My breath hitched. Surprise, sadness, excitement, lasciviousness, and a few other sentiments were felt concurrently in flashes. I was mindful of being watched, so I tucked the card back into the envelope, turned to my small group and with a smile, thanked them again for their support.
Everyone gave a hug, one by one, with Petey being the last. He looked over my shoulder, causing me to do the same and I noticed Brian and Brandy leaning against aisle-seats, waiting on me to escort them backstage. Brandy spied the stage while Brian kept his eyes glued to me—and then Petey.
Petey leaned into me, slyly asking, “You gone be okay, Rayna? Did Ray drive you here?” He wore a look of unease.
I gave him a warm smile and a nudge. “I’ll be fine, Crack,” throwing him the moniker Azmir would use from time to time. “Thompson is a colleague of mine. I don’t socialize with him outside of work and I won’t start tonight. His niece is in town and is an aspiring dancer, so I invited them out for inspirational purposes. Don’t worry.”
Petey cracked a smile at that, something I was relieved to see. I didn’t want to stir up any conflicting feelings among Azmir’s friends. I didn’t invite them to perpetuate the drama that I always seem to find myself in when I’m around them with Syn.
“Alright, ma. Divine was fucked up that he couldn’t make it. I’m sure y’all will rap about that.” His tone was assuring.
I knew he was making a plea for his dear friend, but I wondered was it genuine or because he saw another man there, posing a threat. I also hadn’t forgotten about what I was by now convinced was cover up operation at Kid’s party in Vegas with Dawn Taylor and Shayna Bacote. I gave him a wink and he strolled over to the waiting crowd. I waved my goodbyes as they left the auditorium.
The evening ended just as uneventful as I’d promised Petey. I introduced Brandy to Jimmie and a few of the dancers who were still hanging around backstage. Erica even showed Jimmie a few of her moves. She looked promising as he critiqued and corrected a couple of them. Brian invited me out to dinner with them, and as much as Brandy’s zeal from the invitation pulled at my heartstrings, I declined. I was exhausted and really looked forward to worship service the next morning. I’d also missed Azna. With all my time at the studio this week I really hadn’t spent much time with him. He did however, lick my hands when I cried at nights from my heartache and snuggled with me when I tried falling asleep.
When I stepped off the elevator at the marina, I saw them—all six dozen of them, lined up from across the elevator, against wall to the apartment door. They were large clear vases, filled with long stem, fully blossomed orange roses. And to my surprise, when I opened the door, there were more—exactly twelve more—vases, perfectly aligned down the corridor, leading to the master suite.
Azna trotted out from the back of the apartment with his miniature frame, drew up and scratched at my calf. He must have been frightened out of his mind at the ruckus of getting them in here. I’m sure Azmir paid a small fortune for all of them and had Roberto or the on-duty concierge arrange them like this. The gesture was thoughtful, but the emptiness in my belly reminded me of his infidelity.
I sat on the bed and cried for what seemed like hours until I was startled by the sound of my phone ringing. It was Azmir. I couldn’t talk. I wasn’t ready to. I waited until after my bath when I had calmed down and my eyes had returned to their normal state and sent him a text saying thanks and that I would call him the following day.
How long can I get by like this?