“I’m just asking! I feel like a celebrity sometimes, being the best friend and assistant of a rich 30-year-old virgin.”
“Thirty-two-year-old, rich virgin, bitch,” I said, grabbing my bag. “You be doing too much.”
She held her hands up in mock surrender, still smiling.
“A’ight, a’ight. I’m done. I got your dress from the cleaners,” she added. “And your nail appointment is in an hour.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
$$$$$
The Opulence Beauty Bar was playing Summer Walker when I walked in.
Calm vibes. Clean air. Everything perfect.
I sat down, letting my nail tech take my hands without saying much, my mind finally slowing down now that I wasn’t balancing work and conversation.
I had been working nonstop for sixteen years. That’s how long it had been since everything changed, since I had to figure things out without being told what came next.
And somehow…
I did.
Built something. Kept it standing. Kept myself intact.
I glanced down at my hands as she shaped my nails.
Tonight was just a date.
Nothing more.
No pressure. No sex talk.
Just… seeing what made sense.
And if it didn’t, I already knew how to walk away.
V Saint
“I don’t interrupt. I insert myself when it matters.”
Itook my dates to places that made women sit up straighter. Expensive rooms revealed things that cheap ones couldn’t. The right restaurant would tell me how a woman carried herself, how much she drank when she thought she was being cute, how fast she started performing once the attention settled on her.
Tonight, I choseDuo BistroinCalabasas.
Most of the men in the room were dressed like they had something to prove. Jackets. Cufflinks. Tight smiles. I came in wearing all black. Fitted Tom Ford tee. Lightweight Gucci bomber. Black pants. Black loafers to match my jacket. No heavy jewelry tonight, only my gold Rolex.
I wasn’t there for the woman sitting across from me.
She just didn’t know that.
But I made sure she had my attention so she wouldn’t think I was an asshole.
Her name was Camille. Pretty enough. Brown skin. Thick all over. Short. Older but pretended like she was younger. I liked women my age; young girls couldn’t keep up with me. However,this one didn’t know I knew she was lying about her age by three years. Crazy, she didn’t even have to lie.
She had spent the first twenty minutes pretending she wasn’t impressed by being there, then ordered the most expensive tequila on the menu and started leaning into her vowels every time a server walked by.
I had already seen enough, but kept entertaining.
