“Your girlfriend’s a bitch, by the way,” she snapped.
“That statement is only half true,” he replied.
“Her sitting at the table shitting all over my company is the epitome of being a bitch.”
“That part is fact. She ain’t my girl, tho’,” Day answered.
She didn’t know why that news softened her. He disarmed her with the truth.
“Is that a smile?” Day asked, lifting her chin with one finger.
“No, nigga, the corners of my mouth have a mind of their own. I’m still mean-mugging you in my head,” Stassi answered.
Day’s interest in her was flattering because she knew that he didn’t lend it easily. He was known for his brooding temperament. He was nominated as music’s most eligible bachelor, but also known as one of the hardest to catch. He played the field. Several blogs had caught him out with different women. He seemed to have a different flavor for each day of the week, but they never caught him smiling. Half the time, Day seemed disinterested in the women he chose, letting them follow behind with his entourage as he kept his head low, face normally concealed under a hat to evade the paparazzi. He had made aconscious effort to find her, to check on her and she couldn’t help but feel special, even if only in this moment.
“Yeah, okay,” he answered. “This shit stale ain’t it?” He asked, looking over his shoulder, down the hall toward the noise of the party.
“A little bit,” Stassi agreed. “I never thought I’d see the day when Charlie was hosting a dinner party for bitches she doesn’t even like.”
“Everybody at that table is essential to Demi. Higher-ups at the label and muscle in other areas. She’s his queen now, so she has to be introduced. His people are now her people. They got to know who she is to him when she walks into the room. It’ll save a lot of lives.”
“You make this shit sound like Death Row,” she teased.
“Suge had the right idea, the wrong intent, though. We don’t want to control our artists. We don’t want to manipulate them for our profit. We want to influence the world,” Day said. “Our music has the power to do that. Your sister’s music.”
“You believe that, don’t you?” Stassi asked.
“Day!” The voice coming down the hall made Day slide inside the bathroom. Stassi laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Same thang you doing! Avoiding them mu’fuckas,” he said.
She hollered, and he enjoyed her amusement, planting his face in the nook of her neck until they both found themselves engulfed in fits of laughter.
“Day!” The voice was closer, and Stassi shushed him, putting her finger to his lips as she stifled herself.
It was the bougie fake girlfriend, coming in search of him, and Stassi almost wanted to let her find them. Fearing that the interruption would kill the vibe, she remained silent until the coast was clear. It wasn’t until the voice passed did they burst into laughter again.
“I mean, how many times is she gonna call your name before she realizes you don’t want to be found?” Stassi snickered.
“What you think about shaking this shit?” Day asked.
“Like together?” She didn’t know why she was surprised. Men like Day lived to conquer the room. She was in the room on this particular night; she posed a challenge… why the fuck not?
“I can’t leave her here with the vultures circling,” Stassi said. Some regret lived in her voice because she wanted to. She desperately needed to get out of there.
“It don’t surprise me that this isn’t your scene. It’s a little refreshing, being around somebody who don’t love the lifestyle,” he admitted. “Cuz a nigga bored as fuck with the same old, same old,” Day said.
“So why you keep surrounding yourself with the same old, same old?” Stassi challenged.
“You right,” Day admitted. “Might have to switch shit up,” he answered. The tension in the half bathroom was potent, it choked her. She felt the lump in her throat as she swallowed. His eyes overindulged in her as he followed the spit down her throat and then lower, admiring her cleavage before drifting back to her eyes. “When your taste elevates, your company got to as well.”
“I learned that in school,” she replied.
The wrinkles on his face showed his confusion.
“Maturing your palate will never let you settle for mediocre shit again,” she continued.
He nodded as if he had full understanding, as if she had placed sorbet on his tongue to prepare him for the next course. His stare always lingered a moment too long; a second past courteous, just enough time to let her know he foresaw his lips being wrapped around her clit one day. It throbbed in anticipation, just off the thought alone because, well… everywoman between the ages of 25 and 40 had read the blogs and seen the dick pic that had circulated about a year ago.
