I glance at my muddy Jordans and fleece shorts. “I came to pick somebody up.”
That’s what I concluded after Phat’s rambling text. Splashtown was going on ice with Twitter.
“Somebody?” He laughs, gripping my hand in his. “I know that look.”
My red eyes? Flaring nostrils? My eyebrows bunching together?
“Gon’ ‘head, man. Get her up outta here and keep it player. I don’t want you in the news again. You know how these females be.”
“Yeah, a’ight.” I smack my lips. “Where’s the girls’ bathroom?”
“Over there on the left.”
He waves his hand and looks away as another group approaches him. I shake my head and ease through a bunch of girls blocking the way inside. They eye me up and down.
I can’t remember walking into a party alone back in LA but in Houston I’m an expert at existing this way—with the stares, the nudging of the homegirls, and the crooked smiles from dudes that had the same beliefs as that security guard.
The dirt caked restroom sign hangs to the left like he said. I push inside where girls wait in a noisy line for the next open stall.
“Damn...” one of them smiles up at me. “What girl you in here looking for?”
“Me,duh.” Her friend giggles. “I’m a basketball type bitch or whatever. My ex-nigga played for U of H and I liked for him to take the pussy sometimes, too.”
“Girl! Shut up!” They laugh together while my neck burns.
I squeeze past them, skipping the line and staring at the closed stalls with noises coming out of them I can’t un-hear.
I tap my knuckle against the first door.
“Lourdes...” I call out over the music, pulling my phone from my pocket. “Where you at?”
I press her name and listen for a ringtone, a vibration, or her mouth while I keep dragging my knuckles against the stalls, ignoring the chipped paint scraping against my skin. The call rolls to voicemail.
“Okay, fuck it.” I huff, bending down and searching for the black leather slides I picked out and her brown toes Sunny painted bubblegum pink. “You always wanna play games.”
“I wish my man would come looking for me up in the women’s restroom,” another girl sighs from in front of the mirror. “It’s giving obsessed.”
“Girl, no! It’s giving Sagittarius teas. My ex was a Sag. He had a big dick. I love this for her, whoever she is.Period,” the girl next to her chirps as soon as I catch Phat’s round toes curling inside her sandals.
I stop and tap on the door. “Open up.”
“No. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Oop,” one girl drying her hands squeaks.
“Man, stop playing with me and open the fuck—”
The girly chatting in the background stops. I feel them staring at the back of my head while I stare at bubblegum pink toes.
I blow out a breath. “Open the door, Lourdes.”
The lock clinks and the hinges squeak as she pushes it open.
I squeeze through the crack, prepping myself for what a college party can do to my little lady who still thinks she’s Marcus’ fat girl. Pops was right about one thing. Addictions are selfish.
She glares at me from in front of a tissue clogged toilet while the conversation shifts from Sagittarius with big dicks to “which bitch thisHollywoodnigga fucking on the low.”
“I thought I told you I was leaving you the fuck alone,” she croaks out with red eyes. “Go be with that girl.”
