In Rhythm, page 22
“Graag gedaan.” His face shined. “You’re learning?”
“I may have picked up a bit here and there on tour with you guys.”
He turned off the stove and covered a large stack of pancakes in foil. He did the same with two smaller stacks before he changed stations.
“I can help you learn more, if you like.”
“That’d be great.” She savored her food.
“They say the best way to learn the language is to take a Dutch lover.” He winked at her and an espresso machine blared or else he would have heard her choke on her pancake. His shoulders bounced with laughter as he fixed her a coffee, and one for himself.
“You’re so silly.” She cleared the dough from her throat. “You’re not having your tea?”
“No, I wanted to have a coffee with you.”
“That’s a lot of caffeine, no?”
“I’m trying out some things I used to enjoy to see how I do.” He fixed himself a pancake and took a healthy bite.
“That’s great.” All she saw were addictive stimulants. “Did you do your exercise and meditate today? The schedule’s been all over the place.”
“Our press has been nonstop and there were some sponsor things we had to take care of so I slept quite a bit late today. I hope to get to the rest of it later. I meditated and this is breakfast.”
“Sugar?”
He sighed and she folded her lips to quiet her mothering. She raised her espresso cup to him. “Cheers.”
“Proost.” They both drank.
She lifted another bite of food to her mouth. “So how are you doing? You know, with the whole Tres Armadas thing?”
“I guess it’s what must happen. I thought I had more time but I wasted it.”
“Man, you guys are so good together. It’s a shame. The fans will be heartbroken. Is there any way you can work it out?”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried? It’s over,” he snapped.
She dished him a lengthy glare. “I’m not your enemy.” She poked at her food with her fork. She struggled with letting go, too. DJ FeNom? Candy? The situations weren’t entirely applicable but they all boiled down to one thing, getting over herself. A lesson she still learned and one Zazzle might learn from, as well.
“Forgive me. I don’t mean to—”
“No, I get it. This is hard stuff. You’re losing something, right now. All I can do is listen.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I still want to play with them but I’m outvoted. There is a possibility of one more tour but it’s torture to think about right now.” He leaned on the table.
“But you guys are still friends, right?”
He didn’t answer right away. She’d witnessed him and Christian bicker and Maartin had commented on the state of things on a few occasions.
Another heavy sigh escaped him. “We’re trying, I think.”
She treaded carefully with her next inquiry. “You and Christian?”
He nodded. “Things began to unravel with us before my addiction got out of control. We’d always been in this music thing together, but Christian often sought to expand creatively with others. When it was clear he longed for a solo career, I did not take it well.”
“Is that why you turned to drugs?”
“No. Have you ever realized that I’m the only one in the group with an alias?”
“Huh? You are. How did I not realize that?”
“Well, when we first got noticed fame really did happen for us quickly. My stage presence got labeled as ‘Zazzle time,’ and yes, it’s a nod to MC Hammer.”
She smiled. “Glad you noticed that.”
“Anyway. Everywhere I went, people expected me to be that person. Over the years, I had a hard time turning off. I partied harder, used coke to keep the euphoria and energy up, you know.”
“And the drinking?”
“I thought I had a drinking problem but when I went into rehab, they diagnosed me with depression and when I explained how I drank more with the drugs they saw the connection.”
“So you can drink?”
“Probably.”
“But you don’t.”
“Correct. I prefer it that way for now.”
She stroked his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
He held her and continued.
“Anyway, I also like to party and had successfully cultivated an entourage of enablers. By the time I realized I had a problem it was well out of control, but I needed something to blame, so...”
“You blamed Christian.”
“My habit just made things in the group worse. No one could communicate with me and I cruised in full-on asshole mode.”
“Have you said this to Maartin and Christian?”
“Yes. Maartin has been a good friend and supportive, but trust has been broken and is not so easily regained.”
She rubbed his back. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”
He shrugged. “I’m thinking about what you suggested. Go behind the scenes, I don’t know.”
“You’re a great artist, Isaak. Maybe now is a good time to change things up. Reinvent yourself.”
“Maybe so.” He nuzzled her hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She continued to feed her face and thought of her brother and friends. Her real and found family. Who did Isaak confide in about these things?
“Do you have family here?” she asked, distracted by the soft wet kisses he now placed on her skin.
“My brother, Jan, in Breda.”
“Where are your folks?”
“They’re retired in Curaçao but come back here annually to see me and my brother.”
“That sounds heavenly.” She added “retired life on a Dutch Caribbean island” to her bucket list.
“When my grandparents were alive they lived there, as well. I spent all my summers there. I think that’s where my love of African and Caribbean music started.” His lips traced up her forearm and then guided her hand back down on the table.
“No doubt influenced those dance moves, too.” She willed her pulse to simmer down to no avail.
“I’m sure it did.”
“Will you see Jan while you’re here?”
“No, but he’ll be in LA for our final shows,” he delivered nonchalantly but the significance of “final shows” wasn’t lost on her. “I’m in rehab because of him.” Zazzle explained how his brother had intervened and flown with him to New Zealand.
“I love him already. I mean...maybe I can meet him someday.”
Zazzle straightened from his bent position and grinned. “I’d like you to meet him, too.”
She lifted another bite of food to her mouth and Zazzle lowered it back down to the plate. “I’m eating. Where are you taking me?” she asked as he pulled her with him.
“Upstairs.”
“What’s up there?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee? But...oh...” She climbed the stairs with a bit more pep to her step. She had a few seconds to take in the cool red and dark gray colors, popping off cream-colored walls in the large master suite before he was pulling on her shirt.
“Is this okay?” His hand slid underneath and she flinched at the cool touch.
“Now you ask?”
“I want to be sure.”
“Yes. It’s okay.” She unbuckled his jeans. He peeled her shirt off and once freed she worked on his. “Arms up,” she instructed, and yanked his shirt over his head. Her hand ran over the lean muscle in his chest.
They toddled to the bed and while Zazzle addressed his jeans, she disrobed, tossing her leggings and underwear to the side. The last time they were together had been intense, amazing and with no clear leader. This time as she climbed on top of him, she claimed the title.
“Condom,” she commanded.
He extended his arm to the dresser, rocking her body, but he was unable to reach.
“Let me help you out.” With feline agility she stretched and found one in the drawer. Inside, she found a colorful array of foil and plastic wrappers, with different event and festival logos. “Ahh...the collection.”
She pulled out a few and sprinkled them like confetti over his chest. She moved against him in her straddled position and asked, “Which one?”
“Asha.” His husky warning thrilled her.
“Pick,” she teased.
He hastily plucked one off the bed and called her name again. She was about to tear into the wrapper when his doorbell sounded.
His native language tumbled out of him and he rubbed his face.
“They’ve come for pannenkoeken.”
“What? Who?” Velvet’s heart raced and she scrambled off him.
“I made them for Christian’s daughter. She is here to get them with her mother. I wanted you...this... I forgot.” He dressed with haste.
Velvet jumped back into her clothes and smoothed her hair, sure that her face and body screamed, I want sex now.
Zazzle’s hard-on formed a lump against his jeans.
“You really need to do something about that.” She twirled her finger at the area between his legs.
He marched to a window and slid it open. He called out to his visitors below. All she understood was “hello” and “minutes.” She really needed to learn more Dutch.
He returned to her and his hands cupped her face. “I’m sorry, schatje. Our loving will have to wait.”
“Slow down. It’s okay.” Velvet observed him with fascination as he bolted to the bathroom, and laughter bubbled out of her.
“You’re laughing at me?” The ring of humor circled his question, echoing from the bathroom.
“Yeah. You have to admit it’s kind of funny.” She leaned against the doorframe.
“Funny that my balls will be blue.”
“You’ll live.” She chuckled.
He entered the bedroom. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Zazzle ran down the stairs to open the door while she settled at the table where her food waited.
Velvet heard a lot of Dutch and a male voice she didn’t expect but recognized. Christian. As they all piled up the stairs, Velvet stood to greet them. The conversation turned to English when they saw her and she was grateful to not be a complete outsider.
“Hey, Christian.” Her cheeks warmed as Christian’s eyes slid back and forth between her and Zazzle. She awaited distaste to etch his features, but instead he smiled with an arched brow.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Christian winked.
Her cheeks burned.
Zazzle dove into introductions. “Asha, this is Christian’s wife, Lotte, and daughter, Mila.”
“Nice to meet you.” Velvet shook Lotte’s hand. The woman’s light brown hair framed her face.
“Yes, Velvet? You are on tour with the guys.”
Velvet nodded.
“I like your songs. Very positive.”
Surprised, Velvet’s gratitude was delayed. “Thank you.” She addressed Christian’s daughter, as well. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mila.” The girl was a perfect combination of Christian and Lotte.
“Cool hair,” Mila complimented.
“Thanks. The color changes often,” Velvet noted.
“We know,” both Christian and Zazzle said at the same time.
An unspoken understanding passed between the two men.
Velvet rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“You two used to do that all the time,” Lotte mentioned.
Velvet strangely felt good to hear Lotte’s memory. Maybe things were getting better between them despite the Tres Armadas breakup.
“How old are you, Mila?” Velvet asked.
“Eleven,” she responded, then whispered to her mother. “Mom, can I get purple?”
Her mother tapped her lips. “Hmm... If you want it after a week, we’ll see about a little bit here.” Lotte touched the back of her daughter’s head.
“You must stay for a coffee,” Zazzle said, and went to the machine.
“No, no,” Lotte said, but somehow the decline wasn’t firm enough to stick.
“We can’t stay long, as we are on our way to see the grandparents and collect Bram,” Christian added.
“My son,” Lotte clarified for Velvet.
“Oh.”
The espresso machine revved and Zazzle shared shots of the aromatic coffee. Velvet chalked up the exchange to Dutch hospitality.
Zazzle handed the huge stack of foiled pancakes to Mila. He said something to her in their language and the girl smiled.
“Hartelijk bedankt, peetvader.” Mila kissed his cheek. The sweet exchange was a crowd pleaser.
“His goddaughter,” Lotte said. “He’s very good to her.”
“Yeah, she’s got a huge stack of loving pancakes to prove it,” Velvet laughed. “How’d you all meet?”
“I was a fan at one of their shows. I actually came to the shows to see Isaak.”
“Oh, is this a scandalous story? Do tell.”
“Not at all.” Lotte laughed. “When I met Isaak he was kind, but very uninterested in me. We became good scene friends over a year’s time. Then he invited me to Christian’s birthday party. Christian says it was love at first sight but I don’t know.”
“It was,” Christian confirmed.
Lotte scoffed. “He saw me a few times before but he said I looked different dressed up. That’s when he really saw me. Not in shorts and face paint.”
“Face paint.” Mila did the equivalent of a more respectful New York eye roll.
She and Zazzle exchanged glances. “It’s definitely not Isaak’s thing.”
“No, it’s not,” Zazzle confirmed.
Their face painting conversation at the carnival hadn’t been anything spectacular but it spoke to the details that they both collected and cherished.
“Do you like your dad’s music, Mila?”
“Yes. He is very good. You, too.” She pointed to Zazzle.
“Well, thank you,” he teased.
“You look well, Isaak. It is good to see you like this. You come have dinner with us next time. Bram would love to see you, as well. Christian?”
“Yes. That sounds good,” Christian agreed.
The moment felt huge and good. Velvet peered over at Lotte and the beaming woman confirmed that a bridge had been made.
“We really do have to run, Isaak. Thank you for the coffee.”
Kisses were shared before they departed.
“I’ll be back. I’m just going to let them out,” he said.
As Velvet waited, she was glad she met Lotte and Mila. It gave her a little more insight into both Zazzle and Christian. She started to clear the table when her phone buzzed against her butt cheek.
Candy: Can you come back?
A sad face emoji with teardrop popped up next.
Zazzle thumped up the stairs. He pressed his body against hers and placed his hands on her waist. “Now, where were we?”
“I gotta go, I think. I just got a message from Candy. I have a bad feeling she saw LED.”
“I know he’s here so maybe.”
“You knew he was going to be here?”
“Yeah, I saw him in Ibiza and he told me he’d be here.”
“You saw him?” Her volume went from three to six. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
She sighed. “I’ve been trying to connect with him to get to the bottom of this thing that’s happening with him and Candy.”
“And you’re upset with me for not telling you something I had no idea about?” He parked his rear on a stool. “LED told me that they broke up. You might have mentioned that.”
He had a point, but she was still frustrated that she’d missed her opportunity with LED.
“Are we quarreling over something that has nothing to do with us?” His accent made his statement sexier than it ought to have been.
“I don’t know? Maybe?”
He sighed and eased off the stool. He grabbed a small stack of the foiled pancakes and handed it to her. “Go to her. You’ll feel better once you two talk.”
Velvet wasn’t so sure. “Thank you. This was nice.” While it lasted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Velvet returned to the hotel to find Candy in disarray, pulling at her clothes and rubbing her face as she paced the room.
“What is going on?” Velvet asked.
“I saw Bernard and he’s such an asshole! He just keeps pressuring me!” Candy’s sentences jumbled together and Velvet grasped at them like puzzle pieces.
“Tell me what happened. Do I need to call someone?”
Candy halted and stared at her. “Call someone?”
“Like the authorities. If he put a hand on you I’ll kill him myself.”
“No, no, no.”
Velvet took a breath. “Candy, please tell me what’s happening. What is he pressuring you to do?”
“To be with him.”
Velvet struggled like she was learning a new language. “And you don’t want to be with him anymore?”
“I do,” she blubbered.
Velvet’s shoulders inched to her ears and her head was about to explode. “Then what’s the problem? Why’d you break up with him?”
Candy looked about ready to jump out of her skin.
“Speak to me,” Velvet yelled, an alternative to slapping Candy out of her tailspinning.
“You!”
Velvet backed up. Me? She looked around for another version of Asha Kendall. “Me?”
“He wants me to leave LA and move to Vancouver. To get more serious, but I can’t leave you.”
Velvet swallowed. “Leave me?”
“We’re family. I take care of you and you take care of me. How are we Bedazzled Beats if we’re apart? We’ve been together since we decided to be a group. We live together, travel together, play music. How’s that work if I’m in Canada? It doesn’t,” Candy cried. “He made me choose between you and him.”
