All of Me by Tiffany Patterson

Chapter 17

Gabe

“Who is this?” I asked Lena as I sat on her bed, watching her get dressed for our dinner out.

Her back was to me as she stepped into a black dress, dragging the dress up her legs, over her waist and hips, until she slipped her arms through the straps. I envisioned trailing my tongue up the length of her back and licking her like a damn ice cream cone.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” She looked in the mirror, staring at me over her shoulder.

I rose from the bed and sauntered closer. My hands made their way to her sides. “No jokes. Who is this?” The song playing from her playlist had a smooth jazz feel to it, but it was clearly an R&B song.

“Lauryn Hill ‘The Sweetest Thing’.”

“Lauryn Hill,” I repeated.

“You do know who Lauryn Hill is, right?”

I nodded and smirked. “I’ve heard of her.”

She pushed out a breath. “For a moment, I thought I would have to deny knowing you. She’s only one of the best ever to do it.”

“Replay it,” I told her.

Lena's eyes twinkled as she smiled and walked over to her phone, and pressed a button. The song began replaying. She started humming along to the melody.

When Lauryn Hill sang about kisses on a collarbone, I brushed my fingers across Lena’s.

“Let me zip you up,” I said, turning her around to face the mirror again.

She swayed as I zipped her up and began singing the lyrics of the song. It was a love song that spoke of the tender touches and caresses that happen between lovers. I pulled Lena into me, and we moved together while she continued singing. We stared into the mirror in one another’s eyes.

When the song ended, I brought her hand to my lips, kissing it.

The playlist started playing another song; I didn’t know it instantly, but it sounded familiar.

“What’s this one?” I asked, feeling as if I’d heard it before.

“We should go,” she said. Lena tried to pull away from my hold to go to her phone, but I held firm.

Seconds later, her voice streamed through the air from the phone.

I peered down at her. “‘Broken Kisses’?” I immediately recognized the lyrics, but the song was different.

She looked up at me with a tight smile. “I remixed it with my production set.”

“Hm.” I listened to the new melody, still holding her around the waist from behind. We continued to sway in time with the music.

“Do you like it?” she asked once the song was over.

“I do.” My answer was instant. “It’s sexier than the original.” I liked it better.

“You think so?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that or anything.” I pressed a kiss to her lips. “What else are you keeping from me?”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Any more songs you’ve been hiding?”

She shook her head. “No new music. No lyrics, at least. I’ve remixed a couple more songs from Broken Kisses. And a few new melodies have come.”

“You’ll have to play them for me.”

The smile she gave me was tight and didn’t hold its usual joy.

“What’s the matter?”

“The music. It still hasn’t happened for me.”

I firmed my hand around hers. “You’re producing new melodies, right? You just said so.”

“But no lyrics. I’m a writer. I put the words to the music, and I don’t have any words yet.”

I moved closer, cupping the side of her face. “Yet,” I emphasized. “You’re on your way. I can feel it in my gut,” I said before kissing her forehead.

Lena wasn’t convinced. The doubtful gleam in her eyes revealed as much. But my instincts told me she was closer to writing than she realized. The words would come.

“Let’s go have dinner with your parents.”

She grabbed her clutch and her phone, and we were out of her room five minutes later. Our car was already in the garage, waiting for us at the private entrance.

The drive from our hotel took about thirty minutes. I grumbled about being in the car for thirty minutes and only going a few blocks down the damn road. Lena laughed and reminded me that it was more than a few blocks.

Whatever. There was too much traffic in this city for me.

“I’ll agree with you there. LA is worse, to be honest.” She sighed. “Both are terrible.”

“Overpopulated.” I shuddered.

“You’re just a fan of the Lone Star State.”

“Hell yeah, I am. Best out of all fifty of ’em.”

She laughed. We joked back and forth as we rode, past one building after another that all looked the same to me.

“That’s where I recorded my first album,” she said, pointing at one of them. It wasn’t as tall as the ones flanking it. She talked about the studio on the third floor where she’d recorded.

Briefly, I wondered how much she missed the city. Either New York or Los Angeles. I was already planning on how to keep her in Harlington. The thought should’ve scared the shit out of me, but it didn’t.

“We’re here,” she said after a while.

I got out first and waved the driver away, opting to hold the door open myself.

“Lena? Is that you?” a woman’s voice came up behind me.

I turned to find a woman a few inches shorter than Lena and a few shades darker, but other than that could very well be a dead ringer for the woman on my arm.

“I thought so,” the woman said.

“Hey, Ma,” Lena said, leaning in to kiss her mother. “Where’s Daddy?” Lena looked around.

“He’s speaking with the hostess, making sure we get the best table in the house. You know they tried to sit us by the kitchen. I am not having that all night.” She sucked her teeth before her eyes wandered over to me.

Lena let out a slight groan.

“Who are you?” Lena’s mother asked, staring at me.

“Ma, this is my friend, Gabriel Townsend.”

I glared down at Lena.

“Friend my ass.”

Both women gasped.

“Mrs. Clarkson, I’m Gabe, Lena’s man and date for the evening.”

I felt Lena’s eye drill into the side of my face as I extended my hand for her mother to shake.

“Lena?” She looked back over at her daughter. “Is this true? You replaced Nate that quickly.”

“It’s true,” I answered. I took her mother’s hand, shaking it myself. “You said your husband’s speaking with the hostess? Why don’t we go inside and meet him?”

I moved my hand to the small of Lena’s back and allowed her mother to walk ahead of us.

“What are you doing?” Lena whispered demandingly in my ear.

“Telling your parents the truth.”

She didn’t respond.

“Lena,” a male voice called as we entered the restaurant. He stopped short and looked me up and down.

“Daddy, this is Gabe,” she said.

“Lena’s new man, apparently,” her mother added.

My smile widened as I extended my hand as I had done for her mother. “Mr. Clarkson, nice to meet you.”

Her father also ran his eyes over me, assessing. “I got a table at the center of the restaurant,” Mr. Clarkson declared after he shook my hand.

“Why, Daddy? I asked that we get a private room,” Lena said.

“We deserve the best. Are you trying to hide us?” Lena’s mother asked.

My hold tightened around Lena’s hand. It was apparent she didn’t want to be seen in public yet. In Harlington, she’d been skittish, but after a few outings and not many privacy issues, she warmed up to going out. New York was different.

Not only was this city her hometown, but her father had chosen a restaurant that was known to garner attention from magazines and photographers because it drew all types of celebrities.

“Do you have a private room available?” I asked the hostess while Lena continued to argue back and forth with her parents.

“One of our private parties was just leaving,” the hostess said with a smile.

“We’ll take it,” I said firmly.

“Please give us some time to clean it for you.”

“That’s settled,” I said, looking between Lena and her parents.

It seemed as if both her mother and father wanted to push back, but they bit their tongues.

An awkward silence fell between the four of us as we waited. The staff didn’t take too long cleaning, and fifteen minutes after our arrival, the hostess escorted us to one of the private rooms.

“Nate always got us seats front and center here,” Lena’s father said as we took our seats.

“Daddy,” Lena whisper-yelled.

I held her chair out, unbothered by her father’s comment.

“What? I’m only speaking the truth.” Her father looked up at me as I moved from behind Lena to the seat next to her.

Classical music played around us from some hidden speakers. The private room wasn’t large, but it was big enough, and there was an entire glass wall on one side, allowing us to see outside. The hostess had informed us that no one could see inside, however.

The black and gold decor gave a classy vibe to the restaurant.

I stared across the black marble table at Lena’s father. It was never my intention to disrespect anyone’s parents, but hell, if they had it coming, they had it coming.

“My photoshoot went well,” Lena said into the silence.

“The same one you kicked us out of?” her mother grumbled.

“No one kicked you out,” Lena said. “You were distracting the photographer, Ma. I had Demetria ask if you could wait outside, and neither one of you wanted to.”

“Wait outside like we’re some animals?” her father asked.

“I don’t like that girl,” her mother said.

“Who? Demetria?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Her mother’s tone was cutting, and I balled my fist, reminding myself this was her mother.

“She’s been a great PA for the past five years,” Lena defended.

“Uh, huh. It’s not like you have the best people skills.” Her mother’s gaze cut over to me.

I leaned forward with a smile on my face, though I’m sure it didn’t look friendly. “Is there something you wanted to say, Mrs. Clarkson?”

Her eyelids widened right before her gaze darted over to her husband.

I turned to Lena’s father. “Or you, Mr. Clarkson?”

Before he could respond, our waiter appeared at our table.

“The Giacomo Conterno Monfortino wine that was requested at the time of reservation.” The waiter held out the bottle of red wine, displaying the label, for the entire table to see. He then half filled all four of our glasses before letting us know he would be back to take our orders.

“For as much as that bottle of wine is, he could’ve at least given us a full glass,” Lena’s father said before gulping half of his wine down in one shot.

The rest of the dinner pretty much went on in the same manner. Though the food and service were excellent, it seemed as though Lena’s parents could always find something to complain about. And if they weren’t complaining about the food or service, they bickered with one another.

“And what about your album?” Lena’s mother asked about halfway through dinner.

“What about it?” Lena avoided looking directly at her mother.

“Isn’t that why you ran off? To complete your next album? It’s been over two months. Haven’t you completed it by now?” her father questioned.

Lena shifted in her seat.

I moved my hand to her thigh, squeezing it. She glanced up at me with a hesitant expression on her face.

“Her writing’s going well,” I answered.

Both of her parents shifted their gazes over to me.

“How is it going well when you’re not working with your usual team? You know you need producers to help you arrange the music,” Lena’s mother said.

“Right? And who is approving what you’re writing?” her father added. “We know you haven’t consulted with Nate. How do we even know what you’re writing is worth listening to?”

My hand tightened on her thigh. It took everything in me not to curse this fool out.

“I don’t need his approval. Or anyone else’s,” Lena said sharply.

Her mother had the nerve to look insulted.

“Lena, we’re just trying to be helpful,” her mother said. “You owe Nate that album, and running off—"

“I think you’ve both done enough for one night,” I interjected, unable to take any more of their bullshit.

The table went silent as Lena’s parents glared at me.

Her father was the first to speak. “Where are you from? You look familiar.”

Our waiter approached the table before I could answer. Both Lena and I replied with a sharp no when he asked if we were interested in the dessert menu. Though, both of her parents grumbled over that as well.

Her father insisted on getting dessert to go for him and his wife.

“She’ll take it,” her father said, pointing in Lena’s direction when the bill came.

I handed him my credit card, noticing the look that passed between her mother and father.

Minutes later, we exited the restaurant, Lena’s hand in mine.

“I cannot believe that girl didn’t order us a car to get back home,” Lena’s mother said, upon seeing there wasn’t a car waiting for them.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I think it was simply a mistake on Demetria’s part. I’ll give her a call.” Lena pulled out her phone and dialed her assistant. At the same time, the car I’d called for us arrived.

I sensed Lena’s desire to get her parents on their way. My desire to not be in their presence was about the same as hers.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson, you can take our car,” I told them, waving to our driver. I didn’t wait for them to respond. I went over to the driver and told him there was a change of plans and he would take the older couple home.

“What’s your address?” I asked Lena’s father.

“What?” her mother snapped. “We don’t know you or this driver. We’re not giving out our address.”

“You’ll both be fine,” I said with the least friendly smile on my face I could muster. “What’s your address?”

Apparently, Mr. Clarkson was more insightful than his wife because, after a short pause, he gave the driver his address.

Lena walked over to us, still on the phone with her assistant.

‘Thank you,’she mouthed to me while still on the line with Demetria. She gave her mother and father a quick hug and kiss. I noticed the way Mrs. Clarkson glared at me before she got in the car.

Whatever.

“They are rays of sunshine,” I said as soon as the car pulled off.

“Pssh, this was them on a good night. They’ve gotten better with age. Oh no, Demetria, I was talking to Gabe. Is the car on the way?” she asked. “Okay, hang on.”

Lena lowered the phone from her ear a bit. “I don’t feel like going back to the hotel yet. I need to blow off some steam after that dinner.”

I grinned. “I know a place.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Place called Skins. A former wrestling teammate of mine in college owns it. We can catch a cab.”

Lena’s eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Demetria. We won’t need that car after all,” she said. “Sorry to bother you tonight.”

She hung up, and I held up my hand for a cab. Minutes later, we were off.