Chapter 18
eighteen
He couldn’t stop staring at her. Soundly asleep, arms folded into her chest, his t-shirt over her body, a pillow between her knees.
Sex hadn’t been like this for him. Not tender or careful.
Just a boy doing what men did because the streets had forced him to live beyond his years.
The women never coaxed softness from his depths and he never saw a future with them.
But laying here with every nerve in his body calm, softness played like a melody.
He laid there for an hour taking in the parts of her he knew, discovered, and longed to uncover.
Layer for layer, everything for them would flourish in the most beautiful way.
Slipping his arm from under her head, Cairo eased out of the room.
At the laptop with his headphones placed over his ears.
He built a beat in minutes. A beautiful melody of all the things she loved.
That discovery was made easily from her suggestions.
A slight drum kick, strings, and keys. An R&B vibe that was sure to put a smile on her face after she critically reviewed it with the ears she was blessed with.
As Cairo bobbed his head to the beat, a set of soft hands caressed his shoulders.
Anticipating she’d need a seat, he turned around and opened up his arms. Kamilla carefully lowered herself on his lap and pulled the headphones off his head and placed them over hers.
While she listened, he lightly massaged the small of her back waiting for her feedback.
No feedback just Kamilla leaning back in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and listening to it on repeat. Almost ten minutes passed, his eyes had drifted close while his nose rested in the nest of curls he’d pulled loose hours ago.
“I think you made this for me,” she hummed softly, headphones still on her ears.
Cairo offered her a soft smile she couldn’t see. The way she sunk further against him, he knew she felt it.
“This is the second most beautiful thing anyone has ever made for me,” Kamilla shared, taking the headphones off of her head. “Whoever gets that better do it justice.”
“Nah, I’m not giving that one away. That’s all yours,” he muttered into her hair. “You feelin’ alright?”
“A little sore but I’m fine. You didn’t break me,” she commented, standing to her feet.
Her hands found his face and in the same manner he spent an hour adoring her, she took her moment to return it.
Kamilla’s soft fingers danced over his face.
She nipped her lip, a cue that she was talking herself out of whatever was on her mind.
“Uh uh, say it,” he muttered, placing his hands on her hips.
“What are you hiding underneath all of this?” she posed. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. But I want to see all of you. Or at least know why…”
Cairo licked his dry lips. His phone rang out, an unwanted distraction from the truth. Kamilla yielded her press and handed him his phone, kissed his cheek, and walked away. Taking a beat to recenter himself, he looked at the number. Fahaad.
Clearing his throat, Cairo answered, but before he could get the words out of his mouth Fahaad’s rumble of laughter silenced him.
“If I want that nigga to sound real, call you? Hilarious and I didn’t even take you for the funny type. You must be ready to make a change.”
Cairo looked over his shoulder not finding any sign of Kamilla. Stroking the unkempt facial hair, he nodded as if Fahaad could see him. “Yeah.”
“Why?” Fahaad asked, causing Cairo’s brows to fuse and reply before his answer was fully thought out.
“You ask that wack ass nigga why he’s rapping about some shit that ain’t organic to him?”
Fahaad kissed his teeth. “Hell nah, ‘cause when that shit is over, I’m moving on to the next thing. You a producer, you got to grow roots in the shit and have real artists trust you. So what’s your why? Dope game getting tricky?”
“Dope game is the dope game. It’s always tricky.
” Cairo swiveled his chair around, facing the empty hallway, his eyes closed.
The flashes of events he couldn’t get out of his head mixed with the softness that now filled up the space he didn’t deem worthy to have made him shake his head.
“I’m not trying to die before I start living. ”
Fahaad grunted. “Hm. I hear you. What you doing tonight?”
“Shit, kicking it.”
“Nah, you’re working. I got this new artist I found out of Port East. He’s an R&B nigga but Azul. He needs a hit. Where is this studio?”
A smile crept over Cairo’s face, as he shared the location with Fahaad, agreed on a time and hung up. His next move was to text Fredo.
C4: Studio clear?
Fredo: get your girl to clean it, it’s yours
C4: bet
Cairo stood and roamed into the small living room where Kamilla sat on the couch watching whatever was showing on basic tv. He laid his head in her lap and kissed the exposed skin.
“Good call?” she posed, her hands finding his mess of hair.
“Yeah…you down to watch me clean the studio for a session?” Cairo asked.
“Isn’t that my job?” she questioned.
“You don’t work for free,” Cairo stated. “Not even going to let you get comfortable doing it. I know how to clean up, just need your nod of approval.”
“What’s happening at the studio?”
“You know Fahaad Simmons?” he queried.
“Wasn’t he Jesipi the Don’s manager? The one they said set him up?” Kamilla asked.
“Yeah, he didn’t do that shit,” Cairo replied.
“I know. My dad told me the story. Gang shit is always gang shit, huh?”
“Yeah, always. Fahaad was the face of the management team, but it was those other niggas who never liked being overlooked. The ones who always want more. Those the ones you got to watch,” Cairo muttered, as his mind flashed on to Tiny. “Always the niggas who want more.”
“You don’t want more?” Kamilla asked.
“Not like that. Not in a way where it’ll fuck up everything I got going on and everyone around me. I want shit like more life, more peace… more of this.”
“This?”
“Yeah, everything you got to offer a nigga like me. On Azul.”
“Oh, on Azul. It’s serious,” Kamilla cooed.
“Been that way, it’ll stay that way.” He looked up at her, catching that softness on her face. “So you coming, I need your direction and your ear.”
Kamilla’s pointer finger slowly ran down the center of his face. “I don’t know, it sounds like work and my boyfriend said I couldn’t work for free.”
Cairo chuckled. “I’ll talk to that nigga about compensation.”
“Yeah do that. I heard he got a thing about wires and fire. I don’t want any issues for you, on Azul.”
He laughed, picking up her hand to kiss her palm. “Watch out, I might think you fuckin’ with a nigga for real.”
“I am and he won’t let me leave,” she gushed. “So, Fahaad is kind of a big deal…what are we doing with the hair?”
“I don’t have time to get a haircut and be wrapped up in you,” Cairo joked. “My arm damn near fell off.”
“I do recall rolling over and being pulled back and kissed on,” she said with a giggle. “That’s not a complaint, I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, I hear you talking.” Cairo felt the joy. It’d been foreign for years. While the very thing tied to the darkness he locked himself in was the thing to pull him out.
“Back to this hair, I think I can wrangle it,” Kamilla shared. “Detangle, deep condition, moisturize.”
“Don’t work too hard on it if I’m cutting it all off.”
“Don’t do that. Hair holds power. At least that’s what my dad used to say. Him and my mom got into an argument about her wanting to perm my hair and he wasn’t having it.”
“Yours pops might’ve been on to something, that shit is fire.”
Kamilla blushed. “Get up before I distracted again.”
An hour and a half later of fighting with his dehydrated coils, Kamilla had it pulled into a low bun.
His hair slicked back like this reminded him of the days he’d let his mother do his hair.
Those days were rare. Peace in their home was rare.
He trekked back to the living room where Kamilla was cleaning up and pulled her into his embrace.
“What you doing to me, K?” he muttered in her ear the same words she moaned hours prior.
Kamilla shrugged. “Reciprocating. Same thing you’re doing to me – making sure you’re safe here.”
He groaned, lifted his head and kissed her forehead, then the bridge of her nose then her lips.
A slow, intentional kiss to her lips before lifting her off of her feet.
Her back pressed against the wall, hands gripping his shoulder, the release of endorphins buzzing from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.
Cairo pulled back and mumbled against her lips. “Mariposa.”
Kamilla, nipping her lip asked, “How’d you figure out my middle name?”
“Might’ve studied your license a while ago. But…you got my thuggin’ ass feeling butterflies. Can’t seem to take the Vato out of me. Makes sense that’d be your middle name, though.”
“Regardless of how you feel about it, it’s a part of your makeup. The intensity of who you are,” Kamilla spoke, giving him a final kiss. “Put me down before I ignore how sore I am.”
“We got shit to do, too. Being inside you makes me forget there’s a world outside of here,” he admitted, gently placing her to her feet. “Get dressed so I can feed you before we hit the studio.”
“Oh, so bossy,” Kamilla joked, wiggling away from him. “At least say please.”
“You gon’ make me beg?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to make you just a little bit polite. For me, though.”
Cairo nipped his lip and stepped back so the temptation of making her his dinner could settle. “See, that’s that shit, Mariposa.”
Kamilla flashed him a look. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“Nahhh, talk yo’ shit, baby.”
In the clean studio with Kamilla in the corner lowly recording him enter his zone, Fahaad to his right, and a guy from Port East that went by Ekho, Cairo did what he’d dreamt of on the nights he was alone.
There was something magical about the way Kamilla encouraged him that lent him the power to create without constraints.
Ekho was an Azul with an R&B edge to him. That alone made him an instant hit with the ladies. Producing this could set him up to prepare not just his exit but Nate’s too. Every build of the beat, every tweak of the lyrics, everything was going to lead to a brighter tomorrow.
“How long you been doing this?” Ekho asked between breaks of listening back to the track.
“For a minute. Shit keeps my mind occupied,” Cairo replied. “You?”
“Been a singing ass nigga but you know how that shit goes when you got this flag. Ain’t nobody trying to hear a singing ass Azul,” Ekho joked. “But now…I got this itch for something more. Get my momma out the 6th. So I’m using what God gave me.”
“Tell him how I met you,” Fahaad spoke up, placing his phone down.
Ekho laughed as a lopsided smile formed over his face. “I tried to rob this nigga at a stop light.”
“Tried?” Cairo posed, a joke in his tone. “He an easy mark.”
“Yeah but then he looks at you and says some shit like, how long you gon’ be doing this gang shit? You wanna die in this shit?”
Cairo laughed, remembering Fahaad’s mini speech. “Yeah, heard that shit.”
“While he was trying to figure out if he was robbing my ass or not,” Fahaad rumbled, looking back at Kamilla. “He didn’t rob me, though. Good man you got.”
She smiled faintly. “Yeah, he is.”
Ekho barely looked over his shoulder and gave a half nod of approval.
Kamilla spotted that glint – longing. There was something back in Port East he left behind.
“It’s gettin’ sweet as hell in here. Let’s finish this shit up.
Aye, tomorrow night we’re going to test this out at HiWay. You and your crew should come through.”
Cairo hadn’t been in a crowd like that since the last time he was in a crowd like that. “Let’s see how this shit turns out first, nigga. It might be trash.”
Whether he knew it or not, Kamilla was studying everything about him, the way he’d done her. She caught a glimpse of the shyness he hid with a joke. The fear he disguised with his temper. Her lens would be the only thing to keep him on course.
Ekho laughed and shook his head. “Aight, you right. You right. Run that shit back.”
Once Ekho roamed back into the booth and Fahaad stepped out to take a call, Cairo turned to Kamilla. “You good?”
“You good?” she countered.
He offered a weary smile for the strength of her safety.
Kamilla formed her fingers like an arrow. “The stars but take the moon.”