Azmir nods, but immediately diverts his eyes to mine. There’s something in them. I can’t tell if he’s nervous or livid but, simultaneously I waft a lungful of his tantalizing cologne against his classical facial features, and it brings me unmitigated comfort. One thing is for sure, and that’s I have to prepare myself to walk this long red carpet in five-inch heels and alongside a man with larger than life stature on my arm. We start immediately once we make it beyond a metal barricade that separates the photogs from the carpet. Dawn walks ahead of us with me following her and Azmir behind me, to my right.
The flashes and clicks begin right away. My practiced smile that I’ve trained for over the past few days arrives, my shoulders rise and squares as Adrian advised. My mouth is filled with cotton balls and elephants dance in my belly. I try desperately to control my tremors because I want to prove to Azmir that I can handle his world just as much as I want to convince myself.
“Azmir!”…“Jacobs!”…“Mr. Jacobs’ guest!”…“Azmir’s friend!” they all yell, demanding our attention. I notice no one addresses me directly. They don’t know my name.
It’s okay, Rayna. I chastise my unusually burgeoning ego.
We implement the five step/pose method for a few feet. Under Azmir’s arm, experiencing his familiar scent and feeling his well-acquainted body heat against my anxious frame, the jitters start to subside. My breathing begins to even and my steps are solid, executed with confidence. And in my introspect, I’m amazed at how in tune and synced our bodies are. I move and pivot with enough men while dancing to know that synchronism isn’t ordinary. You must know the personal space required for your partner and the timing in which it takes them to decide the next choreographed or innate move. That’s the challenge of dancing with a new partner. It’s a needed skill for dancing.
Here, with Azmir, our moves gel as we dance the red carpet fluidly. With this revelation, I peer up to find Azmir’s gleaming regard on me. There’s a soft smile on his tempting lips and the area around his eyes are light—untroubled, blithely even. In this moment, I cannot question or deny that this man is in absolute love with me. His adoration is palpable and here in this space in time, I’m not frightened by it. I don’t want to run from it. I want to take it head on and give him any and everything needed to make him happy. Give him the contentment he deserves.
Step, step, step, step, step, and pose…
“Rayna, this way please,” Dawn directs, snapping me out of my fortuitous trance. Because my guards are now down, I obey without a second thought.
We’re only a quarter of the way done with the carpet and I move to the left of her, leaving her to Azmir’s side. She points to the cameras she wants him to pose for. I even notice how she speaks directly to several of them, giving them factoids about Azmir, Mauve, Cobalt, and Global Fusion, which I now know is the mergers and acquisitions firm he owns with Richard. I notice when she splays her hand on Azmir’s arm in a gentle and almost affectionate manner.
I’m proud to see Azmir display his charming, coochie-creaming smile, even if it isn’t just for me. I’ve been so used to having him alone and experiencing the magic and wonder of his exclusivity that sharing him here with all of these eager people makes him larger than life. It’s a fascinating phenomenon. It’s his moment and he’s owning it. The masculine nod that he gives after a paparazzo expresses they’ve gotten enough desired shots of him and then moving on to the next, melts my core.
I cringe inwardly when I realize Dawn’s in some of the shots, smiling with an air of companionship. I continue ahead of them, being sure to stay out of the way. I can’t lie and say I don’t eventually feel awkward and like a mismatched ornament. She’s wearing his blue! There was a time, not too long ago, where I would haul ass from this scenario when another woman craftily, attempts her claws into Azmir. Not today. I want this moment for Azmir and I will not waver from being by his side as he experiences it. It isn’t easy, but I will not run. I smile and gracefully wait out the time until I’ll be wrapped under his arm…where he wants me.
At some point, we bumped into other red carpet walkers—extremely well known ones. His old buddy, Kobe, is here with his petite wife and they are the first to pose with Azmir. They keep their banter to a minimum as Dawn guides Azmir farther down where he takes shots with Quincy Jones who appears far more geriatric than I ever imagined. He moves slow and slouches at the shoulders, but his killer smile is still in tow. Nonetheless, his presence warms me as I’m reminded of Azmir singing and dancing to one of his many genius hits that night at the marina. Moody’s Mood for Love will always be etched in my heart, as the memory will be with me forever.
We bump into the rapper, Nelly, who’s much taller than I realized. He has a potty mouth as he jeers familiarly with Azmir. Then we move on to Stephen Hill. He’s extremely…goofy, very silly as he chats with Azmir.
The ultimate is when we meet Gayle King and when she turns to him, her eyes light up as she sings, “Divine!”
Hold up!