Motivation of Memories: The Second Book of the Labors of Love Series

What U Deserve

"You don't have to work for him. You could go find another studio to work for."

"None of them would take me."

"Well if you decide to leave and go somewhere else. You can put me down as a reference." She chuckles lightly.

"Thanks, Prince." My name spilled from her lips like sweet wine. No one's said my name like that since I lived with my mama. "Is that guitar custom?" She says her eyes shifting from my face to the guitar in my hands.

"Yea, I had it commissioned from an old friend. He owns a guitar shop in town."

"Where is it? I could use some new strings."

"You play guitar?"

"Acoustic but yes and a couple other things."

"Like what?"

"Mostly percussion. Steel pans, Lokole, and djembe."

"What do they look like?"

"Well steel pans are big metal drums. The head is inverted so it kind of looks like a bowl and it has panels inside that all make different sounds. Lokoles are long wooden drums with a split in the top. They are used by the Mongo people in the Congo. It is both an instrument and a way of communicating for its people. Djembes are West African drums you put between your legs and hit with your hands." She demonstrates playing each drum as she speaks about it. Tapping the stage to make the sounds of each instrument as she spoke.

"Do you have them in town?"

"I brought my djembe and my steel pans but I don't have a lokole. The one I used belonged to my mamakoko and is with my family in New York."

"Your who?"

"It is like grandmother in Congolese. She was my best friend. She passed last year. I miss her dearly." She put her hand over heart and for a moment I thought I might've heard it break. "She's the reason I moved. She always told me to make my dreams come true. I just want to make her proud." The room went silent for a while. Her kind and pleasant energy shifted and became a cold and dreary sadness. The air around us seemed to freeze as she shed a tear. I took a deep breath and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Genevieve." She looked my way, eyes rimmed with tears and that's the first time I noticed. I gasped lightly as I looked at her. The sadness seemed to darken her eyes tremendously. Her once amber brown irises were now as deep as her skin. It was like they were reflecting the pain she felt on the inside. I reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face. "It's okay." Even now her face was perfectly serene. Her tears flowed naturally but her face didn't change. After a short while, she got up and just walked away. We didn't see her for the rest of the week.
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Once we're all ready we make our way to the stage and I have a seat while Morris and The Time do their set. Mayte walks over sitting beside me but I act like she isn't there.

"Come on, you aren't still mad about that secretary girl, are you?"

"She wasn't even a secretary. She was a dancer and her name is Genevieve and yes I'm still upset that you threw coffee on her."

"She was a dancer?" Mayte scoffs. "That's explains why he never let her dance. She's too big."

"What?"

"I mean you saw her. She was heavy. Real dancers are thin and shapely. She must've just started." All I can do is shake my head. Time passes and they get all the shots for Jungle Love. They all take a 10 minute break before setting up for Sex Shooter. Mayte excitedly takes center stage with the other women. She smiles into the audience and I think about smiling back. I turn around and see Morris already beat me to it. They've stopped trying to hide their affair at this point. Openly mocking all the pain it's caused.