Page 16 of Faded Rhythm

Sable

Back in the hotel room, I settle on the edge of my bed and dial my mother. It barely rings once before she picks up.

“Hi, my sweet baby,” she says, sentimental as always. “Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay, Mommy.” I try not to let the weight of everything slip into my voice. “I’m just tired.”

“I wish I could hug you right now.”

I close my eyes and imagine her perfume. Shalimar. Powdery and sweet.

“I wish you could, too,” I say.

There’s a pause, then I ease into it.

“Has Brett ever said anything to you? About our marriage, or…anything that struck you as strange?”

She hesitates. “Strange? Not that I can think of. Why?”

I chew my bottom lip. “I’m divorcing him.”

It’s quiet. On my end, and on hers. It stretches on so long, I start fidgeting. I only stop because King’s eyes are on me. Dark eyes and a stare that pins me in. It makes me want to behave.

“Sable,” she finally says softly. “Brett’s always given you a good life. I thought y’all were happy.”

“I thought so, too,” I say. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Another pause, then her voice drops like she’s deep in thought. “Well…I understand that. Powerful men are complicated. Your daddy was like that, too.”

“Yes,” I murmur. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.”

“Me, too. That’s odd that we both…” she trails off. “His accident. He wasn’t himself before it happened. He was in his head a lot. Kept getting phone calls he wouldn’t tell me about. Always leaving home in a rush. Your daddy never rushed for anything unless it was serious.”

“Did you ask him what was going on?”

“Of course I did. He just said he’d explain it all soon enough.”

I nodded. “Something was going on. The way he veered off the road…it just doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees. “He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sick. He seemed…scared.”

Big Ray Lovelace? Scared? That didn’t make sense to me.

“He talked a lot about Dime back then,” she said. “He was worried. He said he was thinking about cutting his losses and going independent with Redd. Said Dime had his hands in too many things.”

“How come you never told me any of this?”

She sighs. “I didn’t think it was relevant, I guess.”

I sit with that for a moment, my mind a mess of thoughts.

“I love you,” I say. “We’ll talk again soon.”

“Okay, baby. Love you more.”

I end the call, turning my attention to King. “I think my father-in-law might have some answers.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Dime?”

“Yeah. It’s funny. I never really trusted him all that much. It wasn’t anything he did. It was just his vibe. He has a darkness about him.” My eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the middle of all this.”

King stands and stretches, his shirt rising just enough to reveal the taut lines of his abdomen.

"I’m gonna take a shower,” he says, low and gritty. “We’re running out of time before he shows up at your sister’s place.”

“I know.”

“Then I need your head in the game. Think hard. Take notes if you have to.”

I nod, but my head is everywhere else but the game. As soon as the water starts running, I go to the minibar and pour myself a drink. Vodka tonic. Tastes sharp and bitter, but it takes the edge off of my life.

I call and say goodnight to my girls, dodging their questions as best I can. I’m just hanging up when I hear it…a ding! from King’s laptop.

I glance over at it, then the bathroom door. In a split second, I decide to be nosy. It’s my life on the line, after all.

A small message box lights up the corner of the screen. The title I KNEW YOU WERE COMPROMISED

I stare at it, tempted to click and afraid of what I might find if I do—not to mention what King might do if he finds out.

I’m still debating when the water shuts off. I scurry back to the bed and try to act cool. I’m finishing my cocktail when the bathroom door opens. Steam rushes out, then King walks through the cloud like something out of a movie.

He’s still glistening with moisture, a white towel wrapped low around his waist. I don’t even pretend I’m not staring with my mouth open. He looks like he’s carved out of stone, all hard muscle, tight lines, and controlled swagger.

But there’s something else.

In the midst of all the six foot two perfection, there are imperfections. Jagged scars, slashing this way and that across his muscular chest. Most are puckered and pale, but some are red and angry.

My chest tightens as I wonder who did that to him.

He doesn’t even look at me. He grabs his bag and heads back into the bathroom, leaving me on the bed catching my breath.

When he returns, he’s dressed in a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The softness of the fabric contrasts with the hard lines of his frame. It makes him look more human, less machine.

He sits at the desk and opens the message. His eyes scan it, then he looks at me.

“You might wanna see this for yourself.”

I rise and move to him. This time, when I wedge myself beside him in the chair, it feels natural for us to touch. I breathe in the scent of his clean skin, detecting the faint smell of citrus.

The screen shows documents. Royalty statements, wire transfers, tax records. Many with Clayton Wilson’s name all over them—Redd Clay, my father’s biggest artist. The Tupac of the south.

“I don’t understand,” I mumble. “Why would any of this matter now? Why keep this when Dime sold the label?”

“When was this?”

I think for a moment. “It’s gotta be eleven years now. My daddy died twelve years ago.”

King points to a number on the screen. “Redd Clay was a cash cow, Sable. Look right there. Those wire transfers? The amounts are way higher than reported. It looks like some are coming from shell companies. I bet if I looked them up, they wouldn’t trace back to anybody.”

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes serious. “Looks like money laundering to me.”

I blink. “Like…mafia?”

He shrugs. “Mafia. Cartels. Arms dealers. Who knows? Anybody with dirty money.”

It’s still not clicking for me.

When I gaze at the screen, all I see are names and numbers.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“He kept this for a reason,” King answers. “We just need to figure out why.”

I nod slowly as I notice a single droplet of water sliding down the side of his neck. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and wipe it away with the pad of my finger.

His body tenses, and I feel a shiver move through him.

I don’t know what makes me do it…maybe the alcohol, maybe the ache in my chest…but I touch him again, tracing my fingertips over his cheek.

He closes his eyes. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away.

I let my palm rest flat against his cheek. The stubble is rough, but it feels good against my skin. Almost as good as when he ever-so-slightly leans into my hand. Just a little. Just enough to deny if questioned.

My body hums. My nipples tighten. I caress his jaw, then his neck, dragging my fingers over his collarbone before they come to rest at the center of his chest. Right over one of those hideous scars.

“What happened to you?” I murmur.

His eyes fly open. He jerks back like I slapped him, then jumps up so fast, the chair rocks me back and forth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demands.

“Nothing. I saw…” I trail off, confused by his anger. “You saw me naked, King. I’m not allowed to ask you about your scars?”

“What the fuck does one have to do with the other?”

I stare into his dark eyes and feel something. It’s not fear, even though it probably should be.

“And the only reason I saw you naked is because you wanna fuck me.”

Now I rear back like I’ve been struck.

“Don’t look surprised,” he grits. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”

“Whatever. So what if I do wanna fuck you? I’m human. I have desires.”

He stares blankly as if he doesn’t understand my humanity. As if he hasn’t been programmed with the empathy chip.

“You looked at me,” I accuse. “And it was obvious.”

He blows out a breath. “I had to take the picture.”

“No,” I say, rising to my feet. “It was more than that.”

He doesn’t move or speak. He’s rooted right there next to the desk.

“Are you scared of women?”

That gets him. “Fuck outta here.”

“There must be a reason you’re so guarded and jittery around me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sable.”

That’s what his mouth says. His body is saying something else, though. He’s not fully hard, but the bulge is definitely bigger than it was two minutes ago.

I stop in front of him, staring up, searching for a crack in the armor.

“Why are you so guarded?”

“Why are you so fucking nosy?” He stares down at me, his nostrils slightly flared. “You were a lot less annoying when I was watching you from a hundred feet away.”

I smile up at him. “It’s okay if you’re attracted to me. You’re human, too. Not sure if you knew that or not, Tin Man.”

He exhales like I’m exhausting him. “Let it go, Sable. For real. Just…let this shit go.”

I take a step back, crossing my arms. “Fine. Let’s get to work.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone, but it lingers in the air, thick and heavy and hot. A lightning strike just waiting to land.