“So you’re really leaving,” Shadow said from the driver’s seat, cutting her eyes at Kennedi through the rearview mirror. “Again?”
“It’s a job, Shadow. A really good one, so don’t do that.”
“Mhmm. And it has nothing to do with a certain pistol-toting, six-foot-three nigga with locs?”
“Not a thing.”
“Girl, you are so full of shit your eyes are turning brown.” Isha laughed from the passenger seat.
Carmen gave her that look. The one who saw through everything. Kennedi loved and hated that look in equal measure.
“Can we just have a good time tonight? Please? I leave on Tuesday. This is supposed to be fun, not a lecture and disappointment.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Shadow said, flipping her hair. “And... word is my future husband gon be there tonight.”
“You and this obsession with Roderick,” Kennedi muttered.
“Bitch, okay, but you’ve seen him. That’s my husband. I can feel it.”
“Where are we even going?” Kennedi asked, already knowing she’d lost the argument about staying home an hour ago.
“Club Velvet,” Carmen said. “Grand reopening. Isha’s brother got us on the list. It’s his spot with Lesley Grimson.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that the VIP section is ours. Strong drinks. Ass shaking. This is the last girls’ night before you abandon us for the mountains,” Shadow added. “And before you say you’re not staying out late?—”
“I’m not staying out late. I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”
“That’s what you think,” they chorused.
Kennedi was in the back seat of Shadow’s Nissan Pathfinder in a black dress with the sides cut out. Her boho braids flowed down her back, and Carmen’s makeup skills had her looking like the version of herself she forgot existed.
By the time they pulled up to Club Velvet, the line was wrapped around the building, bass moving through the brick walls like a pulse. Kennedi felt the familiar rush of anticipation building in her chest. She needed this.
Isha’s brother, Trey, appeared at the side entrance. “Y’all look good,” he said, hugging each of them. “VIP’s upstairs. And, uh...” He glanced at Kennedi. “Don’t be on that reporter shit in here. Mind your business tonight.”
“What does that mean?” she called after him, offended, but he was already gone.
Inside was packed with Coupeville’s finest and messiest. Young professionals, party girls snapping selfies, hood niggas posted by the bar. Bass thumped so hard she felt it in her ribs, purple and gold lights flashing across the crowd. Hookah smoke curled through the air, sweet and heavy.
This wasn’t her scene anymore, but she could appreciate it.
They made their way upstairs to VIP. Bottles of champagne waited on ice. The view of the dance floor below was perfect for people-watching.
“To Kennedi,” Shadow raised her glass after they’d all filled up, “for being brave enough to chase another opportunity, even though she’s leaving us again, we are still proud.”
“I always come back,” Kennedi said softly.
“Yeah.” Carmen clinked her glass against Kennedi's. “Your running is almost up.”
“Fuck all that sad shit,” Shadow said, standing. They let the music amp them up. Wound their hips, rapped lyrics, laughed louder than they had in weeks. Food arrived at the section courtesy of Trey, and they raised their glasses in his direction.
The remix to “Friend Do” by Bellygang Kushington dropped, and chaos followed, the girls going wild. Kennedi moved too, free and reckless.
“I’m a real player, I ain’t fuckin’ on nothin’ but a ten,” she mouthed along, grinning. She had her degrees, but she could also be trapped out.
She laughed, breathless, waving a hand. “I’m going to get some air.” The section was still lit, bottles popping, but the club was filling fast, and the walls felt closer by the second. She needed space.
