“This it?” I asked, trying not to sound… not scared or cautious.
He grinned. “Don’t do that. Trust me.”
There were cars backed into every spot in the gravel lot. A few men stood outside in a loose circle, laughing, and smoking. It looked hood and dangerous.
He got out first and walked around to open my door. He held his hand out, and when I stepped down, he laced his fingers through mine.
That small gesture meant a lot.Like, okay. I’m not alone. I don’t have to figure out the room. I don’t have to perform. He’ll carry it.
One of the older men from the smoking circle looked up.
“Stacks!”
They dapped each other up and Stacks pulled me gently forward.
“This my girl, LoLo,” he said casually, like the nickname wasn’t crazy. “I heard the family doing it up today so I had to come show her a good time.”
The older man grinned at me. “Well welcome to the Sugar Shack, LoLo.”
Sugar Shack. The name made me laugh because it sounded like somewhere your grandma used to sneak into in the seventies.
Stacks kept my hand in his as we walked inside.
The door creaked open and the sound hit me first. Old school R&B pouring out of speakers that had probably been mounted there since 1998. The bass thumped.
The space was small, maybe thirty people max if everybody squeezed in. A bar lined the left wall with mismatched stools. A pool table sat dead center like it was the crown jewel of the room. Christmas lights were strung along the ceiling beams even though it wasn’t Christmas.
“STACKS!” someone yelled from the bar.
He squeezed my hand.
“Relax,” he whispered.
“I am relaxed,” I lied.
Before he could respond, another older man stumbled over.
“Boy! You finally brought somebody else in here!” he slurred, wrapping Stacks in a sideways hug.
Stacks laughed. “Unc, chill.”
The man turned to me. “You’re so pretty. Don’t let him embarrass you.”
I burst out laughing. “He embarrasses you often?” I asked.
“Every chance he can get.”
The music switched to Frankie Beverly & Maze, and suddenly the entire place started singing like they were in somebody’s living room.
A woman behind the bar slid me a cup without even asking my age. “If you’re with him, I know you’re good.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something that’ll make you feel good.” She winked.
Stacks leaned down. “Sip slow. Trust me.”
I took a cautious sip.
