Page 8 of Intentional Foul (The Complexity of Love #2)

Chapter Four

Morning After Panic

Jhae

“ F rom downtown, Malcolm Shaw-Jefferiesss banked it, keeping L.A.’s playoff dreams alive!” the announcer yelled.

I glared at the TV, unable to decide whether I wanted to mirror the actions of the crowd or remain frozen.

Malcolm kissing me yesterday pushed me into a panic.

My body heated in desired pleasure, leaving me scrambling for a reaction.

I chose anger, but it didn’t deter him from acting on his urges.

Instead of sleeping in my comfortable bed, I checked into a hotel.

Something I shouldn’t have had to do because he should have respected the word no.

Malcolm was living in the land of delusion if he thought I was going to betray my friend.

Yeah, we shared one kiss. It was one passion-filled kiss, but my resolve hadn’t changed.

We are off limits to each other. Our common denominator was Anissa, his mother and my best friend.

I have insight into Anissa’s resolve about her son’s dating.

No one was good enough for the twins unless she custom-built them from Drexel headquarters.

Until Khalil stepped in, she coddled and spoiled them, especially Marquise.

The beginning of their marriage wasn’t smooth sailing as Khalil put his foot down on some things.

Both Malcolm and Marquise respected him for pushing them to be independent.

However, Anissa vented to me about his methods and they had some drag down arguments.

“If Malcolm continues to play lights out, they will be headed back to L.A. for game five,” the announcer said.

I entered my closet, removing several garments, carrying them inside the bedroom.

On my floor sat my open luggage, disorganized with my clothes.

Time was running out for me with the Basketball League schedule nearing its end.

Dodging Malcolm tired me out. Leaving would give him time to cool off and give me the opportunity to work on my album.

“L.A. has done it. They avoided elimination. Malcolm couldn’t be stopped,” the announcer yelled.

Stepping back into my walk-in closet, I removed my duffle bag for my shoes.

“Madison Reed with USPN. Malcolm, what was your motivation for tonight?”

“My Music Note,” he said, and I froze, reaching for a pair of shoes.

Fuck it, I’m leaving tonight , I thought to myself and sped up my goal of getting packed. I stuffed at least seven pairs of all-purpose shoes in the duffle bag and gave my closet one last glance.

“You’re doing the right thing,” I said to myself.

With only my mini bag resting on the bed, I moved toward the bathroom but paused when my doorbell sounded.

In a defeated stance, I huffed and dropped my shoulders.

Again, my doorbell rang as I crept toward the door.

Something I’ve been doing the last two months just in case I needed to pretend not to be home.

In the peep hole stood a man holding a guitar case and rose.

I rested my forehead on the door before I opened it.

“Jhae Amari Davis,” he asked.

Examining the middle-aged man in the black attire, I confirmed my identity with a head nod.

He passed me the yellow long-stemmed roses and guitar case then left.

I retreated into my living room, finding the couch.

The freshness from the yellow roses danced in my nose.

Resting the case on my wooden coffee table, I popped the locks.

Lifting the top of the pink velvet lining, I examined the classic guitar.

My eyes stopped at the signature. To Jhae, keep singing – Naomi .

Slobber nearly exited my mouth as I stared at the scripted writing.

Naomi inspired me to sing. I won my first talent show singing one of her ballads.

Tears welled in my eyes as fear prevented me from touching this treasure.

Spotting the card, I pinched the top of it with my index and thumb. This had to be a dream.

Flipping the note open, I read:

Music Note

I’m sorry for how I handled you yesterday. In my attempt to capture your heart, I scratched it. Making you cry broke me. It’s my intent to love you, not cause you panic. Please accept this guitar. I hope this helps you write your album. Love you, MSJ.

A tear hit the note before I could catch it. This was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given me.

“Fuck,” I said aloud as I jerked my head backward.

“Why, why, why does he have to be forbidden fruit?” I screamed.

I found my phone with the intention of telling Malcolm thank you, but I froze. Any communication from me could be misinterpreted to me flirting. Especially if Anissa finds out about everything. I locked my phone without sending a message and returned to packing my clothes.

“Moe,” I said as I extended my arms in his direction.

I landed in Kansas City last night with my guitar, anxious to get to the studio this morning. Moe Aux was the best in the business when it came to the boards. We met at the bottom of the label food chain and carried each other to the top.

“Jhae,” he said as we embraced.

Our hug often resulted in us rocking from side to side.

“What are you doing in Kansas City?” he asked.

Running came to the forefront of my brain, then music .

“The question is, what are you doing back in your hometown? I did a double take at your text message.”

Moe rubbed his face down to his full beard. “Mom fell and needs a little extra help. Came home to take care of the main lady. And you?” he asked.

I scanned the room, taking in his monitors, hardwood floors, MIDI keyboards, synthesizers, mixing boards and piano. A warm sensation of home rested on my shoulders as I sucked in the air.

“Album. The record label is down my neck. They want another ballad, something to rival ‘A Timeless Love Can Wait,’” I said.

Moe removed his baseball cap and caressed his waves. “That’s a tall number. Timeless Love is still charting,”

“Tell me about it,” I said, tossing my hands up. “It’s blank up here. I don’t want to write about love. I have nothing to pull from,” I said.

Moe invited me to take the seat next to him. He tapped my leg before leaning his slim but long body back in his seat.

“What’s going on in your personal life?” he asked.

I slanted my head before I covered my eyes.

“You know our art is a reflection of our life. Otherwise, people won’t connect with the song.”

My back pocket vibrated, and I removed my phone.

Malcolm

You are welcome, but the other half of your message I cannot accept.

On the plane last night, it bothered me not to say thank you. The gift was too thoughtful to not acknowledge. After writing and deleting several times, I kept it simple. I sent a “thank you but please let this go” text . Choosing not to respond, I silenced my phone, returning my eyes to Moe.

“It appears we do have something to pull from after all,” Moe said.

“No, we don’t. He is a sweet guy but in the wrong damn package,” I said as I slumped in my seat.

“Wrong package?” Moe questioned.

“Forbidden fruit. Crossing the line with him could destroy something I cherish, but he doesn’t care. What’s crazy is he’s been in love with me for at least two years. He would ask me how he could get this girl to notice him. The entire time he was talking about me,” I said.

Moe shrugged as he moved his chair closer to the mixing board.

“Moe,” I said.

“Before I start talking, what kind of forbidden fruit? We talking about your homegirl’s husband? A brother or something?” he asked.

I chuckled at his question because we both knew I didn’t have any industry friends.

After attending a few after parties, it opened my eyes.

Features and hit records didn’t equate to trust. Women as well as men would set up and step on you for their own selfish gain.

The only person I could depend on was Anissa.

“I’m trusting you, Moe. My best friend’s son,” I whispered.

The words exiting my mouth left a dirty but gritty taste behind.

“The basketball players? Aww... man, get out of here. Ain’t they grown and millionaires?” he questioned.

His noncritical reaction sent my head jerking backward.

“Yes, they are technically grown. They turned twenty-three in January, but that isn’t the point. Anissa would kill me if I slept with her son. It’s borderline weird but when I say he doesn’t give a damn—I mean it,” I said.

Moe smiled after he gave me a cackle. “Jhae, men don’t care about half the shit y’all women do.

From his perspective, you both are adults.

You’re not blood relatives. He could be seventy-five years old, and Anissa will see her baby.

Awww ...that’s why you came running to KC.

Distance ain’t gon’ help you. Men are hunters.

If anything, you triggered his go button. ”

I stood from the chair, finding the tan leather couch and slumped in the middle seat.

“Two years he’s been waiting on you? He got something in store for yo ass,” Moe said.

The flash from my phone lit the room. Removing it again, I glared at the message.

Malcolm

Don’t make me use my key to see those big brown eyes.

I said nothing in return. He could use that key until he was blue in the face. I was several thousand miles away and safe from his touch.

“Let me play some tracks for you,” Moe said.

We sat and bobbed through some beats until I heard those strings. I paused Moe as the words flooded my head. Kicking off my shoes, I moved into the booth and closed my eyes.