

### ILLUMINATED AFTERMATH

### Racq Symphony

Published by Racq Symphony

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright © 2016 Illuminated Aftermath.  
All rights reserved.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this eBook may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express permission in writing of the author.

# Table of Contents

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Scene 6

Scene 7

Scene 8

Scene 9

Scene 10

Scene 11

Scene 12

Scene 13

Scene 14

Scene 15

Scene 16

Scene 17

Scene 18

About Racq Symphony

Other Books by Racq Symphony

Connect with Racq Symphony

To The People's Rapper.

Thank you for your consistency and love for this thing called hip-hop. Stay passionate and remember nobody can beat you at being you. Love.

#  SCENE 1

From my office windows I can see the lights from the ambulance and police cars screaming and racing down the clean streets of Chicago while being cleansed by the tears of God as they fall from His eyes in the sky. "Why did I let them drag me out to that place last night?" I asked myself. I must admit, I really enjoyed myself. Singing, dancing, and inebriated just enough to cause my senses to flare up and my kitty to awaken from her slumber. She yearned for him to slide inside my boy shorts. God's tears washed up against my office windows, cleansing what I thought was my sinful soul. I hadn't been out since before I got married and hadn't had an alcoholic drink since I was a teenager. Me, the church girl who played with other people's money all day for a living. Yes, me.

I allowed my coworkers to talk me into going to a concert, a hip-hop concert at that. The place was nice, well lit, lots of sitting room. It was nothing how I imagined it. The décor was a little on the vintage side but it meshed well with the people that decorated the place. Some old, some young and a mixture of some that you couldn't tell who was what with what. Yeah, that type of atmosphere. Ashley and Samantha invited me to tag along with them to the concert to see some artist named A.J. Styles. They said he was the next one in line to get hip-hop back on map. I've been so out of touch with reality that I hadn't notice that it was falling off. Ashely said his lyrics reached the souls of the people and that he was really down to earth. I definitely hadn't heard of him until that night.

We sat in the back left corner of the club. It was a grown-up atmosphere. The ambience was amazing. Low lights and smooth grooves until he took the stage. He stood at about 5'9 from the angle that I saw him and it was a good angle at that. He was dressed in a black fitted skull cap, a black t-shirt that said, _"misunderstood"_ across his chest. Something told me that he wore that title in more than one area of his life. He had on some heavy black jeans. Not the kind that the new age citizens of the US wear. They weren't skinny, didn't melt into his skin. They fit, a little baggy in some places, but they were tailor made to fit his frame. While Ashley and Samantha flirted with everything with legs and a dick that came to the table with drinks, I gawked at my cell phone hoping that tonight it would remain silence. No texts, emails or phone calls. Nothing would be an emergency tonight. It didn't take long before the waiter came over and took our drink orders. You would have thought this was an upscale restaurant. Maybe I had been so locked away with work and no social life that I'd forgotten that everything around me was changing. Clubs were no longer clubs, not like I remembered. They were social establishments that allowed you to be all you could be and whoever you wanted to be—at least until their doors closed.

You could lace yourself with the finest of fake jewelry, expensive knock off clothing, a weave as long as the Mag mile, creating an image to lure the most gullible man in the room. Back in the day, women took pride in how they stepped out of the house. Their inside matched their outside. These days, the only things they pride in are makeup tutorials, online beef with other women over ain't shit men and shoes—women still love shoes.

Once our drinks were delivered back to the table, I sipped on mine and watched him. I ordered an Amaretto sour with a few extra cherries. It's the only drink I knew to order. He came out to the stage, checked the mic, looked around and we locked eyes for a few seconds. I guess my appearance made me stand out. Most of the women there were half naked with their breast hanging out and some already drunk before they arrived. I guess the theme was all white and since I had on a pale pink colored outfit, I really stood out. He smiled at me and I smiled back, timidly dropped my head. "Why did I do that?" I thought. I'm no school girl. A church girl definitely, somewhat shielded from the real world, bruised by a marriage that was wrong from the beginning but a church girl nonetheless.

I looked back up and he was gone. Typical. I sipped on my drink a little more, thought about work, and the mounds of paper work sitting on my desk and hundreds of unread emails waiting for my review, backlash and response. My work life was demanding. My personal life was nonexistent. I was the ex-wife of a big named preacher. We were married for a few years before I found out he was using me as the facade to his down low lifestyle. Yeah, I was his first lady on paper, in the church and on every billboard across the city but behind closed doors, I was second to every man he desired. Maybe that's why he locked eyes with me. Maybe not. I had hoped not. My divorce took a lot out of me. I was hurt, betrayed and condemned by the church for another man's sins. The place that I thought I was the safest ended up being the source of my breakdown. After my ex-husband tried to destroy my name and my character, after I spent years building myself back up and being healed from his lies and deceit, I was determined to stay away from any and everything that had potential to cause tsunami size damage to my brick house frame ever again until that night at the Mid.

It was time for the show to start. The D.J. came over the mic, started the crowd up again and out of shadows walked A.J. Styles. He graced the stage, took the mic and locked eyes with me again. I smiled, felt butterflies in my stomach that I hadn't felt in years. He told the crowd that he was A.J. Styles, the best rapper alive and believe me, he wasn't lying.

His rhymes were like Biggie and Tupac went in Dr. Frankenstein's lab and the creation that walked out wasn't a monster. It was A.J. Styles. He had swagger like Dr. Dre, rhymed like Pete Rock and Grandmaster Flash and lyrical speed like Mystical and Twista combined. His fire was like Crucial Conflict and Bone Thugz-N- Harmony. He was unapologetically a rapper for today's people.

His lyrics brought back memories that night. Memories that I thought I couldn't get back. Memories of my childhood. Growing up in church, I wasn't allowed to listen to anything but gospel music. When my parents weren't home or when I was with my school friends, I loved to listen to R&B, jazz and hip-hop.

A few of my all-time favorites were DJ Kool, Slick Rick, Doug E. Fresh and Kurtis Blow. Throughout the night, he often glanced over in my direction. I thought it was just him trying to make sure everyone was involved but his eyes lingered. I babysat that one Amaretto sour drink all night and it had me tipsy because church girls don't drink and when they do, one drink is all it takes.

I enjoyed his show. It left me speechless, hungry and other places of me thirsty for a drink I hadn't had in years. Before I could ponder any longer on my eventful night, Ashley and Samantha barged into my office and closed the door.

"So, did you enjoy yourself?" Ashley asked me.

"I hate to admit it but yes, I did. And you were right. It felt good to get out of the house again."

"I notice A.J. kept looking at you," Samantha said.

"Me too, Sam. He was eyeing you down, girl," Ashely replied.

"I don't think he was," I said. But I secretly kept thinking about why he was so intrigued by me.

"Come on Simone, you know you think he's cute," Samantha replied.

"Well cute or not, I don't have time to play guessing games with you ladies right now. I have to finish these reports and then I'm going home. It's raining horribly outside and I don't wanna stay here any later than I have to today."

"Alright then miss _"I have to finish these reports"_. That man wants you. I could tell it in his eyes. It's all in the eyes, girl," Samantha said.

Before I could open my mouth to fire back at Samantha, a knock came to my office door. A delivery of flowers—for me. Twenty four, long stem red roses. I signed for them, tipped the delivery guy and sat them on my desk. At first I thought it was a sick joke of some sort from my ex-husband but then again, I hadn't spoken to him in at least two years. Why would he send me flowers? I removed the card from the center of the bouquet and read it. _"You were really beautiful last night. Hope you liked the show and the flowers. -Andre."_

#  SCENE 2

Andre? Who in the hell was Andre and why was he looking at me and sending me flowers? I sat in my chair, dumbfounded.

"Girl, who sending you flowers? Do you have a man that we don't know about?" asked Samantha

"Chill out, Sam. I don't have a man. The card says Andre but I have no clue as to who Andre is."

"Did you say Andre? As in A.J. Styles? From the concert last night?" said Ashley.

"Is his real name Andre?" I said. Samantha and Ashley both confirmed. I couldn't believe it. We only looked at each other, never even had a conversation and he sends me flowers—to my office. How did he know my name, where I worked, who I was?

"I told you he was checking you out, girl," Samantha uttered.

Ashley followed up sarcastically, "Simone has a love interest—a rapper. Isn't that sweet. Before you know it, he's gonna have you rolling with him in his 64' Impala." They both laughed and left my office. I read the card again, smelled the flowers and read the card a third time, then I smiled. If Andre was really A.J. Styles, then I was very intrigued as to why he chose me. Out of all the beautiful women in that place last night, he sent me flowers.

I finished my work, sent all my emails, and confirmed a few meetings for later in the week and into next month. I left the office a little later than I normally would on a weekday. The rain had stopped. I made a stop to grab a bite to eat and went home to my two bedroom condo on the northwest side of town in the suburbs of Chicago. I grabbed my purse and food, walked inside of the lobby, spoke to James, our bellhop and attendant and grabbed the first available elevator to my floor. I lived a very comfortable, stable and quiet life by myself. I enjoyed coming home after a long day of work, kicking my shoes off and mellowing out to some nice old school R&B or gospel, depending on the mood I was in. It was my home and I could do whatever I wanted. I leaned back on the elevator wall, closed my eyes and thought about the flowers. They were so beautiful and they smelled incredible. Before I could drift off any further, the elevator doors opened and I got off, headed down to my door. When I got there, it was a note sticking out from the side of my door. I removed it and read it.

" _I think you're really beautiful and hopefully I'll get the chance to take you out. -Andre."_

"Again?" I said to myself. This man must really think I'm something if he found my home. I opened my door, walked in and I dropped everything in my hands onto floor, including my mouth. My condo was completely filled with red roses. For a minute, I couldn't speak. It was as if the words were out to sea without a life raft to float up and out of my mouth.

I walked from the vestibule to the kitchen to the main room. Roses. Tall, long and red. I went into my bedroom and there was a single rose laid across it with another note attached. I was overwhelmed. No man had ever put that much energy into pursuing me, especially a man that I hadn't shared two words with, just eye contact. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe it is true. Maybe he saw into my soul.

I sat on the bed, kicked my shoes off and read the note.

" _I hope I haven't spooked you, but I really want to get to know you. Call me –Andre."_

My smile lit up the room. I wasn't sure why but in that moment, I felt new. I felt like I was a teenager back in middle school, being chased by the most handsome boy in the school. Apart of me wanted this, needed the attention. Another part of me wasn't ready for it but I glanced back at the note again. Those same butterflies that visited me the night at the club came back. I laid back on my bed, stretched out my arms and my legs, stared into the ceiling and wondered if I should call him or maybe text him. "No. Texting is so informal." I said. I wonder what his voice sounded like without stage lights, cameras and microphones around.

I allowed my mind to travel back to that night. His smile was beautiful, illuminating the entire stage without the lights. The attraction was definitely there. "I should call him and thank him for the flowers." I said. I sat up in my bed, picked up my phone and dialed the number that was written on the card, hoping that I would get his voicemail. My heart beat was fast like a drum during a battle of the bands in the south. Every time the phone rang, I could feel my breathing getting fainter. I was nervous. He answered and I felt my soul leave my body.

"Hello."

I couldn't speak. There was no voice in my body. I froze. What was wrong with me? I spoke very eloquently at work and before large bodies of people but my words just wouldn't come together. They parted like the red sea.

"Hello. Yo, who is this?" He said. I shook myself, blinked rapidly and somehow found a voice to reply back to him.

"Hi, is this Andre?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm Andre."

"I was calling to thank you for the flowers— all of them. You didn't have to do that."

"It's the Pretty Lady from the club. How are you, Miss Lady?"

"I'm well, and yourself?"

"I'm better now that you called. I was hoping that you would. Let me back up for a second. I don't know your name, Miss Pretty Lady."

"Simone—my name is Simone Donovan."

"Simone. That's very elegant and what not. I like it."

"Thank you."

"So, Miss Simone, if you don't mind, can I take you out to dinner—that's if you're not too busy to dine with a brotha like me."

I kept my composure on the other end of the phone but inside I was a melting pot. His voice was like hot caramel; smooth yet rugged and then it happened again. He spoke so well, his voice was so soothing that I moistened at the first _hello_. The feeling that I felt had been asleep for so long, I didn't know how to control it.

"I would love to have dinner with you."

"Is tonight too soon?"

"Tonight?" I thought about the food that I picked up on the way home. At that point, it was cold enough to become lunch for the next day. "Tonight is fine. Where shall I meet you?"

"Meet me? Nah, I'll pick you up, let's say in an hour. Is that enough time to do what beautiful women like you need to do to get ready?"

I glanced over my attire, let out a sigh and realized that I needed a shower to remove the stress of the workday. There was no need in me going to dinner smelling like worry and frustration and looking like I just contemplated jumping off of the mountain of paperwork still on my desk at the office.

"Can you give me an hour and ten minutes?"

"Ten extra minutes? That's why you're so beautiful. It takes a little more time than the average woman. I get it. I'll see you in an hour and ten minutes, Miss Simone."

We hung up the phone and I almost passed out. I hadn't been on a date in years. Come to think of it, I don't think I had ever been on a date before, at least not a proper date. This man that I hardly even know was on his way to my place of refuge, my home, to pick me up and take me to dinner. Me—in his car—to dinner.

He knew nothing about me, nothing about my past, nothing about my present and absolutely nothing about the future that I often fantasized about. For a minute, I just sat there, smiling and blushing. It took a lot to make a chocolate girl like myself blush but he managed to do it effortlessly and over the phone. I could only imagine what he could do when I got in his presence.

#  SCENE 3

I jumped in the shower, cleaned my body like I was going to the doctor for my annual physical. I was nervous, excited and every other emotion that came with a first date. The butterflies in my stomach were working overtime. I lotion myself with a Shea Butter and Honey body butter, put on my black lace Victoria secret underwear with matching bra and stood in the doorway of my walk-in closet searching for the perfect items to put on.

"He didn't say where we were going. Should I put on some jeans and a nice top? Nah, that's too comfortable. What about this dress? Ugh, that's too fancy. I wish I could just put on some sweats and call it a night."

I quickly became overwhelmed. It wasn't brain surgery. It was just a date with a man who had taken an interest in me and I had no idea what to expect from him. No pressure at all. Who was I kidding? It was a lot of pressure. I could feel the worry crashing all around me like the walls of Jericho.

I decided to wear a plain black dress. It was sexy, simple and elegant. It came to my knees, accented every curve that God blessed me with and covered my breasts and shoulders. That same dress could get me cut twelve different ways if I wore it to church. But I wasn't going to church that night. I was going out with A.J. Styles. I didn't care about his career. That was a persona. I was interested in Andre. I wanted to see what he saw in me that made him flood my house with roses and my love with honey, so much honey.

I paired my dress with a pair of black, snakeskin pointy toe pumps. They made my calves look amazing and they'd never been out of the box. Tonight would be a good night to break them in. I pulled my long box braids back just enough so he could see my face. "All of this work for a man I hardly know. He'd better be worth it." I said to myself. I sprayed on some of my Prada Candy perfume and adorned my neck with a simple diamond necklace and matching earrings.

It was time for him to arrive soon. I sat at the bar in my kitchen, checked the time on my phone for what seemed like an eternity. Only a few seconds had passed by. I was more anxious waiting for him to arrive than I was walking down the aisle on the day that I married my ex-husband. I thought about him. Thought about all the nights I spent alone at home while he was out preaching God's word when really he was out screwing men, all in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. I thought about the nights that I cried myself to sleep, thinking that I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't experienced enough for him. Truth is, I would have never been enough to satisfy the craving of another man's penis.

Then my doorbell resounded throughout the house. I stood up, straightened my dress, grabbed my phone and purse and went to the door. I opened the door and there he was...just as handsome as I remembered him at the concert. He wore a black t-shirt, black jeans and whatever Jordan of the day he chose for the night. He adorned his head with a fitted black hat and a single 24-karat gold necklace draped around his neck with a matching watch. His lips were gorgeous, kissable even. He had lips that curved to make a perfect heart and an accompanying smile that was so beautiful it would make you write a check your ass couldn't cash. He was simplicity in its sexiest form. I breathed in then I let out a long awaited breath. His gorgeous brown eyes raked across my frame and then he opened his mouth. I could have fainted.

"Damn, girl! You look amazing," he said

I blushed, moved my braids behind my left ear and replied, "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself. Quite handsome actually."

"Handsome, huh?" he chuckled. So, are you ready to go?"

"Yes. After you." I closed and locked my door and we walked to the elevator. The doors opened and we got in. I could feel his eyes looking through me. I stood there, holding my purse and phone and breathed, afraid to say anything that would make it obvious that I hadn't had a man's attention in years. He moved a little closer to me and grabbed my hand. Instantly, I felt comfortable as if he and I had known each other forever, maybe in a past life time.

The elevator arrived to the ground floor, my hand was still in possession of his and we departed my building. His car was not the tricked out big rimmed, chromed out, loud color ride that I expected. He drove a 2016 Bentley Continental GT Coupe. He opened the door and the inside gave way to the dark brown leather seats and bright white lights. I thanked him for opening my door. I didn't think men still did that anymore. I got in, he closed the door and I strapped on my seatbelt and waited for him to get inside. He walked around the back of the car, opened the driver's door and joined me inside. The sweet smell of his Polo Black cologne captured my senses.

"Mmm—you smell like heaven." I said

"Thank you, Miss Pretty Lady," he responded. He glanced at me, flashed that six million dollar smile, put the car in drive and we rode off into the night. Chicago is a beautiful place at night. Bright lights, streets lined with a few talented individuals and some not so talented depending on which side of town you were on. The night felt like a fairytale. He had Billy Holiday playing softy as we rode to our destination. I asked, "Do you listen to this type of music often?"

"Mostly when I need to think or need some inspiration but I thought you may like it. Do you prefer to listen to something else?"

"Play one of your songs—if you don't mind," I asked.

"How about I play something better," He responded. Andre switched the songs on his iPod and played a track that wasn't his. He played "California Love".

"So, you like old school rap, I see."

"I like good music. Pac was one of the greatest alongside Biggie Smalls. The world lost two incredible people way too soon."

"I agree. Music surely isn't what it used to be. The passion is gone and everybody seems to be about a certain sound and image. Music used to be about passion, real life experiences."

"Listen at you, Miss Pretty Lady. I mean, Simone. What you know about music like this?"

I smiled and replied, "Well, once upon a time, I use to listen to music like this every day."

"Once upon, huh—so that means you don't listen to it anymore. What changed your mind?"

The truth of the matter was my love for music didn't change, it was suppressed. Living a Christian lifestyle back home meant long skirts, long sleeve shirts and collars up to your neck and going to church every time the doors were open. We weren't allowed to listen to "worldly" music as the older folk would consider it. When I graduated high school and went on to college, I carried that same mentality with me. Not soon after I got to college did I meet my ex-husband. He courted me the proper way or the way that church girls should be courted. We married not even eight months afterwards but I didn't tell Andre that. I simply responded, "Life—life changes everyone and everything."

"You're right about that, for real," he responded. I was thankful that before he could ask for more details we pulled up to our destination. We were at the Kabuki Japanese restaurant. I had only tried sushi once in my entire life. It was okay but I knew by the smile on his face when we pulled up, that tonight would be the best night with sushi on the side. He put the car in park, turned off the engine and looked my way. I looked into his eyes, he stared into mine. For a moment, time stood still for us. I didn't even realize he was talking to me.

"Are you ready to go inside?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got lost in your eyes. Yes, I'm ready."

He smiled and said, "These eyes too deep for you, girl. You can drown in em'." He wasn't lying. I felt like I needed to call a lifeguard to pull me out. He got out of the car, came around and opened my door. He extended his hand, helped me get out and closed the door behind me. We walked in and were shown to our seats.

"So, you come here often?" I asked him.

"Not as often as I would like to. But the food here is great."

"I have to be honest with you. I've only had sushi once so I have no idea what to order."

"Don't worry, Miss Pretty Lady. I'll take care of that for you," he responded and he did just that. The waiter came by, took our drink and food orders and departed. It was time to talk, time to open myself to a man who seemed very interested in more than what I could give him or be for him. He seemed interested in me—all of me.

#  SCENE 4

We sat there, waiting for our food, me playing with the straw in my drink and Andre staring at me, looking for the right moment to say something.

"So, Simone, tell me about yourself."

"Well Andre, what do you wanna know?"

"Whatever you feel like sharing, beautiful. No pressure."

I slid my drink to the side and responded. "Well, I'm 32 years old. I deal in finance and accounting during the day and I write...yeah, I'm a writer, but only at night." I chuckled and gave a little smile. "I enjoy the simple things in life. My life is back to being simple again and I'm okay with that."

"You said _again_ —what did you mean by that?" Andre asked. He was digging deep into a place where I buried my past and I felt uncomfortable in the moment yet safe in sharing my life with him. So I did.

"This may be a little heavy for you. Are you sure you wanna know?"

"I can handle anything. Lay it on me, girl."

I exhaled, gathered my thoughts and opened my mouth. A river of past waters flowed out. "I said _again_ because I use to be married and now I'm divorced."

"See, it wasn't that heavy. I told you I could handle it."

"But that wasn't all, Andre. There's more."

"More? Keep going," he motioned with his hands.

"I was married for most of my twenties to a pastor."

"A pastor? You were the wife of a pastor?"

"Yes, I was."

"I can see the grace in the way you carry yourself so it makes sense. So, tell me, what happened?"

"He was unfaithful during the entire marriage. I was his cover up and I didn't even notice it."

Andre's eyes glossed over. I could see the hurt and sympathy for me in them. He made me a little teary-eyed. I inhaled, took a sip of my drink again then our dinner appeared. I thanked God for the food that arrived just in time to break the heaviness that was forming over us. It was starting to turn into a lifetime movie with me as the narrator and Andre, the person yelling _"Don't go in there, girl",_ at the TV.

Andre prayed over our meals and we ate. The mood was subtle so I decided to ask him something. "So Andre, tell me about yourself."

"Anything for you, Miss Pretty Lady," he said after he swallowed a bite of sushi from his plate. "Well, I'm 31, so you got me by a year. I'm an artist as you can tell. I've been doing this since before I started talking," He laughed. "I enjoy it. It's truly my passion, my lifeline. I couldn't see myself doing anything else."

"I can tell. When you talk about it, I see the fire in your eyes for it. At the concert the other night, you were amazing."

"Thanks Miss Pretty Lady. So, are you from Chicago?"

"My accent gives it away, doesn't it?"

"Yeah—it kinda does," he responded.

"I'm a southern girl. I love sweet tea and good home cooking. I moved to Chicago shortly after my divorce. I just needed a change of scenery, you know."

"I can understand that. All change ain't bad. Some change is actually needed. You never know what you'll gain by flowing with it. Like the caterpillar changing into a butterfly. It's inevitable."

"Indeed it is," I responded. We finished our dinner, sipped on our half empty, twice refilled drinks. He paid for our meals and we left the restaurant. On the walk to the car, something told me that my conversation would be resurrected as soon as we took off and I was right.

Andre asked, "Simone, if you don't mind me asking, you said you were his cover up. What exactly were you covering for him?"

" _Oh shit!"_ That's what the voice in my head said. I pondered for a second on whether or not to give him the truth or a bold face lie. He wouldn't know the difference but lying wasn't my makeup, so I gave him my truth.

"My ex-husband was an undercover homosexual. He was sleeping with several of the men from our church and everybody but myself knew about it. That's why I said I was his cover up."

"Damn, Simone. That's some heavy shit."

I stared out of the window while he drove, afraid that he'd decide against seeing me again. I really wanted to get to know him more. He placed his right hand over my left hand and I felt safe again. I looked at him, gave him a smile and peered back out of the window. We arrived back to my place, sat in his car and talked.

"I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight."

"I enjoyed you too." I paused, then I asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"More about your ex-husband, I assume?" He responded

"Nothing even close to that street or near that corner I can assure you that."

"You could sit here and tell me about the different colors of dirt and I would still be interested, so go ahead."

"You have a gorgeous smile. Breathtaking," I said. In that moment, I wanted him to take me into his arms and kiss me so passionately that all of my past failures would disappear into that big sea of forgetfulness that the church talked about every Sunday morning. But I knew that sea didn't exist.

"I would have to say the same about you. A man could get lost in that smile of yours."

I blushed again but this time in his presence. We spent so much time talking in his car that the windows, albeit tinted, began to fog up. That was our signal that our time together was well spent but it felt like that old school crush. When you stay up all night and fall asleep on the phone.

"I know it's late. Let me walk you back to your place," Andre said

"Sure." Andre got out, came around and opened my door and extended his hand to me again. This time I took his hand, bit my bottom lip and smiled at him. He smiled back, helped me out, closed the door and led me inside.

Once we got off the elevator and arrived back to my place, I opened the door. This was the defining moment for me. I wondered what he would try or say. I wondered what his intentions for the rest of the night were. I really wanted to invite him in but I hesitated. "Thank you for dinner tonight," I said.

"Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to take you out. I know you have to do your thing at work tomorrow so I won't hold you." He wrapped his arms around me, hugged me tight but gentle. I felt so safe in his arms. I felt like I was supposed to be there, live there in his arms forever.

"Good night, Simone."

"Good night, Andre." I went inside, closed and locked the door and he left. He didn't kiss me. As much as I wanted him to, he didn't. He didn't invite himself in. He was a real gentlemen and I appreciated him for it. I prepared myself for bed, turned off all the lights, got under my covers and plugged my cellphone into the charger. As soon as I buried myself under the covers, I received a text message. It was Andre.

" _I hope I didn't wake you. I just wanted to tell you good night again."_

I read his message, smiled big and responded. _"No, I was just about to go to bed. Good night to you too."_

He replied right back. _"I know you didn't care too much for the Sushi but I'm gonna make you love me."_

I looked at the message and said to myself, _"What?"_ Before I could respond back, he sent two more texts.

" _I mean, me."_

" _IT! I'm gon' make you love it. Fuckin' autocorrect!"_

I laughed so hard that I forgot that I had to be at work in less than six hours. He sent one last text message. _"Good night again, Miss Pretty Lady."_

" _Good night, Andre."_

In that moment, I missed him. His voice, his smile, his touch. How could I miss someone who I hadn't spent that much time with? Someone who I only knew for a brief minute, only went on one date with. I could calculate figures, decipher profit and loss statements in my sleep, but I couldn't understand why missed him so much. Could it be the fact that I hadn't been pursued by a man in years or allowed a man to get inside my circle? No one had taken an interest in me until him. Andre was the inevitable change.

#  SCENE 5

I went out to the stage to test out the mic and make sure everything was working the way it was supposed to work. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was a part of my normal routine but that night was different. That night, I saw her. I didn't know who she was; I just knew that when I saw her, I had to know more about her. She was very beautiful but I wasn't interested in her beauty. I didn't know her name so I just called her Miss Pretty Lady.

She was sitting with two other women. They were very nice looking too but this one, Miss Pretty Lady, she captured my heart and I didn't even know her. I made eye contact with her and she smiled at me. Damn. Her smile was so beautiful. I had to go back stage and check the lighting, so I disappeared for a few minutes. Then it was show time. I killed my set. I enjoyed it so much. The people knew all the lyrics to my songs. Shit was hype. But the whole time I was up there, performing and giving it my all, my eyes wondered over to her to see her reaction. She looked like she had experience in areas of life that I didn't. Her eyes told a million stories from a billion different places. Her body was amazing. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfect in all the right areas. She had curves that would make a man seasick. She wore these long ass braids. They fit her face. I had to find out who she was.

Once the concert was over, I looked for her but she was gone. I asked my best friend, Nathan, who is also my manager, to find out who she was and to send her as many flowers as the floral shop had available. I didn't care about the cost. All I cared about was her. Nate found out who she was. Her name was Simone—Simone Donovan but to me she was still Miss Pretty Lady.

I made sure to leave my number on the delivery card for the flowers in hopes that she would call me. I sat in my studio, glancing at my phone every two seconds, waiting for it to ring and for her to be on other end. I wondered what her voice sounded like.

"Damn, A.J.! You gon' stare a hole into that phone, man," Nathan said

"I know, I know. Shit, I can't help it. I need her to call me and let me know she got the flowers."

"Really, my nigga. That's all you want? You sure about that?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Yeah, I'm sure."

"Nigga, don't forget who you talking to. Remember, I'm the one that set up all of those arrangements you've had in the past. You've had some of the most exotic women on this planet. What makes this one any different? She ain't nowhere near as gorgeous as some of these other ones you've been with and besides, nigga you ain't never been faithful to one woman."

"That's just it, Nate. She ain't like the other ones. She's outright beautiful. No fake ass eyebrows or long ass expensive weave. And this ain't like all them other times. This one—she's special."

"Special, huh. Aight nigga. Let's get back to work on this album. We gotta get this to mastering before the end of the month."

"Yeah, I know nigga." I put my Beats headphones on, turned up the volume to drown out Nate and his nagging about the album, and looked at my phone. Nothing. Thirty minutes later, a phone call came through. Miss Pretty Lady was calling me. I was nervous as fuck. I took the headphones off, told Nate to shut the fuck up and I answered the phone. I said hello and all I got was silence in return. I thought it was her calling me. I deepened my voice and said hello again but this time with a little authority and then I heard her voice. She sounded like an angel with an accent. I could tell she was smiling through the phone and I'm sure she could tell I was doing the same.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? I've never been like this about a woman." I said to myself. She had me weak already and I hadn't even gotten to know her like that. I played like I didn't know her name, ran that old school, back in the day game on her. She said her name was Simone. I already knew that shit but the way she said _Simone_ made my dick harder than statistics. I could tell this one was gonna be different. I wanted to take her to dinner, so I asked and she said yes. She seemed like the type that would enjoy some good sushi, so I decided to take her out to one of my favorite spots. I told her I'd pick her up. I was raised to be a gentleman although my profession told a different story. Most rappers don't give two fucks about being a man, let alone being gentle about it. Men were put on this earth to lead, serve and protect and that's what I did. No matter who it was or where I was. So I left the studio, went home and cleaned up a bit. I couldn't have Miss Pretty Lady thinking I was some fly by night nigga that was trying to get inside her panties without putting in some work.

I ain't the suit type. Never been. I wore all black, put on my gold chain and my black, gold and white Jordan AJ1's. They matched my fit and my necklace. I sprayed on a little bit of my Polo Black; just enough to tease her but not too much that she would need to fumigate her nostrils. I left the house and arrived to her place in record time. On the elevator ride up to her condo, I thought to myself about what I would say and how she would look. I knew she was beautiful in her own right. She didn't need to enhance nothing or change anything about herself.

I aint gon' lie tho, I was nervous on the walk down to her door. I felt like I was back in school or some shit, chasing after the finest girl in school. I got to her door, took a deep breath and said, "Get ya shit together. You got this." I licked my lips, buzzed her doorbell and when she opened the door, I could have taken her right there—stripped that nice dress off her nice body, spread her thick ass thighs and given her everything I had. Beautiful wasn't even the right word to describe the way she looked.

But I wasn't about to let my dick make decisions for me no more and I had to prove Nate wrong. I wanted my heart to do that. My dick had the wrong job for so long that my heart almost went on strike. For a long minute she just stood there and looked at me. I did the same. She had pretty brown eyes. We finally left, got outside and I opened the door for her to get in the car.

The boy was riding good too but I could tell that she wasn't concerned with material things. That was good for a change. She got in, I got in and we made our way to the restaurant. We made small talk for quite a bit and then I opened my big ass mouth to ask her a question. A question that could have killed the date before it even got going good. She told me that she'd been married before. It was no big deal to me, but I could tell that something bad happened. The more she talked, the more I could see that she had been bruised by a no good nigga who obviously didn't know his head from his asshole.

From what I could see, Simone was a good woman. He treated her like shit and called it holy. That's some fucked up shit. I got my own issues with the church but her experience made me appreciate my reason for leaving it in the first place. I thought she loved sushi. I was wrong as hell. She'd only eaten it once, so I ordered something safe, something cooked. She liked it. We ate, chopped it up for a little bit longer, then we left. I took her back home and we chopped it up for a long ass time sitting in the car. I was wishing that she would just stay in the car with me the whole night. I really enjoyed her company. I knew she had to work the next day so I offered to walk her to her door.

I got out of the car, opened her door and helped her out. We got to her door and we stood there. I told her good night and gave her a hug. It felt like she belonged with me, like she was a piece of me. I could have held her forever but I let her go inside and get her rest for the next day. I went back downstairs, got in my car and sat there—thinking about her. Her walk, smile and her laugh. I thought about the way her cheeks rose when she smiled and I thought about the perfume that she had on. I could still smell it on me. "Damn, she got me," I thought to myself.

I went back to the studio and texted her, hoping that she was still up and she was. I was trying to be cool, debonair and all that shit but autocorrect fucked up my game. I knew she laughed at me. Hell, I laughed at myself. I didn't hold her long, just wanted to make sure I had a piece of her and she had a piece of me for the night. I missed her already.

#  SCENE 6

Andre and I had been dating for three months. We still hadn't kissed and I was a little worried. I never pushed the envelope about it; I just wanted it so much. My lips desired to touch his. But things were going great. He released his new album a month ago and he left Chicago to go on tour for it. I missed him but we talked every day. I was wired for him. Every conversation we had caused a jolt to my wires.

Although Andre and I were together and things were great, I often reflected on my ex-husband. Why was he still such a strong hold in my thoughts? I was over him—at least that's what I thought. I was home from a long day of work, sitting in my living room, waiting for Andre to call, staring at the walls. If these walls could talk they would tell a story of a woman who gave her all to a man who gave himself to other men as freely as the birds that fly south for the winter. These walls would speak of all the days I took medication to increase my chances of getting pregnant and giving my husband what he said he wanted—a son. These walls were scribes. They recorded the nights I cried myself to sleep, screamed and prayed that God would make him love me, want me, desire only me. They documented the days that I fasted for my marriage, deprived myself for the good of calling, the holy estate that God took pleasure in. These walls would tell you that all of my endeavors were in vain.

The stronghold wasn't him, it was in my mind. The brain holds onto things that hurt us the most, stores it in the amygdala, wraps it a pretty bow inside the cerebellum and the prefrontal cortex. I needed to get in there, knock those walls down, clean out all of the hurt, pain and disappointment so that Andre had a proper place to love me. Even though it had only been three months, I entertained the idea of him loving me quite often. He was very capable; not your average artist.

I wanted to love him, freely and completely, when the time came. Other parts of me wanted to love him—make love to him over and over again until I my hair dripped from my sweat and he was covered in my honey. I didn't know if I was ready to experience that kind of love with Andre, but I wanted it. I didn't care about what he drove although it was a nice ride. I didn't care about his money. I had my own. I didn't want his persona, A.J. Styles. I wanted Andre—all of him and as the night grew later and later, I wanted him in the worst way.

Church girl association or not, my kitty was thirsty. She hadn't taken a drink from a willing well in several years. He brought me back to my very first love, music, while becoming my next and last love—something I hoped would eventually happen. I grabbed my phone from the sofa table, scrolled through my messages to find his name and sent him a message.

" _Hey love. Hope the show is going great. I miss you. Good night."_

Apart of me wanted to sign that text message with an _"I love you"_. The other part of me said, _"don't' do it"_. Was it wrong to be in love with someone who penetrated every part of my mind without penetrating my pink centered love? I admit I was skeptical about opening that door of love again. So much hurt used to reside on the other side, so much deception—the biggest wolf dressed like a pastor lived on the other side and called himself my husband.

We did everything right, waited until our wedding night to consummate the marriage like we were taught to do, except we consummated the night after the wedding because he wanted to go to church. I should have known then that our marriage would be void of any fairy tale ending.

It was late and time for me to retire my assets for the night. I looked at my phone again and Andre hadn't responded to my message so I prayed for him and for us as I always did, turned on some Donny Hathaway and let him serenade me to sleep.

#  SCENE 7

The album release tour had been crazy. Show after show. Night after night. Sold out in every city I showed up in. I knew my album was something special when I started the journey to make it. I spent some long ass nights in the studio breathing life into it, put on my producing hat and all that. We released the album not long after Simone and I started dating. I like to think she had something to do with how successful it turned out. Nah, she ain't no artist but her effect on me did something to my music.

She was a different kind of woman. She was sexy as hell but not in the way most men described sexy. I was attracted to her mind. It was like a vault full of knowledge and wisdom, wrapped in this beautiful chocolate shell of her body. Her intellect captured me and had my mind gone.

The night before I left to start the tour, I took her to Millennium Park. I just needed to be in her space for as long as I could. I wish she could have come with me on the tour. I needed her with me but I understood she had work to do. Crazy shit happens on tours and I ain't want her thinking I was away doing dumb shit in her absence. But she didn't seem like the jealous type. She was a strong woman. She'd seen a lot, experienced a lot and it gave her the strength of ten men, mentally and emotionally.

We sat in the park for hours talking about everything we could think of. I never met a girl who had a thing for sports. She loved the Seattle Seahawks, said she had a relative that played on the team. I thought that was cool. We argued over Steph Curry and the way he dominates the court in basketball. I said he should be listed among some of the greats. She said pre-retirement Kobe was better, he had more than a tricked out three pointer. I couldn't lie. She was partly right, but Steph was great in his own right.

We talked about politics. I never talked about anything other than money, cars and clothes with other women cause that's all they were concerned about. She said she was reppin' Bernie for president. I asked her why not Hilary. She said, "Hilary can't control her own household. How will she be able to control a whole nation?"

Simone was right. Bill was a good ass president but he was getting mad head right under Hilary's nose and she ain't do shit about it. Couldn't have been a black woman. Bill would be dead. She was hungry and so was I so we grabbed a few hotdogs, some bottle water and stayed at the park. It felt like summer time that night. I was falling in love with Miss Pretty Lady, but I thought it was too soon to tell her. I ain't wanna scare her off, so I kept it to myself.

Then I hit her with the question to champion all questions. Monday. Night. Raw. "You watch that fake ass shit?" she said. I ain't know her mouth could produce such blasphemy. She was a beautiful lady with very ugly accusations about my childhood obsession. She killed me with her response but a flash of that beautiful smile of hers brought me back to life. Simone was a classy lady, dressed to impress herself, with a hood playlist and a prayer life.

We got back to the hotel around 3 a.m. Nate had an entourage of women along with him headed to his room in a drunken single file line. Crazy shit happens on tours but since me and Simone been together, I stopped entertaining that bullshit. I wasn't about to risk it all for a piece of temporary ass.

"Yo, A.J., you coming with us or not?" Nate asked. He had one arm wrapped around a chick with some long ass hair that obviously didn't grow from her scalp and a bottle of Cîroc in the other hand.

"Nah man, you got it. I'm going to bed."

"You missing out, young man. Don't let all this good ass go to waste."

"I'm good, Nate. I'll holla at you in the morning." I stuck the key in my hotel door, went into the room and sprawled across the bed on my back. I looked at the ceiling, wished I was staring into Simone's brown eyes. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and saw that she sent me a message.

"Damn—I know she sleeping," I said. I still sent her a response anyways.

" _Hey girl, I know you sleep. Just got back to my room—missing you too. Sleep well Miss Pretty Lady."_

My heart wanted to tell her that I loved her, needed her and missed her more than a fat man on a diet missing little Debbie cakes. I couldn't wait to get back to Chicago. I needed my woman—in more ways than one. I wanted to make love to her, wanted to feel what it felt like to be inside her. Hell, I hadn't even kissed her yet. I was buggin'. I guess that's what real love feels like. I guess that's how Adam felt the day he woke up and Eve was laying next to him.

I closed my eyes, let the thoughts of Simone take over my mind. She was beautiful inside and out. I missed her touch, the way her hips swayed as she walked, her smile. I imagined her kissing me then my hand gained a mind of its own. Before I knew it, my jeans were unbuttoned and my hand became one with myself. The more I thought about her, the harder I stroked myself. Her curves, our conversations, her laugh. It was sexy as hell. My breathing changed, almost made myself moan, almost started down that path of self-gratification but then I saw her face as clear as the day had been long. I stopped. "Fuck this, man. I need her. I need Simone," I said to myself. I was sexually frustrated and it was time to go to bed. I ain't even bother turning the lamplight off. I drifted off to sleep.

#  SCENE 8

The time away from Andre was making me miss him too much. I'd go about my day as if nothing about my life had changed. I went to work, hit the gym and then home to cook, bathe and go to bed just to get up and do it all over again the next day. He was slowly becoming the source of my oxygen. I needed to breathe his air. I felt deprived but I knew he was out doing what he loved—what he was born to do. That was his air, so I breathed easy knowing that he was able to breathe freely.

A woman's greatest mistake is thinking that she can make a man put her first. I knew the music was his lovechild and I never wanted to come between his love for his craft and the love that I wanted to grow between us. That's what made us fit so well together. He had his thing and I had mine.

After work, I stopped by the gym, decided that I'd release my endorphins on the treadmill until the appropriate time gave way for Andre and I to make love. I didn't care what stood in our way. Even if it came faster than a speeding bullet in our direction, I'd bend both of us like Neo in the Matrix, save our lives then make love to him until the sun went down.

I stepped on the treadmill and turned on some James Brown. In my mind, I was back on the track field in high school running for the 4x100 relay race. I checked the timer on my watch, made sure it was set, checked my heart rate and ran. The more I thought about him, the faster I ran. I thought about his hands exploring my body, his lips touching mine and his arms around me. I ran harder, faster. Sweat dripped my from forehead onto my shirt. I didn't care. I was running for a purpose and that purpose was to keep myself sane until Andre got his ass back to Chi-town.

Then memories of my ex-husband flowed through like a broken dam. I remember the day I found out about the secret affairs. I was home cleaning and preparing for Sunday service, as he should have been home doing the same thing. I steamed his suit and robe, laid out his socks, shirt, tie with matching pocket square, belt and shoes. I laid out my suit and shoes as well. I was having trouble finding his preaching collar. I searched the closet, thought it was in the car but it wasn't, looked under the bed—nothing. I looked in his shirt drawer and beneath his undershirts was an envelope.

I did laundry on a weekly basis, every Saturday at noon like clockwork, and I had never laid eyes on that envelope before that night. It was black with no writing on either side. On the back was a tie seal. The envelope was heavy, felt like it weighed at least ten ounces. I opened the envelope and everything after that was a blur. I woke up on the left side of the bed, pillow stained with all the tears my body could produce.

I was dripping in sweat. The timer on my watch had been going off for ten minutes straight. I stopped the treadmill, wiped my face and neck with my towel. I guzzled down a bottle of water faster than a sweltering sunflower in the desert and left the gym, heading straight home.

#  SCENE 9

The days, weeks and months had rolled by so fast. It had been seven months, seven long months especially when it came to work but it felt like seven minutes with him. The time that we spent together and the time that we'd been apart because of the tour was time well spent. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and my heart ached for him. Andre was due back in Chicago sometime tonight and I wanted to be in his space immediately. I missed him and from the sound of his voice on the voicemail he left me, he missed me too. I wanted to hear all about the tour, crazy fans—everything that he experienced I wanted to know about.

I didn't know for how long I would have him to myself because he had to go right back out on the road to do some interviews, radio shows and two more videos from songs on the album. I didn't care if we sat and watch _The Flintstones_ all night I just wanted to be with him. It was a Friday so I left work early. On the drive home I thought about his smile again. I wanted to taste his lips, wanted to taste more than that but a kiss was a start. I pulled into my condo building and ran upstairs. I had a few hours to get myself together. I knew he was coming for me and I would be waving my white flag for him. I'd surrender myself to his love as freely as he wanted to give it to me. No strings attached.

I laid out my clothing piece by piece. A part of me wanted to be clothed in nothing but my silk white robe so he had easy access to my body. My nerves were a wreck. I hopped in the shower, cleaned myself thoroughly, allowed the hot water to run down my back while my thoughts created a cage inside the shower. I had only been intimate with one man my entire life. What if he really did take it as far as sex, would I know what to do? What if I couldn't please Andre the way he needed?

I was getting ahead of myself and needed to calm down. I finished my shower, got out and took my time getting dressed. I wore the same body butter and perfume that I wore the night I went to see him in concert. I looked good, smelled good and felt even greater. I watched myself twirl in the full body mirror in my bedroom, smiling and twirling thinking about Andre.

"Maybe I should do some yoga," I said to myself. I was pretty flexible but just in case nothing turned into something more, I wanted to make sure I could bend and not break something. I was ready to see him. I needed to feel him. I went to my living room, turned on an old R&B playlist that I made years before I met my ex-husband and sat on the sofa, my phone resting on the coffee table, and I waited for him. I was so anxious. An hour had passed by and Andre hadn't called or shown up. I waited so long for him that Shai and their smooth voices had wooed me right to sleep.

A few hours later, my doorbell chimed. I jumped up and yelled, "Hold on!" The time on my phone read: 1:36 a.m. I ran to the bathroom, brushed my teeth again so I didn't have that _"just woke up from a nap"_ breathe smell. I rinsed my mouth, dried my hands, smoothed out my gown and went to open the door. A part of me wanted to know what took him so long. The other part of me didn't give a shit.

I opened the door and his eyes drifted from my feet to my face so strategically I thought he was giving me an x-ray physical with his eyes. He was dressed comfortably; black Adidas sweat suit, black t-shirt and of course his Jordan choice of the day. He covered his head with his black _WWE_ snapback with the red rim. It seemed like we stood in the doorway for an eternity.

He smiled and said, "Hey Miss Pretty Lady."

"Andre," I responded

"I missed you, girl." He grabbed me around my waist with one arm, then the other. The tension between the both of us was thicker than homemade gravy in the south. His face to my face, breath to my breath, he kissed me. His lips were soft like clouds, moist like red velvet cake, warm like our embrace. His kiss made my love yield so much honey. I savored the sweet taste of his tongue. His eyes were so beautiful.

"I missed you too," I retorted

He let me go, walked in, dropped his keys on the table by the door and removed his jacket. I grabbed him by the hand and we strolled back into the living room area. I sat down first and he followed suit. My anxiety intensified. He was in my space and was in his. I asked, "How was your trip back?"

"It was long, felt like I was gone for two lifetimes. I missed you so much. I'm sorry for coming by so late. I got caught up in a little discussion with Nate about a show for next week."

"Next week? You're going back out so soon?" I said.

"Yeah, love. I have to."

"I understand. It's part of the job."

"I had hoped you would. I hate being away from you like this." He rubbed his fingers across my face and I smiled. "Come here," he said, bringing my face closer to his. He kissed me again. It was sensual, illuminating, gratifying. It caused my anxiety to abracadabra away. I released a moan in his mouth. His heartbeat skipped. Mine fluttered. I moved myself closer and closer to him. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I ran my hands down his shoulders to his elbows, grabbed his hands and placed them around me. His eyes were closed. I watched his lashes flutter.

He was focused. Our tongues performed a battle rap. His verse, then my verse. His lips embracing my lips again and again. I pulled away, took a deep breath, ran my fingers through my rope twists. His eyes opened and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I just need to breathe for a minute." I licked my lips. The taste of his lips still lingered. He pulled me back in—back into his care, his arena, his love. He kissed my lips, moved to my neck, then my shoulders. He said, "Take me to your bedroom."

It was at that moment that I knew that shit was about to hit the fan and that I had to tell him what I was harboring in my mind.

#  SCENE 10

I stood up, his hand in mine, led him to my boudoir—the place where I laid my head, alone, for the past seven years. He walked behind me. He admired my _callipygous_ , watched it sway back and forth under my gown. I let the music continue to play softly throughout my condo. Tony Toni Tone´ was singing about Slow Wine and using our bodies. I stopped in the doorway, turned to face him and kissed him deeply. I wanted him to feel my need for him. He understood. He had a need of his own.

He ran his hands up the back of my gown, caressed my _callipygous_ , my ass, the roundest part of my body. I moaned again. He removed his hands and used them to slide my gown straps down my shoulders. He kissed my neck again. I took off his hat, tossed it somewhere in the room and caressed is head. My kitty hummed a tune that only he could lay a verse over.

"Hey girl, that hat is a vintage piece. Be careful with it," He said as he gave a little chuckle. I lifted his head, looked into his eyes and asked, "Will you be careful with me?"

He saw the sincerity in my eyes, saw my need for complete caution. He responded, "Of course. I'll never hurt you, girl."

I had to tell him, had to tell him why I asked that question. "Andre—"

"Yeah—"

"I've only been with one man in my entire life. I don't know if I can give you what you need tonight but I will try."

"Simone, I need you. That's it. Don't worry. I got you."

Instantly I felt at ease. He kissed me again, caressed my left breast with his left hand. His hardness grew longer, stronger and stiffer inside his pants. I removed his shirt, rubbed my hands down his chest as he inhaled the scent of my perfume. He took me to the bed, laid me down and removed my black and red lace boy shorts. By this time Freddie Jackson was talking about rocking and rolling with somebody for old times' sake. We were about to join him. I laid on the bed, naked and unafraid. He came to me. He covered my body with his body and kissed my lips. He moved down my body, savored my breasts. He kissed them, nibbled and sucked my nipples softy. I didn't know what to do. He kissed down my stomach and parked between my thighs, down in the valley of decision.

He rubbed his hands across my bare landscaping, smiled at me to show that he was pleased about it. I took a deep breath because I didn't know what to expect next. I could feel his breathing down there. It was warm. It sent a tingling sensation up my back. He spread my legs wider, saw that my cup was running over for him and tasted my love.

I gasped. My mouth opened then I smiled and let out a moan that caused him to moan. I'd never felt anything like that before. My ex-husband didn't like to please me in that way, felt it was un-Christian like. But this felt like a tsunami wave. His tongue was skillful. He tasted me like he studied for several years and obtained a thousand degrees for it. He made love to my clit and I lost it. My legs trembled like an earthquake. He stuck his tongue inside my chocolate coated center, opened me and savored me like I was his last meal on death row. He took his time, pleased me. He gripped and caressed my thighs. I caressed his head and allowed my fingers to trace his waves. He made me feel like a queen, like I was desirable and irreplaceable.

"You taste like peaches, girl," he said

I had no words, just moans to express my gratitude and satisfaction. He continued his tasting, flicking his tongue across my clit like a paintbrush. I didn't want to reach my climax so soon but he was persistent and I couldn't hold it any longer. I clenched a pillow and moaned feverishly. He swallowed every drop of honey I produced.

At some point, his shoes, sweat pants and boxers were no more. He rose from my valley and he was ready to make another decision. I looked at his member, his rod, that staff that was ready to comfort me. It was big, veiny and beautiful. I hadn't been to church in years but in that moment, I found the words and prayed to God that he didn't hurt me.

"Andre—" I called out to him.

"Don't worry, Simone. I said wasn't gonna hurt you. I promise." He leaned down, found his pants and grabbed a condom. I was glad he had one because I forgot to get some. He rolled the latex, lub covered condom on. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Open your eyes, girl. I need to see you."

I obeyed his request. He kissed me. I tasted my love on his lips and his tongue. Peaches and cream. He opened my legs and pushed slowly inside my love. I moaned. Boyz II Men were serenading us now and Andre was doing exactly what they were saying. He was making love to me. His strokes were immaculate, sensational, fulfilling. He stared into my eyes, watched my expressions and I did the same to him. The passion between us was indescribable. I couldn't believe he waited so long for me. I couldn't believe I let him wait but surely it was worth it.

I cradled his head as he moved in and out of my love like he wanted to deliver me from all my past transgressions. He was so delicate and calculating. He took his time, pleased me, considered me first. His love making was strong and deep. I opened my legs wider. I needed all of him and wanted him to have all of me. He grabbed my thighs and grunted. His grunts were sexy, smooth and vibrant. His thrusts became harder, faster, then slow and steady again.

"Simone—mmm—girl."

"mmm—Andre—ahhh."

"You're so wet—so damn wet and tight."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"Hell no. It's perfect."

He had a rhythm to his strokes. He treated my body like a five course meal— like a song with three verses, a bridge, a hook and two choruses. I followed his lead and he was the perfect director. My body moved to the rhythm of his—his brown skin up against mine. I couldn't tell where his began and he couldn't tell where mine ended—felt like we had known each other ten lifetimes over. We were on one accord.

"Simone—baby girl, I need to tell you—mmm—girl it feels so good inside you. I need to tell you something."

In the middle of our love making he decided to have a confession moment. I was scared. I didn't know what to expect so I asked, "What's wrong, Andre?"

He put my legs on his shoulders and stroked me so deeply that I screamed, called his name over and over, called on God, the elders and the angels. He did it again and again and again until tears of pleasure streamed down my face and the sweat dripped from his. I wanted to ask him what his mission was but like John Connor led the resistance to victory, Andre was leading me to a strong, powerful orgasm and I willingly followed. This mission he would not fail and neither would I. We'd both come out victorious.

"Andre, please—tell me whatever it is but please don't stop."

He was dedicated to making sure I reached the highest peak of the mountain top to ecstasy. He took me there, stayed with me, stroked me long, deep and strong. I was wet, so wet, but he was experienced in treading through deep waters and my ocean needed his paddle.

"Simone, the day I saw you at the concert—I knew you were different. Not like any other woman I'd been with before. I need to tell you that—I—love—you."

He stroked me faster, increased his speed like he was running a marathon trying to reach the finish line with me a long side him. I whimpered and moaned in ecstasy.

"I love you more, Andre," I said.

"Thank you for loving me, Simone. I need your love, girl. Now—come for me. Can you do that?"

I could do whatever he made me do in that moment. I could climb the highest mountain, run up the highest of seven hills and fly faster than a speeding bullet. His love making made me courageous and his strokes made me crazy and before I knew it, I'd reached that peaceful shore where orgasms and climaxes were plentiful.

"Hell yeah, keep coming baby. Let it all go." He looked down, saw his goodness covered with my honey and came inside me strong, joining me on that shore—withholding nothing.

#  SCENE 11

We laid there listening to each other's heartbeat. He held me, held me close to him. He held me so close that I could feel his breathing on my neck. I felt safe with Andre and I knew he'd keep me safe.

"Andre, are you awake?" I asked

"Yeah," he responded. His voice was faint. He wasn't awake, at least not fully.

"Thank you," I said

"For what?"

"For loving me."

"I'll never stop loving you, Simone. No one can change—" he drifted off to sleep. Even his snoring was sexy. I smiled, placed my hands over his and joined him in the land of dreams. A few hours later, I felt his right hand move from under mine and move between my legs. The birds were chirping outside like they were having a meeting about who ate the last worm so I knew it had to be after six in the morning. I left the music playing from last night. Zapp and Roger were murmuring through the speakers about wanting to be a man and I was laying next to mine.

He nibbled on my ear and kissed my neck while his finger went on a journey inside my love. I moaned, opened my legs so that he could get to the place that he desired. "Good morning," he whispered to me. It was about to be a great morning. My honey dripped down his finger and into his hand. He turned me over onto my stomach, spread my legs and pushed inside me from behind. I moaned and called God again. He always answered prayer.

His rod filled me, stretched me to make room for his staff as he fully occupied my love.

"Andre, wait—the condom."

"Don't worry, Simone—I got you. I promise. Let me love you. Let me show you how good of a morning this can be."

He pushed in and out of my love slow and deep. I arched my body to accommodate his strokes. They were steady. I wanted all of him. It felt so good. Too good. It felt like peril, like the stove was too hot. The cookie was too sweet. His strokes stirred me. I moaned in agreement to his moans.

"Simone, do you trust me baby?"

Why would he ask me that? People tend agree to the craziest things while their senses are unstable. "Of course I do," I replied.

"You promise not to leave me?"

"Where would I go, Andre? I love you."

His strokes began to feel like madness. They were captivating. Our connection was way too powerful. His speed increased. He raised me to my hands and knees, placed his hands on my waist. Things were changing. His thighs clapped against mine. He smacked my ass and it talked back to him. His thrusts gained strength. I screamed and cried out for more—to go deeper. I gave him orders like a coach giving plays at half time and he indulged me. I felt my body spasm. This orgasm was disastrous and gave way to several sweet convulsions. My honey drenched his shaft.

He moaned, yelled, "fuck!" and pushed inside my center so deep that I felt temporarily paralyzed. I felt him release inside me like a river of living water—no latex barrier to keep his warriors from conquering my treasure. I thought Andre was finished, thought he'd drained every drop of liquid gold from his scepter but he kept stroking, gained his composure and re-established his speed.

He was driving me insane. His breathing thickened, mine was choppy. He pulled out, turned me over, pushed my legs close to my chest and I.lost.my.mind. He stroked me deep. There was no pain only pleasure. I was so wet, so lubricated, so warm, so inviting. He caressed my breasts as he stroked me into oblivion.

"Andre—damn! Oh—mmm—ahhh." I stayed steady with him, met every stroke he gave. I loved it, loved the way he made love to me. He considered me first but this time I wanted to see him reach that shore before I did.

"Andre, come for me—come for me," I said.

"You sure—you want me to come?"

"Yes, I want you to—come for me, baby. Let my body drink from your well," I said.

Five long, hard, deep strokes later, he came with much power and authority. My body was quenched by his well. His juices mingled with my honey. Then his phone rang loud and boisterous, interrupting our time together. He was out of breath. He laid on his back, found his phone and answered it. It was Nathan.

#  SCENE 12

"Yo, Nate! What up?" I asked. If Nate was calling me early in the morning it meant that ether I was late to a meeting or some fuck shit had popped off. Either way, I wasn't in the mood to hear about it. I was bonding with my lady. Simone got up, went to the bathroom and hopped in the shower while I handled my business with Nate.

"A.J., _BET_ wants you to come and do an interview about the album and catch this—they want you to participate in a quick freestyle cypher that's supposed to air next month. "

"Word. That's what's up. So you scheduled everything?"

"Yeah—thing is, both of em' are scheduled for today. Our flights leave in three hours, dude."

"Today? Damn! Aight. Listen, I need you to add another ticket to that. I'm bringing Simone with us."

"Simone—shit, aight. I'll be waiting for yall at the airport. Get ya shit and hurry up."

"Aight nigga. We'll be there."

I ended the call, jumped in my clothes from last night. Simone walked out of the bathroom dressed in her robe and I was praying that she ain't have nothing planned so she could come with me. It was the weekend anyways.

"Simone, what you got setup for today?"

"Nothing much. The only thing I planned to do was hang out here in my sweats and t-shirt—maybe catch up on some reading. Easy breezy."

"Good cause I need you to go with me somewhere?"

"Where are we going?"

I dropped my head, covered my mouth a bit and said, "Washington, DC."

"DC?"

The look of confusion swept across her face like a Swiffer. I grabbed her hand, looked in her eyes and flashed my smile. She couldn't resist that. " _BET_ wants me to do an interview with them and a cypher and I want you—I need you to be there with me." She took the bait and decided to go with me.

"Andre, I know you ain't going to DC looking like yesterday and smelling like love brought you home last night."

"You know I don't get down like that, girl. We're gonna stop by my place so I can shower and change. Don't worry. I got this, girl."

"Yeah, you always got it," she responded. She got dressed. The girl could rock a pant suit with a pair of heels. Most women would've put on the most revealing outfit in their closet but not my Simone. The girl knew how to dress for the occasion. We left her place and drove to mine.

"Listen, I'm telling you now. Don't bag on my place. I'm a grown man but there's a kid still living inside this body," I said to her. She rolled her eyes at me and smiled. We walked in and she clowned me.

"Andre—really? Why do you have all of these damn wrestling belts? It's like a museum in here."

I grabbed her around her waist, got all up in her space and said, "You bagging on me anyways, huh?"

She smirked and said, "Of course I am. It's the only right thing to do. Go get in the shower—big ass kid."

"You lucky we don't have a whole lot of time. I'd show you how much of a man this big ass kid really is." I smacked her on the ass and showered real quick. I finished my shower, put on another black shirt and some Levi jeans, throwed on some black and white Adidas and went into the living room. I found Simone admiring my CD and DVD collection. She'd found an old _NWA_ CD and let "Gangsta, gangsta" blast through the speakers.

"You have a very impressive collection going on here. It looks like chaos but I'm sure you know where everything is."

"It's my chaos, girl. It can be yours too if you give me the opportunity—" before I could finish my sentence, my cellphone rang. I grabbed it from the table. It was Nate.

"Yeah"

"A.J.! Man, hurry the fuck up."

"We on our way, nigga. Chill the fuck out." I hung up the phone. That was the way we talked. No love lost. "Come on, Simone. We gotta get to the airport before Nate have a fuckin' baby."

I grabbed her hand, my _NWA_ hat and we went to the airport. We walked inside and saw Nate standing by the counter waiting for us.

"Bout time, nigga," Nate said. He looked at Simone and said to me, "You ain't gone introduce me to ya girl?"

I shot him a quick side eye and said, "Simone, baby this is my best friend and crazy ass manager, Nathan Anderson. Nate, this is my woman, Simone."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Simone," Nate said

Nice to meet you too, Nathan," Simone responded.

"Aight, aight. Family reunion over with. Let's get this work, man," I said. We got our tickets, boarded the flight and arrived in DC a little over two hours later. We took an uber to _BET_ to handle the interview. The cypher would be a piece of pound cake.

#  SCENE 13

We arrived to _BET_ right on time. Andre and Nathan went away with a few of the correspondents to set up things for the cypher. He was very confident in himself and that was a turn on for me. A man with a vision and no follow through is nothing more than a man born without hands. Andre had vision. He was on a mission to see it come to fruition and was doing a damn good job.

I didn't know Nathan that well but he seemed to be a good manager for Andre. They'd known each other for years. I stood outside the room where they were setting up for the cypher. There were a few other artists there to participate as well but I had no doubt that Andre would destroy the whole set. He was just that good. His rhymes were a gold mine.

I could see Andre. I watched how he transformed from Andre, the man I loved, into A.J. Styles, the lyrical genius. He still had the same face, hands and body and still had that gorgeous smile. They were ready to start. Andre put on his black hoodie and his black skull hat. Nathan came out and watched him perform with me. The track started and Andre went first. _BET_ should have never done that.

I could hear him. He was gritty with it. He said something about being Andre the giant. I smiled. He was giving those dudes a lyrical beat down without even raising his fists. It was beyond amazing. Nate stood with his arms folded, glancing at me every few seconds, I assume, to see my reaction. I was focused on Andre. He made me proud to belong to him. Then Nate looked at me and said, "You know this is his life, right?"

I responded to him but kept my eyes on Andre. "Yes, I know."

"So I hope you don't think he's gonna change anything to be with you. This is who he is all day every day."

I felt uneasy, didn't understand the reason behind him telling me that. I replied, "I haven't asked Andre to change anything. I love him just the way he is. No strings attached."

"Love huh? Let me fill you in real quick. A.J. has never loved any woman. Fucked em? Yeah. Loved em? Hell no. He's never been the faithful type. So don't think he loves you cause he don't and don't think you the only one cause you can't be. That's just how we do." Then he looked at my ass and said, "But I'm sure with the right influences, I may be able to make a deal for you."

I was in shock. I was pissed. I was furious. Every emotion from my failed marriage was resuscitated by his words in that moment. I left the room, asked one of the receptionists to show me to the restroom. I went in. It was empty. I cried uncontrollably. I didn't know if what Nathan was telling me was true or not. All I knew was that I opened myself to Andre, gave him access to my mind and my body and then Nathan tells me it was all in vain.

Why would he drag me all the way out to DC with him? Was this his way of telling me he didn't want me anymore. He couldn't be man enough to do it so he had his manager do his dirty work for him. Did Nate think I was a hoe or something? Influences? I was livid. I went to the sink to clean my face. I was a mess. I cleaned up as much as I could. I went back out to the receptionist and asked for a pen a piece of paper. I knew she thought my face looked like Tina's did when she beat up Ike in the limo but I didn't care.

I wrote a few lines on the paper, folded it up and handed to the receptionist. I asked her to give it to Andre and no one else then I went downstairs, grabbed an uber and checked into a hotel just for the night so that I could get a flight back to Chicago the next day. I laid in my hotel bed with all of the lights off. I left the curtains closed. No music, no lights and no Andre, A.J. or whoever the hell he wanted to be. How could I be so foolish to think that I would be any different? He was a rapper. They had more women than underwear sometimes. He was in the spotlight, limelight—lights, camera, action and he used me as his next act.

I could tell at the airport that Nathan wasn't too keen about me accompanying them on the trip to DC. Maybe he had something else planned just for them. The sarcastic way he spoke to me—I should have known. Everything that breeds in the dark always illuminates when the lights get turned on. Even when people try to do good, evil always shows the fuck up. I turned my phone off. I knew Andre would try to call and explain—or maybe he wouldn't call at all. It didn't matter. I didn't want to hear from him again. My trust had been betrayed—again. I cried myself to sleep and took the first flight to Chicago the next morning.

#  SCENE 14

"Man, I just killed that cypher. Did you hear that shit? Crazy, right?"

"Hell yeah. You killed it."

I looked around for Simone but I didn't see her. I didn't see her purse, suit jacket—nothing. "Yo, where Simone go?"

"Last time I saw her she was going to the restroom or something but hey, you killed that shit for real, A.J."

"What you thought I was gon' do? I'm A.J. Styles. I bring the fire every time, believe that shit." I waited for a few minutes and Simone hadn't come back from the restroom so I went around to the receptionist and asked if anyone had seen a woman in a black pantsuit, cream colored shirt with rope twists. The lady at the front said she did. She said she saw her go in the restroom, she stayed for a long while, came out and she looked like she'd been crying. The receptionist said she left something for me—a note.

She must have been confused because Simone wouldn't have a reason to be crying with me unless it was good tears. I took the note from her, opened and read it.

" _I can't do this anymore, Andre. I thought you loved me but you used me. I can't play second fiddle to anyone again. I'm sorry. –Simone."_

I balled the note up, paced back and forth in the lobby area. I couldn't understand why she left me. She said she'd never leave me. She just said that shit. "I used her? How the fuck did I use her? And what she mean by second fiddle?"

Nate found me in the lobby, pacing and cussing. I didn't understand what the fuck happen between the time I went into the cypher and when I got done.

"I don't know what I did wrong, Nate. I don't know what I did."

"Yo, Andre what the hell is going on?"

"Simone—she left—she left me."

I broke down in the lobby of _BET_. How in the fuck did I get to this point? I'm Andre Styles. I don't cry over shit but Simone was my heart and she left me and I didn't know why. She just left a note and that's it.

"We gotta get back to Chicago tonight. I gotta go see what the hell is going on."

"Aight, man. Get yourself together, Andre. We in _BET_. You know already they think all black men are crazy. You just killed an interview and a cypher, my nigga. Don't ruin this shit, aight? This our money you playing with. Let me take you to get a drink and then we can get back to Chicago. Aight?"

"Yeah...aight."

That shit ain't sit right with me. Why would Simone just up and leave me—and then leave DC? Nate and I went to the airport and he had two drinks. I let mine sit on the bar and let all the ice melt down in it. I wasn't thirsty. I ain't want no damn drink. I wanted Simone, wanted to know how to fix whatever happen. The whole plane ride back to Chicago I thought about her. I thought about everything that led up to her leaving. I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't sleep so I stayed awake. The flight was only two hours anyways and a quick nap wouldn't do me any good. When I got back to Chicago, I got in my car and went straight to her place. I knocked and rang her doorbell for at least an hour before I realized either she wasn't home or she was good as hell at ignoring me.

I sat on the floor in front of her door with my knees up. I pulled out my phone and called her. The phone didn't even ring. Not even once. It went straight to voicemail. "She not answering her phone. Something must be really wrong." I contemplated going down stairs, having the bellhop dude open her place and let me in so I could wait for her. But I had no energy left. I just wanted Miss Pretty Lady back. I needed my Simone.

I could have thrown my phone down the hall, punched a hole in every wall around me but it wouldn't help the situation. I'd just have bruised hands and a broken phone to match my bruised and broken heart. I looked back in my phone, scrolled and stared at the pictures of her and I together. Tears flowed from my eyes. I cried for hours. Her neighbors walked by, looked at me and kept going. "Inconsiderate fucks," I thought to myself. I got up from the floor, touched her door as if she would feel my touch through it and left.

I got back to my place. The drive was quiet. No music, no sports radio—nothing. Just me and my thoughts. It took me a while to get out of my car. I was hurt. I walked inside, closed the door and stood where she stood, right by my CD and DVD collection. "We were just here this morning. She was fine. I was fine. We were good. Now she's gone," I said. I sat on the sofa and sent her a text message.

" _Simone. I love you. You my heartbeat, girl. Please just answer my calls, my texts—something. I need you—need you to talk to me."_

#  SCENE 15

I got back to Chicago around 10:00 a.m. the next morning. On the uber ride back to my condo, my head was spinning. I felt like I'd spent all night in a bar throwing back shots of the strongest drink ever made. I felt caged—caged inside the thoughts that were brewing inside my head. I thought about all the late night phone calls we shared, my moments of vulnerability to him and every single time he smiled.

His smile. I never thought that I could resist it. I needed him to be honest with me. I thought he was but I was all wrong. The uber dropped me off at my place and I couldn't get inside my condo fast enough. I walked in, closed the door and went straight to the shower.

It felt like the water wasn't hot enough. I needed it to be as hot as fire and brimstone to wash away his scent from my body, his love from my heart, his name from my mind. I needed the memories of our love making to be erased, removed from the slate of my love. I cried even more—felt like my tears were doing the job of the shower head. It seemed like I'd been in the shower for hours and hours. My hands were wrinkle and the water had gone cold.

I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off and looked into the mirror. I touch the places on my body that he touched, kissed and caressed. The tears kept flowing. "How could I let him get that close to me to hurt me?" I clothed myself in grey sweat pants and a black t-shirt, sat on my bed and looked at my phone. If I hadn't know any better I'd think that Andre was the only contact in my phone. He had called almost a hundred times and left one single text message. I read it and threw my phone into the closet.

I went into the living room, turned on some music to drown out the sound of my thoughts. My thoughts were singing a song that my heart just didn't want to play the soundtrack for. I sat on the sofa, drifted off to sleep, mind still running like a high jacked train. Suddenly, I woke up. I was frantic. H-town was singing about knocking boots but I swore someone was banging a boot on my door. It sounded like bags of cement were being thrown full force. I ran to my closet door, grabbed a bat that I kept there just in case. The closer I got to the door, holding my bat in my hands, the more I recognized his voice.

It was Andre. Andre was beating the hell out of my door and it scared me.

"Simone. I know you're in there. Please talk to me. I can hear the music playing. Please Simone. Don't leave me out here like this."

I put my back to the door, hung my head low and asked, "Andre, why are you here?"

"Simone, you left me—left me in a whole other state alone."

"Andre, I don't want to talk about it. Just go home."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on."

"You lied to me, Andre. You used me. Strayed me along like a little puppy leading me to slaughter."

"What did I lie about? What are you talking about? Simone, just open the door so we can talk."

"Nathan told me everything."

"Nate? What did Nate tell you?"

"He told me that you were using me, that you don't love me, that you just fucked me and that's it. I'm just another one of your games, another woman added to your list of accomplishments."

"Why would Nate tell you something like that? That's my best friend."

"I let you in, Andre, inside my mind, my heart and between my legs. I don't give my body to just anyone. You said you wouldn't hurt me. You said—" I couldn't stop crying. It burned me to the core.

"Simone, just let me in, please."

I dropped the bat, turned around, opened the door and he rushed me. I felt wind beneath my feet, felt like I was flying without wings.

#  SCENE 16

He had me in his captivity. His arms were around me tight. I couldn't breathe, couldn't talk. I fell limp in his arms. He kissed me, kissed me like I was the last woman capable of kissing on the earth. I hated him but I loved him. I was angry with him, but I needed him. His lips argued with mine. Our tongues intertwined. My eyes looked into his. They were red, full of tears, hurt and sorrow.

"Don't kiss me—kiss me—like this Andre." I wanted him to stop because I was fuming but I needed him to continue because my love for him was strong. My _cerebral cortex_ said _"make him stop"_ but my body said, _"Shut the fuck up and let him love you"_.

I pulled back but he pulled me back in. He kissed me again and again and my guard fell like a broken security fence. Andre stopped and said, "Simone, I told you I'd never leave you. I love you, girl and I don't give a fuck what nobody says. Believe that, aight?"

"But Nate said—"

"Fuck what Nate said. He don't know what's in my heart for you. He don't know shit but music, money and hoes. Simone, I need you. You my air, girl."

He kissed me again and this time I didn't hold back. I didn't restrict my love for him. I fell into his care again. I gripped his back, he gripped my ass and my love came down for him. Before I knew it, we were both naked, our clothes strewn about the living room. I straddled him on the sofa. He kissed me more. His lips were so soft. I missed them. He kissed my neck, caressed my breast, sucked my breast carefully, made me melt like ice cream on the curb in the summer time.

He teased me with his hands, inserted his finger into my wet lands, my love center, the place where he loved to dine. His weapon was hard, standing tall and ready for war. I put my forehead to his, led him inside my love and we kissed and made love. I moved up and down slowly, his hands on my waist. My movements were strenuous. The butterflies came back. I remembered his love for me, his dedication to winning me over. He courted me—the right way, the way I needed him to and I wanted to show my gratitude. Every down motion I gave, he met with an up stroke. It made him moan and say my name. I was in control and he loved it.

I rode him, rode him like a black stallion in his prime. I cradled his head, let him suck my nipples and caress my back. I needed him as much as he needed me. He pushed inside me deep. I felt waves of orgasms. As much as I thought that I was in control, Andre really had the control. He knew how to make me submit to him. Some men know how to have sex. Andre knew how to make love—to me. I guess my ex-husband was one of those men. I moaned loud and he replied. I moaned so loud that I forgot the music playing in the background.

Jodeci was singing "Cry for you" and Andre did. I'd never made love to a man that shed so many tears for my love.

"I love you, Miss Pretty Lady. You hear me? I love you," Andre said. He picked me up, took me to the bedroom, laid me down, spread my legs and thrust inside me. I moaned like a wailing woman. His thighs grinding inside mine, we found our rhythm. My moans were poetic. His moans were lyrical.

"This thing that I do every day don't mean shit if I don't have you to share it with," he told me. I was good woman, a strong, smart and courageous woman, full of values, education and poise but in this moment, the moment where he and I lived and breathed one another, the moment where he became the Adam and I the Eve, in that moment I didn't needed any of those things. I needed him and he needed me. He was my beginning, the beginning of new love, new obstacles, new journeys and I was his end. The end of looking for love in all the wrong places, faces, hips and lips. We were in love, under the management of our own destination.

My body tingled. I felt it coming, my love was being brought down and I felt him coming with me. He thrust in soft and deep, stroked me slowly as we came together, arriving in the land of his milk and my honey. It was melodic, the perfect ending to a self-written love song.

#  SCENE 17

I laid next to Simone, held onto her tight after we made love. But all I could do was think about what she said. I loved this girl.

I couldn't believe Nate would do some fucked up shit like that. Why would he tell my woman that I was using her and ain't love her? Shit, it wasn't his place to even talk to her in the first place. I thought he liked her but I was wrong. Nate was my best friend. I'd known Nate for years, since diapers. He had always been there for me. I never saw this coming. They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I guess I had my enemy close the whole time.

He has always been my right and left hand—sometimes my brain when I didn't know what to do. Now I feel betrayed. I thought I lost her forever, my rib, my world, my Simone, over some dumb shit. I needed to talk to Nate and get this shit off my chest but the way I was feeling, the best thing to do was to be quiet about it...at least until my thoughts were sorted out. I never questioned his judgement before, never. I admit, Simone and I may have moved a little fast according to his standards. Shit, Nate don't even know nothing about commitment if money ain't involved in the equation. Now I gotta keep my eye on the same nigga that's supposed to be watching my back, my front and my in between.

Simone laid next to me asleep. Just a few hours ago she was ready to throw a bat at my head, now she got me ready to ask her what I tried to at my place the other morning. I found my diamond in the rough, the Selina Kyle to my Bruce Wayne. I wanted to wake up to this woman every day for the rest of my life, make her my wife, give her my last name cause she already had my heart. I heard my phone go off from inside Simone's living room so I got up from the bed slowly, wrapped a sheet around my waist and left her sleeping to go grab it.

It was Nate calling. "What the fuck this nigga want?" I took a deep breath and answered the phone. "Yo, what up?"

"A.J., man did you forget about the meeting we had today? I'm sitting here at the studio waiting on you. Everybody's waiting on you."

"Damn, I completely forgot. Give me a few minutes. I'll be there shortly."

"Yeah, aight."

I hung up the call and stood there trying to convince myself not to bust him in his shit when I got to the studio. I got dressed and went back to the bedroom where Simone was. I sat on the bed, looked at her sleeping so peacefully. I had to wake her and let her know I had to leave, but that I would be back.

"Simone," I said. "Baby, I gotta go handle some business at the studio but I'll be back, aight?"

She shook her head okay and went back to sleep. I planted a kiss on her forehead and left. On the drive to the studio all I could see was Nate towering over me. He was a few inches taller than me but I ain't give a fuck. Wasn't no fear in me at all. I pulled up to the studio and went inside.

"Yeah, so what I think we should do is add a few more dates in California and then looking into getting A.J. on the list at the Essence Festival and Coachella," Nate said to the group of people when I walked in the room. "What you think about that, A.J.?"

I looked at him and almost forgot there were other people in the room. I saw myself lunging over the chairs, no questions asked but I calmly responded, "I think it sounds good. The exposure is what we looking for, right?"

"Right. The more exposure you get, the more albums you sell equals more money in ya pockets so let's get poppin' and add these things to the agenda," Nate replied. We sat there. He looked at me. I looked at him. I felt like I was Nino Brown and he was G-money, felt like I wanted to know if he was really his brother's keeper. "A.J., let me holla at you real quick outside," he said.

I wondered to myself what he wanted to talk to me about. It seemed like he had everything under control at the meeting; didn't seem like I really needed to be present. I hated when niggas make meetings just to meet and then set other meetings to talk about the meetings they had the day before...a waste of time if you ask me. We stepped outside. Nate asked, "Man what the hell is going on with you? Ever since Simone left you, you ain't been the same. I know you ain't gon' over no woman. You got too many to choose from. You gotta get ya shit back together. We got work to do."

I looked at him and responded, "Simone and I—we good. I'm good and yeah, I got work to do. I got me. You ain't gotta worry about that."

"That's what I'm talking about, nigga. Let's get this work."

I played like everything was fine even though on the inside I was contemplating some evil shit. It seemed like all Nate was concerned about was money, Simone and keeping me on the road. This was way more than getting money. He put his arm around my neck like we were friends, homeboys, like he knew that his plan to keep us apart was working and I ain't have a clue about what happen between him and Simone. We walked back inside and started working on adding dates to the tour but the whole time my mind was turning like a windmill. Nate said he had to step out for a minute, said he went to go get lunch. Nate ain't never left to get lunch. We always ordered in. Something ain't sit right with me so shortly after he left, I followed him.

#  SCENE 18

Stepping out of the shower, I looked in the bathroom mirror. The remnants of Nate's comments to me replayed in my head. I had to tell Andre about his manager, had to tell him the rest of what he said. It would break his heart to hear that his best friend was a flake. I worried that Andre wouldn't believe me, that he would take Nate's lies over my truth. I was scared but I had too.

I got dressed, made some eggs and bacon and waited for Andre to come back. He was gone for so long that my breakfast turned into another cooking adventure for lunch. Cooking made my mood a little lighter but as soon as I heard my doorbell chime, the lightness turned into tornado weather. I turned the oven off and opened the door. It wasn't Andre. It was Nathan.

"What's up, Simone. You ain't gon' let me in?" He said

"What do you want, Nathan? Andre isn't here. He went to the studio for a meeting."

"That's what he told you? You still falling for his bullshit, I see."

"Nathan, please leave. We have nothing to talk about," I replied. He put his hand on my door and pushed his way into my condo.

"Nah, see I can't help but think that you want me to be here. Andre ain't the right man for you, Simone. I can make you rich, take all his money, give you everything you ever wanted."

"Nathan, what the fuck are you talking about? I asked you to leave nicely. I'm gonna call the cops."

I turned to grab my phone and he grabbed me from behind. I screamed. I had to be dreaming. There was no way that this was really happening. Not to me.

"Put the fuckin' phone down, Simone, and listen. All you gotta do is stay away from him so I can keep getting this money."

"But I don't want you Nathan, or your dirty money. Why is that so hard for you to understand? I just want Andre. Now let me go!"

"Oh you gon' leave him." Nathan pulled a gun from his back pocket and pointed it at the back of my head. "You fuckin' with my money maker and no one fucks with Nate's money. I tried to include you in but I see you wanna be stubborn. I'll just delete ya ass from the whole equation...yeah, make it look like a robbery gone wrong."

"Nathan, please don't do this." I pleaded with him. He pulled the trigger and it jammed. I screamed for help.

My screams turned into violent tears. I prayed that somebody, anybody heard me. I screamed so loud that I didn't hear the second gun go off. I felt wet, drenched, like I had been hit by a bag of water. Nate fell on my back. He cussed, turned around and I heard another pop. He fell to the floor. I was shaking. I was numb.

"I can't believe you, Nate. I thought you were my brother, my best friend. You a fuckin' fraud," Andre said. He came back. Standing with a 45 revolver in his hand pointed at Nate. "I knew yo' ass was a fraud. You kept trying to keep me busy, kept me on the road just so you can steal from me. I thought we was boys, Nate."

Nate laid on my floor, blood spewing from his leg and his side with an evil ass smile on his face. He said, 'You ain't bout this life, nigga. You ain't hard like that shit you be rapping about so put the fuckin' gun down."

Andre told him to shut the fuck up. I looked at Andre. I couldn't believe what was happening—in my home. I felt like my life was turning into a movie. I didn't sign up for this.

I heard the sirens coming down the street; loud and disastrous sirens. The cops were coming. I shook out of my daze and said, "Andre, put the gun down baby. Look at me, Andre and put the gun down, okay?" Tears streamed down my face.

"He lied to me, Simone. He's a fuckin' deceiver of his own brother. He foul. Look at what he was about to do to you, Simone. How am I supposed to put the gun down? Huh? Tell me?"

"Think about us, Andre. I love you. I need you. Please, put the gun down."

"Yeah, nigga. Listen to ya bitch and put the gun down. Punk ass muthafucka. You ain't gon' do shit," Nate said. He coughed and blood spilled front his mouth.

"You know what, Nate. I'm from the south side of Chicago and I don't take too kindly to challenges, my nigga," Andre said. I heard the police coming down the hall. Andre cocked the gun back, I screamed his name and said, "Andre, no!" He fell to the floor. The gun went down with him. Love and lust can make humans do crazy things. Love brings joy, pain, freedom and captivity. It can make the strongest man weak and the weakest man feel like the heavy weight champion of the world. But greed can turn your best friend into your worst enemy and make him turn on you like a pit bull. In Andre's case, Nathan was that Pit-bull; faithful to his real master: greed. It was only matter of time that his wagging tail turned into a devil's horn.

I often heard a saying about not awaking love until the right time. I now know why. Love, in its mature and fully grown state, can make a person do things that their normal self wouldn't do. Love makes us crazy, makes us happy, courageous and protective. Lust makes us jealous and covetous.

That day was another death and resurrection for me: death to the memories of my painful past times two and a resurrection of true and authentic love. I stood backstage at Cochella while holding our son, Jon, reflecting. I watched Andre, my husband, do what he was created to do and then it happened. The butterflies came back again. He looked my way, blew a kiss to Jon, smiled at me and I smiled at him.

###

Thank you so much for reading my book. If you enjoyed reading, please take a brief moment and tell me all about it by leaving a review at your favorite retailer. Be sure to spread the love and tell all of your friends.

-xoxo

Racq Symphony

#  About Racq Symphony

A native of Alabama, Racq Symphony was born in 1984. Racq developed a passion for writing short stories, screen plays and books that possess movie-like fluidity while in middle school. While in high school, she put down her gift of writing to raise her daughter and provide a better life for her. She moved to Florida to go to college soon after high school. She obtained several degrees and certifications, none of which satisfied her writing thirst. In late 2015, thanks to her new found sisters and best friend, Racq regained her passion for writing urban erotica romance fiction novellas

## Other books by Racq Symphony

Love's Abyss

Resurrected Promises- The sequel to Love's Abyss

It Was all a Dream

## Connect with Racq Symphony

Website: http://racqsymphony.wix.com/symphonybooks

Facebook: www.facebook.com/racqsymphony

Twitter: www.twitter.com/racq_symphony

Smashwords author page:

<https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/racqsymphony16>

Email: RacqSymphony@gmail.com

