Page 123 of Deeper

Underneath the table I patted Zander’s thigh.

“Excuse me for one moment,” Gretchen said into a microphone. She was standing near Willie D’s table, gathering all of our attention. “Mr. Dymond would like to say a word to set off the evening, and then we can all continue digging in.”

Willie D was just into his early fifties, but he didn’t look a day over thirty. Seeing him stand amongst his three sons, all three nearly spitting images of him, made me smile. Black excellence indeed.

“Y’all know I like to talk,” Willie joked, causing everyone to laugh. He was known to be that guy at the award shows back in the day who would go on and on during his acceptance speeches. “I’ma keep this short and sweet, though. I just want to take a moment to thank God for being here. I’m fifty-three years old, and a lot of brothers where I’m from ain’t make it past twenty. To be able to start a label, break a rapper and R&B singer against all the doubters, to make it here today still relevant after all this time, is something that I can only thank God for.

“I look at my sons and I’m thankful they’re alive and healthy. They’re all like their old man, hustlers out to make it. Owen got more Grammys than the Beatles, now that’s making it!” He raised his glass of champagne in the air and we all mirrored the motion, cheering on Owen. “My son Remy and my son Galen are just starting out and I couldn’t be prouder. And my wife, Tyra, I’m thankful for her every day.”

All eyes were on each member of the Dymond family, taking them in and admiring them for their legacy and future. They were more than just musical legends; they were big philanthropists as well, often giving back and hosting charity events. Willie was passionate and very much for the people. And what I loved most was that it was real and genuine. Willie and Tyra would donate anonymously, and when tragedy struck, they would even go out of their way to meet with victims to offer comfort. I loved that they never forgot where they came from. They were rich in money, yes, but the equity they had in their moral wealth couldn’t be touched.

“What I’m trying to say is, look at the people you brought with you tonight, look at them and cherish them, and most importantly love them,” Willie began to conclude his speech. “My wife will be the first to tell you I’ve been a son of a bitch, but she fought with me the hardest because she loved me that much, even beyond what I deserved at times. Love, love is all we got, and that’s something we have to learn not to take for granted.

“So, I want you all to raise your glasses so we can make a toast to just honor love and happiness, because that will always be the way through.” He lifted his glass once more. “To love and happiness!”

“To love and happiness,” we all chorused in return with our glasses raised.

“Salud.” Willie tipped his glass towards our section of tables and towards the other tents as well before taking his seat.

It was only right that the iconic Al Green record began to play next in the background.

The dinner was started and we all began to dig in. Something about Willie’s speech really spoke to me, especially about love being all we had. In all irony, love was all I had to give, because of the two of us, Zander came with millions and a life lived through touring the world. What I lacked in money and experience I knew I made up for in my love.

A part of me thought it was too soon to tell him the big three, but another didn’t care and just wanted to let him know how much he’d grown to mean to me.

Zander squeezed my thigh and came close to kiss my shoulder. His affection let me know how much Willie’s words had gotten to him too.

Love. Love was everything.

26

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We enjoyed our meals before going and stretching our legs for some socializing. Nazanin abandoned us to go and catch up with Jolie of all people, and Paul had a few industry friends he was chatting with, leaving Zander to me.

“Wanna just walk around? I know I’m supposed to be mingling, but I’m sure we’ll meet people along the way,” Zander said as we exited the tent and took a glimpse around the Dymond estate.

“Sure,” I said.

“Hey!” Paul shouted to Zander before we could get too far. “Be good, Bobby Brown!”

Zander smirked and flipped Paul the bird.

“Zander!”

Before we could leave, a voice shot through the air, and a look over found that it belonged to Pen Patel. She was rushing our way, tugging Owen with her, and despite my feelings, I was still awestruck at being about to meet Owen Dymond.

Owen came and spoke first after shaking Zander’s hand. “I finally get to meet you after hearing about you for weeks.” He forced an exasperated look that had Pen slapping his shoulder. “My wife’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Pen blushed, suddenly shy. “Okay, I heard ‘Canvas’ and becameobsessedwith you. I stayed up all night going and listening to all your stuff, and I had to have you here.”

Owen nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I called your manager and he tried to hang up on me, thought I was pranking him.”

Zander laughed. “That sounds like Paul.” He reached out to shake Pen’s hand. “I’m happy you’re liking the record, and thanks for posting that video; it got me a lot of new fans.”

Pen was giddy at the sight of Zander and there was something so normal about that. She had been famous herself for years now, yet the sight of Zander Khalil had her fangirling. “I just saw the video yesterday and I loved it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Zander told her humbly.

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