Page 28 of Kisses Behind the Spotlight

On the contrary, I doubted she would be proud of Xain for holding me hostage twice. I rolled my eyes, thankful that my back was turned. Stifling my internal thoughts took strength, but I relaxed my face before reclaiming my seat. Chicken noodle soup with a mourning maniac. How dreadful.

“So you like crossword puzzles. Did your granny have you watching the stories too growing up?” Xain interrupted my thoughts.

“You know it,” I chuckled. “The stories taught me how dirty life could get before I was old enough to understand. Did your grandma teach you how to cook?”

“Granny definitely taught me how to throw down. Maybe one day I’ll cook you something,” Xain faltered.

The thought of Xain cooking for me didn’t sound too bad, but I’d never admit that aloud.

We finished our soup in silence, and Xain took it upon himself to clean the kitchen. I was thankful. The cramps were on my ass. All I had energy for was two Tylenol Extra Strengths and a nap. And that was exactly what I went into the room to do.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Q

My alarm went off, notifying me that I slept longer than I’d planned. The absence of Jameera’s overstuffed bonnet instantly annoyed me. I hated waking up in our bed, and her ass was already gone. That was a horrible start to my day, especially when my dick was hard. When I got in from the studio last night, Jameera was already asleep. I didn’t smell breakfast wafting through the air or hear keys clicking in Jameera’s office, so I knew she wasn’t home.

Pulling the covers back, I sauntered into the bathroom, relieved my bladder, and got myself together for the day. My phone was vibrating back-to-back on the nightstand when I re-entered my bedroom. I put my phone on DND and slipped it into the pocket of my Versace robe because I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone that wasn’t family. My mama, siblings, and Jameera could still call if they needed me.

Before I did anything else, I retrieved my weekly pill organizer from the top drawer of my nightstand and took my morning anti-rejection medications. Taking the pills twice a day was a part of my daily routine for the past eight years. They were what kept my body from turning against the kidney that had given me a second chance. Taking the pills was as routine as brushing my teeth in the morning; forgetting them was never an option. My hand trembled as I brought the water to my lips, and I had to wait a few seconds before taking a long swig to swallow the pills.

I stepped onto the terrace connected to our bedroom and gripped the cool metal railing tightly, letting the sun’s warmth ease the tension from my body. After my kidney transplant, I had to quit smoking weed. With all the rejection scares I’d been through, quitting cold turkey wasn’t hard at all. My desire to live and avoid any further complications greatly outweighed my need to get high. Having Jameera in my life was so beneficial back then. I learned to relax in ways I previously thought were bullshit. Meditation, starting my morning sitting in the sun for a few silent minutes, lavender plants in our bedroom, and hitting the gym were all a part of my daily routine now. Knocking on death’s door had a way of slowing a nigga down and putting life in a different perspective.

Overlooking the water, I thought about my life. I was living out all of my dreams. The bullet to the abdomen and kidney transplant didn’t stop shit. The cool breeze graced my exposed skin as my phone rang, interrupting my time alone. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw Quincy’s picture lighting up my screen.

My big brother Quincy was traded to Atlanta two years ago, and that’s where he settled. He loved it. Rarely brought his ass home unless it was for a family gathering. Not having the person closest to me in the same city was difficult at first, but it was time to cut the cord. Baseball would probably take him further away before it brought him back home again.

“Yooo,” I answered.

“You good?” Quincy questioned, sounding like he was out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m good. You good? Why you sound like you running or something?”

“I’m on the treadmill, so technically I am running. You must not have been on your phone today,” he suggested.

“Nah, as soon as I woke up I put it on DND because it was ringing nonstop. I was in the studio late and slept in. I wasn’t in the mood for a bunch of motha fuckas,” I explained, then thought about both of his questions. We often checked in with each other, but this time his tone was different. He sounded hesitant, like he was about to deliver bad news. I walked back to the chairs positioned between the tall plants on the terrace. It was better to be sitting than standing if I was about to have to deal with some bullshit. “Why? What happened?”

“Ummm…” he faltered, frustrating me.

“Just spit whatever it is the fuck out!” I demanded. “Stop beating around the bush.”

“That nigga D3 dropped a diss track about you…”

“Man, I’m not worried about that silly shit. He must want some clout, and he won’t get it off my name. Ion even know jit. He probably just salty because he asked me to get on a track and I been busy, I ain’t had time. James is his manager, and I was going to do him the favor, but now he ruined that shit,” I surmised.

“He mentioned Jameera in his song,” Quincy added.

“Whatchu mean?” I sat up, actually interested in the conversation with that additional piece of information. “And the cover to the song is a picture of Jameera in his hotel room. He ain’t wearing shit but a pair of boxers and holding her hip. They look real… uhhhh.”

“Real what nigga?” I fumed, my blood boiling.

All of that zen shit I came out here for went out the window. I was up on my feet, heading back inside. With Quincy on speaker, I listened while looking for Jameera’s location. It had her in the building, so she had to be at Amill’s place.

“Real fucking familiar, nigga! Ain’t no telling what was going on in that hotel room, familiar.”

I felt like my world was crumbling and I struggled to breathe. My mind went back to all the recent thoughts I’d had about how little time we were spending together and how we were always missing each other. My heart sank. I knew my brother well enough to know that Quincy would never lie about no shit like that. At the same time, I needed to see it for myself.

Plopping onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, I hung up on Quincy to see the pictures in question. I went directly to D3’s page, and this fuck nigga had the nuts to tag me in that shit. Everything was just as Quincy described. I zoomed in on the picture to get a closer look. You couldn’t get a good look at Jameera’s face, but I memorized everything about the woman I’d been with since high school. That was her ass, standing in front of that nigga.