Page 38 of Faded Rhythm

“Why are you so guarded?”

“Why are you so fucking nosy?” He stares down at me, his nostrils slightly flared. “You were a lot less annoying when I was watching you from a hundred feet away.”

I smile up at him. “It’s okay if you’re attracted to me. You’re human, too. Not sure if you knew that or not, Tin Man.”

He exhales like I’m exhausting him. “Let it go, Sable. For real. Just…let this shit go.”

I take a step back, crossing my arms. “Fine. Let’s get to work.”

And just like that, the moment’s gone, but it lingers in the air, thick and heavy and hot. A lightning strike just waiting to land.

17

King

We’ve been poring overdocuments for a couple of hours now. Some are digital, but most are scanned so sloppily, it’s a wonder we can make out the numbers at all. But the trail is taking shape. It’s clear that Redd wasn’t happy with the label before he died. And unhappy artists don’t generally stay quiet, especially ones with big names like his.

I lean back in the chair and rub my eyes. “What was he like?” I ask Sable, who’s lounging on the edge of the bed.

“Redd?” She smiles, her eyes looking off into the distance. Her voice sounds lighter, like the question pulled her out of the darkness and dropped her in the sunshine. “Redd was such a good guy. You don’t usually think that when it comes to rappers, but Redd was different. He was real involved in the community. Food drives, toy drives…” she trails off, smiling again. “He funded a tutoring program at his old elementary school in Decatur. He put some of the kids from his old neighborhood through college. Quietly, too. No fanfare.”

I study her face while she talks. The warmth in her eyes. The slight tilt of her head. There’s history there. Real affection.

“He was always so sweet to me,” she finishes. “I was fifteen when he got killed. I was devastated.”

“I’m sorry.” I let an appropriate amount of time pass before I get back to business. “He doesn’t sound like somebody who’d be beefing with somebody enough to get murdered.”

“He wasn’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I was shocked. But the beef made a lot of money. For the artists and the labels.”

And just like that, my attention sharpens to a point. “Money,” I mumble. “Always follow the money.”

Sable nods. “My daddy used to say that, too. But I still don’t know what any of this has to do with Brett. Or me.”

I check the time on my laptop. “It’s late,” I say. “You can go to bed if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says quickly. “I wanna figure this out. The sooner we do, the sooner my girls can go home.”

She looks at me with that fierce maternal energy I’ve come to recognize…soft but unrelenting.

“You can sleep in the bed,” she says casually. “If you want.”

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good.”

“You can sleep on the other end. I don’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about that,” I say. “You sleep naked. That’s too tempting.”

Her mouth quirks into a grin. “So you admit it.”

I blow out a sigh. “Yes,” I say, because lying would be pointless. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy as hell. If I wasn’t attracted to you, I’d be checking my own pulse for signs of life.”

Her expression shifts from playful to curious.

“Then why so rigid?”

“Because I’m working,” I say firmly. “My job right now is keeping you alive. I can’t do that if I’m compromised.”

“Compromised,” she repeats. “What does that even mean?”

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