Beautiful Noise

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

K ori.

I was emotional when I didn’t have the right to be.

And I was about to let these damned emotions of mine render me homeless… again.

So be it.

I wasn’t sure why Ezren’s words cut so deeply or why his assumptions pierced me deeper. He didn’t know me. Didn’t know shit about me, yet he’d made harsh assumptions.

Okay so maybe I had done the same thing by sending jabs about how much he spent on this studio. Why should it matter? He worked hard for every penny he earned and it made perfect sense that an artist would build a world-renowned studio in their home. Who wouldn’t want the convenience of climbing out of bed when inspiration hit only to travel a few feet into their private studio to bring that inspiration to life?

I only said those things because… well shit, there wasn’t much else I could say about the man. He was a good guy from what I could tell. He mentored kids and funded several music programs. Never had he been caught in the media disrespecting women or treating anyone, for that matter, badly…

His clean image could also be thanks to his high powered attorneys keeping his indiscretions quiet, but deep down I knew that wasn’t the case. Sure, he slept with a lot of women. Rumor was that sex was his inspiration and the women he slept with were his muses. It wasn’t like he forced them. I would bet my last they willingly offered to assist with his creative journey. How could they not, he was…

Focus, Kori.

But point being, what the hell else could I say about the man other than he was irresponsible with money? I was standing in the middle of his very exquisite studio that cost a fortune and that was the only thing I could use as ammunition to strike back. I was so angry with myself.

Spinning on my heels I turned to grab a few items I was comfortable enough to place in my room.

His room.

Perfume, hairbrush, flat iron, blow dryer, and my body butters.

I was also cataloging and counting down in my head how quickly I could be out of here. Before I could make my grand escape, the reason for my irate temperament strolled into my room, completely at ease aside from a slight pinch between his brows. He waltzed right in and sank onto the foot of my bed, reclining all the way back and lazily turned his head in my direction.

“You leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Is he serious? He can’t be serious.

“You just accused me of finessing your mother or being a crazy stalker who wants to sleep with you for money, or fame, or hell I don’t know, whatever the takeaway is for those women after being with you.”

He grinned smugly. “Their only takeaway is the most amazing sex they’ve ever had. I don’t buy gifts, pay bills, offer money or photos with me that they can sell to the media for a come up. That’s not my thing.”

“Thanks for the clarification but your clarity has nothing to do with the point I was making. You think I’m using your mother to get to you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You said?—”

“I know what I said and I was just talking shit. My mother is a brilliant woman. She’s very intuitive and only does what she wants. Nobody, and I mean not one damn person, myself included, can finesse her. If you’re here, it was her decision. Not one you manipulated your way into.”

Solid inked arms extended over his head and his long fingers sank into a pillow which he lifted and cradled close to his face before he tossed it aside. “It already smells like you in here. Isn’t that some shit? You’ve placed ownership on this room with your presence.”

“Sorry to ruin your new house smell with mine,” I mocked before adding, “Wash the sheets and it will be as if I was never here.”

“Not likely,” he murmured, causing my eyes to lower to his just in time to see him lift the bottle of perfume which hadn’t made it into my bag yet.

The bottle looked miniature in his large hands. I couldn’t take my eyes away from those deft fingers because my mind drifted to all the interesting things he could do with those very large hands. He pinched the tiny metal top and plucked it off and I swear my nipples ached. The bottle moved closer to his face and I inhaled at the same time he did but I caught his scent instead of my own. And when his teeth gently pierced his bottom lip…

Shit, why is that sexy?

Because he’s sexy and anything he does therefore is classified as sexy.

“I like this but it smells different on you. Caramel and vanilla.”

“Give me that.” I leaned over the side of the bed, reaching for the bottle, but he caught my wrist, wrapping those damn long ass fingers securely around it and yanking me closer so my skin grazed his lips while he inhaled the space just below where he had a hold on me.

Just as quickly as he had me trapped, he let me go. “Yeah, same but different. Smells better on you.”

Ezren sat up, lowering his head so his chin dipped closer to his chest. Both hands brushed over his head, tugged at his beard and exhaled, like dealing with me was somehow exhausting his energy, when no doubt; it was the complete opposite. I was the one drained.

“The food smells good. You cooked; you should eat before you go.”

He stared at me for a long moment with something playing behind his eyes. I tore mine away and grabbed a few more of my things from the bed, shoving them into my bag. Mostly because I didn’t want to keep staring, even though he was still watching me. I could feel the heat of his gaze.

“No thanks, I’d rather just go.”

“Go where?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Ri, look…”

Why the hell was he calling me Ri, like we were friends? And why did it send a spike of emotion through me?

“Kori,” I retorted stubbornly.

“ Kori . If you truly know my mother, then do me a solid and eat before you go. If she finds out I’m the reason you not only left but left with an empty stomach, she’s gonna have my ass. Can you do that for me? Save me from a little of her wrath and share a meal.”

“No.”

“Damn, no sympathy, huh? How you gonna accuse me of being inhumane when that’s exactly what you are?”

My eyes shot over to him. This man grinning… Lord, give me strength.

“Two completely different scenarios. You want me to eat because you’re scared of your mother. Not because you care.”

“Aight bet, but I care too. I’m not as horrible as you’re trying to make me out to be.”

“You sure about that?” I challenged and his smile expanded.

“Yes, completely.”

His smile dropped and a hand went across his hair and then tugged at his beard. A nervous tick maybe. Or one mindlessly done while thinking? Could be both. He made his way over to me and, before I could react or prevent the gesture, he had me in the air, cradled against his chest bridal style. When I shifted away from him and attempted to free myself, he offered a firm warning, moving with me in his arms.

“Keep on and I’m gonna fuck around and drop your ass. These floors are hard as fuck. The builder told me you could drop a tank on them and they wouldn’t so much as crack. Imagine what a crash landing on these shits would feel like.”

I groaned as he traveled down the hall to the kitchen where he gently lowered me to my feet.

“You’re in the kitchen now. Might as well sit and let me fix your plate.”

He turned his back to me, crossing the kitchen en route to the cabinets where he removed plates. I contemplated going back to my… his room but decided to wait it out. Watching him fumble around in the kitchen was amusing. Especially when he began the process of arranging food I’d cooked onto plates.

I cracked a smile which dropped the second he slid my dinner across the island. His plate landed across from mine but Ezren turned away once more, searching for what I realized was a bottle of wine and two glasses. Lastly, he gathered silverware and napkins which he separated between us.

The man seemed awkward moving around his kitchen, mostly because his big body and less than graceful movements presented a huge contrast to the modern, elegant kitchen.

Once he was settled across from me, and both our glasses were filled, he extended his long arms in my direction with his palms turned up. I frowned and he muttered, “Grace.”

Oh, wow.

After aligning my hands on top of his, attempting to ignore the zing of warmth that traveled up my arms, he blessed our food. Immediately following, I snatched my hands from his and took possession of my wine, swallowing a larger than necessary gulp. Eccentric watched me, chuckling as he lowered his head and began slicing through his steak.

“Garden herb butter?”

“Yes.”

“My mom sent her recipe?”

I flinched because he knew.

“Maybe.” I shrugged, watching as the first piece found its way to his mouth.

“That’s cool. I’ll let her know you didn’t fuck it up.”

“I can cook.”

“Never said you couldn’t.”

“No, but you did assume I’d over season your precious steaks.”

His fork eased into his mouth once more and glided across his lips after the meat landed on his tongue. I was granted the visual of a few slow erotic chews—yes chewing could be erotic—followed by a smug grin.

“Not because I assumed you couldn’t burn in the kitchen but mostly because people always fuck up steak by over seasoning it. Sal’s is the best. It doesn’t need much but a good sear.”

“And garden herb butter?”

“Definitely that.” His smile expanded. “So…” Deep brown orbs gently shifted their focus to me and I felt my stomach clench. I knew what was coming…

“You wanna tell me about the nowhere to go thing?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like you and you don’t like me either. Why would I voluntarily hand over my life story?”

He smirked and shrugged. “You obviously told my mother.”

“You’re not your mother. Not even close.”

“Good to know because I love her and all but being Gwendolyn Shaw wouldn’t help my career, at all.”

I laughed as an image of Eccentric on stage wearing a wig matching his mother’s tresses popped up in my head. “Oh no, that would not be cute but that’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Yeah I do but seriously you can talk to me. No judgment.”

“You’re the last person I would spill my guts to and expect no judgment.”

“I don’t see why. To your point, I don’t like you and you don’t like me. If that is indeed the case, there’s not much either of us could say that would cause the possibility of you or me thinking less of one another to grow, right?”

I shifted uncomfortably, cutting into my steak and forcing a thin chunk into my mouth and he watched the entire thing. I wasn’t the only one enjoying lips tonight. Once I cleared my throat, his eyes found their way to mine before I made clear, “I don’t give a damn about your judgment. No one is perfect. We all have things about us or in our lives that we’re not happy with. My situation is temporary and nothing I’m ashamed of.”

“Okay, so share.”

I held his stare for a long moment before lowering my eyes to shave off another slice of steak. Gwendolyn’s recipe was on point. I’d have to make sure I told her thank you, again, although she seemed all too eager to offer up any tidbit that would make her son happy.

“It’s nothing you’d be interested in. No, my parents didn’t choose drugs over me, and no, I didn’t fall into a relationship with a man who liked to use his hands instead of his words. Though he did abuse my trust by sleeping with a lot of women I didn’t know about, some even in our bed.” I frowned hard, realizing I said that part out loud before continuing, “Anyway, there’s no heart tugging story to tell, sorry. I was raised in a two-parent home and they loved me, treated me well and supported my dreams, until my dreams no longer aligned with their ideals for who I should be. My dreams had basically been what they told me they should be. One day I realized I wanted more even if I didn’t have a damn clue what more was. When I expressed this, they disapproved. I left and they sort of disowned me. I’ve struggled a little because surviving on your own with no support system is exhausting, and more importantly, expensive. My struggle is temporary. I’ll figure it out because even with the hardships it’s not enough for me to fold, run back to my parents with my tail tucked between my legs, and conform to a life that dims my light, just to appease them.”

He stared stoically, for what felt like an eternity, before he spoke up. “What about your dreams didn’t align with theirs?”

“They wanted me to be in education. It’s sort of their thing. A family legacy in a sense, in some weird ‘we want to be a prominent Black family’ way. I was raised to believe I wanted the same. There was a time when I did. Went to college to be a professor and everything but a week before that was to become my life everything changed. I sank into a serious depression because I wasn’t happy. When you dread your future instead of looking forward to it, some serious evaluating has to take place. I just couldn’t live the life they created for me. I was handed an ultimatum. Their daughter was groomed to be who they wanted me to be, so I left.”

“Now it makes sense.”

Frowning, I lowered my hands, loosely gripping a fork and knife in each one. “What makes sense?”

“Why my mother is so drawn to you. Why you’re here.”

He went back to eating like he hadn’t just opened Pandora’s box and I reached across the island and tapped his plate with my fork.

“What’s the rest?”

“There is no rest . I wanted answers, now I have them.”

“Well I don’t. Explain to me how you now have some profound understanding about why your mother is drawn to me.”

He smirked, chuckling slowly again. “She sees herself in you.”

“She sees herself in me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He lifted his wine glass. No matter how hard I tried, my attention was drawn to the way his lip rested on the rim of the glass before he drank, then said, “Not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask her.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah you’re definitely a college grad using words like insufferable.”

I arched my brow, peering at him across the island. “What happened to no judgment?”

“That’s not judgment. Only an observation.”

“Okay so you also graduated from college, Morehouse, if I’m not mistaken, and with honors. Bachelor of Arts in Music, yet you don’t use words like insufferable. Your observation is flawed.”

He chuckled, nodding again before saying, “What else do you know about me?”

“Huh?”

“In the studio you mentioned how many albums I’ve completed. You just mentioned where I went to college and that I graduated with honors. You know more about me than I know about you, which gives you the advantage.”

“I bet that’s grinding your gears,” I mumbled before clarifying, “The things I mentioned are random facts you’ve shared in interviews. Nothing anyone else wouldn’t know.”

“Anyone who follows my career, which you obviously do. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. You’re good. No sense in pretending you’re not and I’m familiar with your career, yes, but I’m not a fan. At least not like the ones you’re used to.”

“What type of fans am I used to?”

“The ones who want to be inspiration for your next chart topping song.”

He laughed hard, leaning in closer. “And there goes another fact that you know about me. I’m really not feeling this disadvantage.”

“Good.”

“Damn, it’s like that?”

“Yes. I have to celebrate the small victories. And this is one.”

“Fair enough. How about you tell me what’s your favorite album and song.”

“Easy, Miseducation of Lauryn Hill , ‘Ex-Factor’.”

“Of mine, smart ass, but good choice on that one. It’s in my top twenty.”

“Someone is feeling a little insecure.”

“No, I’m not. Just curious is all.”

I stared at him for a long moment before giving in. “Okay I’ll play, album, Stoned Heart . You were in a very raw emotional space. It came through in your music. I’m sure you’re probably still licking the wounds from whatever woman broke your heart but you should be thanking her. She inspired some classic, timeless music which to date is unparalleled. As for my favorite song, I’d say, ‘Hollow’. Again, the emotions were raw and unfiltered. I could feel your voice vibrating beneath my skin, digging into my soul. That album and song was some of your best work. I’m a little jealous of the woman that inspired both because it seems she really cut you deep to pull that type of emotion from you. I envy her for the ability to bruise that overinflated ego of yours.”

Something shifted behind his eyes and the energy around us shifted as well. Our light and airy conversion turned dark and angry. Ezren pushed his stool back and stood, glaring at me like I had wronged him in the most callous and hurtful way.

“Thanks for this, I think I’m done,” he muttered, tone ice cold and guarded.

“What’s happening? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I just remembered some shit I need to do. His hand brushed over his head but he never allowed his eyes to meet mine again before he turned to leave the kitchen.

“Ezren, wait. What did I say? Please, tell me. If it’s about your ex, I apologize. Bad break-ups are personal and devastating. Nothing I should be joking about. I get it.”

He laughed sarcastically. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in a relationship. They’re not really my thing. It’s impossible for a woman to break what they’ve never had access to, sweetheart .” His tone was condescending; malicious even, as if he wanted me to feel small.

And I did.

“My mother invited you here, so please, stay. The house is big enough for the two of us to coexist and keep our distance. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving me baffled about what the hell had just happened after the sound of his door slamming confirmed what I was feeling.