Damn. That blew up in my face.

My neck gets hot with humiliation. With my cheeks heating to follow that and thankfully, my dark skin kept my poor poker face in place. The page was as embarrassing as I thought it was going to be. It was a song and short story inspired by my mother and nana. We, as listeners, immortalize revolutionary musicians in music for all time. With the first known person at the crossroad blues artist Robert Johnson. Not that shocking that he picked it out. The page was a book tab and labels. The paper's edges worn down as if I read it a thousand times because I did. I was so reminded of them in every word. It was deeply personal, but the best piece of me refused to ever be embarrassed by anything to do with my mother. But something I need to remember was never to play Russian Roulette with Asher.

"If I tell you this story, you're going to think it's dumb."

"Tell me birdy." I squish my nose at the name. It's not the first time he's said that. I didn't mind. He didn't forget my name using some nickname to get around it. Like how Paulie calls people babe. This is a nickname unique to me, but it catches me by surprise.

"A god came to a woman who lost her son. The god said, 'where is the boy that is dedicated to me?' The woman, as if looking through time and space, said with tired eyes. 'He was stolen.'' The god that eats first could not understand the state of things. He went near where the stealers were. He let himself be stolen. The god expected to be taken to a village and find the boy that was dedicated to him."

"That wasn't where the god was taken. His hands were bound in old iron. Long, dark fingers touched his legs that were bound in cold chains. His neck chain to the next in line. He was taken by the stealers by boat. The god could barely lift his head. They were so tightly packed. He who eats first, he who tricks, looks at all the men, women, and babies on the boat. He saw those dedicated to his sister and brother gods, but missing was the boy dedicated to him. His stomach hurt as he ate the moldy bread he was fed."

"The god knew something deep in his soul. He may be a trickster god, but the trick for the first time wasn't on someone else, it was on him. He and his brother and sister gods as their children were spread over the earth without care."

"He gave the people on the boat the only thing he could freely give under the eye of the stealers. His voice sang to them of home. He knocked the beat against the chain, giving them the pieces of the song. But when he tried to give them his name, it was like the words could not float through the chains. The song and the beat sunk into their souls but the names of his brothers and sisters were lost to the sea."

"When the god finally made it to the Newland. He slips from his chains. Freeing those he could, but not able to save many. The god walks this new land searching for the boy, for he was his. Decades passed and still, the god wanders the lands like a ghost. When he tried to speak to the people that were his brothers and sisters, they could not hear him. But the boy, he thought to himself, the boy is mine and will remember."

"One day he came to a white steeple church. The light from the colorful stained glass windows warmed his dark skin. When he looked through the colorful light, he saw his people. He found his lost son. And his lost sons had sons and daughters and they had sons and daughters. The trickster breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that simple the problem in front of him. His brothers' and sisters' dedicated children were all mixed together into something new. His dark hand touched the sun-kissed stained glass window. The preacher with the congregation, then he blesses to end the mass. The trickster smiled toothily."

"The congregation left through the doors of the church. And when the trickster went to talk to them, they could not hear. He touched his neck for the cold iron band, but it was long since gone. The people with noses, lips, and faces like family were mixed together. But they could not hear him or see him. He was a ghost, long since forgotten. The link is broken. He taps the beat and sings to the people. Every last parishioner passed him by without a second glance, walking home. The Tricksters' dissolute eyes is drawn to the backs of each one of his people as desperation caved his heart in."

"The miles of his long journey to finally find them and he was disconnected. Trickster's shoulders hunched in front of the open doors of the church. He didn't know what to do as he felt at that moment that everything was lost. He could feel his power spread so thinly over the world. In places that it had never been before being pushed from all sides. What was he to do now? Would he watch his people forever and they would never hear him? Never know his name again. Tears fell from the trickster. Did he fail his people or did they abandon him?"

"His hand tapped his leg in the comforting beat. It couldn't soothe the trickster's lonely soul. He needed his people." I tap out The Tricksters' beat for Asher. Cigar smoke lifts to the sky through the sunroof. His golden nebula in his gaze locked onto the starry night above him. He hums a nameless song, and I follow his flow as I weave the story around him.

"The Trickster lifted his head and looked into the church. A young boy in the choir practices his guitar. His father, the preacher, says 'no, not like that.' He plays the piece again with a deep gospel style. The boy plays the song again in his own way. The preacher says, 'boy that's the devil's music.' The Tricksters' head tilts to the side. He listened to both versions of the song and it was similar to the one he sang on the ship, but it changed. It wasn't the full song. One played and sang the song completely on one side. While the other sang the song in the middle. It was a similar concept, but not quite the same. 'No, if you're not going to play it right, don't play it at all,' the preacher said to the boy. The boy, in frustration, walked out of the church."

"Well, the old trickster walked into the crossroads, turning on his all too familiar path. The boy found his way onto the crossroads, meeting the trickster there as every road leads to him. When the boy stood in front of the god, the trickster pulled out his guitar and sang him a song. The boy's head nodded along to the song. His hungry eyes gobbled up the cords and shapes he made on his guitar. The Tricksters' eyes widened in surprise. He hears me, he thought. At the end of the song, just before the Tricksters were about to give him a toothy smile, the boy asked, 'are you the devil?' The Tricksters didn't know who the devil was. He tried to tell the boy his name, but the boy couldn't hear. The god looked at his dark hands that cradle the guitar as he extended it to the boy. The boy's hand stopped just before taking the guitar.

"Suspicion line his young features. The trickster's shoulders hunched. The edges of sadness always followed close through his journey through the crossroads. That sadness circled him like wolves these days. The boy looked at the Trickster, tilting his head. He relaxed, then reached for the guitar, taking it from the trickster's hand. Then the boy turned and headed off the crossroads."

"Trickster followed the boy down the dirt road. The sound from the juke joint could be heard all the way down the road. Like a moth to the flame, the boy walked into that juke joint and played the guitar. The song and the beat were like something remembered in a shared dream, but new. A piece that was missing from a hole just out of reach. The audience leans into the boy's song as his fingers dance over the guitar. In the Tricksters' shadow, the boy smiled toothily. But before it could get to the end of the song, the preacher came to retrieve his prodigal son. The preacher made him leave the devil's guitar behind."

"My grandmother told me the story is unfinished. The Trickster has had many meetings with those at the crossroads, but he waits. He waits for the pieces to come together. He waits for us to understand the sound and to finish the song. He waits for us to remember his name."

"If one day you are a music artist on a lonely road. Remember his name." I lean over to Asher whisper into his hear just like my grandmother did for me when I was a child. Against his ear, I say his name. "Eshu," but the name of the god was like a jolt of electricity in Asher's ear. His eyes locked on mine after I said the name. He leans forward but stops. We are held like that, stuck in each other's loop. Then I finish the story, filling the space between us. Closing the gap with words.

"Eshu keeps what is his, even when we don't remember. We are his. And Eshu always eats first." I expected him to laugh when I finished the story. He didn't and a part of me relaxed. In his hand, the smoke lifted from his cigar out of the van roof to the sky.

"It was an interesting story." His fingers tap out the beat that I used during the song. And he sits back in the van's seat. That electric charge was not draining, but passing back and forth in a loop. Growing...

The funny thing was, I felt like he got it. Asher wasn't making fun of me. He really got it.

***

He's not what I expected. We talked, and I didn't take the second page he offered me. It wasn't like we talked about anything profound, but we talked. Rux returns to the car with Asher's luggage. He starts up the van and I lean against Asher's shoulders, looking up at the stars as they streak past. He hums a song without words, and I wrap the sound around it. Shooting through his notes and harmonizing into something that never existed.

The world passes us by as we move through the nearly silent streets of downtown Sacramento. I'm not sure what I was supposed to expect with Asher. I expected the music, but I didn't expect the kindness. He's more than whatever prying report or fan could have put online about him.

Asher takes my hand, turning my palm over, tapping out the beat in the center of my palm. With each tap, it's a ripple that electricity gets bigger. It grows in my center expands like the universe. I don't want to look anywhere but up at the dark star-filled sky in case the spell is broken. Wiggle deeper into his jacket. What would it be like to be with Asher? No, this is just him being nice. Don't get ahead of yourself in the stranger danger, van Sabali.

A/n: I've been doing some soul searching. I am going to start releasing Finding Noah earlier. I simply can't post this one fast enough. Even with the speed posting of 3 or 4 times per week. It is too floody. I want yall to get Noah because I'm asked every day about where's Noah. So, many of you kept reading this new story though. So that means there are spoilers in Finding Noah that are spoilers for The Tour. The good thing though is Noah is a normal post once a week except for sex scenes. It will probably be starting sometime Next Sat or the first Sat next month. The stuff will be really raw though on the edits. I hope you guys are still willing to support both stories. Again this is still being speed posted for the most part though. 

Last parts in regards to this chapter. I'm really feeling it out. I wanted some African diaspora stuff in here badly. I love the story of the man at the crossroads. I'm a bit obsessive about it. This is always going to be in here but it may change. Honestly, a part of me wishes this was a comic. I'd have love to see this drawn up instead of spoken.

Expect edits on this and keep the comments coming. I know I haven't been replying enough. I have been working on a BDSM story and an Erotica LitRPG story.  It's driving me nuts taking up tons of time. I will get on those comments so please keep the stars and the comments coming. Every time you share my story with a friend a fairy has an orgasm. You want fairies to have orgasms. Sharing is caring. 

The song is South African so Zulu. Which is a different pantheon but I loved it to much.

For those wondering about the song and lyrics

UMLILO - DJ Zinhle ft. Mvzzle, Rethabile (cover by Lloyiso)Fire is fire
Umlilo umlilo

Fire is fire
Umlilo umliloIt's been a long time since I saw myself living like this
Kudala ngibona ngiphila kanje

I see myself living like this
Ngibona ngiphila kanje

It is because of his love
Kungenxa yothando lwakhe

Eeeeee
Eeeeee

My eyes are open
Mehlo am avuliwe

My ears are listening
Ndlebe zam zimamele

My mouth is talking to him, talk to him
Mlomo wam uthetha naye thetha nayee

He is the only one
Nguye yedwa

It's been a long time since I saw myself living like this
Kudala ngibona ngiphila kanje

I see myself living like this
Ngibona ngiphila kanje

It is because of his love
Kungenxa yothando lwakhe

Yeeeeeeeeeee
Yeeeyeeeyeyeye

My eyes are open
Mehlo am avuliwe

My ears are listening
Ndlebe zam zimamele

My mouth is talking to him, talk to him
Mlomo wam uthetha naye thetha nayee

He is the only one
Nguye yedwaHe blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

The fire broke out
Wavhuth umlilo

The fire broke out
Wavhuth' umliloHere's the fire, it's burning
Nangu lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire lilo lilo wooh
Lomlilo lilo lilo wooh

Hey, he is (this fire, this fire)
Hayiye yeye (lomlilo lomlilo)

Uuuu
Uuuu

This fire is a fire
Lomlilo lomliloYour love
Thando lwakho

Create magic, it's going to be lame
Ludali milingo, kusukum' iyishosha

And your will, the blind will see
Nentando yakho, abangaboni sebeyobona

I can't prove it to anyone
Mina ngeke ngwazi ukufakazela omuny' umuntu

But your love
Kodwa uthando lwakho

I will tell many people
Ay mina ngzotshela abaningi

Your love
Thando lwakho

Create magic, it's going to be lame
Ludali milingo, kusukum' iyishosha

And your will, the blind will see
Nentando yakho, abangaboni sebeyobona

I can't prove it to anyone
Mina ngeke ngwazi ukufakazela omuny' umuntu

But your love
Kodwa uthando lwakho

I will tell many people
Ay mina ngzotshela abaningiHere's the fire, it's burning
Nangu lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire lilo lilo wooh
Lomlilo lilo lilo wooh

It's not him
Hayiye yeyeHe blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

A fire broke out
Wavuth umlilo

Here is the fire
Nangu lomlilo

He blew up the fire and the flames
Wavhuth' umlilo namalangabi

The fire broke out
Wavhuth umlilo

The fire broke out
Wavhuth' umliloHere's the fire, it's burning
Nangu lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

This fire is burning
Lomlilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo lilo

Hey fire
Haii umlilo

Hey yeah
Haii ye

Hey yeah
Haii ye

Hai, yes, yes, oh
Haii ye ye ye uu ohoh

Fire fire fire
Umlilo umlilo umlilo

Fire is fire
Umlilo umlilo

Hey yeah
Haii ye