Excerpts from Soul Love
Aja
She Loves Words Publishing, LLC
© Aja Graves 2021
All rights reserved.
Except #1
As I made my way down the dark wooden stairs to the bottom level, I thought of my father and his demands. He wanted me to have what he and my mother had before she died giving birth to me. But for the years that followed, he did nothing to convince me that risking my heart, my life, my happiness, was worth the pain I’d suffer if the woman I laid down roots with was to die. Or leave me. Nah, I’m good.
I heard the creak of the door before I saw her—well the back of her. She was tall, at least 5’9 or 5’10 and her sandy brown hair was so thick and long, Rapunzel came to mind. Her braid fell close enough to her sweetly curved ass for me to make that assessment. Not even her baggy clothes could hide her fantastic shape. If anything, it made me want to see more and I had to wonder why she bothered to try and hide what was certainly God given. After she finished fiddling with the lock of her door, she turned towards me and damn, if she wasn’t fine, who the hell was.
The light streaming through the windows of the wooden doors leading to the foyer, shone in on her making her appear ethereal. The yellow glow around her, made me think some angelic form stood before me to collect me from this world, and I began wondering if I cared whether I was dead or alive if she was the one to see me to my afterlife.
Excerpt #2
The strings of a guitar caught my attention first, and when I looked up to find where the source of the melody came from, I saw him. Again.
He sat on a stool at the area being transformed into the “night club” portion of the restaurant. Cameron, the owner, initiated a plan he had to have live music playing a few nights at Sizzle. New Year’s Day was the first night where he had a live band that would perform a few times a week. I also heard he had a solo musician, that he would rotate throughout the year, that would play before the house band played and had played that night as well. Though I had been in New Orleans with Rafe’s family, I heard this place was poppin’. They had to turn some people away due to fire code restrictions.
I had no idea who the musicians were, and hadn’t been remotely curious before, but I did hear there was a guitarist that played like nothing they’d ever heard before. Now I could agree. When I thought of guitar players, at least black ones, I thought of either Gary Clark or Lenny Kravitz. Entirely different ends of the spectrum mind you, but prolific and stand out personas. My neighbor and soul mate, Rashaad, was more neo soul artist and his music was simply put, love over strings.
He wore a chocolate brown fedora that he’d not had on when we crossed paths this morning, making me wonder if he kept it in his car. His vest matched his hat, and he wore it over a white tee. His dark blue jeans were crisp and creased and on his feet were soft brown leather loafers. He strummed a few more notes before doing a little adjusting on his guitar. A few more plucks of the strings and he started the song over and I listened to what started as a love ballad. His guitar cried out as if it were sad and wanted his lover badly, and then as if it realized it exposed emotions it would rather keep inside, it jumped into a fast-paced tune meant to get people bopping and rocking. The man handling the guitar seemed to make the same transition and what had been a brooding expression turned light, fun, uninhibited. He seemed free from worry, as he dropped his tune. I stood in a daze and only came out of it once I realized the music was no longer playing and I was staring into the brown eyes of the man holding his instrument.
We didn’t speak at first but after an extended pause filled with so many emotions, I approached him. Why couldn’t this be a day I had no class? I wanted to skip my Restaurant Management class just so that I could understand why he’d be my soulmate.
“That was beautiful. Is it yours?”
He smiled and though I’m sure he’d been asked the question many times, he made me feel like this time, my question, mattered.
“Yeah. It’s a new one.”
“What’s it called?”
“Hazel.” He watched me for my reaction.
He didn’t have to tell me what Hazel was about; I knew it was about me. My eyes. Eyes that came from my father. All of his children had them.
I held in a pleased smile. “I like it. I had no idea you would be playing here.”
“And I had no idea you would be working here. You do work here right?”
“Yeah. I’m an intern here. I go to culinary school.”
“That’s what’s up. So you’ll probably be cooking food that’ll make my mouth water every day.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“That’s alright, you don’t have to invite me over for food. I won’t force us to be together more than we already have to be.”
I wanted to say it seemed like someone or something, bigger than us, wanted us to be close to each other, with us living in the same building and now working in the same restaurant, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to scare him. I couldn’t. I needed him to stay put, especially since I sensed he was a wanderer.
“I won’t hold you. I know you need to get ready for your evening, right?”
He stared at me, his dark eyes assessing me. “Yeah, but we’ll be seeing each other.”
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