“Y’all are wild,” I said, laughing into my glass. “But thanks for inviting me. I needed to get out the house.”
“I’m shocked you actually came,” Jasmine said. “I know with…whatever work you do, you keep to yourself. But we get it,” she added, motioning between her and Monica. “You’ve been through some shit.”
They didn’t know the half of it. I wasn’t used to sympathy from anyone. I smiled and took another sip of champagne before I could get in my head about it.
Two bottles in, and I was loosening up. Jasmine and I chatted while Monica and Rochelle had a twerk-off to Future’sFreak Hoe. Drea kept throwing me looks every so often like she wanted to say something to me but decided against it.
From my periphery, I saw two men walking up to our section. They were cute. The taller one was brown-skinned with locs falling over his shoulder, chiseled jaw, and dark brown eyes that were a little red—he’d been smoking. His friend was caramel-skinned with a curly fade and a dimple I’m sure allowed him to get away with murder. He was a pretty boy, but all I saw was an evil light-skinned nigga.
“Y’all mind if we join you?” the light-skinned one asked, already reaching for the rope.
These two were trying to give rich nigga and failing. Their outfits were nice enough, but the watches gave it away. A Fossil on one, a Seiko on the other. Not cheap, but not the AP or Pateks that Cash’s crew usually wore. These two were the type of niggas who came to the club hoping their looks and charm would get somebody else’s bottle in their hands.
Monica screwed up her face. “We do, actually.”
“Come on, shorty. Y’all got hella space and we just tryna vibe?—”
“It’s not corny for two grown ass men to be begging women to sit in their section?” Drea said, cutting him off.
“We’re not begging.” His eyes slid to me. “Lemme holla at you. I like your look, shorty. All sexy and mysterious.”
Jasmine snorted beside me.
I stared at him. “You should find something safe to do, love.”
“Or what?” He smiled and leaned over the rope like I was flirting.
I sighed. This was the other thing I forgot about going out—the utter audacity of these niggas. I reached over and grabbed his wrist, bending back at an angle that had him sucking air through his teeth.
“What the—” He grabbed his wrist and stepped back fast.
“She told you to find something safe to do,” Jasmine sang, sipping her club soda.
His friend’s jaw tightened, and I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to do something stupid on his boy’s behalf.
“Stuck-up, bitches,” he muttered and steered his friend downstairs back to the dance floor.
I shook my head and leaned back against the couch. “This is why Cash wants you to have a security detail,” I said to Jasmine.
“They were harmless,” she said. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Monica has a pistol in her purse.”
“I absolutely do,” Monica said.
I laughed. Cash and Jelani would absolutely flip shit if they knew what just happened.
Jasmine stood and tugged my hand. “Come dance with me before my back starts screaming.”
“Oh, I don’t?—”
“Bitch,” she drawled. “You used to work at Stilettos, don’t act shy like you don’t know how to shake some ass.”
“The strip club?” Drea asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I bit the inside of my cheek and let Jasmine lead me to the floor. We weaved through the crowd, hand in hand until we found a little clearing. I laughed watching her try to throw it back with that belly in the way.
She grabbed my hands. “C’mon, show me some of them stripper moves,” she yelled over the music.
I was doing a little two-step and keeping an eye on my surroundings, but I finally gave in, rolling my hips and popping my ass.
