Page 36 of Juliet's Echo

Sunday's sat on the west side of Havenbrook, anchored on a corner and extending around the full block. The outside would put you in mind of Tiana's Place from that Disney movie. Delicious soul food, jazz music that delivered dopamine directly to your brain, and low lighting kept to maintain a grown and sexy atmosphere. Tonight was a live music night — which pulled out a very specific kind of energy from a very specific kind of crowd.

"You look so good, Ju," Nazir said, pulling out my chair.

"Thank you — so do you," I returned, taking my seat.

We were seated by the window and between the view of the cobblestone road of the artistic square and the romance already thick in the air, I was almost certain this was the kind of night I'd been wanting for a while. Nazir was charming and genuinely inquisitive — but not in an invasive way. He gave the impression that he wanted to know me. All of me. Don't get me wrong, plenty of men had attempted conversation before, but it always found its way back to one of my superstar brothers eventually. Not tonight though. Not with Nazir.

"So, were you born deaf and had surgery so the aids could help you hear?" he asked.

"No — I was never completely deaf. I have S.A.P.C. My brain essentially tells my ears to shut down when multiple soundsources compete at once. If you were talking to me in the park I could hear you perfectly, until music started playing or a horn beeped — then my hearing would collapse."

"And the aids?" he continued.

"They process the competing sounds so there's no mental overstimulation. With them in, I hear perfectly."

"Is it genetic?" he asked.

"Someone in your family is usually a carrier — doesn't have to be a direct relative like a parent. A great-great-great granduncle could have had it and I inherited it that way. Which is part of why it's so rare."

"So, if I knocked you up — I mean, if we had children together — they could get that shit — S.A... S.A..."

"S.A.P.C," I finished for him.

How quickly did my prince become a frog. Why was this man already concerned about whether our future children could inherit my condition — this fool didn't even have my home address. I'd had to meet him here in secret because my brother would have shot him before he reached the front door.

"And Echo — I heard he dropped serious bag to have some robotic doctor create those aids for you. Was that a family effort or was Echo able to foot that bill himself?" Nazir continued his interrogation without a hint of shame on his face.

"Nigga, you work for the IRS or something?" I signed, too vexed to bother with words.

Nazir, in all his fine ignorance, had no idea what I was saying — but the attitude written all over my face and the aggression in my hands told him something was wrong. What this idiot failed to understand was that I wasn't having an episode. I was processing the fact that his questioning had shifted from seemingly genuine interest to flat out rude in the span of one glass of water.

"Ju — is everything okay? Do your ears hurt?" he damn near hollered, standing and leaning across the table to — I don't know — caress my ear apparently.

I swatted his hand away.

"Boy, sit down. Let me tell you something — if you think—" My tongue lashing was cut short by Benji placing my entrée down and the hostess Asia stepping to the microphone to announce the evening's talent. Both Benji and Asia had the utmost respect for my family and would send word if they felt Nazir was out of pocket — so I quickly aborted my mission, thanked Benji for my food and turned to face the stage.

"Tonight's talent likes to let his music introduce him before he does," Asia said warmly. "So with that — let the electricity from his guitar and the soul in his DNA send you into an hour of pure, sexy, Black, romantic ecstasy. And if you're lucky, maybe he'll tell you his name when he's done." The audience, myself included, gave her a warm laugh.

"Juliet — if I offended you, I didn't mean to, baby. I really like you and just want to know everything about you," Nazir said.

So, my family's financials are relevant conversation on our secret first date. Yeah, okay. And to think — I was going to make his toes curl tonight.

"Mm-hmm, apology accepted," I said with complete nonchalance, turning my entire body — chair and all — toward the stage. As far as I was concerned, the music was the only thing caressing anything on my body tonight. This date was over.

The instrumental to Joe's "I Wanna Know" began to play and a single spotlight glowed over a lone wooden stool on the stage. No one appeared for several seconds and it almost felt as though the talent had been cancelled. The crowd filled the silence the way only a room full of people who know every word can — because who lets a Joe song go to waste.

Then without warning, a sound so electrifying moved through me that I lost my breath entirely. A guitar — blessed by Oshun herself — played over the original instrumental and the lyrics being sung by the patrons around me faded into the background. For me, sound was data first and experience second. Processing before feeling. Always.

But this. This was doing something different.

The notes moved like water — flowing but weighted, settling my mind into a state of hypnosis that made me want to close my eyes and disappear into it. There was something deeply intimate about it. Like having the person you desired most whisper affirmations into your ear while you slowly came undone at the sound of their voice alone. Warmth moved through me gradually, starting at the base of my throat and spreading downward to where milk and honey flowed. My hands found my thighs and my fingers began to move slowly across my flesh without me deciding to let them.

"Juliet?" I heard Nazir call my name, confusion thick in his voice.

"Mm-hmm," I moaned more than responded, never pulling myself from the sound. He was not about to ruin this moment for me. If mental stimulation was the closest I was getting to an orgasm tonight, I was seeing it through to the end.

My eyes widened as what appeared to be a spiked matte black loafer with a red bottom crept out slowly from behind the curtain.