In Rhythm, page 7
The questions started to die down and eventually the press funneled out and on to find other artists. The old entourage of people came through asking about late-night parties and bottle service at the clubs in town. That was his cue.
“I’m going to head back,” Zazzle proclaimed. “I need to stay on schedule with my routine.”
Christian’s tension traveled to seize his own muscles. Whether Zazzle did the right thing or not, these days, Christian only held him in contempt, even more so if it had anything to do with his recovery.
Maartin’s voice of reason always made an appearance. “Do what you have to do, man. We’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded and headed to the floral-scented confines of his makeshift sanctuary where he sat in silence for a bit before he prepared a bushel of wheatgrass to juice.
Chapter Seven
Thousands of fans held up their phones to capture the moment. These last few minutes at the end of an hour-long set were Velvet’s favorite. The crowd was exhausted, they knew the end drew near, and screamed their appreciation the loudest, singing the words to Bedazzled Beats’ hot new single.
Velvet descended from the stage, her clothes and hair a sweaty mess. She had little time before she and Candy answered a few questions for the press and posed for pictures in their now-famous face-to-face pose.
They noshed on post-performance treats, and after getting props from their manager, they settled into participant mode. Now that their set was done, Velvet and Candy planned to meet fans and to check out some of the other acts attending BonBon Fields.
“I’m going to meet up with LED.”
“You spoke to him? Is he gonna come through?”
Candy held up her phone. “Text.”
“Cool. I’m going to take Nuts out. Sonny’s meeting us at the hotel before we head to Belgium. So the night is ours. We’re doing 4am eats with Tekko and Rob so you guys can meet up with us.”
Candy clapped her hands cheerleader style. “Be there with Tinkerbelles.”
“All right.” Velvet threw up two fingers. “Peace, love and Blow Pops.”
Stimulated by the sights and sounds of the festival, Velvet checked out the lineup to see where her friends played. Her shoulders slumped when she found their slots only to see that they were on different stages and playing around the same time. The schedule may have been planned by design to split up the tens of thousands of fans attending daily, but it was no less maddening. She drove her scooter and darted around people, vending and other decorative obstacles. The masses flocked to the main stage. From afar, she saw Tres Armadas’s laser light show and the crowd thickened like ants around a cookie crumble. All of them wanting to witness the return of their lost icon. Zazzle.
The music played and Velvet gripped her handlebars. Her practical mind mapped a clear path for her to exit to another stage, but her gut clenched, her heart beat faster and curiosity got the better of her.
“There he is,” a girl passing her cried as she bounced with her group of friends. Velvet’s eyes scanned the crowd. Patriots held up their country flags and other props. People in bright-colored swimwear sat atop the shoulders of their friends and significant others. The loud cheers, as the members of Tres Armadas waved into the crowd, deafened.
There, dancing across the stage to an up-tempo tribal beat, was Zazzle. He mixed the latest dance moves with sexier ones, and humped the stage in time to the slap of each drum. Three large screens broadcasted it all and bombarded her with images of him. His body rolled to the ground and then he jumped back up in celebration, while waving his hands back and forth. With the skills of a shepherd, he led his flock of sheep, who slung their arms to and fro in time to the music.
Nothing had changed. He was still an exhibitionist. A sexy, hypnotic exhibitionist whose melodic banter bewitched the crowd. Months ago, when Velvet finally had the stomach to watch a whole thirty seconds of Zazzle’s viral video from that fateful night at the Egyptian, LED had mentioned that he was in rehab. The headlines were brutal, and she boycotted press about him for her own sanity. She’d offered Zazzle well wishes via LED but nothing more. When she’d walked away from him, she’d chosen her well-being over getting sucked into a codependent relationship. He was out of rehab now, but by his presence onstage, she couldn’t tell if he was sober or had lapsed back into his drug circle.
“Why am I watching this?” She sucked harder on her cherry-flavored Blow Pop. Her mind protested, but as the bass rounded out the beats, her body shimmied. She continued to drink in the entire scene. She blamed her genetics for catching the beat and her heart for wanting a different scenario. She grabbed Nuts and scooted away.
Thirty minutes later, she hung off to the side of the stage with a group of other DJs who watched Joe “Tekko” Kim on the dials. He slung back his long, sweaty jet-black hair, the contrast against his Korean features requiring Superzoom slow-mo on Instagram. He was exciting to watch and she crammed on his skills like it was her own personal training session. She remembered her apprehension when he’d first wanted to be friends. A parkour practitioner, Tekko had side jumped off some massive beam in the middle of their conversation. Initially convinced that he had to be on something or an extreme thrill seeker, Velvet had kept her distance until she realized that amped-up was Tekko’s baseline.
Candy likely smooched with LED someplace and Rob was onstage, elsewhere. When Tekko spotted her after his set, he made his way over.
“You were quintessential as usual.”
“The word choice though...” Tekko kissed his fingertips.
She smirked. “I worked hard on that one.”
“Let me hit press and then we can bounce.”
“Cool.”
Velvet observed the promoters and press clamoring around Tekko. Bedazzled Beats got their fair share but she and Candy had a lot more hurdles to jump and fan base to grow. She practiced her footwork on Nuts. In her younger years, she used to skateboard until one wipeout made her cry so hard she laid off the rails and focused on shit with handlebars.
“Velvet, right?”
“Yes.” She looked up right into the green eyes of Alexi. One of the best house DJs playing at BonBon Fields. “Holy...hi.”
“I saw your set earlier. It was tight.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“You here with Tekko?”
“No... I mean...yes. Just waiting for him so we can check out the rest of the festival.”
“I’m having a party later. You guys should stop by.”
Tekko returned to her side. “Ready, boo.”
Velvet’s eyes widened so much they dried in their sockets. “Yeah.”
Alexi arched an eyebrow. “Great show, man. You killed it.”
“Thanks.” Tekko clasped Alexi’s hand and pulled him into a shoulder bump. “You wanna come with us? We’re gonna check out the rest of BonBon.”
“I’m having a small party over at Helm. Stop by.” Helm was one of the most exclusive clubs in London, complete with indoor Jacuzzi, and the place housed one of the most enormous bars Velvet had ever seen. Online.
“We’re meeting up with some friends but we might come through,” Tekko said.
“I hope so.” Alexi’s lips twitched at her and he said his goodbyes.
“Thanks.” Velvet shoved Tekko by the shoulder.
“What?” Tekko hunkered.
“Nothing. I’m not about to explain the birds and the bees to you.”
“He was mackin’ on you? I didn’t catch that vibe. My bad, Asha.” Tekko hugged her shoulders. “I can’t believe I missed Tres Armadas’s set. I have to go see them guys and congratulate them. You down?”
Her sockets were parched again. “You know, that sounds like it’ll be cool but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you still mackin’ on Zazzle?”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I’m not nothing on Zazzle.”
“Then come with me. Probably lots of promoters and press around. More exposure for Bedazzled Beats?”
Tekko knew the dreams of her heart and how to mobilize her. She would never call herself overly ambitious but she saw her career in her mind’s eye so clearly that she could taste it.
“I don’t know, Joe.”
“Just come on. It’ll be good for you to mingle with the greats.”
She’d already mingled with one of the greats, six months ago at his rental in San Bernardino.
Tekko persisted. “I won’t let you cross over to the dark side with Zazzle. Though I got to tell you. I don’t see a dark side. More like green.”
“What do you mean? You’ve seen him?”
“Sure.” Tekko shrugged. “I’m amazed at how he’s changed.”
“Changed? I saw him onstage, giving it to the fans. He doesn’t look like he’s changed at all.”
“It’s been a long time since he’s been up there. I bet his performance was lit.”
“Exactly.” She dragged Nuts as they walked.
Tekko’s mouth twisted to the side. He obviously itched to say something.
“What?”
“Just come with me.” He shrugged again. “What you find might surprise you.”
Velvet mushed her hand into her face. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
* * *
She didn’t know what to expect backstage. Why’d I let Joe talk me into this? The Zazzle she knew sniffed bumps before he went onstage. Furthermore, she wondered if she still had the same attraction to him that she’d had so many months ago. Based on the erratic beating of her heart it was clear her body remembered what her mind had tried to forget.
“You good, Velvet?” Tekko asked.
“Huh?” Velvet pushed back her colored strands. “I guess.”
She checked her phone. Candy had finally tracked down LED and Rob Ready was at his club gig. They’d all meet up later at Tekko’s club performance for their ritual 4am eats.
They passed through a busy intersection of people. Excited fans and promoters swarmed the area. Some mingled loudly with drinks in their hands, and others with headsets over their heads and walkies on their hips. Videographers seemed to be placed everywhere to capture festival moments and interviewers practiced and waited patiently for their turn with the artists.
“Just through here.” Tekko pulled the black curtain back and she ducked through. The scent of lavender filled her nostrils, followed by a complaint about said diffused essential oil from none other than Christian Saaks from Tres Armadas.
“Hey, Christian.” Tekko slapped hands with Christian before dragging him into a brief embrace.
“What’s up, man?” Christian’s eyes fell to her. “Candy, right?”
“Velvet.” She gave him a sheepish smile and shook his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Sorry. I’m a bit distracted but I know you and your friend Candy are buzzing right now. The fans are wild about you.”
“Thanks. It was great to see you guys take the main stage,” Velvet replied.
“Yeah.” A touch of sadness flattened his smile. “Maartin is around and...well... Zazzle, too.”
“Cool. Do your thing, man. We just wanted to say awesome show.” Tekko, always a bundle of positivity, patted Christian on the shoulder before he departed.
“I can’t believe I just met Christian Saaks.” As far as popularity went, Christian had that in abundance. Maartin held the title of intellectual, and Zazzle the bad boy showman. Yet another reason her mind projected a biohazard sign in front of any image of him.
“There’s Maartin.” Tekko pulled her along and called after the second member of Tres Armadas.
“What’s up, dude? I thought you were playing at the club tonight?” Maartin inquired.
“Yeah. I’m heading over in a bit. Great show. You guys must be psyched to have Zazzle back.”
“It’s weird, but yeah.”
Between Christian’s seemingly emotional response to Tekko’s question and Maartin’s statement, a bittersweet elephant filled the room. At Temptation last year when Tres Armadas closed out the festival, Velvet had witnessed some discord between the members before they performed. Surely, Zazzle’s absence, stint in rehab and subsequent return had affected the dynamics.
“This is Velvet,” Tekko presented.
“Bedazzled Beats, yes?” Maartin asked.
Velvet shook his hand. “Yes.”
“I’ve seen an old vinyl set of yours. Impressive. We should talk music sometime.”
Velvet’s mouth opened to speak but she fumbled for words. She rarely spun solo in public since she and Candy had formed. “That’d be cool.”
Maartin’s warm smile made her relax or maybe it was the increasing smell of the bluish-purple flower.
“I wanted to welcome Zazzle back and then I have to skedaddle,” Tekko said with a full-body wiggle dance.
Maartin laughed. “He’ll be happy to see you. He’s just through there.” He turned to her with a tip of a fake hat. “Velvet.”
She returned the gesture. “Maartin.”
Tekko dragged her again until they ducked through another set of curtains. Once they passed through the black barrier, the potent floral fragrance stopped her like a solid wall. What was it protecting? And from what? Scorpions?
A machine blared and she witnessed Zazzle hunched over a juicer as green liquid shat out of the spout. “What the—”
“Zaz!” Tekko tried to call over the noise but Zazzle, engrossed in his current juicing activity, didn’t hear a thing.
Zazzle turned off the machine and handled the moving parts like he stockpiled an abundance of time. His vibrant skin glowed against rich dark brown hair that had grown to his shoulders, and the soft muscles of his torso now showed strong definition through his fitted black shirt. Her palm tingled with recollection.
He shot back the green liquid. By the grimace that accompanied an emphatic “Blech,” the juice didn’t appear to be at all appetizing.
Tekko called to him again. “Bruh. What is that shit?”
Zazzle’s joy at seeing Tekko resounded, and then he saw her and staggered forward. Zazzle hugged Tekko. “I, um...juice... It’s wheatgrass.”
“I know you made some changes but...damn.” Tekko pointed to the juicer.
“It’s a little...overwhelming for some...but sticking to a healthy routine is important, you know?” Zazzle’s eyes slid to her and stayed there. His chest filled with air and she shared a shaky breath with him. “Good to see you again, Velvet.”
That accent. How could she forget that beautiful mix of the melodic and formal, that rolled into a phonetic ball? The other members of Tres Armadas spoke in similar accents but Zazzle’s was compatible with the blood in her veins.
“You, too.” She swallowed so hard, the taste of lavender coated her throat.
“I heard your show was fire!” Tekko cheered.
Zazzle blew out air as if winded. “It took a lot out of me but I’m getting there, energy wise.”
Velvet checked his body from head to toe for both visible and invisible scars, and ran down her checklist of signs he might be using. Relief eased through her when his amber eyes weren’t dilated, a vision that had haunted her for weeks after LA.
“Velvet said you looked like your old self up there?”
It wasn’t a compliment. What the actual fuck, Tekko? She choked her friend with superpowers she didn’t possess.
“You said that?” Zazzle questioned.
Velvet remembered many things about Zazzle but the softness on his face and the way his eyes searched hers offered glimpses of the man she’d danced with that night at the festival. The man she’d kissed and held as they waited for the sun to come up. She tried to pull back, to not get wrapped up in him as easily as she did on day one, but the herbaceous perennial did its job and chilled her all the way out.
“Yeah.” She was in trouble.
Chapter Eight
Velvet still commanded his attention even when the fibers of her judgment tangled him like overgrown ivy.
“Would you like a green smoothie?” he asked. Those weren’t the words he’d envisioned saying to her when they reunited. He owed her an apology. More than an apology, his sincerest regrets about what happened. About ruining the connection most people only dreamed about. He’d had a shot of wheatgrass when she and Tekko arrived, and his Dutch hospitality won out.
“Uhh...no? Thank—”
“Sure, man.” Tekko’s enthusiasm, in stark contrast to Velvet’s uncertainty.
“I have to head back to the hotel in a few.” He was wiped and had to get some rest but seeing her again let air into the stifling but necessary barricade to the outside world he’d sequestered himself behind.
“You’re not coming out, man? It’s London. There’re so many hot spots around town. Almost everyone has another gig after to either attend or perform.”
“I think they’ll be fine without my presence. Right now, I’m limiting my routine to Tres Armadas performances.”
“Your PO making you do that?” Tekko frowned. “C’mon, man?”
Tekko was harmless and a friend to his group, but like everyone else, Tekko wondered why he didn’t go out. “I don’t have a PO. I wasn’t arrested. I was in rehab.” He eyed Velvet who sported a permanent purse on her lips. He had stayed sober. A feat in and of itself, but doubt came at him from every angle. The current chilly weather came from Velvet’s brown eyes.
“Do your thing, man,” Tekko said. “It’s a shame to waste your talent so I’m stoked you’re back onstage.”
“The crowd, they were...” Zazzle puffed out air. “I’m temporarily deaf, man. So much love.” He patted his heart.
“They were really loud. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere and heard that level of applause,” Velvet added, her eyes bright. “They were really happy to see you and you guys gave them a great show.”
“I’m going to head back,” Zazzle proclaimed. “I need to stay on schedule with my routine.”
Christian’s tension traveled to seize his own muscles. Whether Zazzle did the right thing or not, these days, Christian only held him in contempt, even more so if it had anything to do with his recovery.
Maartin’s voice of reason always made an appearance. “Do what you have to do, man. We’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded and headed to the floral-scented confines of his makeshift sanctuary where he sat in silence for a bit before he prepared a bushel of wheatgrass to juice.
Chapter Seven
Thousands of fans held up their phones to capture the moment. These last few minutes at the end of an hour-long set were Velvet’s favorite. The crowd was exhausted, they knew the end drew near, and screamed their appreciation the loudest, singing the words to Bedazzled Beats’ hot new single.
Velvet descended from the stage, her clothes and hair a sweaty mess. She had little time before she and Candy answered a few questions for the press and posed for pictures in their now-famous face-to-face pose.
They noshed on post-performance treats, and after getting props from their manager, they settled into participant mode. Now that their set was done, Velvet and Candy planned to meet fans and to check out some of the other acts attending BonBon Fields.
“I’m going to meet up with LED.”
“You spoke to him? Is he gonna come through?”
Candy held up her phone. “Text.”
“Cool. I’m going to take Nuts out. Sonny’s meeting us at the hotel before we head to Belgium. So the night is ours. We’re doing 4am eats with Tekko and Rob so you guys can meet up with us.”
Candy clapped her hands cheerleader style. “Be there with Tinkerbelles.”
“All right.” Velvet threw up two fingers. “Peace, love and Blow Pops.”
Stimulated by the sights and sounds of the festival, Velvet checked out the lineup to see where her friends played. Her shoulders slumped when she found their slots only to see that they were on different stages and playing around the same time. The schedule may have been planned by design to split up the tens of thousands of fans attending daily, but it was no less maddening. She drove her scooter and darted around people, vending and other decorative obstacles. The masses flocked to the main stage. From afar, she saw Tres Armadas’s laser light show and the crowd thickened like ants around a cookie crumble. All of them wanting to witness the return of their lost icon. Zazzle.
The music played and Velvet gripped her handlebars. Her practical mind mapped a clear path for her to exit to another stage, but her gut clenched, her heart beat faster and curiosity got the better of her.
“There he is,” a girl passing her cried as she bounced with her group of friends. Velvet’s eyes scanned the crowd. Patriots held up their country flags and other props. People in bright-colored swimwear sat atop the shoulders of their friends and significant others. The loud cheers, as the members of Tres Armadas waved into the crowd, deafened.
There, dancing across the stage to an up-tempo tribal beat, was Zazzle. He mixed the latest dance moves with sexier ones, and humped the stage in time to the slap of each drum. Three large screens broadcasted it all and bombarded her with images of him. His body rolled to the ground and then he jumped back up in celebration, while waving his hands back and forth. With the skills of a shepherd, he led his flock of sheep, who slung their arms to and fro in time to the music.
Nothing had changed. He was still an exhibitionist. A sexy, hypnotic exhibitionist whose melodic banter bewitched the crowd. Months ago, when Velvet finally had the stomach to watch a whole thirty seconds of Zazzle’s viral video from that fateful night at the Egyptian, LED had mentioned that he was in rehab. The headlines were brutal, and she boycotted press about him for her own sanity. She’d offered Zazzle well wishes via LED but nothing more. When she’d walked away from him, she’d chosen her well-being over getting sucked into a codependent relationship. He was out of rehab now, but by his presence onstage, she couldn’t tell if he was sober or had lapsed back into his drug circle.
“Why am I watching this?” She sucked harder on her cherry-flavored Blow Pop. Her mind protested, but as the bass rounded out the beats, her body shimmied. She continued to drink in the entire scene. She blamed her genetics for catching the beat and her heart for wanting a different scenario. She grabbed Nuts and scooted away.
Thirty minutes later, she hung off to the side of the stage with a group of other DJs who watched Joe “Tekko” Kim on the dials. He slung back his long, sweaty jet-black hair, the contrast against his Korean features requiring Superzoom slow-mo on Instagram. He was exciting to watch and she crammed on his skills like it was her own personal training session. She remembered her apprehension when he’d first wanted to be friends. A parkour practitioner, Tekko had side jumped off some massive beam in the middle of their conversation. Initially convinced that he had to be on something or an extreme thrill seeker, Velvet had kept her distance until she realized that amped-up was Tekko’s baseline.
Candy likely smooched with LED someplace and Rob was onstage, elsewhere. When Tekko spotted her after his set, he made his way over.
“You were quintessential as usual.”
“The word choice though...” Tekko kissed his fingertips.
She smirked. “I worked hard on that one.”
“Let me hit press and then we can bounce.”
“Cool.”
Velvet observed the promoters and press clamoring around Tekko. Bedazzled Beats got their fair share but she and Candy had a lot more hurdles to jump and fan base to grow. She practiced her footwork on Nuts. In her younger years, she used to skateboard until one wipeout made her cry so hard she laid off the rails and focused on shit with handlebars.
“Velvet, right?”
“Yes.” She looked up right into the green eyes of Alexi. One of the best house DJs playing at BonBon Fields. “Holy...hi.”
“I saw your set earlier. It was tight.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“You here with Tekko?”
“No... I mean...yes. Just waiting for him so we can check out the rest of the festival.”
“I’m having a party later. You guys should stop by.”
Tekko returned to her side. “Ready, boo.”
Velvet’s eyes widened so much they dried in their sockets. “Yeah.”
Alexi arched an eyebrow. “Great show, man. You killed it.”
“Thanks.” Tekko clasped Alexi’s hand and pulled him into a shoulder bump. “You wanna come with us? We’re gonna check out the rest of BonBon.”
“I’m having a small party over at Helm. Stop by.” Helm was one of the most exclusive clubs in London, complete with indoor Jacuzzi, and the place housed one of the most enormous bars Velvet had ever seen. Online.
“We’re meeting up with some friends but we might come through,” Tekko said.
“I hope so.” Alexi’s lips twitched at her and he said his goodbyes.
“Thanks.” Velvet shoved Tekko by the shoulder.
“What?” Tekko hunkered.
“Nothing. I’m not about to explain the birds and the bees to you.”
“He was mackin’ on you? I didn’t catch that vibe. My bad, Asha.” Tekko hugged her shoulders. “I can’t believe I missed Tres Armadas’s set. I have to go see them guys and congratulate them. You down?”
Her sockets were parched again. “You know, that sounds like it’ll be cool but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because you still mackin’ on Zazzle?”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I’m not nothing on Zazzle.”
“Then come with me. Probably lots of promoters and press around. More exposure for Bedazzled Beats?”
Tekko knew the dreams of her heart and how to mobilize her. She would never call herself overly ambitious but she saw her career in her mind’s eye so clearly that she could taste it.
“I don’t know, Joe.”
“Just come on. It’ll be good for you to mingle with the greats.”
She’d already mingled with one of the greats, six months ago at his rental in San Bernardino.
Tekko persisted. “I won’t let you cross over to the dark side with Zazzle. Though I got to tell you. I don’t see a dark side. More like green.”
“What do you mean? You’ve seen him?”
“Sure.” Tekko shrugged. “I’m amazed at how he’s changed.”
“Changed? I saw him onstage, giving it to the fans. He doesn’t look like he’s changed at all.”
“It’s been a long time since he’s been up there. I bet his performance was lit.”
“Exactly.” She dragged Nuts as they walked.
Tekko’s mouth twisted to the side. He obviously itched to say something.
“What?”
“Just come with me.” He shrugged again. “What you find might surprise you.”
Velvet mushed her hand into her face. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
* * *
She didn’t know what to expect backstage. Why’d I let Joe talk me into this? The Zazzle she knew sniffed bumps before he went onstage. Furthermore, she wondered if she still had the same attraction to him that she’d had so many months ago. Based on the erratic beating of her heart it was clear her body remembered what her mind had tried to forget.
“You good, Velvet?” Tekko asked.
“Huh?” Velvet pushed back her colored strands. “I guess.”
She checked her phone. Candy had finally tracked down LED and Rob Ready was at his club gig. They’d all meet up later at Tekko’s club performance for their ritual 4am eats.
They passed through a busy intersection of people. Excited fans and promoters swarmed the area. Some mingled loudly with drinks in their hands, and others with headsets over their heads and walkies on their hips. Videographers seemed to be placed everywhere to capture festival moments and interviewers practiced and waited patiently for their turn with the artists.
“Just through here.” Tekko pulled the black curtain back and she ducked through. The scent of lavender filled her nostrils, followed by a complaint about said diffused essential oil from none other than Christian Saaks from Tres Armadas.
“Hey, Christian.” Tekko slapped hands with Christian before dragging him into a brief embrace.
“What’s up, man?” Christian’s eyes fell to her. “Candy, right?”
“Velvet.” She gave him a sheepish smile and shook his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Sorry. I’m a bit distracted but I know you and your friend Candy are buzzing right now. The fans are wild about you.”
“Thanks. It was great to see you guys take the main stage,” Velvet replied.
“Yeah.” A touch of sadness flattened his smile. “Maartin is around and...well... Zazzle, too.”
“Cool. Do your thing, man. We just wanted to say awesome show.” Tekko, always a bundle of positivity, patted Christian on the shoulder before he departed.
“I can’t believe I just met Christian Saaks.” As far as popularity went, Christian had that in abundance. Maartin held the title of intellectual, and Zazzle the bad boy showman. Yet another reason her mind projected a biohazard sign in front of any image of him.
“There’s Maartin.” Tekko pulled her along and called after the second member of Tres Armadas.
“What’s up, dude? I thought you were playing at the club tonight?” Maartin inquired.
“Yeah. I’m heading over in a bit. Great show. You guys must be psyched to have Zazzle back.”
“It’s weird, but yeah.”
Between Christian’s seemingly emotional response to Tekko’s question and Maartin’s statement, a bittersweet elephant filled the room. At Temptation last year when Tres Armadas closed out the festival, Velvet had witnessed some discord between the members before they performed. Surely, Zazzle’s absence, stint in rehab and subsequent return had affected the dynamics.
“This is Velvet,” Tekko presented.
“Bedazzled Beats, yes?” Maartin asked.
Velvet shook his hand. “Yes.”
“I’ve seen an old vinyl set of yours. Impressive. We should talk music sometime.”
Velvet’s mouth opened to speak but she fumbled for words. She rarely spun solo in public since she and Candy had formed. “That’d be cool.”
Maartin’s warm smile made her relax or maybe it was the increasing smell of the bluish-purple flower.
“I wanted to welcome Zazzle back and then I have to skedaddle,” Tekko said with a full-body wiggle dance.
Maartin laughed. “He’ll be happy to see you. He’s just through there.” He turned to her with a tip of a fake hat. “Velvet.”
She returned the gesture. “Maartin.”
Tekko dragged her again until they ducked through another set of curtains. Once they passed through the black barrier, the potent floral fragrance stopped her like a solid wall. What was it protecting? And from what? Scorpions?
A machine blared and she witnessed Zazzle hunched over a juicer as green liquid shat out of the spout. “What the—”
“Zaz!” Tekko tried to call over the noise but Zazzle, engrossed in his current juicing activity, didn’t hear a thing.
Zazzle turned off the machine and handled the moving parts like he stockpiled an abundance of time. His vibrant skin glowed against rich dark brown hair that had grown to his shoulders, and the soft muscles of his torso now showed strong definition through his fitted black shirt. Her palm tingled with recollection.
He shot back the green liquid. By the grimace that accompanied an emphatic “Blech,” the juice didn’t appear to be at all appetizing.
Tekko called to him again. “Bruh. What is that shit?”
Zazzle’s joy at seeing Tekko resounded, and then he saw her and staggered forward. Zazzle hugged Tekko. “I, um...juice... It’s wheatgrass.”
“I know you made some changes but...damn.” Tekko pointed to the juicer.
“It’s a little...overwhelming for some...but sticking to a healthy routine is important, you know?” Zazzle’s eyes slid to her and stayed there. His chest filled with air and she shared a shaky breath with him. “Good to see you again, Velvet.”
That accent. How could she forget that beautiful mix of the melodic and formal, that rolled into a phonetic ball? The other members of Tres Armadas spoke in similar accents but Zazzle’s was compatible with the blood in her veins.
“You, too.” She swallowed so hard, the taste of lavender coated her throat.
“I heard your show was fire!” Tekko cheered.
Zazzle blew out air as if winded. “It took a lot out of me but I’m getting there, energy wise.”
Velvet checked his body from head to toe for both visible and invisible scars, and ran down her checklist of signs he might be using. Relief eased through her when his amber eyes weren’t dilated, a vision that had haunted her for weeks after LA.
“Velvet said you looked like your old self up there?”
It wasn’t a compliment. What the actual fuck, Tekko? She choked her friend with superpowers she didn’t possess.
“You said that?” Zazzle questioned.
Velvet remembered many things about Zazzle but the softness on his face and the way his eyes searched hers offered glimpses of the man she’d danced with that night at the festival. The man she’d kissed and held as they waited for the sun to come up. She tried to pull back, to not get wrapped up in him as easily as she did on day one, but the herbaceous perennial did its job and chilled her all the way out.
“Yeah.” She was in trouble.
Chapter Eight
Velvet still commanded his attention even when the fibers of her judgment tangled him like overgrown ivy.
“Would you like a green smoothie?” he asked. Those weren’t the words he’d envisioned saying to her when they reunited. He owed her an apology. More than an apology, his sincerest regrets about what happened. About ruining the connection most people only dreamed about. He’d had a shot of wheatgrass when she and Tekko arrived, and his Dutch hospitality won out.
“Uhh...no? Thank—”
“Sure, man.” Tekko’s enthusiasm, in stark contrast to Velvet’s uncertainty.
“I have to head back to the hotel in a few.” He was wiped and had to get some rest but seeing her again let air into the stifling but necessary barricade to the outside world he’d sequestered himself behind.
“You’re not coming out, man? It’s London. There’re so many hot spots around town. Almost everyone has another gig after to either attend or perform.”
“I think they’ll be fine without my presence. Right now, I’m limiting my routine to Tres Armadas performances.”
“Your PO making you do that?” Tekko frowned. “C’mon, man?”
Tekko was harmless and a friend to his group, but like everyone else, Tekko wondered why he didn’t go out. “I don’t have a PO. I wasn’t arrested. I was in rehab.” He eyed Velvet who sported a permanent purse on her lips. He had stayed sober. A feat in and of itself, but doubt came at him from every angle. The current chilly weather came from Velvet’s brown eyes.
“Do your thing, man,” Tekko said. “It’s a shame to waste your talent so I’m stoked you’re back onstage.”
“The crowd, they were...” Zazzle puffed out air. “I’m temporarily deaf, man. So much love.” He patted his heart.
“They were really loud. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere and heard that level of applause,” Velvet added, her eyes bright. “They were really happy to see you and you guys gave them a great show.”
