The smile on his face disappeared for a second. “Ms. Koko?” he blurted, and my eyebrows pulled together.
“You know me?” I asked, and the guard looked caught off guard.
“Know you?” His grin broadened. “Man, me and my people owe y’all our lives. If y’all hadn’t helped my family keep this place afloat after my older brother got killed, this club would’ve been shut down years ago. My family is forever grateful.”
The other guard walked over to us, smiling in disbelief. “Word around the city was you got hurt bad,” he said. “Ain’t nobody seen you in months.”
“I been lying low,” I answered carefully.
“That’s the best thing going,” the first guard replied. “Still good seeing you back outside though.”
Something about the sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.
“And Booda?” the second guard asked. “He still around?”
“Yeah,” I answered automatically.
The guards exchanged a quick look before nodding.
“Aight then,” the first one said, stepping aside. “Y’all be safe in there.”
Giani slid her arm through mine smoothly before leading me toward the entrance. “You see? I told you that people been asking about y’all.”
The club swallowed us whole the second we stepped through the doors. Lights flashed across packed bodies moving shoulder to shoulder beneath thick clouds of smoke while bass rattled my chest, throwing my heartbeat off rhythm.
But even inside, I still caught people looking.
A bartender paused mid-conversation when we walked past, and a man near the bar lifted his chin at me in acknowledgment before whispering something to his friend. Even the waitress who guided us upstairs toward VIP stared a second too long before smiling warmly.
“It’s good seeing you again,” she said casually, and I flashed her a tight smile.
“It’s good seeing you too,” I said, though I didn’t remember her face from a can of paint.
She laughed. “Girl, you don’t have to pretend. I know you probably don’t remember me.”
I didn’t, but I didn’t plan to admit it out loud. I’d already shown my hand once tonight. That was enough.
Giani’s section sat high enough above the crowd that I could see almost the entire club from where we were. Plush booths wrapped around glossy black tables while girls in tight dresses laughed over hookah smoke and half-empty glasses. The music blasted slightly lower up there, but the bass still traveled through the floor beneath my heels every time the song changed.
A few girls on the other side of the booth scrolled through their phones and took pictures, while another girl applied lip gloss using her phone's camera. As soon as we walked up, everyone stopped what they were doing, and one of the girls’ mouths dropped open.
“Bitch,” she breathed, looking directly at me. “Ain’t no fucking way.”
Giani rolled her eyes. “Can y’all please stop acting like this girl came back from the dead?”
The table went quiet for half a second.
Nobody laughed.
Something about that made my stomach feel strange.
The girl who’d spoken was staring at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I recognized the look. It was the same one people gave me at the diner, at the pharmacy, and at the barbecue. Recognition mixed with something else. Something that felt like relief or maybe fear, depending on who was doing the looking.
“What?” I asked, my voice steady even though my pulse had picked up.
“Nothing,” the girl said quickly, exchanging glances with her friends. “Just good to see you out and about.”
Giani squeezed my hand before letting it go and sliding into the booth. I followed, positioning myself so I could see the entrance and most of the club floor. Old habits, even if I couldn’t remember forming them.
