I wasn’t a bad dancer, unlike Jude, who was terrible. I also liked dancing occasionally, and I had a feeling I was going to like dancing with Jerrica, although this was probably going to be one of those bad decisions — something else to box away with a warning on the lid.
She didn’t even try and keep space between us, her arms going around my neck, her body pressing up against mine, and she started to move to a beat that was fast enough to make sure we didn’t spend too many seconds too close to each other, because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to hide my body’s response to her.
I turned her around, my arms crossing over her stomach, keeping her moving, feeling her shimmy up and down, her ass pushing into my body a little too much, so I placed my hands on her hips, my fingers grazing against the soft, smooth skin of her exposed stomach.
I was engrossed in the feel of her, the sense of being so intimate even though we were surrounded by people. But right now, there was just the two of us, and for now I was going to enjoy the moment.
I was, until the atmosphere changed.
People on the dance floor parted like they were the Red Sea, a woman I all too easily recognised tearing through them, whatever she was shouting drowned out by the music until she was closer, her hands reaching for Jerrica, and she wasn’t about to hug her.
“Fucking bitch! Stealing him off me — ”
Gayle-Ann Robinson was someone I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with again. If I never saw her again it would be far too soon, or however the adage went. I had no idea why she was here, unless it was because she was still keeping an eye on people who I was connected to, and she knew about my cousin. Right now, seeing her lunging towards Jerrica, hatred oozing from her and a madness I hadn’t seen when we dated, my blood turned cold.
I didn’t ever lift a hand to a woman unless she was lying across my knee with her ass bared and pussy wet and asking me to do it, but I wasn’t going to let Gayle-Ann lay a finger on Nate’s little sister.
I pulled Jerrica behind me, Gayle’s hands smacking straight into my chest. Phone cameras flashed, people were filming, the music continued, and security were there quicker than Jude the media whore to the start of a press conference after he’d scored.
Knowing that this would be all over social media and probably hitting gossip websites before I even left the building, I stretched out my arms, palms outwards and stopped her from getting any closer.
That was all I needed to do. Security bundled her away. Someone shielded Jerrica and me as we left the dance floor, the music now just an annoying drill.
“We’re so sorry about that, Mr Sullivan. Is there anything we can do?”
I figured it was the club manager offering his favours, probably worried about publicity or what I’d pass on through word of mouth.
“Not your fault,” I said, because it wasn’t. “I’d appreciate you making sure none of your employees embellish what happened.”
He nodded. “We’ll prepare a statement for the press. What else can we do?”
I looked at Jerrica, my arm still around her, although she didn’t seem anxious or fazed by what had just happened. She had been uncharacteristically quiet, though.
“Can you arrange a lift? I think we’ll head somewhere closer to home. Great club, though.” It wasn’t a bad place, just not somewhere I’d be returning.
The door to the room opened and Lyle breezed in, words spouting from his mouth at a million miles per hour.
I waited for him to finish, a combination of apologies and excuses with requests for damage limitation all mixed together in a panicked verbal vomit.
“Lyle, it’s cool, man. Just chill.” I lifted my palm — a stop sign — and eventually he did. “She’s an ex-girlfriend from years ago and doesn’t seem to be in the best frame of mind. Maybe you need to get a bit heavy on your drug policies.” Gayle had definitely been on something, which didn’t surprise me. She’d dabbled some when we’d been together and had asked me at one point to make good with her dealer as she owed him money.
That had been one of the reasons why I’d ended it — that and my innocent ass finally worked out that she wasn’t that into what we did in the bedroom. It was a ruse to try and reel me in.
The manager’s face paled.
I knew the score. They were using their own dealers, but somewhere there would be someone who started their own side line. At fifteen, sixteen, Lyle and I had seen how it worked on our own streets, with my mother. Using kids as runners, targeting those who couldn’t stick up for themselves, fear — then there was the other side, that pretty rainbow where chemicals and powder could take you.
I’d stayed clear. There were other highs I was starting to discover by then. Sex. Orgasms. Women.
Lyle didn’t have the same motivation to stay clean. He dabbled. Still did.
“I’ll make sure my staff know what to say if they’re questioned by the media,” the manager reiterated.
I nodded. “There’ll be enough of an explanation on social media by now. But I’d really appreciate a lift. Good tunes, by the way. Your DJ is mint.”
That made the manager smile. Lyle started to speak again. I let him finish but didn’t respond.
“Call you in a few days, Cuz. We’ll meet for lunch or something.”
