Kay’Lo threw on black leather pants that fit him just right, not tight, just fly. He wore a short-sleeved leather button-up, open in the front, showin off that chest and them tattoos that ran down his stomach. He added his chain, slid on his shades, and that was it. The man looked like sin on vacation.
We pulled up to the club around midnight, the one with the glowin’ blue lights and palm trees wrapped in white. The bass hit before we even got out the car, and when we walked in, heads turned. Kay’Lo had that presence that made people move without him sayin’ a word. Security greeted him like they alreadyknew who he was. The DJ was playin’ all the right songs, the crowd was loose, and the drinks was strong.
We had our own section near the DJ booth, couches draped in black velvet, and bottles lined up on ice. Kay’Lo sat back with his legs spread, his blunt in one hand, and I climbed right between them with my back against his chest. The lights was dim, the smoke hung low, and the vibe was pure luxury. I started movin’ slow to the music, rollin’ my hips against him while he smoked and watched me with that cool smirk.
He was calm, quiet and just vibin’. His hand rested on my thigh while the other held the blunt. Every now and then, he’d smack my ass or whisper somethin’ slick in my ear that made me laugh. We wasn’t thinkin’ about nothin’ but each other. He was cool, and I loved seein’ him like this. He was unbothered and peaceful.
Then the waitress came over.
She tapped my shoulder with a smile and held out a drink. I turned around and looked at it, confused. “What’s this?”
“Compliments of someone in the club,” she said politely.
Before I could even respond, Kay’Lo leaned up a lil’, his hand still on my leg. “Who?”
The waitress pointed toward a section across the room where a group of niggas was sittin’. One of ‘em, a tall nigga with locs and too much confidence, threw up a salute like he was proud of himself.
I froze. Kay’Lo didn’t move at first, but I knew what was brewin’ behind them damn shades. His calm wasn’t gone, but it shifted. I could feel that tension before it even showed.
“Kay’Lo, it ain’t nothin’ baby,” I said quick, my voice soft, tryna keep it light. “He probably just drunk or playin’.”
He leaned back again but the air around him changed. “Send it back,” he said simply.
I nodded, tryna play it cool, and told the waitress, “We appreciate it, but we don’t want it. You can take it back.”
She nodded and walked away, but not even two minutes later, she came back with a whole bottle.
“This was sent over instead,” she said nervously.
I looked at the bottle and then back at Kay’Lo. His jaw was tight. I ain’t even have to see his eyes to know he was done.
“Kay’Lo,” I whispered, grabbin’ his hand. “Please, baby. Don’t.”
He ain’t answer me. He just stood up slow, slid his blunt between his lips, and walked out the section like he had a mission.
“Kay’Lo,” I hissed, trailin’ right behind him.
The club had gone quiet enough for people to notice. The niggas in the other section saw him comin’. The one with the locs sat back like he wasn’t worried. Kay’Lo walked right up to him, cool but cold, his tone low and clear.
“Don’t send my wife no fuckin’ drinks,” he said, his eyes hidden behind his shades.
The nigga tried to play it off, liftin’ his hands like it wasn’t deep. “Aye bruh, I ain’t mean nothin’ by it. It was just a drink.”
Kay’Lo leaned in closer, his voice even deeper. “You think I’m one of them niggas you can play with? I don’t give a fuck what you meant. I said don’t do it.”
The tension spread like heat. The rest of the group shifted in their seats, tryna figure out if they needed to move or stay chill. Then one of them, a smaller but loud ass nigga, looked around and said, “So what we doin’, bruh? You came over here like you tryna get active.”
Kay’Lo’s head tilted a lil’. “You talkin’ too much little ass nigga,” he said, his tone calm as hell. “I just told ya boy one thing, and now you feel brave. You can TRY to get active if you want to.”
The other dude stood up, his chest puffed, but before it could go further, security rushed in. Two big guards stepped between them, tryna calm the situation.
“Let’s keep it peaceful, gentlemen,” one said, reachin’ out.
Kay’Lo didn’t swing or yell. He just stood there lookin’ at the nigga with locs like he was studyin’ him, and like he’d already decided what needed to be done. Then, without a word, he turned around, grabbed my hand, and walked out the club.
For a second, I thought that was it. My heart was racin’, but I was glad he ain’t let it go too far. We walked through the parkin’ lot, my hand still in his, and the sound of music faint behind us. When we got to the car, he opened the door for me, calm, quiet, collected.
I sat down, still catchin’ my breath, thinkin’ we was about to head home. But when he reached under his seat, my heart dropped.
