Love in Music Read online

  The tapping on the window registered in my ears, but I didn’t budge. I felt one of Arashi’s hands move from my back as he let the window down.

  “Officer,” he mumbled smoothly.

  “We got a report of two people having sex in the car in a parking lot.”

  Sex? Really? Some people needed to learn to mind their own business. I raised my head and looked at the officer before returning to my original position—the one that had me getting snot and mascara all over Arashi‘s shirt. I don’t really wear makeup unless it’s a special occasion, but tonight was supposed to be special so I went all out with my glamour look.

  “Ma’am?”

  I cried harder.

  “The bastard walked out on her and left her stranded. He probably stuck her with the bill too. She’s hurting. But I can assure you we’re not having sex.”

  I’m sure the officer could figure that out from the raccoon eyes I had to be sporting by now. With the rain pouring outside I would think said officer would have been quick to leave, but he wasn’t. He was sympathetic, but he also wanted to make sure Arashi wasn’t the one who had hurt me.

  I sobbed harder while lifting my hand to give him a wave of “oh sure I’m fine, don’t mind my snot and tears.” He obviously thought that was enough because he left us. Arashi put the window back up while still holding me.

  He didn’t ask me to talk to him. He didn’t ask me to tell him all the gritty details. He just held me while tremors from my crying fest assaulted my body.

  I don’t know when I got off his lap. I don’t know when he got me home and into my bed with my clothes still on. But I do know when I awakened the next morning he was there in bed beside me. He was still holding me in his arms.

  “’Morning,” he mumbled coherently which told me he had been up for a while. “I didn’t want to leave you alone and I didn’t feel right taking your mother’s bed. She’s out of town, but I don’t think she would be happy about me sleeping in it.”

  “Probably not,” I said softly. I didn’t mind that he was in bed with me. He started to move, but I put my hand on his and urged him to stay. He got comfortable once again and just held me. I needed this, to be held, to be assured that there was something good left to feel and that maybe, if I could ever move past my pain, maybe I could feel again—feel something other than empty and in pain.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He asked me to marry him.”

  “And that’s what all these tears are about?” He seemed surprised and confused as if he couldn’t understand how a proposal had produced the emotional storm I had the previous night.

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  “Sorry,” he kissed my temple gingerly. “Finish.”

  “He asked me. I said yes. And then he told me I was too fat for him.”

  “What?!” He tightened his hold on me. I could hear a twinge of anger in his voice.

  “He called me an elephant. He said a lot of other things, but they all came down to me being too fat for him. But if I would just go meet with the doctor he had scheduled an appointment for me to see I could have the rest of the fat sucked out of my body.” I trembled and started crying again—this time more softly than last night. My stomach was a mess and I had a headache. There was no way I could take the kind of crying I did last night.

  “He’s an idiot. You’re not fat. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect.” I thought maybe he was just saying it to make me feel better but then I remembered what Hina said about her brother; he never says anything he doesn’t mean.

  “He didn’t deserve you, Topaz. He didn’t deserve you.”

  I inhaled sharply. He kissed my cheek, kissing away a fallen tear. “Does it ever stop hurting?” He probably wouldn’t know. Arashi was more of the heartbreaker than the heartbroken type. “I need to know because right now it hurts to breathe.” I started sobbing again and this time, stomach and head feeling ill didn’t stop the sobs from coming just as violently as they had last night. I couldn’t stop crying. I just couldn’t stop, and because I couldn’t stop I felt weak and pathetic. Why cry over a man who had said the kinds of things he said to me? Why cry over a man who didn’t want me for me? Why? I didn’t know why. All I knew was I couldn’t stop doing it.

  “I know you’re hurting.” He kissed my temple and then my cheek all the while holding me tightly. “But you’re going to be okay.” He promised those words to me as he used his free hand to brush my sleek black hair away from my face. I must have looked like a disheveled mess because when I went to dinner with Jace my hair was up in a braided bun with a side swoop of hair going across my forehead in a retro and very classy look. I have long dark hair—so dark it looks almost black but it really has more red to it than black. It’s pretty and sleek when I take care of it, but at that moment I was sure it had to be wild and nearly all over my head because Arashi was definitely brushing hair out of my face which meant it was no longer in that sleek up-do look I had left home with yesterday. My raccoon eyes were probably swollen from all the crying I had been doing. God, I was at my worst emotionally and esthetically and I didn’t care. I was hurting too much to care.

  “Oh God, please help me,” I cried. I wanted to stop crying. I wanted to stop hurting.

  “Let it out, baby. Just let it out.” He held my trembling body in his arms, comforting me, protecting me on some level—protecting me from the self destruct bomb of emotions I had within me. As I lay there on the blue and red butterfly comforter I had no choice but to let it out, to cry, to hurt, to feel. My heart and my head wouldn’t let me have peace.

  Chapter Two

  I looked at her. She was broken and in danger of shattering the already broken pieces. I wanted to beat some sense and respect into that bastard. No, I’m not her man. We haven’t said more than a few words to each other but that doesn’t mean I can’t respect her. Hina talks about her and how great she is all the time. She talks about how good she is at design and she always shares Topaz’s work with me. She’s good at what she does and I could respect her for that. But maybe it’s more than that. Before Topaz came into our lives my little sister always seemed a bit broken herself. She had a few friends come and go and they always wanted something from her. But Topaz wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t even let Hina buy her lunch; at least that’s what my sister tells me.

  Topaz doesn’t realize this but I know more about her than she thinks I do. I have the information because of my sister. I know that Topaz went to school in New York. I know that while she liked it she never felt safe there. She said it was too big and she was small town. My sister says she laughed at that herself and then said, “so what do I do? I leave New York, New York and move to another big town.” I would agree there was some crazy to it, but from what Hina had told me Topaz was adjusting to, and loving, life here.

  Her parents divorced right before she started her senior year of high school. Hina had said it was hard for Topaz because her mother had decided to move after her first month of her senior year. She left all her friends behind, which according to Hina wasn’t so many seeing as though Topaz was quiet, a little shy, and had skipped a grade in school. But things had worked fine and she had gotten into design school in New York. Her mother had dragged her to New York and Topaz had eventually dragged her mother to San Francisco. The two ladies still lived together, helping each other out the best they could and doing whatever they could to make sure each other had what they needed.

  I knew that Topaz was compassionate, fun, had a love for music even though she could barely play the piano. I knew she missed the piano as they had to sell the one they had before they moved to New York. She never had lessons though. The piano was what her mother bought for her sister. Her sister didn’t study it as long as she should have and so the piano sat there un-played except for when Topaz sat down and played right hand by ear. I also knew that Hina had failed to mention Topaz had a new piano. I wondered if she played it at all or if it just sat in the center of the entertainment room q
uietly collecting dust. I doubted she left it untouched because from what Hina had told me this woman loved music. Hina made it sound as if Topaz loved music as much as I love music, but maybe on a smaller scale.

  I knew she loved orchids, but they weren’t her favorite flower; they were her second favorite. She loved gladioli more. I knew she wore a lot of darker colors, but had an affinity for reds and blues. I knew she had a finicky stomach, but not because she wasn’t willing to try new things; she just got sick behind mostly everything. I knew she was a virgin with the intent of staying that way until marriage. I knew her religion dictated it. Even though she wasn’t as active anymore her family still was and she didn’t want to lose any of them—which could happen if she didn’t wait. Yeah, I couldn’t be a part of that religion because a virgin I’m not. I’m not a male slut either, but I’m not a virgin. I was twenty-seven when I had my first sexual experience. I had it with somebody I loved, somebody I thought I would have forever with. I had it with somebody who found the bed of one of the artists I was working with while mixing his music just as comfortable as our bed. After that I guess I gave up on love. I didn’t sleep with every woman I went out with, but the ones I did I made sure they knew it wasn’t about love. I made sure they knew I like it rough. I’m not talking beat your behind rough. I won’t hit a woman, not even in sexual play. But I like to be in control. I like to tie a woman down and drag out her pleasure. Maybe it’s torture. Maybe I don’t want her to have a say in the situation. Maybe while giving her pleasure, taking my own, and making her wait for release I have some strange sense of getting back at my ex—punishing her for what she did to me by controlling every aspect of the relationship I have with any new woman I choose to have it with. I’m always in control. I’m always the one who says when it ends and how it ends. I’m always the one who decides when she’ll receive pleasure, how often, how hard. I’m in control, because for what felt like the most important relationship of my life I wasn’t in control. I gave her love, and respect and honored her, and she betrayed me. I knew then I wouldn’t make the same mistake with another woman. I would never trust or love like that again.

  Maybe that’s why I never looked at Topaz as more than my sister’s friend. She’s beautiful with her dark brown near black doe eyes that seemed to smile even when her lips were neutral. The soft brownness of her skin was rich. She had high cheekbones of which Hina told me came from her mother’s Choctaw side of the family. She had long hair which I loved on her, and last night, as I brushed my hand over it and my fingers through it, I found out her hair was soft. Had I met her at an event or produced an album she was doing I just might have taken her into my studio, got to know her a little and then got to know her body. But from everything my sister told me about her I knew she deserved better than that. She was too good for me and I knew that. I knew a lot about her. I knew she had a good heart. And I knew that bastard Jace had just broken it to pieces.

  When I picked her up I couldn’t have known what had transpired, but I could tell from the look on her face that whatever it was she was hurting. Then when she told me the details I felt anger. This was my little sister’s friend—best friend, even if Topaz didn’t know that. I was pissed that somebody had hurt her.

  Watching her cry herself to sleep again made me angrier. All I could do was hold her, so that’s what I did. I held her because she needed to be held.

  I think that moment was the turning day in my life. I think seeing her fall apart made me realize not all women were the same. I know I should have known that, but I was angry for so long that I just allowed myself to justify never giving anybody else my heart. I hoped it wouldn’t happen like that for her. She was too good to start to hate all men because of the actions of one.

  I started wondering if any of the women I had called things off with went home like this. I doubted it. I knew they didn’t want anything more than what I could do for them. They either wanted a record mixed with my music or they wanted money. Topaz wasn’t like that. She wasn’t even addicted to a “hot body” as so many women had said I had. Yeah, I workout because that’s me. I expect my women to be in shape the least I can do is keep myself in shape too. Plus I love my health and my body. Growing up Indian-Japanese and having a father who made a killing with his martial arts skills meant I learned young and I kept my studies up until I reached the same greatness. My father was the product of a Japanese father and a West Indian mother. He had the tanned complexion and the slight slant of his eyes to show for it. I took after my father. I got his height, five eleven, and his skin tone, his straight arrow nose and his hair. From my mother I’m not sure what I got. She’s shorter, but full Japanese. My sister looks more like her—shorter at five three and lighter in complexion. Nobody ever thinks she’s anything more than Japanese even though we have the same mixed blood lines. While my eyes got the slight slant hers have a full on slant. The one thing she says though is that the mix helped her get a great butt. As if I want to think about my sister and great butts in the same sentence.

  Topaz stirred in my arms and I knew she was awakening it was why I let her go. I let her get up and go use the bathroom, shower, wash her face to get the dried streaks of makeup off and get cleaned up. I made myself useful in the kitchen, cooking for her so she could eat. She hadn’t eaten since I brought her home and it was going on noon now so she needed to eat. Ninety-six pounds looked good on her, but it was too thin at the same time. She was still in her healthy weight range, but she was at the very bottom end of it. Two more pounds lost and she would be underweight. Topaz loved to say she was five one but really she’s five feet with a half inch. I know this because I can judge height and weight real well. I’m typically good with judging age too except Topaz looks underage still. From what my sister tells me Topaz gets a lot of people asking her if she’s even old enough to drive. They think she’s too young in a still in junior high kind of way. To me she looks nearly sixteen, seventeen at most. I say that’s good. Looking young never killed anybody—that I know of anyway.

  When she emerged from seclusion she had her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and she was wearing a fitted red t-shirt and white pants. I looked her over realizing she looked pretty darn good standing there—except for that permanent depressed look on her face.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as she approached the breakfast bar and sat down. I slid a plate of pancakes and Turkey bacon over to her before fixing her a glass of water.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “No, I mean…well yes, for this to, but for last night. Thanks for picking me up. I didn’t want to have to walk in the rain.”

  “You would have had a fifteen mile walk.” I looked at her realizing she would have walked it if she felt she had to. She had actually said she would walk when I told her my sister wasn’t home and she had already left for Japan.

  She shrugged. “Maybe it would have done my body some good,” she mumbled as she pushed food around on her plate. There was no way in hell I was going to let her do this to herself. I was not going to let her starve herself thinking she was fat. She’s not fat.

  I pulled up a chair on the other side of the breakfast bar and took the fork from her hand. I had my own food to eat too, but at that moment I was more concerned about her. I started getting pieces of pancake gathered on the fork before I brought it up to her lips. She hesitated as she looked in my eyes. I wiggled the fork a little closer to her lips. Eventually she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the fork, taking the food I offered her from the fork. I did that a few more times and then she started eating on her own without me. The woman used way too much syrup. It’s like, does she want some pancake to go with that syrup? But I didn’t ask her that because I didn’t want to break her groove with eating.

  I took her hand in mine and she didn’t pull away. What I saw was a single tear fall from her eyes and race down her cheek. No she was not about to start crying over that douche bag again. He didn’t deserve her tears.

  “Hina tells
me you are great with the designs. I’ve seen some of the ones you did for her. I need a cool logo for my new site. I already have a company I hired to do the site, but the logo—I need that to represent my new full on music label. I finally did it. I’m on my way.” I said that with pride. Yes, I’m a big name as a composer for movie soundtracks, but this was my dream, doing my own label while still composing. I also mix music so I’m a one man show for the most part but I’m really good at what I do.

  “Yeah, Hina told me you had all the legal ducks in a row. Congratulations, Arashi.”

  “Thanks. Do you think you can meet with me and talk designs? I’ll pay your fee.”

  “I could do it for free. You just rescued me from a dark and stormy night,” she said this with a hint of humor that failed and faded fast.

  “No, not free. I don’t take anything for free. Your work is worth more than that. I’ll pay you. Tell me what you charge your clients.”

  “Well, I charge your sister five hundred a design.”