Chapter Fifteen
Rhythm
My eyes locked with Channing as he climbed into his car. Quickly, I averted my gaze. Staring at that man too long would have me reliving what went down with us just moments ago. I needed him out of my sight and out of my mind. I didn’t even know this nigga well enough to let him have me acting like this.
I mean, he wasn’t a total stranger. That night at The Caviar Club, we’d had a decent conversation before we headed out onto the dance floor. How could I not want to know a little something about the man that saved me from an aggressive asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer?
We didn’t get too personal that night. We didn’t talk about work. We mainly discussed L.A. and how I liked living out here. We talked about food and drink spots and the nightlife. It was crazy that he never brought up that he was a producer since we had a lengthy conversation about music.
If he had, I would have asked him about the artists he’d worked with. Had Raheem’s name came up, I would have never let that man beat my back out that night. Even worse, tonight wouldn’t have happened either.
“You hear me talking to you, Rhythm?” Raheem asked, breaking my thoughts.
I snapped back to reality. “Hmm?”
“I asked if you would come to my album release party.”
“Raheem… tonight was a lot.”
“Baby, I’m trying. You gotta give me something to work with. You gotta meet me halfway. I can change, but you gotta change too. I want you by my side during my big moments. Not just in the building. Not in the background. Right by me.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t. Do not do that. I’ve always supported you. Why does it matter if I’m in pictures or if you can flaunt me around? I’m not a trophy, and I’ve told you that.”
“You are a trophy. You’re a fucking prize, baby. What’s wrong with me wanting to show you off?”
“A relationship isn’t supposed to be a spectacle, that’s why. You want a spectacle, you can be with Lady Lingo. I’m surprised I didn’t see her here tonight. What? She willingly missed an opportunity to be all over you?”
He kissed his teeth. “I don’t wanna talk about that girl, Rhy.” He pulled me into his arms and pecked my lips. “I wanna talk about you and me.”
“There is no you and me,” I said as my car pulled up to the curb. “Not right now.” I pulled away from him and took a step back. “I love you… I’m proud of you, but I’m not ready to get back together, and I don’t know if I ever will be…”
I walked off to my car with Nique following behind me.
“This ain’t over, Rhythm!” Raheem called. “We ain’t over by a long shot.”
I ignored him as I climbed into my G-Wagon and pulled into traffic.
“Same shit?” Nique asked.
“Same shit.”
“You know he’s gonna try to wear you down, right?”
“He’s wearing my last nerve. Between him and Channing, it’s a wonder I have any nerves left tonight.”
She laughed. “Channing, Channing. Mmm, mmm, mmm. That nigga was fine as hell too. He just walks like that dick is something serious. I see why you let him hit.”
I shook my head. His dick was something serious.
The dick.
The mouth.
Those fingers.
The man was a walking orgasm, and he seemed like he was making it his mission to give me as many as possible.
After he left the bathroom, I had to take off my thong because it was ruined. It was currently sitting balled up in a bunch of paper towels in the trash while I was out here freeballing it.
I couldn’t be around him, especially not around Raheem. Every time he looked at me, I thought about the night we shared. Now I had tonight to add to the list of forbidden memories.
“Bitch, I can’t believe I let that man finger fuck me in the bathroom!” I exclaimed, beating my fist against the steering wheel. “How old am I!”
Nique snickered. “I mean, if it had been me, I would have bet money he followed me. What do you have going on, girl?”
“I don’t even know, Nique. This isn’t like me. If Raheem would have kept his shit together, I would have never fucked Channing to begin with. This is what I get for acting off pure emotion. I should have stayed my ass in the house that night.”
Nique was quiet. It was rare that she didn’t have something to say or a comeback. I looked over at her.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, nothing.”
“Say it, Monique.”
She sighed. “What are you doing with Raheem, Rhythm? Are you getting back at him? Are you going back to him? What? Let me know what’s up.”
I was quiet, causing her to slap my arm.
“Don’t bullshit me. You’re my girl, and I love you. I’m with whatever makes you happy, but don’t let that nigga play in your face.”
“I love him, Nique. I can’t just turn it off.”
“I know that, baby, but you also can’t just let him come back with open arms. At least make him work for it. And by work for it, I mean longer than a few weeks. He’s gotta do more than send you gifts and money.”
“I know that, Nique. I told him that tonight.” I sighed heavily as we pulled up to a red light. “I don’t wanna be that girl. I already uprooted my life to move out here and be with him. The man I moved for isn’t the same man I’ve seen the last year. I hate that. I guess… I keep waiting around for him to show me that the man I fell in love with is still in there.”
“I get it. You’ve invested a lot of time into him. I can imagine you don’t wanna see another bitch reap the benefits of all the work you put in.”
“I don’t. But that isn’t a reason to be with him.”
“Neither is love. Love… it makes you do stupid shit. It makes you tolerate shit no sane bitch would. I’m not saying the old Raheem isn’t still in there, but don’t play the fool.”
I heard what she was saying. I didn’t want to be Raheem’s fool, which was why I hadn’t taken him back. I wanted more, and if he wanted me, he had to do more. I could withstand him begging and pleading. I had more willpower than that… at least when it came to him. Clearly, I didn’t have it when it came to Mr. Producer. Good sex had a way of clouding judgment, just like love.
The last thing I needed was to lose all sense of my morals. The weekend was over just like that.
It was Monday morning and time to get back to work. I woke up bright and early to get in my daily workout before I had to shower and get ready for work. Dressed in my signature black scrubs and sneakers, I put my coffee on to brew while I packed my work bag. When it was done, I poured the coffee into my favorite to-go mug and headed for the door.
“See you tonight, Nique!” I called over my shoulder.
“Have a good day!”
“You, too!”
Ensuring the front door was locked, I closed it behind me and made my way to the elevator. I took the short trip down to the parking garage to my car.
The first thing I noticed was the rose and an envelope attached to my windshield. Looking around, I didn’t see anybody. Pulling a tissue from my bag, I grabbed the envelope and opened it. Inside was a note and what looked like a receipt. Dear Rhythm, I know you may not feel like I’m worth a second chance, but I know you are it for me. I won’t stop until you come home. Have a great day at work. Breakfast is on me. I know how much you love those breakfast sandwiches from Sunny Side Up. Just show them the receipt and my name and they will get your order. I love you. Raheem I looked down at the receipt to see my usual order comprising of a steak, egg, and cheese croissant, potato bites, fresh fruit, and orange juice. I smiled softly as I tucked the receipt into my bag. Of course, he couldn’t win me back with food, but food would forever make me happy. Plucking the rose from the windshield, I climbed into my car and cranked up.
I put on my morning gospel playlist to get myself in the right mind frame and pulled out of the parking space. The ride to work was only about twenty minutes with stopping to get my food. I walked into The Baker Method with a smile on my face as I greeted my staff. I made my way to my office to look over my client list for the day while I ate my breakfast.
“Good morning, Ms. Baker,” my secretary, Evie, greeted me.
“Good morning, Evie. What are we looking at today?”
She grabbed her clipboard and followed me into my office. “You have a ten o’clock with Mr. Owens, an eleven with Mrs. James, then consultations at one thirty, two, and two thirty. Your last appointment is at four.”
“Sounds good. Could you pull those consultation forms for me?”
“Already done.” She pulled a folder from her clipboard and handed it to me. “I also included the last meeting notes in case you need a reference.”
I smiled. “That’s why I like you. You’re always ahead of me.”
“Just trying to make things easier for you.”
She smiled and left my office, closing my door behind me. I spread out my breakfast items and got to eating while I looked over everything. Ten rolled around quick, and before I knew it, I was walking into my first appointment. Oscar Owens. He was a forty-two-year-old man that got hurt on his construction site. An accident that should have killed him left him with a traumatic brain injury and several broken bones.
His road to recovery had been long and hard. He was just getting to where he could move around on his own. His wife said he was stubborn at home, but whenever he came here, he had no problem putting in the effort. I wasn’t sure what the problem was, but I suspected she wasn’t as patient or as kind to him as I was. She never seemed to acknowledge the progress he was making. She didn’t participate in his therapy or encourage him.
Anytime she came in, she kind of lingered in the background until we were done, and that was if she stayed at all. Today, she spent the entire session on her phone. I decided that today would be the day I said something. When our session was complete, I had my assistant help with Mr. Owens while I called his wife back to my office. She sighed heavily as she put her phone away.
“You can have a seat,” I said, motioning for her to sit down.
We got comfortable, and I leaned across my desk with my hands clasped.
“Mrs. Owens, thanks for taking the time to meet with me today. I wanted to discuss your husband’s care and see how you’re managing. How have things been going?”
She seemed shocked that I asked her that. Almost immediately, tears formed in her eyes. I reached for a tissue and handed it to her.
“Take your time,” I said softly.
She took a few deep breaths before she spoke. “Honestly, it’s been tough. I’m constantly exhausted and overwhelmed with all the responsibilities. I knew he needed a lot of care, but it’s all on me. It’s too much.”
I nodded. “That’s completely understandable. Being a caregiver can be very demanding. You acknowledge the challenges you’re facing as well. Can you tell me what is most difficult for you?”
She scoffed. “It’s everything; feeding, dressing, bathing, using the bathroom, it’s physically and emotionally draining, Dr. Baker. I have to manage his medications, appointments, and meals. We also have custody of our granddaughter, so I’m being a parent again after raising my own. I have to take care of the household on top of all of this. I feel like I don’t have any time for myself anymore.”
I reached for her hands, and she gave them to me.
“You’re taking on a lot, and it’s natural to feel overwhelmed. Caregiver burnout is a real concern, and it’s vital that we find ways to support you. Would you be able to get help from other family members? Have you been looking into care services?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been hesitant to ask for help. I feel like it’s my responsibility to take care of him. He took care of this family since the day we got married. He’s never asked for anything, and I feel so bad that sometimes I just want to throw in the towel.”
“First, your dedication is admirable. It’s important to remember that you can’t pour from an empty cup, Mrs. Owens. Taking care of yourself is not selfish; it’s necessary so that you can continue to provide the best care for your husband. I have great resources that are available to you. We can explore some options that could help lighten your load.”
She sniffled. “I’m open to suggestions. I know I can’t keep going on like this. It’s not fair to Oscar.”
I smiled. “The first step to getting help is always admitting you need it. First, let’s identify tasks that you need help with, like grocery shopping or laundry. We can also look into home health aides who could provide assistance a few times a week. This would give you some much-needed time to yourself. There are also resources available to help cover the costs of these services. I can connect you with a social worker who can assist you in exploring your options. Additionally, I’d like to teach you some techniques to make daily care tasks easier on both you and your husband.”
She began to cry audibly. “I would appreciate that so much. Thank you for your help and understanding.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Owens. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. We’re here to support you and your husband every step of the way.”
For a good thirty minutes, she and I spoke about her needs. I gave her the contact information for every resource she could possibly need, and I made a note to have Evie reach out on my behalf as well. By the time she left, she was in good spirits. She’d even kissed her husband and told him what a good job he’d been doing. The light that entered him when she said that was the reason I did what I did.
The extra time with Mrs. Owens didn’t leave room for me to take a break in between clients. Before I knew it, it was time for Mrs. James to come in. Luckily, I loved this little old lady. At seventy years old, she was feisty and said whatever was on her mind, rude or not. She suffered from the early stages of dementia. While there was nothing I could do to combat the disease, there was plenty I could do to assist in improving her quality of life.
She usually came in with her daughter, and our sessions were outside or somewhere that stimulated Mrs. James. I usually let her tell me what she was up for and tailor my therapy to her. Her sessions usually took longer because we weren’t always on site. For that reason, I let it run over into my lunch hour. One thing about Mrs. James, she was going to want to eat.
Walking into the waiting room, I found her sitting in a chair, tightly holding her purse. When she saw me, she smiled.
“Hey, baby,” she said sweetly as I approached her.
“Hey, Mrs. James.” I took a seat beside her and crossed my legs. “How are you feeling today?”
“I feel just fine. I really could have skipped today.”
I pretended to be offended. “And make me miss my favorite client? How dare you?”
She waved me off. “Don’t blow gust up under my skirt, gal.”
I giggled. “Where’s your daughter?”
“The heifer had a doctor’s appointment, and my aide is out sick this week. My grandson brought me today. He’s parking the car.” She looked at me and smiled. “He’s quite handsome, you know. He might be a little loose, but a pretty girl like you can tie him down, no problem. I can tell you now, he’s gonna be looking at all that ass in those scrub pants. He likes ’em thick too, chile.”
I laughed. “Mrs. James! Are you trying to be my grandmother-in-law?”
She giggled as the bell above the door chimed.
Looking back, she said, “There’s that bighead ass boy now. Come on over here, baby.”
She reached for my hand, and I helped her to her feet as heavy footsteps approached.
“Dr. Baker, meet my grandson Channing.”
My eyes widened as I looked up into the face of the very man I said I was going to avoid. He smirked as he realized who I was.
Fuck. Me.