“Stassi,” Charlie warned. She didn’t like to be pushed. “I think I’m going to head out. You coming?”
“I’ve got to stay until the end, make sure this gets wrapped up correctly, but go ahead, girl. I can call an Uber,” Stassi said.
“I’ll have a driver get you where you got to go,” Day interjected, as he glanced at Stassi for a second before shifting his focus back to the conversation taking place at the table. The atmosphere was loud. Dynasty Music Group was corporate, but it had been built up by two men from the streets, so the showcase was the hottest ticket in town. If you were somebody you were present.
“Call me when you make it home,” Stassi said. “You going to Mommy and Daddy’s anniversary dinner, right?”
“Hmm… Do I have to?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, you have to,” Stassi said.
Charlie nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
She pulled away and snuck through the crowd, choosing to go out of a side door instead of chancing running into Demi.
She dug through her handbag for the ticket to her car and then stepped out into the night.
“You keep it safe?” she joked with the same valet attendant who had greeted her hours ago.
“Safest in the lot, but you’ll have to see Mr. Sky about the keys. He took them, ma’am,” the man said.
“Wait, who? Who is Mr. Sky and why does he have my car keys?” she asked.
“Demitrius Sky. The owner of Dynasty Music Group, ma’am. He instructed me to leave the key with him and he would get them to you,” the man said.
Charlie saw red. “This nigga...” She pulled out her phone and dialed his number only to be sent to voicemail. Even her house key was on that keyring. She couldn’t even get inside her house until he returned it. Before she could even open her text messages, his name popped onto her screen.
DEMI
Room 7070
CHARLIE
Bring me my key, Demi. I’m not coming to your room.
Charlie saw bubbles and then nothing. He wasn’t responding and she was pretty sure he wasn’t delivering her key either. She was breathing fire as she stormed back inside, bypassing the showcase ballroom, and heading toward the main part of the hotel. As she took the elevator to the 7thfloor, she wondered if she should have made him come to her. The bathroom. His hands around her neck. It all flashed through her mind, putting a pit in her stomach that was so vast it felt like it might suck her inside out. His gravitational pull was too strong. He was like ablack hole and Charlie needed to keep her universe intact. When she got to the room the door was propped open by the security bar and she pushed inside. Demi sat on the couch, leaned over, legs planted on the ground, hands rubbing together like he was putting a play together in his head. Maybe he was. Maybe he was plotting on how to get her to drop her attitude. It wasn’t happening. He had gotten ghost on her so fuck it, she was going to catch the hint and disappear too. She wasn’t into chasing. Not after everything she had been through. If she had to beg a nigga for his time, she didn’t want it.
“Where are my keys, Demi?” she asked, holding open the door.
“You ain’t getting the keys to that raggedy-ass car until I say so, so close the door,” he said.
“You drive me, Demitrius,” she said, lifting her hands up in mid-air like she wanted to choke him while gritting her teeth.
He chuckled. “Demitrius?”
“Nigga, I know your name. I Googled your whole life after we fucked,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Demi wondered how much she had uncovered. Did she know the true reason why he had gone M.I.A? He knew she didn’t. His family wasn’t online. Not on his social media, not mentioned in any interview. He moved that way for good reason — in case his past ever came looking for him. He felt like shit because he was relieved in this moment, relieved that his songbird didn’t know what he was leaving out.
“You know? After you laid in my bed, after you were between my legs, in my shower, eating my fucking food. You might have forgot since you clearly ain’t thought about me since.”
“I swear you be talking hella shit, Bird,” Demi said, blowing a breath of frustration out his mouth and leaning back on the couch, kicking one Lebron sneaker out as he rubbed the top of his head. “You don’t know shit about shit.”
“And I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to be here. Give. Me. My. Keys.” Her tone was lethal. Charlie wasn’t playing and he had already shown her that he was full of games.
“I want you to be here. I ain’t supposed to want you, Bird, but I want you,” he said. He sounded tortured and the pain she heard in him brought her resentment down a notch.
“If this was a week ago, I would have asked you why you haven’t called, but after three weeks of staring at my phone wondering what the fuck happened that turned me into a notch on yet another nigga’s belt, I don’t even care. I can’t care about what you want. It’s about what I want, and I want consistency. You’re not consistent. Fuck you,” she said.
