I grinned, silently praying that this dude didn’t look like a gremlin. His grip stayed steady as I bent over and popped my ass like I had Megan Thee Stallion’s knees and not thirty-six-year-old ones.
He pulled me closer, and the hardness pressing against me let me know exactly what time it was. A slow smirk spread across my face, and I rolled my hips a little harder—just to see if he could handle it.
He slid his hand up my back, guiding me upright until I was flush against his chest.
“Damn, girl,” he murmured in my ear.
I bit my lip.Please God, if you love me, let him be fine.‘Cause that voice alone made my stomach flutter.
The DJ transitioned into a slower, more mellow track, breaking me out of my trance. Breathless, I moved his hand off me and started to step away—but he caught my arm.
“Hol’up,” he said, gently pulling me back toward him.
I spun around, ready to tell him to fall back, but my mouth fell open instead.
Cash Banks was standing front of me.
The same man partially responsible for the worst shift of my life.
Very much alive. Very much awake. Shirt open, sweat glistening on his tattooed chest.
“You,” I breathed, yanking my arm free as heat rose up my neck.
His head tilted slightly, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “I know you?”
The man was fine as frog hair, but that cocky look made me want to swing on him.
“Ay, can I get everyone’s attention?” the DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, cutting the music with a record scratch. A spotlight beamed down on me and Cash like we were the main event.
“We’re here to celebrate the big homie, Money Banks!”
The crowd went up—the way everyone was screaming and cheering, you would’ve thought the DJ said Beyoncé just walked in. Cash smiled, tossing up a lazy wave like he was in a pageant.
“Good to see you back on your feet, my boy! And much love for covering the medical bills for everybody that got caught up at the block party!”
More cheers.
So I guess the blogs weren’t lying about everybody loving him.
“BC in the building tonight! Let’s go!”
When the DJ dropped another track, I slipped out of Cash’s grip, snatched Monica’s drunk ass, and hauled us off the dance floor before he could follow.
“What the hell, Jas?” she slurred when I finally stopped near a dark corner by the VIP stairs.
My heart was pounding, and it felt like something was squeezing my chest as I took in short, shallow breaths. Seeing him brought me right back to that night—the screams, the blood, his stupid brother…
“Jasmine!” Monica waved a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I think I just had a mini panic attack.”
“Because ofMoney?” She looked at me like I had two heads. “Girl! This is perfect! You need to go back over there and let him trick off on you. Tell him it’s PTSD compensation.”
“Yo, nurse!”
Our heads whipped around to see a very drunk Jelani stumbling down the stairs.
Of course. Because this night couldn’t get any worse.
