Lauren’s name on his phone brought him crashing down off the cloud Charlie had him on. He set the call to voicemail, and just as he expected, her text came through.
LO
Hey, baby. I’m here, where are you?
Demi frowned and his stomach sank. He wanted to ask her what she was doing there. Lauren didn’t come to showcases often. When she stepped out it was a big deal, but she had been working hard lately and his son had a demanding schedule, so she hadn’t been in the mood to be arm candy for months.
DEMI
I had to step out. Business. Got to take a trip. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what’s up.
LO
What do you mean a trip? How long?
DEMI
No phones. Go home. It ain’t nothing to worry about. It’s just a quick trip. I’m back Monday.
I’ma call you in the morning.
Demi sensed her hesitation because she didn’t respond right away. He knew Lauren was choosing her words carefully.
LO
K. I love you.
DEMI
Love.
“Everything okay?” Charlie’s voice pulled him back, erasing his urge to leave, but his mind dwelled on Lauren. She didn’t deserve this. He had never been this man to her. She had never had to worry about another woman. A part of him wished it had never happened, but as Charlie placed her hands to his back and he turned to stare in her eyes, he remembered why he was doing this.
“Yeah,” he said, putting his phone on DO NOT DISTURB, then tossing it to the chair.
He took a finger to her scars. “What happened here?” he asked.
She seemed to shrink some, recoiling as she turned and rushed to the closet, pulling out the hotel robe. Demi shook his head.
“You gon’ have to keep that off, Bird. They don’t wash them shits,” he said. “You don’t got to hide your body from me and you don’t got to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to,” she confirmed. “Maybe one day but not today.”
His nostrils flared at the sight of her eyes prickling with emotion. Whatever story those scars told was a painful one. Someone had hurt her badly. He could tell and it made him want to hurt everybody, anybody in her life that had ever brought her pain.
Charlie went to the bed and found solace under the duvet. “Come’re.”
The sight of her, under white sheets; sheets he had changed himself before she had come up, pulled him to the bed.
Her naked body was beautiful. Flawed. Marked up, but somehow, he had never seen anything quite as remarkable as Charlie. It was like the scars were the source of emotion in hervoice. When she sang, whatever hurt had caused those scars floated from her mouth. She lifted the cover for him, and he sank into the bed. Under those white sheets, they built a home. A little teepee of connection and passion as Charlie covered his head.
“Want to tell me what we doing under here?” he asked.
“Blocking everything out,” she whispered as she turned to him. Demi stared at her.
“You know all you got to do is say the word and anybody that ever hurt you can like not breathe no more. That’s the type of nigga I am. That’s who you fucking with. I want you to know that. I’m in this music shit, but that I ain’t who I always been. I turn into a whole different nigga sometimes. I’m violent, Bird. I lose my shit sometimes. My mind don’t always stay with me. I’ve done shit. I’ve hurt people...”
Charlie was trembling and her eyes stung as she stared in his eyes. It was like he wasn’t even speaking to her, like she wasn’t even there. She wondered if his mind had left the room in this moment. The way he described his temperament gave her chills. Being here with Demi was like flirting with death, like walking the edge of a cliff and praying the wind didn’t blow too hard. She wanted to touch him but was afraid to. What if he snapped? Like he had in the bathroom... No, Charlie would keep her hands to herself. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
