It's in the Rhythm (2 page)

“See what I mean?” He tilted the glass toward her. “Everyone admires him for turning his back on gospel music.”

“Garrett hasn't turned his back on inspirational music,” Trinity said, stressing the new name for the genre. “Both of his albums include several inspirational tracks.”

“I hope you avoid him.”

Trinity looked at her dad as if he'd grown two heads. “I will not.”

Lyle walked around the counter. “You make your own decision.”

“Thank you,” Trinity quipped.

He kissed her on the forehead. “Just remember that I gave you the same warning about Darius. I was right.”

Trinity held up her hand. “I don't want to hear anything about Darius.”

“All right.” He set his glass on the counter. “You're going to do what you want anyway.” He headed to the door. “I've got to run.”

“Aren't you staying for lunch?”

Lyle stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “What are you having with the salad?”

“Nothing.” Her father had been diagnosed with diabetes two years ago. Part of his treatment was to change his diet. “You're supposed to watch what you're eating.”

“I'm following doctor's orders. Don't worry about me.” With a wave of his hand, he added, “I'll see myself out.”

Before Trinity could speak, he was gone. As she heard the front door close behind her father, Trinity's thoughts returned to Garrett. She couldn't believe he was back or that he'd asked about her. Excitement rippled through her. She took a deep breath, but couldn't steady her hands as she chopped the cold crisp lettuce. She hoped with all her heart that Garrett would call, but she wasn't going to hold her breath.

Chapter 2

Garrett looked around his old bedroom. His mother left it the way it had been a year ago, when he was last home. He smiled. She was sentimental like that. He walked over to the wall mantel and picked up one of his track trophies. In high school he had been on the track team, holding the fastest time in the division for both the fifty-yard dash and 220 relay. He'd hoped one day to compete for an Olympic gold medal, but pressure from his father to follow him into the ministry forced him to give up that dream. His father was the senior minister of the James Martindale AME Church and his mother, Rev. Ginger Martindale, was the minister of counseling and family services.

Garrett, still seeking his father's approval, was accepted to seminary school at Howard University. After two years, he realized he'd enrolled for the wrong reasons. He was there to please his parents, not himself, and he changed his major to music. His father was angry, but his mother was more understanding.

Garrett placed the trophy back on the wall mantel. He glanced up at the Marvin Gaye wall poster. Marvin influenced him to become an R & B singer, along with Sam Cooke and Otis Redding. Secular music was not allowed in their home. The first time he heard the artists at a teammate's house, he was hooked.

Like Marvin Gaye, whose father was also a minister, Garrett was sure his father warned him that singing “that music” would land him in the fiery furnace. Despite his father's objections, Garrett had to follow his heart. He enjoyed singing different genres of music and didn't see any harm in it.

A knock on the door was followed by his sister, Tamara, poking her head in. “Can I come in?”

“Get in here, girl,” Garrett teased.

Tamara rushed over, her face beaming, threw her arms around her older brother's neck, and gave him a tight hug.

“This is a surprise.” She stood back and looked at him, then playfully hit him on the arm. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?” she asked.

Garrett held a big, sloppy grin on his face. The person he missed the most was his sister. They were close. She'd offered moral support when he had decided to leave the choir.

“It wouldn't have been a surprise.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “You looked good at the NAACP Awards. As always, you were mind-blowing.”

“Thanks.” Garrett grinned. “Did Dad see the show?” Early in his music career, Garrett hoped his father would accept his success, but not anymore. He had to live for himself.

“Mom told me that he saw the show.” Tamara smiled. “I know he's proud of you, even if he won't say it. You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How long will you be home?”

“Two weeks.”

“What's wrong?” She could hear a hint of resignation in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong. Do I need a reason to visit?” He sat down on the bed next to her.

“No, but whenever something heavy happens in your life, you run home.”

“Not this time.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “It doesn't matter. I'm glad to see you.”

When they were growing up, Tamara could always tell when something troubled Garrett. He never let anyone know when something bothered him, but Tamara always knew, and, when he was ready to talk, he'd confided in her.

“I hear things are really moving for you,” Garrett said. “Marriage, a baby, an internship—your entire life has changed.”

Garrett admired Tamara for taking control of her life and turning a bad situation into something good. She'd gotten pregnant in her junior year in college, then eloped and married Brian Charles, the father of her child.

Brian's parents had wanted the marriage annulled. They believed Tamara and Brian were too young to get married. Nor did they believe the couple should marry because of the baby. Garrett's parents, on the other hand, insisted the two remain married. Wedding vows were not taken lightly in the Martindale household.

“I'm no longer an intern at WGOP, the station hired me in a full-time job,” Tamara said, her eyes sparkling. “Everyone is really nice. I always felt like I was one of the family. And, I get to listen to gospel music all day long.”

“Good,” Garrett replied. “I know you were hoping to get on at the station. How's married life treating you?”

The light that was in his sister's eyes dimmed as she cleared her throat. “Married life is fine.”

“Your eyes don't say fine,” Garrett replied.

“Brian and I are happy. We're even discussing having a second child next year.”

Looking at her face, Garrett didn't know whom she was trying to convince, him or her. When Tamara lowered her gaze, Garrett tilted her chin up so that he could see her face.

“You can tell me anything,” he said quietly. “And no matter what, I'm here for you. You understand?”

She nodded. He embraced her for what seemed like forever, but broke away when the smell of homemade peach cobbler tickled his nose. He groaned in anticipation of the dessert. His mother made the best cobbler his taste buds ever savored.

“That peach cobbler smells good,” he said.

Tamara pulled out of his arms, laughing. “So much for the mood.” She stood up.

“Mom is going all out, cooking all of your favorite dishes for Sunday dinner. Fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans. The rest of the family will be here shortly.”

Garrett rose and walked to the door. “I haven't had a home-cooked meal since my last visit. I'm going to go wash up.” Garrett headed down the hallway to the bathroom.

Tamara followed. She leaned against the doorframe, watching Garrett when they reached the bathroom.

“Did Imani attend the award show?” she asked. “I didn't see her in the audience.”

“No. I went alone.” He turned on the faucet, washed his hands, and then dried his hands on the fluffy blue towel hanging on the nearest towel rack.

“I thought you two were an item.”

“We see each other off and on,” he answered and left the bathroom.

Once again, Tamara followed him.

Tamara lifted a surprised brow, joining in step with him. “So it's not as serious as the tabloids say it is?”

“What have I told you about reading the tabloids?” He avoided the question.

“You're a mess.” Tamara grinned. “I don't see what Imani sees in you.”

He gave her a mischievous grin, followed by a wink. “She likes my rhythm.”

Tamara frowned. “Your rhythm?” A moment later, her mouth gaped open as the meaning of the sentence registered. “You're so nasty.”

They laughed and went downstairs.

* * *

Several hours later, Garrett stood on the balcony enjoying a moment of privacy. He looked out over the well-manicured lawns of the upscale neighborhood, which were framed against the backdrop of the late afternoon setting sun. He was as full as a tick from the meal. Friends and relatives had gathered at the house. Although Garrett was happy to see everyone, he wished Trinity had come over. He'd wanted to ask her out the last time he was home, but was sidetracked when Trinity introduced him to her boyfriend. Thankfully, according to her father, Trinity was single and unattached. He was glad. He was more than glad—he was ecstatic.

Removing his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks, he pulled out Trinity's phone number, which he'd gotten from the church secretary. It had taken some convincing, but he'd managed to talk her into giving him the number. He unhooked his cell phone off his waistband and dialed. Garrett hoped Trinity wanted to see him. He wanted to keep in touch with her after he moved to LA; unfortunately, time passed and they went on with their lives.

Trinity was like no other woman he'd ever known. She was open, unselfish, and unpretentious. He loved that about her.

Garrett wasn't innocent. He enjoyed the benefits his stardom had given him, personally and professionally. Of course he realized money and power made this materialistic world go around. Trinity was different. Who he was did not fascinate her, and she wanted nothing from him. That was what he admired, and never forgot, about her.

Though they only went out once, Trinity captivated him from the moment she walked into his father's church. Trinity's African-American and Caucasian heritage was reflected in her golden brown hair, hazel eyes, and model-perfect cheekbones. It was no wonder she turned heads wherever she went.

Trinity answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello, Trinity.” Garrett swallowed the lump in his throat. He missed hearing her voice.

“Garrett?” she squealed into the receiver. “How are you?”

Her excitement made him smile. “I'm fine, Trinity. What about you?”

“I couldn't be better. Dad told me you were in town. It's good to hear from you.”

“Actually, I would like to do better than speak with you over the phone.”

“Meaning?”

His smile widened. “I would like to take you out.”

“You don't beat around the bush, do you?”

“No need to. It's not like we're strangers.”

“True.”

“So, how about it?”

“Okay. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Where?”

“Wherever the lady would like to go,” Garrett replied.

“How about Cadence?”

Garrett had taken her to the upscale supper club on their date. The five-star cuisine was to die for, the music was excellent, and the clientele was fabulous.

“Excellent choice,” Garrett answered. “I'm looking forward to going there again. I'll pick you up at eight-thirty—is that good for you?”

“It's a date,” Trinity said. “I'll see you later.”

The lingering warmth of Trinity's sultry voice wrapped around him and he was surprised by his arousal. If that's what happened at the sound of her voice, he could only imagine his reaction if she touched him.

Chapter 3

Trinity opened the door, and her breath caught in her throat. Garrett stood on her porch, looking like a million bucks in his black Armani suit. She recognized the brand, its signature design tailored just for Garrett's tall lean body. He could have stepped right out of the pages of
GQ
magazine. And that trim moustache and goatee with the diamond studs he sported in each ear gave him a bad-boy-but-good-lover appeal.

“Hello, Trinity.” Garrett's grin was beautiful, his teeth straight.

She swallowed hard. “Garrett.” Her heart was racing and she felt light-headed. Garrett's grin was deadly!

“Give me a hug, girl.” Before she could react, he enveloped her in a bear hug that sent her blood pressure through the roof. He smelled of expensive cologne, soap, and seduction. The heat of his embrace, the hardness of his body against hers, made her knees tremble. She eased out of his arms as soon as she could, while trying to appear calm as she leaned against the door for support.

Garrett's gaze traveled over her body and then back to her face. The dress she'd chosen accentuated the curve of her body and her long legs. He took a deep breath.

“You're looking good, Trinity.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Garrett. You look…rich.”

He chuckled.

She waved him inside. “Come on in for a moment.”

“Thanks.” He stepped farther into the room.

“Let me grab my purse. Then we can leave.” She disappeared into one of the back rooms.

“Take your time.”

He took in the surroundings, which were simple but tasteful. He walked over to examine a painting of a crying young black girl. Very nice, he mused, and leaned forward to catch the name of the artist. It was Trinity. He never knew she painted. He shouldn't have been surprised. She was very talented.

He turned around as she came back into the living room. His insides knotted as he gaze was drawn to her legs again. He wondered what they would feel like wrapped around his waist. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, to experience what he'd missed several years ago.
Be cool, man
.

“I'm looking forward to Cadence food,” he said as he slid his hands into his pockets. “On the drive, you can fill me in on everything that's been going on with you.”

“I'm more interested in what's going on with you.”

“I can tell you about that. Ready to go?”

She nodded.

* * *

The conversation flowed nonstop in the car. Garrett tuned the radio to WHUR, and old-school music filled the car.

When Garrett stopped at a traffic light, he glanced over at her. “I didn't see you in church this morning,” he said. “I was looking forward to hearing you sing.”

“I didn't make it to church.” She looked out the passenger window. “I no longer sing in the choir.”

“Why? You loved singing. You have a beautiful voice.”

Trinity smiled. “Thanks. But it was the choir, and your piano skills, that made me sound good.”

Garrett slowed the car and made a right turn. “Nonsense, girl. You can blow. I remember you wanting to be the next Yolanda Adams or Kelly Price. What happened?”

“It was a nice dream, but that's all it was. I found my calling in teaching. I love working with students.”

“Takes a special person to deal with knuckleheads. Not everyone can do it.”

Trinity laughed.

“You can still sing in the choir, though,” Garrett added.

“I do miss the choir sometimes,” she said. “I'll think about it.”

Garrett looked over at her. “I hope so.”

“Remember the time in church when you pulled off old Thelma Ford's wig?” Trinity giggled.

Garrett couldn't help but join in the laugh. “That was an accident.” He glanced at her again. “Dad asked me to nudge her when she fell asleep, and her wig fell off. Not my fault.” He was still embarrassed by the incident, and Mrs. Ford had never lived it down.

Trinity leaned her head back into the headrest, still laughing.

“Look who's talking,” Garrett said. “You taped the ‘I'm a jerk' sign to Fred Neeley's back. Remember that?”

“Fred had it coming,” Trinity replied. “He'd been bothering me for a while.”

“I agree. Fred thought he was the ultimate playa. It's hard to believe that Fred's a defense attorney, married, and has three children.”

Fifteen minutes later, the waiter escorted them to a table in the VIP section. Soft conversation flowed through the club, mixed with sultry jazz music coming from the built-in speakers. After they had ordered dinner, the waiter filled their glasses with water. Trinity took a sip and glanced up to find Garrett staring at her.

“I caught your performance at the NAACP Awards Show. You did it up.”

Garrett's face split into a wide grin. “Thanks. I try to give my best performance every time I'm out there.”

“When will the new CD be in stores?” She took a sip.

“September 30.” Garrett's eyes found her again. He never knew the way a woman sipped could be so sexy.

“I guess that means you will be touring and doing interviews to promote it,” Trinity said.

“No way around it.”

“You won't be home again for a while?”

“I'm home for two weeks.” He leaned forward, his lips a breath from hers. “I guess that means we have to spend as much time together as we can.”

Trinity's brain short-circuited. Spend time together?
Oh Lord
, she thought,
please let it be!

Garrett's smile faded at her silence. Before she could speak, the waiter arrived with their dinner. When he'd left, Garrett studied Trinity silently. She avoided his gaze as she drizzled dressing over her salad. “Trinity.” He spoke her name quietly, but she glanced up at him. “Is there someone else?” He noticed she almost lost her grip on the fork before her gaze returned to her food.

“No,” she whispered. “Darius and I split a while ago.”

“May I ask why?”

This time she met his gaze almost defiantly. “He didn't want to make a commitment. So, I ended it.”

“Just like that?” Garrett was intrigued. Could she turn her feelings off and on like a light switch? “Did you love him?”

“I did—it only led to heartbreak.”

Garrett shifted uneasily in his chair. He couldn't believe he was having the same conversation with Trinity that he and Imani had less than twenty-four hours ago. Women and commitments. “Ouch! I never knew you could be so cold.”

“How am I cold? Why should I remain in a relationship going nowhere?”

“You only invested a year into the relationship.”

“A year and a half,” she corrected.

Garrett frowned. “Excuse me. A year and a half.”

“More than enough time for Darius to decide where we were going.” Her hazel eyes darkened as she reached for the steak sauce. “He couldn't. We're over. The breakup was difficult for me. I thought we really had something, you know. I thought we were on the same sheet of music as far as what we wanted from the relationship.”

“Which was?” Garrett prompted.

“Marriage,” she answered flatly. “I thought we were going to get married. I thought he was the man of my dreams.”

Garrett sat up straight. It was hard for him to listen to Trinity say she wanted to spend the rest of her life with another man. “So, you ever discuss marriage?”

Trinity looked away, then returned her gaze to his. “I did. He didn't.”

Garrett could hear the disappointment in her voice. “You still love him, don't you?”

Trinity shrugged. “I miss him.” She avoided the question.

The waiter interrupted them when he asked if they needed anything else. Both declined.

Trinity shook her head. “When we first separated, I was hoping we would get back together, but, uh…” She swished the red liquid around in the glass. “That was months ago. I haven't seen or heard from him. When we first met, I explained to Darius that I was looking for a relationship that would lead to marriage. I want to have children, grow old with someone. He said he wanted the same thing.”

As Garrett listened to Trinity, he realized Darius reacted the way many men do, himself included, if they really wanted to be with a woman, especially one as beautiful as Trinity. A man would say anything to be with her. “Darius wasn't ready for that type of commitment.”

“It just didn't work out.” She took a sip.

“Darius wasn't the man for you.”

“You think?” Trinity teased. “Enough about me and Darius. What about you and Imani? I read you two are really an item.”

“Where did you read that?”

“I read it in
Black Flavor Magazine,
and your sister confirmed it.”

“Don't believe everything you read or hear.”

Trinity frowned. “So you're not a hot couple?”

“We've been seeing each other off and on for about a year.”

“A year? Sounds serious. Is that more on than off, or more off than on?”

He grinned. “Hmm. That's a good question. More off than on.”

“What's the problem? Imani is everything a man wants in a woman. She's beautiful, intelligent, and successful.”

She's not you,
he wanted to say. He didn't, instead reaching for a roll. “She's all those things.”

Trinity eyed him curiously. “But?”

“I do care about her,” Garrett admitted.

“But?” Trinity repeated.

“Imani wants me to make a commitment to her.”

Trinity tilted her head to one side and gave him a look. “What's wrong with that?”

Garrett shrugged. “I'm not sure she's the one.”

“Not sure?” Trinity repeated. “What is it with men and commitment? I don't understand it.”

“There you go,” Garrett said defensively. “Men don't have a problem with commitment. I know quite a few men who are in committed relationships and marriages.”

“Except you and Darius, but you don't have a hard time enjoying the benefits you get out of sampling the products.”

“You're right about that.” Garrett chuckled. He looked up to see Victor Sexton, one of the owners of Cadence, greeting patrons. Victor acknowledged him with a nod of the head and walked over to greet Garrett.

“Look who's here,” Victor said as he extended his right hand.

Garrett stood and they shook hands. “Colonel Sexton, it's been a while. How are you?”

Victor nodded in agreement. “ I'm doing fine, just fine. What about you?”

“I couldn't be better,” Garrett replied, then glanced to Trinity. “Victor Sexton, I'd like to introduce Miss Trinity Blake.”

Trinity flashed a smile. “Hello, Mr. Sexton.” She extended a hand.

“The last time I was here, you were getting ready to retire from the army,” Garrett said.

“That is now a reality. I'm a full-fledged civilian, business owner, and engaged to be married.”

Garrett's eyes widened. “Engaged? You?”

Victor grinned. “It's true. Soon I'll be a married man. Your father is going to perform the ceremony.”

“She must be special,” Garrett chuckled, “to get you to the altar.”

“Dominique is very special,” Victor agreed.

“Congratulation on your upcoming nuptials,” Trinity said.

“Thank you.” Victor glanced at Garrett. “How long will you be in town?”

“About two weeks unless I have a reason to stay longer.” Garrett smiled at Trinity.

“I understand,” Victor said, following his glance. “I hope I can persuade you to sing here at Cadence.”

“I'd love to.” Garrett would always be indebted to Victor's younger brother and Cadence co-owner, Gerald. It was Gerald who allowed Garrett to perform at the club when he was just starting out. “Just tell me when.”

“Great. We'll talk later.” Victor nodded to Trinity. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

After dinner, Garrett and Trinity enjoyed dessert and conversation ranging from music to politics. Then they were entertained by a comedy show. Two hours later, Trinity found herself yawning.

“Someone is sleepy,” Garrett teased.

“Yes, I have to be at work early in the morning.”

“Do you have anything planned tomorrow evening?”

“No. Why?”

Garrett looked her directly in the face. “I'd like to see you again.” For good measure, he quickly added, “You know, two friends getting together again.”

“Sure,” she said. “I'll even cook.”

“You can cook?”

Trinity leaned back. “Yes,” she emphasized. “I can cook.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiled. “I didn't mean to offend you. I'm looking forward to tasting your culinary efforts.”

He settled the bill, leaving a generous tip for the waiter. The valet brought Garrett's car to the entrance. Garrett assisted Trinity into the Mercedes and then walked around the car to the driver's aide and got in.

Thirty minutes later, Garrett nudged her awake. Dazed, Trinity looked up and discovered she was in front of her house. The perfect gentleman, Garrett helped her out of the car and walked her to the door.

“I had a lovely evening, Garrett,” she said, reaching into her purse to retrieve her door key.

“So did I.” He took the key from her fingers and opened the door. His body tingled as their fingers touched.

They stood smiling at each other until she said softly, “I better get inside.”

“I know—you have to get up early in the morning,” he teased, but then his smile faded. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Unable to help himself, he bent his head and kissed her cheek, his lips lingered against her silken skin. Finally, he raised his head. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

Trinity nodded, watching him make his way to the car. She waved at him from the doorway when he looked over to acknowledge her before he drove off.