Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (12 page)

BOOK: Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility)
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“Must we go there?” His head was tilted to the side to express annoyance.
Double cute
. It was a rare moment to not see Thompson’s arrogance in full bloom. “Are you free?”

I eyed him from ear to ear, with so many scenarios running through my mind.

“I can’t,” I sighed. He pushed out groan of defeat. “But!” I said, a pitch higher. “In lieu of lunch today, why don’t you guys come to my show tomorrow night. If she likes dance she should be inspired by some of the acts taking place there. It’s a fundraiser and should be fun for an uncle and niece date.”

“Your show? You promote shows?” Thompson wore an earnest look of confusion.

“No. I dance. It’s just a hobby, something to break the monotony of physical therapy.” I tried to make clear. “Wait…. How old is she?”

“Seventeen.”

“Cool. Some of the material is age appropriate, but it’s all artful.”

“Okay. What type of dancing are you into?”

“I do a few types, ballroom, hip-hop, jazz and a little tap, but there should be a little ballet and salsa there at the show, too. What’s she into?”

“I believe hip-hop.”

“Oh, yeah. She should be fine. There will be lots of flavor there to expose her to.” I smiled. Thompson was off balance, his face blank of expression. “What’s wrong? You don’t have to feel obligated to come.”

“No….no! It’s just that…” I gave him a few seconds to gather his words, eager to hear what was running through mind. “Never mind. We’ll be there,” he said, dismissing his previous thoughts.

I wrote down the address to the theater and he left. Something was weird about his visit. Perhaps because the temperament of our exchange was lighter for once. Thompson always led with his ego. His aura had always been foul, in my opinion, and met with resistance from me. Today he was humbled. Cute even. Cute in a
stray puppy dog that I could feed today
way. Bizarre.

My day continued with little effort. I headed straight to the dance studio after work for a full run-through that included props and background dancers. There were two skits that the entire group participated in; the opening of the show and the closing. My act was somewhere in the middle. I didn’t get cussed out much by Jimmie. In fact, I was bestowed several satisfactory nods throughout my number, and for that I was relieved.

That night once I turned down, I tried to mentally and emotionally get a handle on what I had managed to force to the rearest of rears in my mind; Azmir’s cheating on me with Dawn Taylor. As I sat at the vanity in the bathroom, trying to pack make-up for the show, my mind churned with images of Azmir’s head descending toward Dawn’s mouth. And when my visual got to the point of Dawn’s reaction to it, my heart twisted and my throat closed.

Did he butterfly his tongue with her the way that he does with me?
I swear, that single act from him, whether it’s in my mouth or between my legs, takes me places a plane couldn’t give access to.
Did it do the same for Dawn?
The tears wouldn’t stop. The hard bellow from the marrow of my soul echoed throughout the bathroom.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but I logged back into his mobile phone account. I wanted to see if there was further conversation between Azmir and Dawn. To my relief there wasn’t. Torturing myself further, I also scrolled back up to the texts from earlier this week, feeling the need to see it again, to be sure I wasn’t mistaking. That
that
part of my recent string of misfortunes wasn’t just a dream—a nightmare. I felt a trickle of pain that I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. I logged out, not wanting to find any other heart-wrenching news. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, so I cried myself to sleep.

I was hit with another blow that following morning. Azmir informed me that he wouldn’t be able to make to the show. He called first thing that morning, awakening me from my sleep. I don’t know why I felt the twinge of disappointment that I did, knowing he’d cheated on me just days ago. But strangely enough, I did. How could you be thwarted by someone who has ripped your heart right out of your chest?
I don’t have an answer
.

“Brimm, you there?” Azmir asked after my delayed reaction to his news.

It also didn’t help that hearing his voice, his morning voice, woke my libido. It stirred something deep down in my belly. My insides betrayed me, liquidating. He still had a hold of me, to the core of me. It would make sense seeing he did in fact, steal my heart from its icy chambers. Azmir owned me.

“Ummmm…yeah, I’m here.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you since yesterday. I didn’t want to text this to you. What the hell’s been going on with you? Have you been that preoccupied with preparing for this show? I haven’t heard your voice since Thursday morning. You scared the shit out of me the other night!” Azmir took a moment to breathe. “I was ten minutes away from the airport when Roberto called to tell me he’d reached you.” He paused again, this time for an explanation.

I had none.
You wanna  hear how last night I discovered you cheated on me with Dawn Taylor?

I exhaled, frustrated that I didn’t know where to go with all of this. I’d literally had no one I trusted to share this with. Even talking to Pastor Edmondson was out of the question. I certainly wasn’t prepared to deal with it at this point. I’d much preferred focusing all of my energies on the show.

Azmir relented. He attempted a cease fire. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. These assholes are trying to get over on us and it’s costing me flight and other accommodations to get my attorneys down here on a Saturday to let them know that the shit ain’t going down. I’m not even sure how long this will take or if it will run into my Miami trip next week. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

A tear slipped from my swollen eyes.

“Azmir, I’m good. Go, take care of business. I’ll be fine.” When I heard how dry that slipped, I buffered it by saying, “I need to wake up and head over to Adrian’s.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I wouldn’t be offended if you were disappointed—”

“No. I’m fine,” I cut him off, rushing out my words in a quick breath. I couldn’t manage much more. I was about to break.

“Have a great show, Brimm. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” Azmir murmured apologetically.

My heart sunk at his words. They were filled with so much sorrow and promise, but it may have been too late. He had betrayed me.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

My heart was racing and my mouth had gone dry. I was on stage, behind the curtain, waiting for my music cue. There was no announcement of names at this type of show, guests had to follow the program to know who was performing. I’d gone to the bathroom for the fourth time before curtain call, so my nervous bladder had no excuse.

The auditorium was quiet as the audience was anticipating the performances as well. I heard the bass drop and in that moment all anxiety had left my body and the memory of my muscles took over.


I know you don’t usually hear me talk like this…but I got a little game that I wanna play…

I’d invited my guests in for a show.

And suddenly no one was in the room, but me and the music. Every word that Tamia belted radiated from my core. I demonstrated it from top of my head to heels of my feet. My twirls, figure-eight hip sways, leaps, jumps, and flips were all perfectly timed and executed with true passion;
passion that I’d experienced time and time again with Azmir
.


So, come and get it…get it…I’m so excited I can’t hide my feelings…get it
!”

I gave Azmir total control of my person because of things he commanded from it. The way he brought out a sensual side of me that I didn’t know existed. How he made my body do things and answer to him in ways I’d never dreamt possible. It amazed me how he knew crevices and soft spots and sensitive locations and could summons responses to his skilled acts of lovemaking. I could never get enough of that. I didn’t want to lose that.     

Tamia’s voice was strong and my male background dancers, who made cameos throughout the performance, were virile and well-coordinated.

Azmir somehow appeared in my mind and suddenly, he and I were there alone. I had become aroused. I adlibbed, “
Close the door! I want you! I need you, baby.

I extended my arms to the floor, inches away from my feet, pushed my hips and swung my body a few yards the way I did when Azmir caught me practicing in my room a few months back. He loved that move and showed me just how much right then and there. It caused me to push harder in my performance. I was one with the music, so much so that I could swear that I’d felt a quickening deep in my canal.

Boom-boom-bap. And one-two-three. Dip - swing - jump.
I sang in my head, trying to keep my counts.
1-2-3-4... “I can’t get enough of yooooooou!”

I ended, lying on my back with my legs behind me, nearly touching my head. I laid there panting hard, trying to come down from the salacious ride I’d just been on. I must have been down there too long because my male dancers, who were not involved at the end of the number, reappeared to help me up. With a wave, I gestured it wasn’t necessary, but that’s when my ears popped and I heard the explosive applauses from the audience. I stood to curtsy as I saw them standing in ovation. I was blown away, awakening second by second from my trance.

God, I love that man! Hopelessly. Completely.
A surge of pain rocked my chest.

After our collective closing number that included all dancers, we all dashed off the stage, many of us in a rush to gather our things so that we could quickly greet our guests. Jimmie was standing in the wings, singing praises and clapping his hands like a proud papa…
or mama
. He stopped several of the dancers to give personal evaluations. I’d scrambled out of my costume and into my change of clothes, hoping not to be delayed. I told Chanell via text that I’d be right out after the last act.

I was able to deliver on my promise and located them with no problem at all, considering we’d just about had a full house. As I approached them, Chanell was chanting my name, “Rayna!…Rayna!…Rayna!” in a deep tenor note.

Kim was smiling from ear to ear, looking as if she was the beaming proud big sister. Kid didn’t notice me coming their way and was typing into his phone. Wop stood there looking out of his element, eyeing everyone that walked too close to him. And Petey was chatting on the phone. A small part of me wondered if it was Azmir on the other end of that call, but I stowed my curiosity, figuring if he isn’t here it didn’t matter anyway. Once I got to them, I distributed hugs and cheek kisses. The small crowd was full of compliments.

“Yo, Ray! Yo, I ain’t know you could move like that! You gotta teach your home girl some shit!” Chanell yelped in her usual enthusiasm. I smiled at her with modesty.

“Oh, please! Chanell, you’re the one who taught me how to Dougie,” I reminded her of her skills. She laughed bashfully, something I didn’t experience often at all from her.

Kid cut between Kim and Chanell with his arms stretched. “That was dope, Rayna. Y’all got some skills up in this bitch. I’m glad I came, yo…word up!” Kid smelled good and looked his usual urban self. He wore an oversized red leather jacket, baggie jeans, a graphic tee with red and black Timberland boots. His hair was neatly corn-rowed to the back, curling at the end of his neck. I couldn’t ignore his dime-sized diamond studs, the left one scrapped me during our rapid embrace. I was relieved to see Syn was pleasantly absent.

“I’m glad you came, too, Kid. I appreciate the support,” I returned. Kid barely looked me in the eye. I figured it was a sign of respect because of my relationship with Azmir, who was some sort of mentor to Kid.

Kim followed up with a hug and whispered in my ear so that no one could hear, “Girl, how much these classes cost? I need to bring my fat ass down here to help me get rid of this weight.”

“He’s very reasonable. To be honest, that’s one of the many reasons I started. Then I got hooked,” I admitted and we laughed.

“Ms. Brimm!” I heard a familiar voice call from behind me. It was a little alarming because outside of work, only Azmir addressed me by my last name and that clearly wasn’t his voice. I turned to find Brian Thompson standing with his hands over the shoulders of a beautiful adolescent girl with glowing brown skin and hair spilling over her shoulders. Her smile was soft yet admirable.

Thompson looked good in his blue jeans, gray button up shirt and violet sweater vest. He had style. His eyes bounced between mine in elation and wonder. My breath caught. Not only was he a sight for sore eyes, but I had completely forgotten about inviting them. When I extended the invitation, I was so wrapped up in a vindictive web from my heartbreak. Those maleficent feelings that I honed in yesterday were now temporarily at bay, seeing all of my supporters there.

“Brian! You…you guys came. This must be your niece, the future dancer,” I beamed, extending my hands to her. I didn’t realize that she had been holding a gorgeous bouquet of flowers for me until she extended her arms for me to retrieve them. Brian’s eyes squinted seductively, which told me the flowers were his idea.

“Oh, wow! Thank you. My name is Rayna. What’s yours?” I asked the young girl. There was something endearing about her eager and innocent eyes.

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