EJShaun.com

“Twenty-one million!”

As Kelvin left the school, his buddies shouted out the number, trying to rattle him. Twenty-one million dollars. That was Aliyah’s net worth. He never cared to know. At the moment, he barely had twenty-one hundred in the bank. He couldn’t stop thinking about it while he drove home, showered, and changed. He headed to her place, repeating the amount out loud. Traffic crept along the 101.

His heart rate went through the roof after he exited the interstate. Up ahead, the Hollywood Hills loomed in a rising sprawl of meandering streets and extravagant homes. He peered around at the terraces, wondering if one was Aliyah’s. His phone told him he was ten minutes away. By that time, the sky had grown dark with the last of the sunlight fading on the horizon. The dense foliage hid the hillside in shadows.

Kelvin cursed, fiddling with his window. The switch hadn’t worked since last year. He broke it on a date with Imani. He fiddled with it twice as much now. After every turn, he glanced at his phone to check the route. He drove past huge steel gates, tall walls, and long stretches of vegetation.

A number of sports cars passed along the way. Around one bend, somebody tailgated him, shining their brights in his mirrors. He imagined his old Honda Accord was quite the eyesore.

As he pulled up to Aliyah’s gate, he cursed again. The doors were solid oak with the letters A and G carved into them. Two stone pillars stood alongside the entrance. Both had cameras mounted on them, watching the gate and the cross-street.

He sent Tiffany a text to let her know he made it. He had to type it a few times to get it right. His chest didn’t unclench until the doors opened.

Inside, the driveway sloped upward with a line of fig trees on each side. The front yard was full of luscious plants and flower gardens. A stone wall surrounded the property. On three sides, the lot was enclosed. The fourth side was a cliff, rising fifty feet over her neighbor below.

Aliyah’s house sat on the edge and overlooked the Los Angeles skyline. Her manager, her bodyguards, and her friend, Aja Je, all lived with her. And those were just the people he knew. He read about her place in a magazine once. She bought it two years ago at the height of her career. It cost her seven-and-a-half million.

Aliyah Gavins has found her dream house, the article read. At a humble two-stories, this cabin-inspired mansion is the perfect blend of introvert and socialite. Tucked away in the Hollywood Hills, it offers a scenic view of downtown L.A. while maintaining the charm of the great outdoors. The rustic balconies draw you outside to take in the adventure. However, to those outside, the narrow windows and hard stone siding send a clear message: no peeking. End to end, the symmetry is simply stunning. How it curves along the cliffside will leave you breathless. With a spacious interior and immaculate courtyard out front, there’s plenty of room to relax with family or party with friends. Just be careful on the inside. You might get lost in the hallways.

Kelvin parked in the grass beside a green Miata and a fig tree. Something clunked under his hood when he stopped. He wrinkled his nose. Like his window, that broke last year, too.

Music played inside and filtered into the courtyard. A stone firepit crackled by the entrance with a group of people laughing and drinking around it. One person worked the outside bar, mixing and refilling drinks. Lush plants and fine patio furniture decorated the space. Two guys messed around on the balconies, throwing a frisbee back and forth.

Kelvin checked his hair in the mirror then folded his collar down. Dressed in a button-up and jeans, he felt a little corny, but the outfit was the nicest he had. Before he got out, he grabbed Aja’s CD from his glove box. Her music was playing inside.

Markus stood by the entrance with his arms folded. He was dressed in plain clothes but still looked intimidating. A chair and small table were beside him if he wanted to sit. He didn’t, remaining upright to watch everybody. A few things were on the table: his drink, a bucket of cell phones, and a wand for metal detecting.

Kelvin approached on pins and needles. “Hey, man, you remember me?”

Markus nodded then picked up the wand. “Arms up.”

“How’s it going tonight?”

“Good. No phone, right?”

“Yeah, no, I left it in my car. Tiffany texted me the rules.”

Kelvin tried not to fidget as he was being scanned. He had no reason to worry, or so he told himself.

Markus spotted the CD in his pocket and tapped it with the wand. “What’s that?”

“Aja’s CD,” he said with some hesitation, “Is she in there?”

“Yeah. You looking for another autograph?”

“I was thinking about it. Is that allowed?”

He chuckled, “Maybe, depends on her night.”

Although it sounded like a joke, Kelvin knew not to laugh. Aja didn’t sign autographs like Aliyah did.

After Markus scanned him, he stepped aside to let him through. The doors rumbled in front of him. The dark oak matched her gate and had the letters A and G carved into them. Kelvin swore he was dreaming.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Who?” Markus grunted, “Aja or Li?”

“Aliyah.”

“Kitchen, I think. Back left.”

Kelvin thanked him then grabbed the handle. It was a heavy door. Markus smirked, wishing him good luck before it shut.

The entrance hall stunned unlike any picture he’d ever seen. The room captured the theme of the house with rich timber in the walls, the banisters, and the rafters above. Along the second floor, a hallway wrapped around the room. A chandelier hung in the middle. The banister shined under the light.

Kelvin almost removed his shoes. Aliyah had a sculpture of a rhinoceros in one corner, a vibrant textile of red and gold in another. A large rug lay on the floor, patterned with lines, zigzags, and spirals. She wasn’t a collector or anything, but she owned a few pieces of art.

A voice in the next room caught his attention. He knew it from the music. Her harsh tone cut through the air like a bandsaw.

He rushed over, stumbling into a living room. The wood floor gave way to carpet and tripped him. People drank and took shots at the bar in the back. Some mingled by the windows. Some admired the record collection on the opposite wall. Shelves stretched for the length of the room. The rest gathered in the middle, sitting on couches, loveseats, or the floor.

The artist, Aja Je, stood in the center. For her, it was a small audience. The speakers rumbled with her latest hit: This Is Me. She rapped the second verse as it came on. Kelvin stopped in the doorway to watch. It was Imani’s favorite song.

“I’m that bitch with the cornrows. Five-six, plus ‘bout four toes. A ripped chick with thick lips who spits it like whores don’t. You think that you tapping this? Prick, I ain’t Morse code. This sister’s a sprinter that’ll ditch you on a short note. Lord knows I’ve worked hard. My arms show the burn marks. Was torn from my home before I could spell foreclosed. The hits didn’t quit till I hit back with more blows— hit back with more flow, I left them with sore throats. It’s funny, they said that my smile was born broke. That gap tooth and snaggle ain’t broken no more, though!”

The crowd clapped and laughed. Aja rarely smiled, but at the end, she beamed for her audience. She grew up with really bad teeth. When she moved to L.A. the first thing she bought was a new set.

Kelvin circled the crowd, taking out her CD. The marker fumbled in his hand. Everybody was older than he was. They were all better dressed, too.

“Excuse me, Aja Je?” He held out the case and waited for her to notice. “Can I have your autograph?”

She jeered, eyeing him up and down. “What is this? They letting in fans now?”

“Maybe one.”

Wrong answer. She stepped in front of him so fast he flinched. Her platform boots gave her an inch. They stood nose to nose. Her breath smelled of whiskey and lemonade.

“Nah, I’m serious. How’d you get in?”

“Aliyah invited me.”

“Aliyah?” she repeated, like it annoyed her. “You’re saying Boss Babe invited your corny ass?”

She popped his collar for emphasis. People laughed. So did he.

“Boss Babe was a good show,” he said, “I was sad it only got one season.”

Aja grabbed his arm and yanked him closer. “Shut up, Stalker. Do you think I’m joking?” Without letting go, she turned to the room. “Yo, anyone know where Li is?”

“Kitchen,” a woman at the bar hollered, “Just saw her.”

Aja stormed out immediately, dragging him by the armpit. Everybody got out of her way.

In the hall, the lights flickered like candles. Aja’s music continued to play as she dragged him through the house. Her boots thudded on the hardwood. They passed a bathroom, a gym, a home theater. Kelvin simply hobbled along with a grin.

“Thanks for this, by the way. I would’ve gotten lost by myself.”

“Shut up!”

Down the hall, the kitchen bustled with people preparing for dinner. Aliyah was serving lamb skewers and vegan kebabs. Jamal worked the stoves, grilling a variety of meats and vegetables. His helpers bounced around behind him. Granite countertops lined the room with a mess of cutting boards and mixing bowls on them. A large island split the kitchen into two halves. Jamal and his team cooked on the inside while Aliyah set up on the outside. Dozens of skewers lay across the counter.

Once Aja stormed in, she pulled Kelvin beside her, holding him for everybody to see. He took one look at Aliyah and found himself starstruck again. She took one look at him and rolled her eyes. With her hair pulled back, she made an incredibly cute chef. She wore a plain T-shirt and jeans but had a frilly apron over it.

“Yo, Li,” Aja said, “Do you know this fool?”

“I do,” she said, putting her skewers down then wiping off her hands, “He’s my guest, the one I told you about.”

Aja cursed under her breath. Her grip tightened on his arm. She scowled at herself before letting go.

Kelvin fixed his collar then patted down his shirt. He’d been roughed up worse than that. Afterward, he and Aliyah exchanged looks that spoke across the room.

“You alright?”

“Absolutely.”

Aja scoffed, leaving as they smiled at each other. She didn’t sign his CD or give either of them an apology. Kelvin barely realized it in time.

“What about that autograph?” he shouted.

Aja waved it off, disappearing into the hallway. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll battle you for it.”

He surprised himself saying it. The kitchen went quiet. The doorway remained empty for a moment. The only sound was the meat and vegetables sizzling on the skillets. Aja swung back into view a second later.

“Boy, are you talking rap?” On one leg, she leaned against the doorway and folded her arms. “Yo, Li, is this fool serious?”

Kelvin stepped between them. “Hell yeah, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be? All I want is an autograph. You wouldn’t turn down a battle for something as small as that, would you?”

He pointed to the ceiling. Lucky for him, Aja’s song was still playing. The theme was about how she never backed down. A few people snickered. That included Aliyah. Aja puckered her lips like the coincidence tickled.

“Fine,” she said, pushing out of the doorway, “We’ll do it later, though. I ain’t partied enough yet.”

She left with another wave. It wasn’t a polite gesture. Kelvin exhaled afterward. The adrenaline refused to wear off. He brushed his hair aside before facing Aliyah.

“Well, well,” she said, “Already getting into trouble, I see.”

“You know me.”

“Oh, but I really don’t.”

While he chuckled, the kitchen resumed making dinner. He tried not to stare when she took off her apron. That was Rule Number Three: no ogling.

“You hungry?” she asked, grabbing a couple skewers off the counter, “Maybe we could take some to go, check out the house?”

His stomach growled. “That sounds awesome. This place is incredible.”