I lay in bed watching raindrops roll down the 5 star hotel window. I wonder briefly if those are 5 star windows, exposed by 5 star parted lush curtains. If those are 5 star raindrops just for touching the hotel. I wonder briefly if just by being with Chanel, if I now become a better man. 5 star by association. She makes me better, even with all the bullshit she's pulled. She makes me better and when I'm around her, I'm genuinely happy. I feel free, I feel like a protector, like someone needs me. I feel loved and cared for like a child when she holds my head to her chest and kisses my cheeks, forehead and nose. I close my eyes and breathe deeply imaging it now. She weakens me. I imagine holding her, how her body fits so perfectly in my embrace. Kind of like she was made for me, pulled from rib like Eve. I begin thinking so deep that I don't realize I'm asleep until my phone begins to ring.
I check the number to see Flex's name displayed. I let it ring out.
My eyes watch another single raindrop make its way down the window, only to get consumed by a bigger raindrop on the move. It swallows it and smashes into the bottom of the window dispersing.
My phone rings again.
I watch Flex's name in bold white letters on the display. I didn't feel like right now was the proper time to have the conversation. And he probably spoke to Chanel. He's probably just calling to let me know he takes her side. I wait for the call to end the turn my phone on Airplane mode.
I reach for my laptop and open it up, ready to open a studio session and set up the mic when my mac laptop begins ringing. I forgot that calls can go through here. But this time it isn't Flex, this time it's a Facetime from Coca.
I click "Accept" and her face pops up on my screen. She's in a bedroom it seems, with pink and white pillows, her hair tied back into a pony tail, a blue tank top hiding her assets properly this time.
"What the actual f-" I begin.
"I'm so sorry, Prod." She apologizes quickly. Her hand goes to her head in stress.
"You're sorry?" I scoff. I laugh under my breath.
"This is the most attention I've ever gotten. My music streams have gone up, people are calling to interview me and Yeena. We're getting booked for more shows. Everything has gone off the charts just because of this scandal." Her voice soft and pleading.
I stare at her wide eyed and in disbelief. My jaw clenches. And I look to the side of the bed, needing to take my eyes off her. I spot my phone and a thought pops into my head. I reach for it casually, use my fingerprint to unlock it and hit record on the voicenotes. I place the phone back on the bed, out of her sight.
"So you're telling me that you're lying and using myself and my relationship for your personal gain. I'm in a fucking hotel Coca. My girl is heartbroken. You knew she was there when I called you, why did you do that to her?" My voice is soft because I'm really trying to understand how someone who seemed so genuine could play me like this. But at the same time, I'm making sure I get everything needed to clear my name into the recording.
"I know. I know. And I feel fucking terrible that's why I called. I wanted to apologize." She looks pleading.
"Save that shit man." I say sternly. "Tell the tabloids it was all false, if you really want to make things right, then do that."
"I'm sorry, I can't do that." She sighs and looks away from the camera. When she looks up there are tears in her eyes. "I'm looking at a lot of incoming money from this and as you know I really need it."
Her voice breaks.
"Honestly, I don't know much about you. When I sent you the money, it was because I know the struggle of being an up and coming artist, always on the road, never with your family. Still barely making enough to support them. I sent that money because I saw myself in your struggle. I was sympathetic." I say my voice calm.
"I know. I know. And I am so thankful for that. I can show you receipts, my Ma and brother used it for food and new school clothes. I can show that to you." Coca wipes the tears from her eyes. "But that money is gone, Prod. That's done. Their rent is due on the first and they can't pay it. Mom hit me saying she just got fired, literally the morning after I got back to Philly. Please understand where I'm coming from"
"I do understand where you're coming from but I'm not collateral damage, Coca. This isn't the way to solve your problems." My voice softens, though I don't want it to.
"Your folks are out the ghetto! You're good! They're eating now, they aren't about to be evicted. I cant fucking sleep thinking about this shit. I can't write music, I can barely perform. My head is all fucked up. I'm sorry this includes you, I really am." She wipes her eyes again, but new tears replace it. "But I have to take care of my family."
"So, ruining my life in the process doesn't matter. Fuck that, right?" I question.
"She will forgive you." Coca croaks.
I pick up my phone, the recording screen present and I hold it to the webcam.
"She will and so will everyone else." I say easily.
Coca's face freezes and for a moment I think it's the internet connection.
"Please, Prodigy. Please. I'm begging you not to release that." She cries harder now, her hand over her mouth. I end the recording and put the phone down.
"Please." She pleads and begs and cries. I look away from the camera. I feel my heart changing. I clench my fists and curse under my breath.
"Fuck, man." I let out. I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly, my eyes closed.
"Okay, listen. You've been playing it safe and not confirming or denying the rumors. I need you to stop leading them on and I need Chanel to know this was all a lie." I look at her seriously. She stares at me with large watering eyes, listening closely.
"I'm going to give you a chance to come clean on your own. As much as I dislike you and as betrayed as I feel for being sympathetic, I don't want to embarrass you with this recording. I don't want to embarrass you like you did to me." I trail off, sympathy present in my voice again.
She places her head in her hand.
I know my patience and understanding is all due to Mom and I curse myself for it. That even after someone has done me wrong, it isn't in my heart to want the same for them. I see it with Chanel and I see it now in Coca who sits before me weeping into her hand. The tears wetting parts of her blue tank top.
She nods repeatedly.
"Okay. Okay, you have my word." Her voice is hoarse. she pushes her hair out of her face that has come lose from her ponytail and wipes her eyes again.
"As soon as I see any kind of press or statement of you telling the truth, I'll screen record me deleting the voice note and send it right over to you." I say bluntly.
"How do I know you're not going to save a copy somewhere else?" She sniffles in between her words.
"Because I'm not a fucked up person, Coca. Release a statement. The sooner the better. I'd like to go home to my girlfriend." I answer sternly.
She nods and the call ends.
I save the recording and close my phone.
_______________________________________
The driver lightly places my suitcase on the wooden floors of the mansion. I turn to the glass door that looks good as new but there is still a dent in the wood right by the staircase.
I hear her room door open and i see her at the top of the stairs, her robe pulled over her body. I imagine the silk nightgown I bought her underneath. She runs down the stairs so fast I think she might fall.
Soon Chanel is in my arms. Her small hands holding my face like a child. She kisses me deeply and it feels like a breath of fresh air. I kiss back, pulling her close to me, my eyes closed, taking in all of her scent.
"I'm so sorry." She sighs, taking a small break away from my lips.
I reach back for them like I need them to breath. I slide her robe off her shoulders, pick her up and feel her legs wrap around my waist. I take her upstairs and close the door.