Chapter 38
He bent down, first kissing my ever-growing bare belly—it was March, and I was seven months along—then my lips before dropping to the floor to sit between my legs. Scooting to the edge of the sofa, I kissed the top of his head before getting to work.
“It really trips me out that you like retwisting my hair,” Orlando said as he scrolled on his phone.
“I don’t know why. You know I like touching you,” I returned.
“Oh, so it’s not about someone else touching me anymore?”
“Hell-yeah it is.”
He laughed. “You a trip, you know that?”
“Mm-hmm.”
We settled into silence save for the sound of his phone mirrored to the TV as he perused TikTok. Most of his feed was hockey stuff, of course, mixed with trivia videos and men’s fashion. Every once in a while, the algorithm would throw him something out of the ordinary like a recipe or book recommendation. What made my hands still and my eyes affix to the TV screen was a gossip report.
“Patrick Singleton, known professionally as Smoke Dawg Baby or simply Smoke, is back in the news,” a female content creator began. “It seems he’s been hit with several lawsuits from some of the artists signed to his Smoke Shop label alleging unpaid royalties. This comes more than a year after Bianca Bambina, his most successful artist, ended her business and personal relationships with the music mogul, eventually signing with Big South’s Southbound Records and the London Management Group. It was only a few months ago that Bambina was granted a restraining order against Singleton. Court documents in that case allege he harassed the Icy Girl rapper for months after their split, causing her great distress. It’s been speculated that Singleton was upset about her relationship with hockey player Orlando Rapp, the son of famed fashion designer, Nina Rapport. Rapp was Rapport’s only child and inherited her empire, currently worth in the hundred millions. The couple are expecting their first child. Singleton has most recently been rumored to be dating rapper Vicky-with-the-Blicky, who is signed to his label. No word on if she’s also planning to sue him…”
“Damn,” Orlando said, “didn’t you say his mother said something about him not being able to pay his artists since you fired him and left his label? Nigga shouldn’t have wasted the money he did have on that fake show tryna fuck with you.”
“I think he saw that as an investment. He was attempting to intimidate me into going back to him since I was obviously paying for every damn thing. You know, some ‘you can’t run from me; I’ll find you,’ shit.”
“He’s such a complete bitch. All those years he was trying to convince you that you weren’t shit without him when the truth was the reverse. He ain’t shit without you.” He turned to face me and continued, “I know you think you got to where you are because of his direction and his decisions, but you were the key all along. Your talent, your presence, your uniqueness from your style to your beauty—all of that is what’s fueled your success. All Smoke did was point you to a bunch of raggedy-ass shortcuts to a place you were destined to go anyway. The longevity, the sales, the sold-out shows, that’s all you, baby. That’s all you.”
Biting my bottom lip, I fought tears as I lowered my face to his. “I love you so much.”
He kissed me and replied, “I love you, too, baby.”
* * *
“Wow! This is so beautiful!” I wailed. This baby kept me crying.
“We know you guys don’t need the gifts, but we wanted to do this for you. Every expectant mama deserves a baby shower,” Nuri Jones said, pulling me into a hug. “Rapp, the guys are in the kitchen,” she directed to Orlando.
“You good, Ish?” I heard him ask from behind me.
“Yes, go ahead,” I said.
When I got myself together, I took a seat on the pretty floral accent chair Nuri offered me that was situated in her living room and absorbed my surroundings—pink and blue balloons and streamers, a table piled with gifts, and another laden with food. Most of the Sires WAGs were there plus my dear Bubbles. I yelped when I saw Orlando’s stepmom and aunts, including his Aunt Taneisha. That told me his father and uncles were probably there, too, which made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt. They’d been keeping in touch, talking on the phone almost daily, but I knew he’d be excited to see his father again.
“Um…hey, boss,” Bubbles whispered. She’d pulled a chair next to mine.
“Hey! Thank you for coming,” I replied, hugging her.
Once we parted, she said, “Look, this is killing me.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“You ain’t said nothing about me and Rueben!”
“You and Rueben? Oh! You mean me catching y’all fucking in my dressing room?”
“You didn’t catch us fucking. We’d just finished.”
“Really, Bubbles?”
She shrugged.
I sighed. “Look, I’ve had a lot going on. I honestly haven’t thought about it.”
“Okay, but when you do think about it, are you going to fire us?”
“Girl, no. As long as y’all don’t fuck in my dressing room again or anywhere near me, I mean.”
“We won’t! I promise!”
“Uh-huh. So…Rueben is straight?”
“Bi, but you know I gives zero fucks about that.”
“Riiight. I guess the whole bickering thing was an act, then?”
“No, we really can’t stand each other.”
I stared at her for a moment. She was dead serious.
“But y’all are fucking?” I asked.
“Yep. We love each other.”
Fuck it.
“Look, if y’all like it, I love it as long as it doesn’t affect your work performances.”
She hugged me and trilled, “Thank you!”
I cast my eyes skyward and shook my head.
“You ready for the shower games, Ishmia?” Krystle asked.
I grinned and nodded. In the midst of everyone blind-testing baby food, something popped into my head, a revelation. I’d never imagined anyone doing something this nice for me without expecting something in return, but these were my friends, and I was thankful for them.