Love Redeemed, Book 4 (27 page)

“Yo! We gotta include another shot for my girl, Ray-Dizzle!” Chanell shout
s.

When I approach them, I greet her first with a hug and small gift bag. I ha
ve a burst of elation at seeing her and Kim within the same group.

So I guess these two have kissed and made up.

“Bring it! Bourgeois black girls take shots, too!” I yell out, remembering her jab from the week before.

“Oh, Ray, man, drop ‘dat shit! It’s my born day and we ‘bout to get turnt all the way
up.”

“Okay!” I a
gree, doing a little two step. “You look good, C!” I admire.

Chanell
’s wearing a red mini dress with a slight turtleneck-collar. She’s paired it with ankle booties on a fat heel. Not my style, but I always appreciate seeing her in feminine wear. She’s rocking her usual head full of micro curls. Her lips look like they were dipped in florescent honey. I don’t know who applied Chanell’s makeup, but they did a stellar job. She looks beautiful!

“Thanks, Ray! You stuck up ass bitches a
in’t the only ones wearing it proper,” she crudely sticks her tongue out.

“Touché, C,” I repl
y. “Touché.”

I then turn to Kim, who w
ears all black. I can’t see what she’s wearing because, per usual, she’s sitting down. But her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she has on minimal makeup that includes, eyeliner, a dab of mascara and lip-gloss. In all honesty, Kim doesn’t need makeup; her skin is flawless and glows naturally.

“You really got one in the oven this time
, Kim,” I tease. “Either that, or I gots to fight you for that radiant skin. You don’t need it anymore; you’re married already, I’m not.”

“Girl, please!
You young. I saw you up on that stage working that body. You doing it right,” Kim replies, referring to the show she attended a couple of months ago.

I reach down to embrace her and she reciprocate
s.

“What you wearing? Smelling good as shit!”
she asks.

“
Cool Water
. Girl, I’ve been wearing this for six years now,” I answer. “I want to try
Sean John
for women, but Azmir keeps this one supplied by the gallon, so I guess this is it for me.”

“I like that. I’m gonna have to get me some,” she sa
ys before something catches her attention.

I look over my
shoulder to see the waitress has returned with a tray full of shots.

“Whoa!” Chanell cheer
s. “And another one,” she quotes a famous rap intro.

We all collect our glasses and raise them in the air.
“What we toasting to, Chanell?” one of the girls shouts.

“To fine ass men, shaking they
asses for my 25th!” Chanell screeches. “It’s a celebration, bitches!” She clanks her glass with Kim and we all follow suit. Then we down the first glass.

I honestly c
an’t recall the last time I’ve done shots. It had to have been with Michelle. But I don’t care. I’m lonely and happy to be out. I told myself before leaving the marina that I won’t think of Azmir’s absence while out tonight. I want to do and feel something different.

A
n alarm sounds. At that buzzard trill, the crowd goes up in yelps and shouts. I don’t know what to make of it until I see men and women, dressed in no more than swimwear marching into the main room. Chanell jumps and whistles her approval of what seems to be the start of the show. The strippers aren’t coordinated, but they get their start together. They quickly find subjects to grind against and start their money earning show with. I just hope they stay away from me. Man or woman, I’m not interested.

I search around the main hall and observe the character of the place. It
isn’t exactly a hole in the wall, but it isn’t upscale either. The place is gray and smoky. I notice
Drop It
is definitely occupied by subscribers to the green leaf. I suddenly regret wearing this blazer. I hope I can get the stench out of it after tonight.

The strobe lights influence
s the first wave of buzz that I feel from the first round of shots I did. Then Chanell announces the second, to which I gulp down with ease. In my peripheral, I notice a group of women at a booth across the dance floor from us. After squinting my eyes through the haze, I’m able to identify Syn and a few of her cousins I saw in Vegas at Kid’s party. I tap Chanell and ask why Syn isn’t at the celebrant’s table.

“We got into it last week. Kid done fucked up again with some bitch
‘round the way and she mad that I ain’t snitch on him. She said we cool and shit, and that’s why she came, but you can see she over there not fucking with me. So, fuck her,” Chanell informs.

I
can tell she’s more bothered by the fight than she’s letting on. I recall how at a previous engagement, she was on the outs with Kim for the same reason. It must be hard being Chanell. I guess she chose the team to bat for, which is easy considering she isn’t emotionally attached to anyone. I know who she’d side with if Azmir were to creep out on me.

That thought d
oesn’t bode well. We’re celibate, and he could be out right now relieving himself of that problem.
Shut up, Rayna!
I need to deflect that pessimism and quickly. It’s week four without sex with my Adonis of a mogul. I don’t need to let my cynicism persevere. I turn to Kim.  

“You look cheerful,” I openly observe
. She’s been so visibly stressed the last few times I’ve seen her.

Of course, considering your husband
, of nearly two decades, cheating on you would do the trick. But I didn’t like the encumbered Kim. I like the one I can’t shut up even if I tried. Well, I’m in for a treat, because tonight Kim is in an extremely chatty mood.

She scoot
s her chair over to me and speaks directly in my ear, “I don’t know if Divine told you the latest. He don’t seem like the type that carry shit around, but Im’ma tell you myself. Petey was cheating on me with this young Mexican girl.”

My eyes
go wide. For Kim, it appears that she’s dropping jewels on me that I’ve never heard a whisper of, but in all reality, I’m surprised at her candor. Kim reaches over and grabs another shot glass and downs it before I can give away my secret of knowing.

“Yeah, girl! I couldn’t believe that shit either. I mean, I know that nigga ain’t no saint, but to be cheating on me like I don’t give head all the time. Like I don’t give up the twat whenever he brings his tired ass in the house at all hours of the morning,” she snort
s. “Ain’t nothing that dude asked me to do in the bedroom that I ain’t give. I couldn’t believe he tripped out on me like a starved man!”

I mask my shock by shutting my mouth. Simultaneously, Chanell shove
s another shot into my face. I’m nowhere near drunk, barely tipsy, but I know I’m already over my limit. Nonetheless, the pure excitement Chanell displays when handing it to me, doesn’t allow me to deny her. Plus, Kim has started on a chatter course that I can’t yield.

I down the third shot,
and while enraptured in Kim’s tale, I feel someone tap me. I immediately think it’s Chanell, offering a fourth. I’m prepared to risk hurting her feelings as I turn to my left to find an anxious Petey with an antsy John right behind him. I squint my eyes, wondering where in the world Petey has come from.

He lean
s into my ear. “Yo, Rayna. The duke just called me a brolic and shit. He saying you can’t stay. John here gonna take you home, a’ight?”

“Come again?”
I can barely hear him over the loud music and quickly decide that he isn’t kicking me out of his club.

Petey is
n’t the type to play coy, even if the edict isn’t coming down from his general. He stares directly into my eyes messaging his solemnity. I turn to Kim who’s totally oblivious to my exchange with her
on duty
husband. I tell her I have to go as I grab my clutch.

She then look
s behind me, I guess sensing my frustration. “What the hell is he doing here?” she asks, surprised by her husband’s abrupt appearance.

Okay…
I’m not crazy for thinking it’s odd.

We mak
e it out to the front of the club where I’m past embarrassed, I’m bordering on pissed. “Petey, what in the world is this all about?”

Petey
is yelling to someone outside as John leaves for the car; he drove me here in my car. There’s an insane amount of activities going on out here and my buzz is thickening. A young woman saunters past us belting, “We be all night!” Petey calls out for someone to address the ruckus she’s making.

Petey dr
aws closer to me and murmurs, “Yo, Ray, as much as I think my spot is legit and all, the homey done reached a status that he gotta protect his brand. And his fiancée being here without him ain’t a good look, nah mean?”

W-wh
at? I can’t break down his many words. “No, I don’t, Crack. I’m an adult and can hang out at a friend’s establishment if I choose. Why is it not safe for me, because it’s in the Watts? It’s apparently safe for Kim.” I argue.

“Nah…nah, it’s different for
—”

We’
re interrupted by bulbs flashing in our faces. They come in successions followed by clicks. Talk about buzz kill. I try covering my eyes and ducking my face.

“Rayna!” one call
s.

“Ms. Brimm! Who this guy you’re with?” someone
else asks.

“This way, Rayna!” another yell
s out.

“Fuck!”
That’s Petey. “Where’s the car, Ock?”

Petey pull
s his jacket over the both of us to hide our faces. Out of nowhere, my midnight blue Mercedes pulls up.

“Unlock the damn door!” Petey yell
s after trying unsuccessfully to pull the latch, scaring the crap out of me.

He urge
s me inside and I quickly scoot inside the backseat to the other side. Not that it matters because paparazzi is on that side of the car, too. Petey ducks his head inside.

“Petey! What
’s all of this?” I ask him urgently.

His face
goes from cold to apologetic. “It’s the new lifestyle.” he shrugs. “You gotta take it up with the duke for a real answer. Get home safely.” He moves out of the doorway and shuts it. I then hear him and a few other voices shouting at the paps to move or get run over.

My phones trills, frightening me as if that were still possible.

“Azmir!” I cry into the phone, feeling a smidge of comfort from his presence, even if telephonic. “What’s going on?”

“Rayna, you cannot go out to a club in Compton without my knowledge,” he advises. I can’t miss the undertone of terse.

“It’s not just any club! It’s Petey’s club,” I inform him, exasperated. He knows this. He’s had the owner himself drag me out.

“And you’re not the fiancée of
just any man. I’m sorry, honey, but apparently my status has just risen to a new plane and the media has taken an interest in me…my life. This means they are aware of my pending marriage and it will be reported come tomorrow, on several blogs, that you are a classless bird, gallivanting in a hole-in-the-wall strip club in Compton.” It doesn’t take much to gather this is Azmir’s CEO mien I’m on with.

My jaw drops. “But that’s not true! It’s Chanell’s birthday party at Petey’s club. They are your family!”

“The media will likely not put those details into their spin. They don’t care—” he’s interrupted; I can hear someone in the background. “
Yes, tell her I’ll be right there, please.
”
Her?
“Baby, I have to go. I’ll have Brett have one of my assistants contact you on Monday; you can plan something more low-key with Chanell to celebrate her birthday and apologize for your abrupt departure.”

I don’t respond, because I don’t know how. This is absolutely insane and I don’t know where to go from here.

“Aye,” Azmir barks, exposing his Brooklyn tongue, and melting my arctic resolve. “I’m sorry, Brimm. This has become old news to me since just before the
Mauve
event. I never mentioned it because you’re not typically out socializing. We can talk more about it when I come home,” he offers.

WHEN?

When will I have you back at the marina, in my face, in my arms, so that I can feel this thing?
I want to reach through the phone and grab him into my face to scream at him…and then
feel
him. I’ve found myself starved of him. I’m starting to view our impending matrimonial event as a fantasy that I’m chasing in the wind. Azmir has become this legend in my mind and not a living, breathing man. My man. I am losing…and fading fast.

“
Goodnight, Azmir,” I whisper, just perfectly concealing the cry working its way up my throat.

“Love you, Brimm.”

I disconnect the call.

I hate the media!

~~~~~~~~~~