utter her name, the darkest set of raven eyes came into view, scowling. When her ass backed up on him with security guards flanking all around, I decided not to shout Kennedi’s name in recollection and embarrass myself. I played it off, dancing right along with her. Turning and dipping, I missed when Young Lord’s hard stare left me and fell to his wife’s ass grinding up against him. They turned heavy while peering at her rump. He didn’t move, just leaned against one of the white leather floating booths with a circle of security around, barricading us—him and his wife—from the crowd inching close to get at him.

How and when did they get in without me noticing them? Young’s presence meant something other than it did the first time I was in his company. Then it was me being around a mega superstar. Tonight, it was me being around a boss, hoping he would be my boss when this boot camp was up. Kennedi danced toward me and embraced me while we moved.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” she gushed. “Had to practically pull Issy out of the house tonight. He moves like a darn snail!” 

I didn’t want to ask why. But I wanted to know. Kennedi had been really sweet when we met in December, but it’s not like we knew each other.

As the night progressed, I broke away from Kennedi and her husband. Young wanted to grab a drink in his V.I.P. booth and she decided to go with him. Also, it was clear my group was too intimidated to party with Young Lord and I wanted to be loyal and not an elitist, reminding them who I was married to. After I agreed to what I knew would be my last Brimm’s Lemon Drop, at the insistence of Jemah and Teke, I found myself still on the dance floor, working off the sinful cocktails and champagne, through heavy sweating and aching feet.

Over time, folks started doing their own thing. Rico took a girl up to our V.I.P. booth. Irv had an entire table of women entertained on the other side of the ground floor. One of the security paid to prioritize B City’s safety was put on patrol for him alone because everyone else was pretty much in the same vicinity with the other security. Jemah slipped away with a guy she met tonight, claiming she needed the restroom. The word claim must be emphasized because when I offered to go with her, she explicitly told me to fuck off directly in my ear and stop cock-blocking. I may have been tipsy, but I wasn’t too far removed from singlehood that I didn’t “get” adventure.

So, I found myself with Teke, Jon, and two other female strangers, dancing and singing along to old school tracks one deejay switched to. I found myself battling everyone in lip-synching and performing, which was hilarious fun. At one point, I found myself staring up at the ceiling thanks to Teke dipping me in the air. I was way beyond my limit, but it was an absolute blast. 

Irv was back in our little cypher, saying we needed to round up and meet in the back office for a word with Young Lord. After a few minutes of collecting everyone, we began back there with one of Young’s assistants directing us. When I checked the time on the way, I was shocked as hell to see it was after three in the morning. I hadn’t partied like this since… Forever. Ivie always said I grew into a senior citizen prematurely, trying to be “that bitch” and get degrees and shit. That thought had me snickering to myself while in motion with my group. I held on to Teke to keep from stumbling. Between my foggy brain and swelled feet, I was a delicate balance. 

We entered an elevator and ascended to a soundproof lobby that was contemporarily outfitted in dark woods and black leather. There was an abandoned receptionist booth immediately to the left. And just a few yards away, toward the right, was a room a familiar security guard waved us into. We filed in, all wobbly in movement, some with giggling fits along the way. As the room opened to me, I saw Kennedi at the far end of the conference table. She smiled demurely, appearing totally bushed.

Young stood at the middle of the table, back against the white board. I noticed he wore all black again like the night I met him in December. Only tonight, he’d donned a black tee, topped by gold chains of varying sizes, parachute sweat pants, and black suede Timberland boots. He was dressed according to the L.A. weather, but with the “Young Lord touch” of signature black. I knew Jersey b-boy style when I saw it.

“Yo, listen up,” he commanded the room. “Tonight kicks off my portion of boot camp. It’s the last of the program, too. I been hearing shit: some impressive”—His raven eyes brushed across a ruffled looking Jemah and then me—“some bullshit. But overall, I think we picked a tight group here. I ‘on’t know who gone be offered a contract, but I can guarantee it’ll be a fair one. No industry gimmicks. I ain’t no industry nigga, no matter my new rise in L.I.T. Music. With me, it’s simple. You put in the work; you eat. Ain’t no foreign language in that. I just want the most talented and cutting edge on my team.”

He eyed my entire group, who at some point lined up, arm to arm, facing him on the other side of the conference table.

“Coming here to Cobalt tonight was about understanding sound. I come here when I feel my ear is too clogged with monotone bullshit. It helps me get the lay of the land. One of my favorite features of this place is its range. Three different levels, three different sounds, all legit. There’s new vibes, classic, and eclectic. So when I need to create, I think the spirit of all three elements are important to a hit. Can’t go too eclectic or else nobody will listen. Can’t stay in classic, old school ‘cause you’re not evolving with the sounds. And keeping with the new shit is trendy. Trendy is fucking whack and’ll put a lil paper in ya pocket but won’t sustain you for a long ride.”

Once again, his jet-black orbs swept the small group. “Now I know y’all ain’t in no condition to take notes for this class, but I wanted to remind you that even though you here throwing them back, you still grindin’. Just like me. Unless I’m out with my lady, I’m working when I’m in the cut at dope ass clubs like this. It may look breezy, but my mind stay on one hun’ned, absorbing and creating.” And then the first smile I’d seen of him since meeting him at the restaurant appeared. I’d forgotten how nice it was. Disarming. “I doubt any of y’all was doing that out there. But tomorrow’s a new day—a few hours to be exact. We got a lot to cover, and it begins in my studio at two o’clock sharp. You late, you go home. Let’s end this on ya best foot.”

Irv and Jon shouted their excitement as though at a pep rally. It was contagious. I found myself pumping my fist, offbeat and all, I was so inebriated. Even Kennedi hooted from the end of the table, her beam at unbridled. Eyes chinked and teeth exposed. Young gave her a furtive smirk then a wink.

“Ai’ight,” he concluded the cheers, shouts, and laughs. “Time to sleep it off, get ya mind right. There’s a house five minutes from here. Dope place, just not as big as the rental outside of Phoenix. Everybody still gets their own room and there’s a private pool and Jacuzzi there. Enjoy,” he dismissed us.

Right away, one by one, we headed to the door. A huge weight landed on my shoulders and I almost lost my step.

“Fuuuuck, Teke!” Jemah cried on the other side of him when he dropped his arms around us at the same time. “I’m the whole fucked up right now. Like… The room is starting to spin and you wanna jump on somebody.”

The people ahead slowed, so we stopped judiciously. I wasn’t too steady myself. Just too oozy to verbalize it.

“How you fucked up when we got a track to lay?” Teke challenged with a smile and the rolling of his blond head. “Remember?” I rolled my eyes as I grunted, just wanting a bed and a glass of apple juice. “We starting from scratch. I already got a melody worked out.” He squeezed my shoulders.

“Yirp!” was howled across the room, halting just about everybody’s activities. I turned like everyone else and found it was Young Lord, standing next to Kennedi’s chair, scowling at us. “Yo, Wynter.” He did a reverse nod. “Where you going?”

I licked my dry lips, realizing I must look a sight at this hour, after all that drinking and dancing, and being in a different time zone just hours before. “Headed to the house.”

“Yeah, we ‘bout to be on our ‘no sleep’ shit and start some music,” Teke unnecessarily explained.

I wished he hadn’t. There was a different vibe about Young that rubbed me the wrong way. It was clear I wasn’t special amongst the group as I’d been previously. I was treated with extended handshakes and conversations after being introduced to the boot camp staff and affiliates. Young Lord only offered scowls and a repellant aura. Kennedi was cool, but I was glad to get away after encountering him tonight.

Young shook his head softly with a chin dipped low and blank eyes. “Nah. You bunking with us for this last part of the ride.”

The room quieted dramatically. Likely because we were all intoxicated to varying degrees. But we all knew Young Lord was the one to impress and respect. He was not only L.I.T. Music’s top running artist, he was a top tiered executive now, too. He was also my husband’s friend and confidant. This put me in an awkward position.   

“I got the room prepared for you,” Kennedi’s smile was sincere and big. “I thought you knew.”

But Young’s one brow lifted as though he waited for a challenge. I addressed his wife, the sweet friendly one.

“I didn’t.” I cleared my throat. “Plus, it seems kind of weird separating from my group. We kind of have plans for work. Plus,” I licked my lips again, trying to come up with an even way to say this. “It’s a little uncomfortable to be singled out just because of who my husband is. I don’t want the others to think I’m not here on merit.”

“You ain’t,” was all Lord uttered.

“Isaak!” Kennedi reached for his hand. “Wynter, it’s just that…” Her eyes swept up to her husband, whose regard refused to leave me. In fact, they traveled the arm encasing my shoulder. “Never mind. I can understand your position. Didn’t think about it that way. Maybe another time when you’re not working.”

“Nah.” Young expressed.

“No?” Kennedi’s eyes widened in seeming embarrassment.

“Nah. I ‘on’t give a fuck how it look. Everybody in here know what time it is. No disrespect, Wynter, but whatever y’all working on won’t get started tonight.” His keen regard shifted to Teke. “You can figure it out on your own. But Wynter, your stuff already in our ride. You’ll be staying with us until you go home.”

Something happened in those moments. Lines were drawn in the sand. It was powerful and tangible, because that’s how deeply it was felt. Now, in my inebriated state, I could challenge Young, cuss him clear the hell out for the power move he made on my person when I didn’t even know him. But shock had saturated all my sharp wit and I couldn’t produce a word of rebuttal. I couldn’t come up with anything to let him know I was not a part of his world. Because I wanted to be, just not with my marriage certificate.

“But Lord, my G, I know you gone be on us about fresh material. You want us on our sharpest shit, so we can win this thing. Breaking us up now ain’t getting us ahead.”

I could hear someone—a male, possibly Jon—whispering a warning for Teke to chill. That’s probably when I stopped breathing.

Young reached for Kennedi, who instinctively clasped his hand as she stood to move with him.

He shook his head while staring Teke dead in the face and told him, “I think you got me fucked up. I ‘on’t give a shit if you win or lose. Just looking for a winning team, fam.”

He headed out the door with a frazzled Kennedi at his heels. You could hear a pin drop in the room. I damn near fell to the floor when Teke’s heavy arm rolled off my shoulders, having to quickly switch up my balance.

Jemah’s eyes shot bullets in me, questioning what the fuck just happened, only I had no idea. Rico faced the wall, grabbing his head backwards as to express distress. Jon mumbled a string of expletives while shaking his head.

“Yo,” a deep voice void of familiarity barked, “Wynter, let’s go.” It was one of Young’s guards.

Humiliated, I began my journey, in front of everyone stunned into silence, toward the door.