Love on Repeat - Yael
note: unedited and subject to change
Yael
Royal came in every Thursday around noon. His eyes were always low, laced with exhaustion, leading me to believe he worked overnight. My eyes roved over his tall frame as I mulled over his possible profession. I knew he didn’t work in construction. His shoe game gave that away. Every time I saw him, he wore a fresh pair of sneakers and a clean white t-shirt. His weekly visits were a treat. We would talk about random things will he sifted through my collection of records. It would often be just us and the sounds of the record of the day in the background.
I learned so much about him through his taste in music. Royal presented himself as calm and collected, but I knew there was another side to him that many didn’t experience. Royal was close to his mother because he brought her up often. The first time he visited my shop, he shared that his mother was the reason he loved music. Royal’s favorite artists were Marvin Gaye, Prince, and Deniece Williams. His first few visits were spent getting all their work on vinyl. After that, he came for specific artists or “sounds.” Every week he left with at least three vinyl. Our time was short but impactful. Just as soon as he entered, he left, leaving me eager for our next encounter.
I sighed as I sat down on the worn bar stool in front of my register. It was after one, and he hadn’t come in yet. Today had been exceptionally slow. So far, I had five customers and three sales. I was tempted to close the store early, and prep for my cousin’s baby shower I was catering. My mind raced as I made a mental list of the items needed for two-hundred cupcakes and three dozen cookies. Halimah and her boyfriend, Drew, had canceled every cupcake tasting we had scheduled. Now, we were two days away and rushing to have a tasting Friday evening. Which meant that I would be up at the crack of dawn on Saturday baking everything. Shaking my head, I decided to close early today and tomorrow.
It had been a lifelong dream to own a vinyl shop. Music had been an influence in my life since I was a child. My parents were lovers of music. They refined my musical palette. My mother had dreams of me attending Julliard and becoming apart of an orchestra. Since I was five, there had been an instrument in my hand. None of them stuck like the flute and clarinet, though. Playing those instruments weren’t considered cool in high school. Truthfully, I had no desire to play professionally. However, I did enjoy listening to music and learning about the artist’s process. My father had an extensive collection of music from vinyl to CD’s he had it all.
In college, I started collecting vinyl. I traded and sold some for money when things got tight. By the time I finished college, owning vinyl had become the trend. The idea came to me during a late-night cram session before finals. Stevie was playing in the background, I was juiced up on caffeine, and my mind was racing. Instead of preparing for my calculus exam, I created a business plan.
That night, Key of Life was born.
After saving for three years, I finally had enough to buy a suite space. It was small, but it was mine. The two aisles filled with vinyl records was my haven. Glancing around the suite, I smiled. I knew this was just the beginning. Key of Life Records would grow into more. I was sure of it. Until then, I would continue to work with my mother at her bakery. My degree in business administration and love for cooking were the reasons my mother made me come work for her. Oh, and the fact that I hadn’t found a real job a year after graduating. Doing odd jobs here and there didn’t satisfy my parents. Every month my bills were paid on time and had I found an affordable studio apartment, but that l wasn’t enough.
They knew Key of Life was my dream. They also made it clear that they didn’t support that dream. Without their help, I made it come to fruition.
The chime from the front door caught my attention, and a small smile covered my mouth. He was here. Royal nodded at me while making his way to the neo-soul section of vinyl. I ran my hands down my thighs as my eyes followed him. Another crisp white t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. A breath fell from my lips as I admired his broad shoulders and muscular back. I swayed to the sounds of Prince’s silky vocals as “Sometimes It Snows in April” played. Parade had been the vinyl of choice today.
Desperately, I waited for him to say something.
A few seconds ticked by before Royal spoke. “Hey, you.”
Royal’s soothing baritone filled the room and warmed my insides.
“Hey,” I said breathlessly.
The room seemed smaller, and he seemed closer. My senses heightened as the scent of his cologne filled my nostrils. He wore the same cologne every week. I hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask the name of it yet.
“This song used to make my mom cry.” His smile fell as he shook his head. “She had a friend named Tracy that passed away in their twenties. Every year on Tracy’s birthday, she played this song.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Jumping down from the barstool, I walked over to the record player and gently lifted the needle. After sifting through the bin, I decided on Corrine Bailey Rae. Her light, airy vocals would lift my mood and hopefully disrupt the awkward energy.
When I turned to Royal, his eyes were on me, his lips slightly parted, and eyebrows drew together. My heart thudded against my chest and mouth watered. Royal’s molasses colored skin was enviable. His dreamy cocoa brown eyes squinted before he beckoned me with a nod. Slowly, I moved to him, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Being near him was a treat and torture.
“It’s cool,” he said once I was within his reach. “I like the song. It’s just associated with a terrible memory for me.”
“I understand. How you been?” My eyes did a quick sweep over him.
Royal was truly a sight. The eyes, lips, and the broad shoulders did it every time. When our eyes met, he shot me a disarming grin.
“I’m cool. I’ve been workin’.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?”
“Do you listen to Rosé Marie?” I nodded. “I do. I just got her newest release on vinyl.” Nervously, I sifted through the vinyl for hers.
He chuckled. “I’m working with Rosé… on her next album.”
I gasped. “Really? Doing what?”
“I’m a music producer.” He leaned against the shelf and folded his arms over his chest.
My mouth formed an o. “Oh, wow.”
“What?”
“I just didn’t think that’s what you did. I guess it makes sense, though. You come here every week looking for different music. You work overnight?”
“Mostly, yeah.”
“How long have you been a music producer?”
He shrugged. “Almost ten years now. I was a part of The Collective. Recently, went our separate ways.”
The Collective was a group of producers and writers who were responsible for a lot of my favorite radio hits. Their breakout moment was two years ago with Mecca’s single, “Stayed Down.” Later that year, they helped catapult Dejah’s career with the sexy single, “Secrets.” I knew them for their versatile beats, heartwarming ballads, and their anonymity. The Collective was deep, like Wu-Tang Clan, deep. You never knew who did what in their group. Most of them were lowkey, including Royal. I’d never seen him on Instagram or in interviews.
“OMG! I love y’all’s work. Why did you all break up?”
“Too much industry shit. Secret deals were happening, and two of our songwriters want to go solo, but we’re still cool. It’s all love.”
“It’s good that you all are still close,” I said, unsure of what else to say. I wanted to know more but didn’t want to risk sounding nosy, or worse, like a groupie.
“Yeah, so Rosé asked me to make something… funky but soulful. I’m working on a few songs with her, and she’s all over the damn place. I guess, I just need some inspiration.”
I giggled because, apparently, that was all I did when I was around him. “I can help you find funky and soulful.”
Royal followed me down the aisle as I eyed the vinyl for three specific artists.
“You can’t ask for funk and not get Funkadelic,” I told him while reaching for Maggot Brain. He nodded with a smirk. “Next, you have to get Bootsy Collins.” I opened the vinyl and went over to the record player. After gently removing Corrine’s record, I put on “I’d Rather Be with You.”
I bobbed my head and smiled at Royal. He returned a smile just as warm.
“Her first album was really good,” I said after a moment.
“It was, but she said it wasn’t as authentic as she wanted it to be. I guess since the album did so well, her label is giving her more creative freedom.”
“I can definitely see that. I’ve been following Rosé since she was on SoundCloud. Her sound changed a teeny bit, but I thought that was just a part of the game.”
“That’s exactly the game. Most artists never find their way back, or they go back to the basics as a last resort.”
“I’m glad she’s going back to her roots, though.”
Rosé Marie was the latest neo-soul sensation. Often compared to her idol Erykah Badu, she brought something refreshing to the genre that many said was falling off. Her voice was soothing, smoky, and versatile. Although she had a signature sound, she could easily switch up and still sound just as good.
“Me too.” His cocoa brown orbs narrowed as he assessed me. “You changed your hair.”
“I did.”
Nervously, I flipped my braids over my shoulder. Last week, I had cornrows. Over the weekend, I got my hair done. After going through a nasty breakup, I made the rash decision to cut my hair. Now, I was in that awkward in-between stage. It wasn’t short, yet it wasn’t long. I had no idea how to manage it right now. Protective styles had been holding me down.
“I like it.”
Butterflies swarmed through my belly.
“Thanks.” I bit my bottom lip to hide my growing smile.
“So, what else you got for me?” he asked as Bootsy faded out. I pondered for a moment as I thought about Rosé’s earlier music. With a smile, I headed over to find the Ohio Players. I’d just gotten a few of their vinyl last week.
“Listen to Honey.”
“Bet.”
“Slave, Earth, Wind, & Fire, Michael McDonald, and Rose Royce are more artists I’d suggest.”
“You really know your shit,” he drawled.
My cheeks warmed as I twirled a braid around my finger. “I do.”
“I’ll take these three for now.”
“Okay.” My eyebrows met and mouth turned downward.
Our time was ending. Royal tucked the records under his arm and started toward the register. As we made our way to the register, I placed the needle back onto Bootsy’s record. I never could get used to complete silence. Royal whistled the chorus while I keyed in his items. From my peripheral, I noticed his eyes were on me.
“What are you doing Saturday?”
“Huh?” With a grin, he replied, “I said, what are you doing Saturday?”
“I’m catering for an event.”
“All day?”
“Pretty much,” I told him with a frown.
This baby shower was a big deal for my mother since her sister passed away last year, and my cousin, Halimah, had been having a hard time. Her pregnancy came at the best and worst time. “Sorry,” I said after a moment. I’d been waiting for this day for almost two months. The moment he finally asked me out, and I had plans. I bagged his records and slid them across the counter. His index and middle fingers grazed the top of my hand, causing a chill to jolt down my spine.
“It’s cool. Same time next week?” he asked.
“You were late today.”
“I’ll be on time next week,” he shot back with a wink.
Royal stood at the counter for a few more seconds before shaking his head and leaving. My chest rose and fell as I pushed out a breath. Once again, I was left alone with thoughts of him.
Next Thursday couldn’t come fast enough.