Chapter Twenty-Nine
janae
Feeling victorious about the cover, I placed my headphones over my ears to listen to music, hoping to inspire myself enough to write. Del was in contact with a few different labels, trying to negotiate a new contract since “Fallen Star” had hit the airwaves. I wanted more decision-making ability on my next album than for my previous ones, and I had the power to do it this time. I’d been barely twenty-one when I signed my first deal. I’d learned about the good, the bad, and the ugly of the music business in the last seven years. I was determined to do better now that I knew better.
Landon’s phone lit up on the bed while I bopped my head to H.E.R. and toyed with lyrics for a new song. Curiosity got the best of me. “Mom” flashed across the screen. I pushed the headphones off my ears and picked up the phone.
“Landon’s phone. This is Janae Warner.” I smiled, hoping his mother wanted to meet the new woman in her son’s life. I pushed down any guilt about answering his phone without permission.
“Oh… oh, I see. Hello.” Her diction was clipped and rather formal. “Is my son home?”
“He’s in the shower… I mean, yes, he is.” I hit my forehead with my hand. No mother wanted to know what her son may or may not have been doing to warrant a shower when she knew he was with a woman.
“Since you’re answering his phone, I can only assume you are with him.”
“I am.” I prayed that Landon wouldn’t kill me for telling his mother something that he hadn’t yet told her.
“Then I would like to invite you both to dinner, or for dessert if your schedule permits, this evening to celebrate his new release.”
“It’s our release,” I corrected her proudly.
She paused. “What’s your name again?”
“Janae Warner.”
“Yes, the singer on the song.” Her voice inflection only changed a notch. “Then we can celebrate your success as well. We can meet at Sophia’s for seven, which is in Harlem, so he can’t use the excuse that he doesn’t have time to travel to Brooklyn. Can you make sure he’s there?”
“Yes, I can. Ma’am.”
Even her laughter was haughty as she said, “I love people from the South. Look forward to meeting you.”
“Me too.” I hung up and waltzed into the bathroom, where he showered in the glass stall.
“I have to remember to lock the door when you’re around.” He smirked as he ducked his head, letting the water run over his hair and body. Landon wanted his hair loose again, and I’d promised to oil it once I unbraided it and he’d washed it.
“We leave on Sunday. Do you think we can enjoy the city together later today? Show me where you grew up. Maybe meet the parents,” I said with a smile. If he didn’t have to get to the studio, I would’ve joined him and convinced him with my mouth. I’d learned his body didn’t know the meaning of “quickie.”
“I doubt I have time. The show is tomorrow night, and once we get back into performance mode, we shift focus. The tour is over in another month. Just come back then, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“What about the parents?” I asked. He didn’t talk about them like I didn’t talk about mine. Still, I was intrigued. A beautiful couple who’d been married for years and raised a handsome son. They were music royalty. Maybe that would be Landon and me one day. A power couple rearing talented and amazing children. A strong family.
“What about them?”
“You said they live here. Can I meet them?” Like tonight.
“We’re not that close.”
“Okay, then maybe for dessert at a restaurant, since you’re not that close.”
He turned off the shower and toweled off. “Not a good idea. I haven’t spoken to them since I got into it with my father.”
“What happened?” Shit . I’d forgotten that he’d had words with his parents. That was probably why his mother had told me the plans instead of directly speaking with him. My face grew warm, and I hoped he couldn’t pick up on my nervousness.
“The usual. They wanted to parade me around to their friends, and I wasn’t in the mood. My father got angry and was in my face. My mama intervened, and he pushed her back with too much force, so I shoved him. Then I left.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, though his tightened fists and the flash of anger in his eyes said it did.
“Was that the first time you put your hands on your father?” I took the towel and dried off his back.
“Yeah. It upset my mother, and the whole scene bothered me. I was about to have a panic attack when you texted me from the airport.”
“Maybe it’s time to make up. Your mother was trying to help. I learned a long time ago not to intervene when men get mad with each other. They forget what’s around them. They’re so hellbent on getting at the person they’re upset with.”
“I don’t have time for family therapy right now. Too much on my plate. I’ll deal with them after the tour.” He passed me by and strode into the bedroom.
I followed him into his closet as he pulled on boxer briefs. “What about time for me later? Maybe dinner or at least dessert?”
He frowned. “We’re about to go back on the road, and we’ll be together all day again. I just told you that you can visit me after next month, and we can go anywhere.”
I wrung my hands and shifted from one foot to the other. “Just for an hour… maybe two? Around seven tonight?”
Landon lowered his eyes to almost slits. “What did you do?”
“For someone who struggles with social cues, you seem pretty good at reading me,” I joked, and rubbed the coin around my neck.
He glanced at the coin before folding his arms. “Janae.”
“Umm… don’t be mad.”
Landon huffed. “You spoke to my parents.”
“Your phone rang, and you were in the shower. I figured you would want me to answer your mother’s call.” I tried to open his arms. He didn’t uncross them. “Your mother wants us to meet them at Sophia’s for seven tonight. She even said it could be just for dessert.”
He glared at me and had never seemed more like an alpha male than at that moment. Stubborn and unforgiving. My flirting wouldn’t work this time.
“You’re really pissed, aren’t you?”
“The same way you would be if I told you I’d agreed to have dinner with your mother without telling you.”
I protested, “That’s different. My mother doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t call or try to get in touch. I told you we haven’t spoken in four years.”
Landon angrily pulled on a white T-shirt neatly folded on his shelf. “Bullshit. Del told me she wants to see one of our shows, but you refuse to invite or talk to her.”
I stepped back. “You talked to Del about my mother?”
“Del spoke with me, hoping I could get you to reconsider. Told him it wasn’t my place.” He shook his head while grabbing cargo pants off a hanger. “You were about to go off on me about just talking about your mother with Del, but you wanted me to be cool when you answered my phone and then accepted an invitation with my mother without asking me first.”
“No matter what you went through with your parents, it pales in comparison to what I went through with my mother,” I insisted.
“How do you know that? We haven’t discussed our families at all. Just because I didn’t grow up in the hood doesn’t mean your adolescence was worse than mine.” He sat on the bench and grabbed his socks and Adidas.
“Says the rich kid. The threat of hunger trumps whatever you went through.”
“Try being homeless until Cedrick and his family took me in when I was sixteen because I refused to deal with my father, who hated me, and a mother who rarely stood up for me anymore.” He rose, jammed his hat on his head, and stormed past me.
“I didn’t know.” I rushed after him.
“No one knows but my parents and Cedrick. I might have grown up with money, but once I ran away, I had to build my own. This house isn’t here because Mommy and Daddy paid for it.” He jogged down the stairs. “I’m not meeting them for dinner or dessert.”
“You can’t just stand them up.” I struggled to keep up with him.
“I’ll text that we can’t make it.”
I managed to get in front of him and block the door while he picked up his guitar case. “Baby, listen. What if one magical day, we get married and have children? They need at least one set of grandparents.”
His brows dipped, and his mouth twitched. “If I do this, then I’m telling Del to book your mother a flight to Los Angeles.”
“Deal,” I agreed, though my stomach lurched at the mention of seeing my mother. Brushing that negative thought away, I cooed, “Ooh… you want to marry me someday.”
“It’s just dinner with my folks.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and sang, “Janae and Landon, sittin’ in the tree…”
He groaned while his cheeks flushed red. “Stop.”
“Okay… okay. You’re so cute.” I dragged my hand down his nape.
“Not a puppy.” He tugged me flush against his hard body.
I gazed into his eyes. “I promise dinner will be fine. I’m here now.”
“And if they say or do anything to piss me off, I’m out,” he warned before he pecked my lips hard and headed toward the door.
After I closed it after him, I collapsed against the door in relief.
A small crowd gathered by the sleek luxury sedan once it parked before Sophia’s. We were coordinated as we stepped out of the door that the driver held for us. I’d bought Landon a dark blue hat and casual suit that fit his athletic frame, and I wore a strapless blue summer dress, ponytail, and makeup by Frankie. We looked like a glamorous power couple going to a famous Black-owned restaurant to meet his fabulous musician parents.
Landon gripped my hand as security from the restaurant moved us through the lines of people waiting to sit. People called our names and snapped pictures. Women catcalled and whistled at Landon. I shook my head at them, warning them playfully. Landon’s hand was clammy, and his jaw was tight as he looked straight ahead. I tried to buffer his cold appearance with a bright smile and explained loudly, “We’re late meeting his parents.”
Getting inside the busy restaurant wasn’t much better. Patrons gasped and gawked as we were led to a small area that blocked us from sight. The Hayes stood when we approached. Landon was an impeccable blend of his attractive parents. His dad was similar to him with his light brown skin and height. His mother had more mocha in her skin than I did. He’d inherited his curls and eyes from his mother, which made her more striking than her son. Mrs. Hayes wore her gray hair natural and cropped short to her head. She was a well-kept woman whose aura suggested that five-star meals, lavish trips, and luxury spas were a necessary and expected part of life.
Landon hugged his mother and barely nodded at his father. “Brandon and Analise Hayes, this is Janae.” He introduced me with pride that would have warmed me if it wasn’t shadowed by the disapproval that screamed from his mother’s tight smile when she shook my hand. His father seemed pleasant enough as he covered my hand when it was his turn.
After we sat, Mr. Hayes started, “Since you were late, I took the liberty of ordering appetizers.”
Landon retorted, “Then that’s all we’ll have. We need to get back to the studio. We’re late because, as usual, you asked me to drop everything at a moment’s notice to meet with you.”
I squeezed the hand he still held. “The studio is not that far from here. We can stay longer.”
Landon pulled his hat down farther. “Appetizers are all I’ll have. I’m not that hungry.”
Mrs. Hayes pleaded, “Can we just have a nice meal together?”
Landon tilted his head. “I don’t know. Can we?”
Two waitstaff stood nearby, and I whispered, “People are watching us.”
“You sound like them,” he scoffed.
Ignoring his barb, I tried to ease the tension. “This is hard for Landon, but I wanted to try to bring us together. Families are important.”
“Are you engaged or something?” his mother asked with a slight lip curl.
“Not yet,” Landon answered. “We’ve been deciding when would be a good time.”
I nodded, though I wanted to give him the side-eye.
His father smiled. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A hit record and an engagement.”
“Of course that’s all you care about,” Landon practically snarled.
Whew. And I thought I was bad when I spoke with my mother.
“Do you like ‘Fallen Star’?” Landon suddenly asked.
His father averted his gaze.
His mother smiled at me. “I can see the appeal. You have a beautiful voice. You have a range perfect for jazz, or even the blues.”
“Thank you, I’ve been told that. I just prefer hip-hop and soul.”
“A shame that we don’t have more voices like yours in our world. We need the type of attention you’d bring. Imagine what you could do if you remixed one of your songs to make it more jazz.” Her smile finally seemed genuine. She may not like me as her son’s woman, but she respected my talent.
“I never really tried to sing like that,” I admitted.
“Then you should come to one of my classes, and I can show you how you can play around with your voice. My students would be so excited.” She nodded expectantly.
“I would love that. Having one of the greats teach me anything about music would be an honor,” I replied sincerely. Maybe we could bond over music.
“Janae doesn’t live here,” Landon reminded her.
“I’m sure she knows how to catch a plane back here if she chose,” Mrs. Hayes bit back as the waiter returned with chicken wings, fried salmon bites, mac and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread. “Yes… the food is here in the nick of time.”
Landon would explode soon if I didn’t get him out of there. I would protect him even if his parents didn’t warrant his rude behavior. I touched his thigh reassuringly under the table. “Listen, let’s just eat this delicious food, smile for the cameras and people trying to sneak and watch us, and we can talk about me visiting your classes later.”
Mr. Hayes finally spoke again, “I think that’s best.” He picked up his glass, half full with an amber liquor.
“You’re being quiet. That must be your first.” Landon gestured at his glass.
His mother’s hazel eyes shone brightly as she hissed, “Stop it now. You’re our only son. We’re trying. You have to try, too.”
“What exactly are you trying? Dad hasn’t even listened to the song. At least you did.”
“I’ve been busy with my students. I planned to listen to it.” Mr. Hayes waved his hand dismissively. “You don’t care if I listen to it or not. What I say has never mattered to you.”
Landon huffed again. “If you’re really trying, then you would’ve listened and then actually said you were proud of me or something.”
“I am proud of you.” Mrs. Hayes placed her hand on her husband’s wrist. “We both are.”
Landon steepled his palms on the table. “He told me I was an embarrassment the last time I saw him. That I always embarrass him. Why would I want to come home when the people who are supposed to love me the most can’t really see me? Janae’s been in my life a second, and she gets me. Why can’t you?”
Mr. Hayes threw back his alcohol and put the glass down not so gently. “Has she seen you freak out? Has she seen you become so paralyzed with fear that you’ve pissed on yourself? Huh? That you only open your mouth to fight with me and let everyone else, like Cedrick and probably this young lady right here, run over you?” He looked at me with pity in his eyes. “If he hasn’t embarrassed you yet, he will. My son, as brilliant as he is, can’t handle pressure. Then again, you probably make the perfect pair, since your own track record isn’t the greatest.”
A shroud of hurtful silence covered the table, and whatever tenuous relationship Landon had had with his father snapped and might never be repaired. I clasped my hands together and bit back my desire to hurl an insult at Mr. Hayes. Why hadn’t I listened when Landon made it clear that he didn’t want to see his parents?
Landon’s face flushed with anger and shame, his breathing sharp, controlled only by sheer will. I wanted to say something, to stand up for him, for us, but my voice felt lodged in my throat.
“You can talk about me all you want, but you won’t talk about Janae,” Landon said, his voice a dangerous calm. He pushed back his chair, slow and deliberate. “I’m done with both of you. Don’t call me again.”
He stood, shoulders squared, fists clenched at his sides.
“Landon, please… please.” Mrs. Hayes touched my wrist. “I’m so sorry. His father has been drinking and… and… he didn’t mean…”
“Respectfully, I won’t let anyone hurt him… not even you.” My voice came out steady, though I was shaking inside. I reached for his hand and took it, gripping it tight. I refused to look at Mr. Hayes because if I did, I might curse him out and make headlines again.
We turned away with entwined hands, and I whispered, “Baby, it’s all right. We’re going to get in the car and go home.”
He said quietly, “I need to go to the studio.”
“Okay… whatever you want. We have to pretend that we’re okay if you don’t want people to talk about us and your parents.” I smiled up at him, hoping the pained look on his face would ease up. “Please… breathe. It’s just a few more steps.”
Landon nodded and gave me a strained grin. His hand was still locked on mine, and we might have been fine if I’d called our driver earlier. When we stepped outside, a crowd waited for us.
Cameras flashed. People were everywhere. A maelstrom of emotions directed at us. Our car moved up the street, but overzealous fans blocked the way, trying to get a glimpse of us. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, though it was a cool May night.
I remained quiet as he pushed firmly, blocking me with his body, through the crowd. I didn’t stop or bother to chat because the fans were too wild, and I knew Landon couldn’t take much more of the people pushing against us. I had to be his calm in the middle of a storm if he was to survive getting in the car without having a full-blown panic attack in front of all these people.
The driver got close enough to jump out of the car and then made enough space to open the door for us to hop in.
Once we were in the back seat, Landon clawed at his throat, his fingers trembling as he struggled for air. His breath came in ragged gasps. Shallow. Choppy. Desperate.
Panic flooded his wide, unfocused eyes.
“What’s wrong? Landon, talk to me! Please… what’s wrong?” My voice quivered, but I reached for him, gripping his arm as if my touch alone could keep him from slipping away.
He yanked his jacket off, hands fumbling as he popped the top buttons of his shirt. His chest heaved like he was fighting for breath he couldn’t find.
“So… hot,” he gasped. “My chest…”
The driver kept glancing into the rearview mirror, his own concern bleeding through his tense expression. “Looks like he needs medical attention. The hospital is not far.”
Landon shook his head violently. “No. Hate hospitals. Studio. Cedrick.” His voice cracked as if the effort to speak was too much.
I gripped his clammy hand and turned to the driver. “Take us to the studio. Now.”
As we sped through the streets, I grabbed my phone with shaky hands and dialed Cedrick. He answered on the second ring. “What’s up? Did Landon leave his cell?” His tone was light, completely unaware of the storm ripping Landon apart.
I pushed through the panic gripping my own chest. “It’s Landon. He’s having a panic attack. He’s asking for you. We’re heading to the studio.”
A beat of silence. Then, Cedrick’s voice sharpened. “How far are you?”
I glanced outside, scanning the street signs, struggling to focus through my own rising terror. “Ten minutes. Should I take him to the hospital?”
“No,” Landon choked out. His body shuddered against me.
“Put me on speaker,” Cedrick said.
I did, squeezing Landon’s damp hand tighter as his breathing grew more erratic. His face was too pale, too red, too lost all at once.
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, his body curling inward like he was trying to disappear inside himself. His lips moved, whispering over and over, “I’m… okay… I’ll be okay…” but his voice shook with a lie even he didn’t believe.
Cedrick’s voice dropped to something calm and steady. “It’s all good, man. Janae is here. I’m here. I need you to look at her.”
“I… can’t…” His chest spasmed with uneven gasps. His body trembled. “I can’t… I don’t want her to see me… like this…”
My heart cracked.
I cupped his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Look at me, Landon. I am not embarrassed by you. I am not leaving you. I love you.” My breath shook, but I inhaled deeply and exhaled so he could follow. “Breathe with me.”
Cedrick echoed, “Slow and steady, brother. You got this.”
Landon’s panicked, unfocused eyes flickered to mine.
I inhaled.
He tried.
I exhaled.
He staggered through it, a desperate, wheezing breath, but it was something.
I kissed his damp forehead, whispering against his skin, “Baby, we’re almost there. Just a few more minutes. You can play your new song for me, okay? You love playing for me.”
His fingers curled weakly around mine. He shivered violently. “I’m… so cold.”
I pulled him close, wrapping myself around him as if I could hold him together. “I’ve got you,” I murmured, my fingers threading through his damp curls, rocking him gently, willing my touch to quiet whatever storm was raging inside him. By the time we pulled up to the studio, the driver barely had time to park before Cedrick flung the door open and climbed inside.
His sharp gaze took in everything. The way Landon clung to me. The sweat-soaked shirt. The pale exhaustion painting his features.
And then, with a smirk that only Cedrick could pull off in a moment like this, he said, “Damn, dude. All this just to get Janae’s attention? You already got her, man.”
Landon’s body was still trembling, but his middle finger lifted weakly. “Fuck you.”
Cedrick grinned and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “In and out, just like before. Breathe, bro.”
Landon’s chest rose.
Fell.
Rose.
Fell.
Still shaky. Still unsteady. But slowing.
I wiped his forehead with his jacket, pressing a kiss against his hand. His fingers were still clammy, but his grip was stronger now.
His breathing, finally, evened out.
His lashes fluttered open, the fear slowly retreating from his eyes. “I… want to go in the studio.”
Cedrick looked at me. “Why don’t you take him home? A shower, some rest—”
Landon shook his head. “I need my guitar.”
Cedrick sighed but nodded. “All right, man. Can you walk?”
Landon nodded again, this time firmer.
But when Cedrick reached to help him, Landon ignored his hand.
I bent down, picked up his fallen hat, and handed it to Cedrick. He took it, then wordlessly placed it back on Landon’s head.
Landon didn’t acknowledge either of us as he walked inside.
Pain slashed through me. I wilted against the leather seat. I couldn’t comfort him when he needed me the most.
Cedrick lingered by the door. “You’re not coming in?”
I wiped at my damp cheeks and whispered, “He doesn’t want me here.”
Cedrick studied me for a long moment. “If you leave now, he’s going to think you can’t handle this part of him.”
I swallowed hard. “Is that why you warned me? You thought I wouldn’t stay?”
“Partially.” Cedrick shoved his hands into his pockets. “His parents?”
“And then fans swarmed us in front of the restaurant. He was trying to protect me from the crowd. He held it together until we got in the car. I feel so bad because I pushed him to see his mother when he was already under pressure with the album and getting used to this new attention.”
“Don’t feel bad. He wants a good relationship with his parents. Any time they call, he’s there, even if it triggers him. He’s been holding a lot in, too. The late-night TV circuit has been calling, and I’ve spoken for the band in the past. They want Landon to speak. He’s torn because he doesn’t want to hold us back.”
I moved closer to the door. “Has he ever seen a therapist?”
“I don’t know. These attacks don’t happen that often.”
“He needs to see someone. He gets too anxious.” I hugged myself.
Cedrick insisted, “He’s fine. His last episode was months ago.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with having a therapist. I had one for years.”
“Well, now isn’t the time to suggest it because he can’t start seeing someone right at this moment. We have four cities left. Wait until after the tour, please. It’s just one more month. With the film crew around, is it fair to shove him in front of a shrink’s chair, too?” Cedrick gestured toward the door with his head. “Come inside. We’ve been out here too long. He’ll know we’re talking about him. He’s still embarrassed you saw him like that. Prove to him it doesn’t matter. Please.”
Deep love and concern shone in his eyes.
I nodded. “I won’t say anything about therapy until after Los Angeles and tonight doesn’t change my feelings for him.”
Despite my fear that Landon would reject me, I’d been him countless times, including two nights ago. Ashamed of my behavior, I’d often shunned people and pretended they didn’t exist when all I wanted was for them to understand.
“Then let’s go,” Cedrick said.
I reached for his hand. “I’m also sorry that I ever misjudged you.”
“You didn’t. I’m every bit of the arrogant asshole you believe I am.” He helped me get out of the car and released my hand as we walked inside. “Landon has been my brother since we were kids, and I ride for my family. Glad he now has you, too.” He half grinned. “Told you I can admit when I’m wrong.”
When we entered the studio, Landon was in the booth with his head lowered, strumming his guitar. The rest of the band didn’t acknowledge me as they watched transfixed from outside. The hauntingly beautiful music evoked my melancholic soul and reminded me of my sorrow and pain. By the time he’d strummed his final, stirring chord, there were no dry eyes in the room.
I wiped my tears and opened the door to the booth. “Come on, baby. Let’s go home.”
Landon and I locked gazes. Shame and fear still coated his luminous eyes, but at least he was no longer afraid to look at me. He placed his guitar on the stand, and I wrapped my arm around his waist when he joined me at the door. We didn’t say goodbye to the band as we left the building and headed to his place.