GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (23 page)

…And then, she caught his scent on her neck, and she smiled. Maybe it
was
the highway to the Creator. If that was the case, she’d take the blame for swallowing her own prayers, for not believing they held an ounce of weight. Maybe that needed to change. Maybe Zenith was right, and she’d been punishing herself for all the wrong reasons. Maybe… just maybe, it was time to start letting go and living again, just like Mama said, to release the pressure so she could let someone
new
inside.

And maybe that new someone was Zenith Taylor…

T
he basement of
the place didn’t look like much of a basement at all. There was no odor of mold, or of old, forgotten, or worn things. This was a true music studio outfitted with expensive equipment, with black and red wires running to and fro and framed photos of the band splattered all over the walls. One picture tugged at her funny bone—a photo of Zenith all hugged up on J-Lo, and judging by his expression, there was no denying he was enjoying every damn second of it. The walls were covered with an odd fabric to boot, perhaps shock absorption material.

She felt her way down the length of one, her fingers sinking into the softness. Zenith’s friend Javier stated he’d be right back, and left them alone in the home he rented with two other roommates. On the table sat a half empty bottle of red wine and some corn chips she had no interest in tasting. The guys had finished practice; they’d all gone away, vanished like musical notes long after a song’s final chord was struck, but she’d had the pleasure of sitting there and hearing them rehearse… and damn could Javier sing. No wonder Clara had fallen for the man; he was undeniably smooth and his range varied so greatly, she was at a loss as to how Pure Grit wasn’t getting their just due shine.

And then there was Zenith, an insane drummer who dripped with sexuality, saturated in industrial roughness, and with an air about him that made him slightly unapproachable. She dug the shit out of that. He moved his arms about in frantic motions, his wild black hair tumbling about as he slammed the drums with brute force; and yet, he never seemed to tire. He was a ball of energy, six feet and three inches of pure, tarnished, stained grit and grind. She wouldn’t dare tell him for she figured it’d seem quite disrespectful, but there was no doubt he and Javier were the heart of that band. She continued to peruse the area, taking note of the instruments and décor while Zenith sat at the drums, cleaning them off with care.

A big fish bowl full of condoms sat on a table near two larger than life speakers. A blow up doll hung from the ceiling, her garish, ruby, oval-shaped mouth wide open as she swung back and forth every now and again from the air movement triggered by an opened or closed door.

“You wipe those drums like they’re your lover. It amazes me though how you can turn racket into music. You do it well, too. I’m not musically inclined, so I admire people that are.”

“Come ’ere,” Zenith motioned to her with a curl of his long, ringed finger. She did as he asked. “Sit on my lap.”

“I’m not sitting on your lap.”

“What the hell am I going to do, Silver? This is Javier’s house. What do I look like tryna do something to you down here? Besides, he’ll be right back.” His brows dipped in apparent irritation at her assumption. On a huff, she heeded his request and surrendered. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, causing her to smile surreptitiously.

“Alright, you say you’re not musically inclined, but I don’t buy that. Everyone who is born is musically inclined.” He moved her closer to his groin, making her soul whistle and moan as his dick brushed against her ass.

“Why do you believe everyone is musically inclined?”

“Because our souls have rhythm, even people who can’t dance. Hell, being conceived, within itself, has a rhythm. A woman’s entire reproduction system has a rhythm, a beat. When that egg and sperm meet, they create a stage for the mother’s band to play, and give an audience, too. The baby growing inside the mother hears sounds not just outside, but also inside, like a vacuum. The baby hears amniotic fluid moving about, back and forth… back and forth. That baby is dancing, moving and kicking to his mother’s heartbeat. A heartbeat is the song of life. We all heard it, and our soul remembers it.”

“That’s some beautiful shit you just said right there.” They both burst out laughing.

“Yeah?” he said in a sensual voice, nestling his head in the crevice between her shoulder and neck. “It’s true, though… Alright, you’re about to play the drums.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes, you are. First, let me explain to you what everything is. You see this?” He reached out and pointed to one of the drums.

“Yes.”

“That’s called the crash cymbal. Everyone knows what it is, but not necessarily the name. Right here, we’ve got the ride cymbal. Now, what do you think this is called?”

He pointed to the golden one that reminded her of a flying saucer.

“I’m not sure.”

“Take a guess. Here’s a hint: the first part of the word is ‘hi’.”

“Hi- hat.”

“That’s right! See? You know more than you think you do. That’s right, this loud cymbal here is called a hi-hat. Okay, right here we’ve got the snare, and right here is the rack tom. Over there is the floor tom and this big son of a bitch down here is the kick drum. Some call it the bass drum. The top of the snares are called batter heads. Now, take this.” He handed her a drumstick, while he held the other.

“Hit this cymbal real soft… like you just want to whisper in its ear and tell her that her zipper is down.”

At this, Silver burst out laughing. “You’re stupid.” He silenced her with a soft kiss against her cheek.

“Alright, go head.”

Ever so slightly, she brushed the cymbal with the stick, lightly tapped it.

“…A little harder.”

“You said like a whisper!”

“Well you need to whisper louder than that… She ain’t hear you.”

She hit it again.

“That’s it. Now, hit it again, but a bit harder.” She did as he instructed. “Again, and a bit harder.” She did it once more. He kept having her go up an octave, and she was amazed.

“See that? All of these have ranges. They don’t make only one sound, and not the same volume. You can alter how you hit it, the angle you hit it in, and change the sound completely. A lot of people who don’t play drums don’t understand the range of sounds we can make with just one or two of them. The possibilities are endless. When people think of range, they think of Javier singing, or the electric guitar… but all the instruments have range. That’s part of the reason why you can play the same song ten different ways.”

She nodded in understanding.

“Alright, now, I’m going to play a song. I want you to sit here and pay attention to all the different ranges and rhythms. Pay close attention, because then I’m going to have you do it, too.”

“Zenith, I can’t play the drums!” she protested. “That’s like me expecting you to know how to code a game after one ten minute lesson.”

“Just watch…”

He grabbed both of the sticks, and lifted his thigh up and down, carrying her with him as he hit the drums, creating a song. The shit was fun, like a little roller coaster ride. She wanted to hold onto him, squeal and get silly.

“Awwww, shit! You are not playing Stevie Wonder’s, ‘Master Blaster’!” She looked over her shoulder to see the man grinning from ear to ear. He paused briefly, hit the knob on some odd looking contraption, and the actual song began to play out the big ass speakers from across the room. She swayed while he moved, their bodies dancing together as he played and played… the song taking them somewhere sweet and lovely, with a heavenly jam…

“Damn…” She clapped her hands and moved to the rhythm, unable to control herself. His groin bumped against her with each beat, and now she could swear he was grinding against her ass on the low-low. The loud noise echoed as he continued to beat the drums, real calm and on point. He’d told her ass to pay attention, but she simply couldn’t. The music sounded too good, his cologne smelled too good, the way he moved felt too good, and inside, she felt too good!

“…Though the world is full of prob-leeems! They couldn’t touch us even, if they, tried!” she crooned.

“Sing it, baby!” He laughed as he continued on.

“…I bet nobody evah, told, yoooou! That you’d, be jammin’, until thaa break, of daaawn!”

“Whew! You can sing, baby! Keep it going!”

The man was full of shit, but he made her feel like he was telling the truth any ol’ way. When she got settled into her groove, he paused. Grabbing her hands, he slid the drumsticks in her palms, then covered her hands with his.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He tightened his grip around her and began to play the song again. Moving her hand around, he allowed her to feel the rhythm and beat. She felt as if she were really doing it, though he was the driving force. She laughed… so loud she about lost her damn mind with delirium. The music pulsed through her veins as Stevie Wonder sung his heart out. Zenith moved his leg in perfect timing. As she hit the cymbals, he pressed himself into her and she backed into him. On and on this went on, until he felt rock hard against her ass.

She eyed him over her shoulder. He didn’t stop working her hands; only now, their gazes were locked. He kept playing and playing… and she kept holding on as he grinded into her ass, and she dry humped him back. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he pressed his lips against hers and slicked his tongue inside her mouth, forcing her into an all-consuming kiss… but he kept on playing, too… not missing a beat.

“What the fuck are y’all doing?” Javier yelled out.

Jarred out of her sensual haze, she almost fell off Zenith, but he held on tight to her, keeping her steady, riding him. Laughing, Javier tossed his jacket over the back of a small black couch. Self-conscious, she felt her face flush. Zenith stopped playing, then stopped the music, too.

“Are you giving music lessons now?” Javier teased with a wink at Zenith, then disappeared back out the room. The silence returned, and they wallowed in it for a spell.

“Alright… so now you know how to play the drums.” He grinned, lifting her from his lap. There she stood on her own two feet, feeling a bit out of sorts. What had happened? They’d been in their own little world and forgotten all about everyone else. It didn’t make sense. But, the moment had rhyme and reason.

And she liked it.

And she liked Zenith.

No sense in denying it.

…She wanted him.

For the first time in a very long time, she wanted male companionship, but not just any kind; she wanted Zenith. He was all man, and brilliant. He had a musical gift like none she’d ever seen. He was a good teacher, a great conversationalist, and probably a good lover, too…

He was sexy without trying, he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him, and he wanted her, just as much as she wanted him—perhaps even more…

“I’m going to finish cleaning up and then I’ll take you home, okay?” He grabbed his cloth to resume his cleaning duties.

“Yeah, okay.” She returned to studying the studio. The blow up doll swayed a little as a vent blew heat. She looked up at the nasty, silly thing and winked in her general, plastic direction.