Page 4 of SIN Looks Good On Us!

Armani laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "And I ain't complaining either. Now quit asking questions and let’s take a shot. I’m trying to get fucked up ‘cause this nigga gone wanna fuck after the club."

“Girl, you stupid!”

I fixed two shots and we clinked our glasses together, while doing boomerangs for social media.

The DJ kept the music coming while Armani and I danced our asses off in VIP.

"I told you this was gon' be a good night," she yelled over the music, taking another sip of her drink.

I laughed and clinked my glass against hers.

"I ain't gon' lie sis, this section nice."

"I know."

"For free."

"Periodt! ‘Cause if it’s free, then it’s for me."

"You definitely out here working that throat overtime."

"Bitch!" She screeched.

We both cracked up.

After a couple of drinks, we found ourselves out on the dance floor. The music had everybody moving, and for the first time all week, I wasn't thinking about Kyrie. I was just having fun. A few niggas tried their luck throughout the night. One offered to buy us another round. Another asked for my number. One even tried dancing behind me before I stepped away.

"Baby, you ain't gotta be like that," he complained.

"I do, though."

Armani laughed. "I told you she is mean as a rattlesnake."

"I ain't mean. I'm just not interested," I said shrugging my shoulders.

Eventually, they got the hint and moved on to women who actually wanted the attention. That's when the energy inside the club changed. It started with a few heads turning toward the entrance. One by one, more heads started turning. Folks quit dancing, conversations died down, and next thing I knew, the whole damn club was looking toward the entrance.

"What is everybody looking at?"

Armani stretched her neck and stood on her tippy toes but still couldn't see. "I don't know."

Suddenly, a girl near the bar screamed so loud it cut through the music.

"Girl, Jokah in this bitch!"

The entire club erupted. The DJ wasted no time grabbing the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, y'all already know what time it is! Make some muthafuckin’ noise for my dawg, JOKAH!"

The crowd went crazy. My eyes drifted toward the entrance. Jokah stepped inside covered in black from head to toe, moving like he owned the damn club. His fitted black Amiri T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, showing off tattooed arms iced out from his wrist to damn near his forearm. Black Amiri jeans fit him like they were made just for him, paired with fresh black-and-white Dior B30s so clean they looked like they had never touched pavement.

His beard was lined up so damn sharp it looked airbrushed, and his haircut was just as clean. Everything about him looked expensive without him trying too hard. He wasn't rushing or trying to put on a show either. That man walked through the club cool as hell, like all the screaming, staring, and people reaching for him happened every day. He never looked around. His eyes stayed on the view in front of him. The whole damn club was focused on him.

At least ten or twelve dudes moved with him, making it damn near impossible for anybody to get too close. Folks reached out to shake his hand as he walked by, while others gave him a respectful nod. Women damn near threw themselves in his path, calling his name, hoping he would look their way.

Most of them got ignored.

Jokah kept on pushing. He only showed love to a couple of people he seemed to know before heading toward the VIP section. I watched him for another second before taking a sip of my drink.

CHAPTER TWO