“Upstairs battling it out with Aunt Mittie, Shondra, and Amir.”
“Spades? Still?”
“What else? Your mama is the most competitive person I’ve ever met. Shondra and Amir didn’t know what they were getting into when they beat her last night. She won’t rest till she evens that score.”
“Sounds like a hostage situation. You should rescue Kenya.”
“Rescue her? Hell, she’s having a ball. She’s as competitive as your mama. When she ain’t balling, she’s looking for somebody’s ass to kick in something. You should see her and Kenan on the court together. Both of ‘em ballers. Neither of ‘em ever cries uncle.”
“Yeah, Kenan is just as bad,” I agree. “You guys seem to be getting serious. I mean, vacationing with the fam. You never brought anyone around like this.”
“She’s different, yeah. I like her.” Jade sketches a quick shrug with tighter shoulders, and I know her well enough not to press. She’s softer with Kenya, but there’s still a shell she slides back into if she feels like shit is getting too real. I can see Kenya slowly cracking it.
“What you working on?” Jade asks, classic change of subject.
“What work? I got one song and it sucks.”
“Your stuff never sucks. Lemme hear.”
Reluctantly, I cross over to the soundboard on the other side of the room, cueing up the solitary track I have to show for weeks of ruminating. Jade is quiet while the song plays, her features smooth and impassive, her brows knit as she listens. At the last notes, I flop onto the couch and brace myself.
“So, what’d you think?” I try to keep my voice careless.
“It’s not . . .” Jade sits beside me and twists her lips from one side to the other like she’s swishing the words around before she delivers them. “It’s not exactly whack.”
A dry laugh rattles in my throat and I drop my head back to rest on the couch. “Wow. I’ll be sure to pass that on to publicity. New music from Grip. It’s not exactly whack.”
She drops her head back, too, staring up at the ceiling with me.
“It doesn’t sound like you,” she says after a few moments. “It sounds like you’re trying too hard. Trying to sound like someone else.”
“I think I’m trying to sound . . .relevant, but I don’t know who I’m supposed to be relating to or doing it for.”
“Then just do it for yourself like you always have.”
I squeeze the tight muscles at the back of my neck. “Dude, I’m almost forty, and the music I grew up on, the sounds I loved and that shaped me, it’s like I don’t see a place for it as much anymore. That passion. That fire and conviction. I don’t hear it much anymore.”
“Oh, it’s rare, for sure. You know I’m working on Qwest’s new one, and she’s looking, too.” Jade shoots me a speculative glance. “Matter of fact, she’ll probably be reaching out to you for a feature on this one jawn. It’s hot, but she wants more than hot.”
“She knows I’m always down. That’s my girl and I love seeing her happy.” I pause, mentally running through the twists and turns of my history with Qwest. “So you like her fiancé? I haven’t met him.”
“It all happened fast, so I’ve only met him once myself, but, yeah. He good people.”
“That’s great. Well, she knows where I am if she needs me in the booth.” I cast a disgusted glance toward my writing pad. “Not that I’m much use to anyone on a track right now. I’m just . . .stuck.”
“Stuck inside. Bruh, you’re on vacation.” Jade nods toward the sheet of glass exposing vibrant turquoise waves licking at the salt-colored shore. “Your inspiration is out there. Your girl and them rugrats of yours, they out there. Get your ass up.”
In the distance, I see a breeze teasing tendrils of Bristol’s hair around her face, but I can’t feel its balmy caress. The tide splashes onto Nina’s bare legs, but I sit here dry and can’t taste the salt in the air. The alluring scene on the beach may as well be another world for how little it touches me. And Jade’s right. I need to be touched.
“All right.” I hook my arm around her neck and kiss her forehead, laughing when she jerks back, our years-long loving tug-of-war. “I hear ya. I’m outta here.”
I stand and so does Jade, making her way over to the soundboard.
“You don’t mind if I, uh, fiddle a little bit?” she asks, brows and the