Chapter Nine
THE LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE
LYRIC
G roggily peaking beneath the cloud of covers as he dresses, I take in the sight of the man who so thoroughly ravished me all day yesterday. Freshly showered, he looks amazing. He’s in western dress for once. In a pristine black suit, blindingly white shirt, charcoal gray tie with diamond cufflinks. He looks relaxed and well rested, though neither of us got much sleep. He made love to me all day and night, then again right before he got up to shower. He gave me no respite, and I didn’t ask for any. I want to bury myself deeper under the covers, but I’m no coward. I’ve always faced my mistakes. That is what yesterday and early this morning was — a mistake. My emotions are already all over the place. My body aches in places I didn’t think were possible. I refuse to allow myself to feel any shame. I’m grown and… I don’t even allow myself to finish the thought. Dang it. I folded like paper for Hassan just like the weak women I sing about never being, yet here I am letting His High-And-Mightiness have his way.
I’m trying to get used to this new normal. I’ve been putting on a brave face for Ayaan. So there really hasn’t been time for me to just sit with everything that’s happening and the repercussions that are happening to my life. So tearing myself up about a moment of weakness, I just won’t do. It happened, it’s over, that’s all.
Hassan has ripped me away from everything and I’m the one who is going to have to deal with it. He may be untouchable ensconced in his palaces with all his power, but I still have life and legacy to maintain. People who depend on me for their livelihood. Then I let him — I don’t even want to think about all that he did and I allowed. All I know is I need to get my act together, so I can find a way out of this situation before something irrevocable happens, like me getting pregnant again. He made it clear that’s his goal. To have me full with his babies. Walking around this palace year after year spitting out his kids like some broodmare. Ain’t no fucking way.
“I can already see your mind working overtime.” Tone nonchalant, he looks at me as he adjusts his tie.
Sitting up, I pin him with a glare. “And I wonder why that is?” I watch as he shoves his hands in his pockets and rock back and forth a little, quietly assessing me.
Then it seems as if he wraps himself in a shield of ice. The temperature of the room even seems to drop as he regards me. Gone is the passionate lover. In his place is the monarch. And I? I may as well be slowly serf for as much regard as he gives me as his next words so eloquently prove.
“I will make your excuses to our families this morning. However, tonight you are expected to be by my side, and behave according to your station.” I’m already jumping up at his words. Family?
“W-what do you mean, my family?” I wince, and I’m not sure it’s from the rigorousness of last night or the real possibility of his words. Either way, he misses nothing. Not the wince, not the marks he’s left on my body. Not the evidence of his desire from earlier.
I feel like a deer caught in headlights as he stalks over to me. His eyes warm on the passion marks spread across my neck, breasts, and thighs. His nose flares, scenting me.
“If I had time, I’d make you even messier. I like you covered in my come, jameela.” Roughly musing as his hand dips between my legs. His gaze rakes over my face. I hate and love his touch. It’s something about the obsessiveness in his need to possess me, then transcends everything I know I should want.
Finger dripping with our spent emissions, he sucks one digit clean before pressing the other into my mouth. He makes me like the nasty things he does. I savor our mingled flavors.
“Stop, Hassan.” I try to pull away, but he holds me fast. “What are you talking about?”
“Ah, that your family is here?” He puzzles out, looking at me before seeming to remember. “I forgot to brief you yesterday while we were otherwise occupied. Your family came in yesterday and will be dining with us tonight. The wedding will be in haste, but we shall still observe all the formalities, which includes our families having a formal dinner.”
He may as well smack me. I dropped back down to the bed, stunned.
“Shit has just gotten real, huh?” His clipped words seem to almost relish the torment I’m feeling. “Yeah, my secretary informed me your parents were floored to find out you had a baby. You didn’t tell them either.” Judgement wedges into every syllable of his words.
I feel sick. I want to disappear. Sink into the bed and never rise again. But Ayaan, my sweet baby, needs me. People are still counting on me to salvage something of my life and career, so they can live theirs. I just need to moment to square my reality with the sucker-punch I just took square in my solar plexus.
I’m pulling the cover over my head, trying to escape reality when it’s snatched back with brutally quick efficiency. “Why didn’t you tell your family?”
I don’t bother looking at him. I mange to squeeze out. “Not everyone’s family is as close as yours.” What would have been the point? More judgement, hypocrisy and recriminations? No, thank you.
Silence drops between us like a cannon ball — hot and loaded.
“You gave me a pass, so can you leave me be for a while?” I’m proud that my voice doesn’t sound choked. I’m even prouder that I don’t scream, cry and roll over the floor like a lunatic gnashing and wailing.
His highhandedness needs to stop. However, at the moment, I don’t have the words or energy to process any of what’s coming. I’m still on yesterday. My utter failure and preserving what little resolve I possess in dealing with this man. One touch from him and I melt. Yet, he looms over me now with disdain. Dare I to check, probably disgust at me being a terrible daughter by not saying anything to my family about Ayaan.
He drops the cover. “I’ll be here to escort you. Be ready.”
Pulling the covers over my head, I ignore him. He doesn’t deserve my story. He made up his mind about me long ago.
Now, I get to make an informed decision about him. He’s a judgmental asshole, who makes snaps decisions about folks when he doesn’t know anything about them.
Heat burns my eyes. Soon, the need to retch has me up and emptying the meager contents of my tummy into the toilet.
Trembling, I rinse the ick away as well as the remnants of the man who’s changed my life in the most glorious way in one moment and is now single-handedly ruining it now.
“You look beautiful.” Hassan’s cool gaze eats me up as he slowly walks around me, looking at the blue dress that matches his tie, pocket square and lapel pin of lapis lazuli. The modest creation is an intricate pattern of lace opening into a V that stops just at my décolletage, flowing into a sheer skirt that overlays another bejeweled skirt that stops at my ankles. Jeweled encrusted ballerina flats wait by the entrance of the suite will cover my feet for the evening.
“Thank you,” I murmur, not quite meeting his piercing gaze. He looks amazing, having changed into another exquisitely bespoke suit. The anxiety of the day almost took me under. I was so overwhelmed by the thought of seeing my family. From what Aliah says, all three of my sisters, Kadence, Song and Harmony, are here. I’m surprised my mother allowed them to come. I don’t know what persuasion the Al Rasheeds used to convince her to attend the dinner of her daughter, the liar. I’m sure me being rewarded for my sinful ways is the last thing she wants to have my sisters’ witness. Then there is Rob, the dick — my stepfather. Them being here obviously is his doing. Money and the chance to benefit some way off my fame has always been an incentive for his trifling ass.
Anytime there have been leaks about my life to the press about some diva behaving badly BS, I know exactly who is responsible. His presence in my life has been nothing good, save for the fact he’s my sisters’ father.
Thankfully, I had the entire day, thanks to Hassan’s consideration, allowing me to rest in the wake of his lovemaking, to face them all tonight. The guilt at having to leave them behind as I pursued my career. The only thing that saved me was the knowledge they didn’t have to endure my mom’s disdain, doubts and recriminations.
“Everyone is waiting on us in the receiving room. Here.” Taking my hand, he slips a blue diamond on my ring finger.
“It’s beautiful.” Eyeing the at least twenty carat pear-shaped cushion gem set on a titanium band, I wiggle my finger watching how it catches the light.
“It’s pales compared to you, jameela.” Knowing he’s just saying the smooth words as a polite response does nothing to prevent my heart from slamming against my rib cage at twice its previous rate.
“I bet you say that to all the girls you give ten-million dollar diamonds.” Smirking at him, I let myself take in the magnificence of his form. Clean shaven and smelling like heaven, he’s every temptation made real.
His strong, chiseled jaw kicks up. “Yeah, all one of them. Come, our families await.”
Taking his offered arm, I find a strange comfort in the muscles rippling beneath my fingers. I push down the trepidation sitting heavy in my heart, drawing on the strength I’ve always had have since I learned sometimes stepdads are the monsters hiding under the bed.
“So how did all this come about?” Just as the second course is served, Mother frowns at me, looking around the grand expanse of the private family dining room of the Al Rasheed’s residence within the place grounds. It may as well be a halfway house for all she cares about the opulence. Her being unimpressed by wealth would be commendable if she weren’t being so fucking rude to her hosts. Which is her way of showing her disapproval of what she deems are my choices — running away, living my dream in defiance of them, and now having a baby out of wedlock.
Like most royals, the Al Rasheed’s use the state dining room for official functions and a much smaller, yet just as posh room for family events.
This table easily accommodates my family of five, as well as Hassan’s family, with room to spare.
Tilting my head at the inane question because she knows exactly how it came about, I meet her stare until hers falters. She has four daughters despite acting like as if we were the result of immaculate conceptions.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to the woman my father loved and the mom I remember from so long ago before Rob came into our lives. Then I remember she made her choices and I let it go. I’m more than happy with mine — all of them. Like Tupac said, “Only God can judge me,” and I’ll be damned if I let a hypocrite and her degenerate wastrel of a husband make me feel bad.
“I guess how most things come about.” I give her a sweet smile. One I’ve cultivated since I was nine years old. Nothing sassy that will get the taste slapped out your mouth but also giving them no ammunition.
“We are all happy about our little miracle, Ayaan. We look forward to having Lyric as a member of the family officially as well.” Smiling warmly in my direction, the queen turns her gaze to my family. “And you all as well.”
Seeing my sisters blossom under the shine of the queen’s regard is worth any discomfort having their father here. I can see him salivating at the prospect of how he can use his association with the royal family to his benefit.
“Yes, well, be that as it may we feel me must apologize for all the upset our daughter has caused your family.” Rob smoothly says, his voiced filled with the gravitas of the chairman of the deacon board that so many in our church community find impressive. “We are proud of her. However, her wild ways are well known. Ensnaring your beloved son — well, let us just say, we are glad that it’s all working out as the Lord has planned—or rather Allah.” He’s a smooth one, I’ll give him that. I almost choke on him referring to me as his daughter, when he’s been so adamant up till this point that we are not blood related.
The smarminess isn’t lost on me, though. I can tell the Al Rasheeds don’t quite know how to parse in insults mixed with praise wrapped in a deep southern drawl. They probably don’t think he knows any better. Probably thinking he’s some country bumpkin, not realizing he’s disparaging his own child with his religiosity. I’ve seen this Fog Horn Long Horn act a million times from him. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he feigns wide eyed innocence as he lets some embarrassing detail from my past slip. Like the time he told the press I didn’t graduate high school. Never saying I later got my diploma through a correspondence course, I had to pay for myself because I had no help from them. Never mentioned why I had to quit school in the first place. No, it was me seeking fame and fortune, a greedy, grasping girl who cares for no one but herself. At least, that’s what he wanted the people at our church to believe.
Ignoring the statement, I spoon the delicious hirara soup, purposely not looking at Hassan, who is sitting across from me. I can feel his eyes boring into me, demanding, beseeching, I say something in my defense.
“Ayaan is a blessing, just as his name implies, and his mother is the bestower of that gift,” Hassan bites out. The air in the room pulsates with violent energy. From my periphery, I see the king stiffen. The queen sits higher, her demeanor morphing from welcoming hostess to haughty royal as she stares down at the despicable man.
Where is the diva? Where is the baddie who acts first and claps back second? Who is this woman who doesn’t rise to the bait? Who seems to impervious to the disdain of those who are supposed to love and champion her most.
I would tell him she has to care. I don’t. Their opinion matters little to me. After twenty years of betrayal.
My sisters are all I care about. Correction Ayaan, my sisters, Fi and despite my best effort to make it so, him. And on that thought, my gaze lifts to his, seeking his comfort. Immediately I curse myself knowing I gave myself away to the viper in our midst.
“Harrumph,” Rob clears his throat. He spears me with a sinister smile. My tummy drops, already knowing what’s coming. “At least she didn’t kill this one.”
He drops the bomb, then digs into his food with relish. Mother eyes me with stony animus rippling through every fiber of her being. My sisters are all flushed with embarrassment and shame.
“Papa, how could you?” Kadence hisses in his direction, as her eyes stray back to me, pleading.
Song, sweet gifted Song cheeks flush and tears well in her eyes and Harmony reaches over to grasp her twin’s hand over the knife she’s clutching fiercely.
“Excuse me, Your Majesties, Your Highness,” I manage to get out before I’m sick all over the table or take my knife and stab that bitch in front of everyone. The only thing stopping me is Ayaan.
Rising, I walk swiftly from the room, not caring if I’m breaking the protocol which I know I am. You don’t leave until the monarch’s leave, but I need to get out of that dining room before I scream and throw the biggest hissy fit of all time.
Aliah follows closely behind me in silence as I navigate my way back to my suites.
The lights are dim when I enter. I go straight into the adjacent rooms to check on my baby. I wanted him nowhere near my parents. I gave Hassan the excuse that he was tired and the dinner was way past his bedtime. All true. I told him I’d arranged for Ayaan to meet my family tomorrow, but that was a lie. It’s only my sisters I’m going to allow to see him. I know mother won’t see him unless Rob is there, and that’s a no for me. I have not been in the same room with that monster since I left home and promised myself I never would again.
My refusal to allow him anywhere near me has cost me a relationship with my sisters because, as mother says, they were all a package deal. If he couldn’t come, they couldn’t come to visit. She was more than willing to accept the money I sent along with retiring her from her job as a school cafeteria worker. Yet, allowing my sisters to some to visit me — the fallen one on their own was a bridge too far.
“I love you sweet heart,” I whisper, nearly choking on the words. Humiliation and anger swelling up inside me like a tsunami. Turning, I cover my mouth, trying to stifle the sob threatening to break through.
I nearly topple over when I see Hassan’s mountainous form filling the door frame. His face is a mask of darkness. As if a thunder storm decided to take up residence on his face.
I’m stepping back from the fury I see there. His big arms sweep out. “Come here, Lyric.”
Next, I’m flying into his outstretched arms, burrowing my face into his muscular neck.
Guttural sobs rip from me like I’m being gutted by a ravenous predator.
His hand spears into my hair, tugging my head back, making me face him. His face is hard, his eyes like flint. I watch his jaw work. “Don’t you ever let a motherfucker degrade you like that again.” He shakes me. “Do you fucking hear me?”
“Y-yes,” I hiccup, and nod, my face crumbling all the while.
“Never, again.” Tugging me close into the deep comfort of his arms,he lets me cry.