Chapter 4
“Iknow I don’t speak your language, but I wanna know more baby…”
Frequency
“Mmm, damn.” Lyra stretched in my bed and turned her head toward me.
She had a little sweat on her chest, and her hair stuck to her face as I sat up with my back to her. I made sure to get her off a couple of times before I busted and got ready for a shower. I had a few meetings lined up, and needed to get busy.
“We should argue a little more often. Making up is a great thing.” A wide grin filled most of her face, causing her skin to turn a blush red.
“I need to get cleaned up. I got some shit to take care of.” I pulled myself from the bed and walked over to my master bath.
That cuddling shit was not for the kid. Usually when my nut left me, so did whatever I felt for a bitch in that moment.
Lyra remained underneath the covers, and I didn’t think shit of it as I ran a shower and got cleaned up.
I was in there maybe ten minutes, thinking about what I was going to do with my damn daughter since she was here.
She needed to get enrolled into school, and I had to find a doctor and dentist for her.
As bad as I didn’t want to think it, a nigga could use his mother right now.
After a quick wash up I was out of the shower.
Grabbing one of my big ass blue towels, I hopped out and tucked it around my waist.
When I stepped into my room, Lyra was no longer on the bed.
When I peered around, she didn’t seem to be present at all.
Frowning, I inched closer to the bed, snatching up my robe off the foot of it and pulling it over my frame.
Bass thumped against the walls. It was so light I only heard it if I stopped fucking breathing.
I had Harbor tucked away into the home. The walls weren’t soundproof, but it was enough of them to block the sound of her music.
Sometimes at night I still heard it. I would lay in bed and pretend not to.
If that was what got her through, she could play that shit all day and night for all the fuck I cared.
She was an asset, and I wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet.
Shuffling toward the door, which was left slightly ajar, something told me that bitch Lyra took her nosy ass out there trying to investigate.
She knew that my daughter had gone downstairs, and the only other person in this house was Celine.
I padded down the hall, searching for her.
The music grew louder the further I walked.
By the time I rounded the second corner, I found Lyra hovering outside the door with her ear pressed against it.
She was struggling to hear what was going on inside, but only the sounds of “If This World Were Mine” played smoothly.
I imagined on the other side of the door that Harbor was on her toes, upper body swaying and bending in ways a nigga didn’t even know was possible.
She did it with ease. Since I was on the outside looking in on her, everything she did only made me more curious about her.
The sight of Lyra so close to her door sparked something possessive inside me.
“The fuck are you doing?” I snatched her by her elbow and slammed her against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
She watched my chest heave up and down, and her crazy eyes linked with mine in the dimness of the hall. There weren’t many windows in the house. Just endless rows of darkened passages, leading to different parts of the home.
“Why is that door locked? Who is in there?” she asked, squinting at me suspiciously.
“This is my fucking house, Lyra. Why the fuck are you wandering around like you live in this mothafucka?” I demanded, staggering her with my tone.
“I heard something. I was curious. Is there a woman in there?” she asked, searing a hole through me.
“Whatever is behind that door is none of your fucking business. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house.” I aimed my index finger toward the front while keeping a hard stare fixed on her.
“Fine. I don’t need this shit. You and all your fucking secrets can kiss my ass!” She tried to storm off, and then something came to mind, so I snatched her ass back in front of me.
“You talk to anybody about what goes on in my fucking house, and you won’t be around to tell anything else, Lyra. You understand?” I threatened, watching her eyes double in size.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Frequency.” She pushed herself from the wall and sauntered away.
I watched her until she was gone before spinning around to face Harbor’s door.
With my back against the wall, I wished I had a pair of eyes that could see through things.
I could feel her energy on the other side.
She was of high frequency, no pun intended.
By the time I got back to my bedroom, Lyra was gone, and I went to my closet to get dressed—business casual in slacks and a sky-blue button-up Tom Ford shirt, I found myself back in the kitchen.
“What happened to Lyra? She ran out of here pretty fast,” Celine said when I entered.
She was at the island chopping up vegetables.
“Nothing,” I muttered, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge. “I got some errands to run. I’ll be back later. I gotta figure out this shit with Ivy now that she’s here.”
“She went exploring,” Celine revealed. “Outside. And I let her know to stay away from the east wing. The furthest she can go is your bedroom.”
“Thank you.” I stopped at the counter beside her and kissed the top of Celine’s head.
She was a Godsend. That was for sure. She held all of my secrets. I didn’t trust some of my blood relatives as much as I banked on her. Celine was clutch, and she always came through ten times out of ten.
“My boy, you carry such a burden. It stains you,” Celine said as I pulled away and stared down into her face. My eyes fell on the ground. “I understand that you feel like you have a responsibility to see this through—”
“And that’s what I’m going to do. I owe that… to my daughter if nothing else.”
“The only thing you owe her is the best life. That’s all that she wants. Her father. She lost her mother years ago already. Don’t let her lose you too,” Celine warned.
“I gotta go.” I walked away, but her words were implanted now.
Once I got outside, I let a deep sigh escape while going into my pocket for my cell phone. I dialed the only person I knew to call in that moment—my fucking mother.
“Hello, my love,” she sang into the phone.
“What’s up, Ma?” I greeted her while walking over to my Bentley Coupe waiting in the circle drive.
“What do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” she quipped.
“I got a little problem, and I need your help.”
“Name it,” she said without hesitation.
That was just how Mama was. I smiled and got into my car.
“Ivy is here,” I conveyed, pushing the start button.
“She is? When did that happen?” I could hear the astonishment in her voice.
“I don’t know. I guess her auntie got tired of playing the parental role. Either way, she’s here.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. You are her father. It’s where she should be. What do you need me for?”
“I need to get her in school and all this other shit I don’t know shit about. I got a lot going on—”
“Quency, make time. She is your child,” my mother chastised.
“It takes a couple of hours outside of your day to do that. I can look into the schools from here and send you what I find. But I’m not about to fly halfway around the world for this.
I have enough to deal with here, and I can’t just leave right now. ”
“A’ight, fine,” I grunted, not liking where it conversation was going. I felt a lecture coming on next.
“Maybe you should consider trying to settle down. Find a woman to share and build a life with. If you didn’t keep yourself so closed off—”
“I get it, Ma. Thanks. I gotta go,” I stated, suddenly in a rush to get her off the phone.
“Oh, now you gotta go when I start talking that real,” she countered with a chuckle.
“I gotta go ’cause I called for a solution, and you didn’t give me one,” I quipped, agitated.
“Fine, I got one for you. Don’t call me on the bullshit when it arrives either,” she said complicitly.
“Bye, Ma.” I hung up and tossed my phone into the passenger’s seat.
She was no fucking help. For the first time, I needed her on some real shit, and she wanted to play that handle it yourself bs.
I didn’t have time for that with everything else I had going on already.
Somebody to help me with Ivy was ideal right now.
She was a distraction I didn’t see coming.
I’d been plotting and planning for the last six years, and it was starting to feel like all the work I was putting in behind the scenes was in vain.
Don’t get me wrong; a nigga loved his child.
It was just hard sometimes. Ivy’s mother, Ivana, was killed when she was six years old.
My life had never been the same. Since then, I put every ounce of attention I had into running my business and finding out what the fuck happened to the love of my life.
What we had could never be duplicated. The thought of even letting another close to me in that way again lowkey made a nigga’s anxiety spike.
Loving somebody and then losing them hurt like a bitch.
A nigga’s heart was too bruised to even consider putting it through some shit like that again.