“So, where are you from? You said not around here, so where?” Charlie asked.
“Cali raised me; the D pays me, though, so I’m around that way for now. I’m just in Flint handling some business,” he said.
“You look like you’re too good for us Flint folk. Giving off real big energy, Demi,” she said, chuckling, eyes sparkling in a way he didn’t realize dark eyes could. They were so dark they were almost black. They sparkled like she was always on the verge of crying, only her smile told him she wasn’t. Emotion just lived in her. It filled her home so much so that she expressed it through painting and crystals and shit. He wondered why she was so full-on feelings and if they were good ones or bad.
“Say, man, you wild,” Demi answered, blushing. Demi didn’t smile but the nigga was showing teeth as he chuckled at her.
“To the big business that lured you to town. Lucky me,” she said, holding up her glass. He tapped hers.
“If I knew Flint made ‘em like you, I would have come sooner,” he answered.
“Oh, that’s good. That one right there is the one, my nigga!” she laughed as she sipped her drink. He laughed. It felt so foreign. Demitrius Sky was deadly. It was known that life didn’t live in him. It ended in his presence, but she was pulling his baritone out of his closet and filling the air with it like he didn’t have skeletons in there with it. Who the fuck was this girl?
He sipped his drink. “Did you always want to be a singer?” he asked.
“Who said I wanted to be a singer? I sing. It’s in me, not on me. I can’t wish to be that because I’m already that. I’ve been a singer since I was a kid. I just love it. Love hearing a song that describesexactly how I feel and making it my own. I don’t give a fuck about nobody else feeling it or liking it. Attention is never the goal.”
He nodded. “That’s real shit. Most women crave that shit. Attention.”
“I’m not most women,” she said, taking another sip.
“I believe that,” he said, nodding and loosening up as he drank too. The song played in the background. He found it odd that it was on repeat, but it was her house. House rules applied. If she wanted to listen to it on a loop, then that would be the soundtrack for the night.
“Even if you didn’t, it would still be true,” she said, shrugging.
Demi’s dick jumped. She was so sure of herself. The confidence was phenomenal. It wasn’t just a stage persona. It poured out of her.
“What do you do? What’s your passion?” she asked.
“I get by,” he said.
“In other words, mind my business. Noted,” she said. He wasn’t a giver of information. He made people earn it, but after the way she had dug deep with her reply, he felt like he was robbing her. Demi had walls. Rules. Lots of them. Letting people in wasn’t something he did often but he could tell she was offended.
“I made some money in the streets, invested it in a few businesses. One of which is a record label. I’m a silent partner in Dynasty Music Group,” he said.
“Dynasty Music?” she questioned in shock. “You own it?”
“It ain’t a big deal. Just an investment, but I know some people who would love to get they hands on a voice like yours. You ain’t on no autotune shit, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said.
“Am I?” she asked, genuinely stunned at his description.
“You questioning it?” he asked, snickering.
“I mean, I’ve just never heard anybody say it like that,” she whispered. “I’m not like… normal. Niggas like you usually seethe girls with the man-made bodies, the lace fronts. Me and my little locs ain’t pulling nothing. I’m legit the awkward black girl. I like my weed, my plants are my best friends and my books. I love a good book. Niggas don’t be checking for girls like me.”
Demi licked his lips. If only she knew the way her entire aura pulled at his dick. His manhood was begging him to take her down. She was stunning. Her skin glowed in a way he had never seen. She was luminating from her hair to her nude toes. His attraction to her was more organic than any bad bitch had ever been able to produce.
“Sound like peace to me, but no lie, you on that stage is masterful. You don’t got to do nothing else. No dancing. No fucking naked-ass costumes and shit. No backup. Just sing. That shit transported me to a whole ‘nother world,” he admitted. “Ain’t nothing awkward about that shit.”
She was breathless at the way he spoke about her. There was appreciation in his tone, like he had discovered a piece of art that moved his insides around.
“So, if you want to sing, like for real, I can make a call,” he said.
“I don’t want that, but thank you,” she answered.
He nodded and lifted out of his seat a bit to go into his back pocket. He pulled out a card. “If you ever change your mind.”
She took it and placed it on her windowsill.
