Page 249 of The Wright Man

Bella didn't miss a beat. "When that fool called me 'Lil Sis' but damn near broke his neck watching me walk away."

The room hollered.

"Pervert behavior," Alicia said, reaching for the mic. "Mine was when he said 'it's giving'... in a serious tone. About himself. Talking about, 'It's giving provider.' Sir, it's giving sassy and delusional."

Cackles. Actual cackles.

Tina took the mic next. "When I saw his hairline in person. Had the audacity to be bald-adjacent and a narcissist. That math wasn't mathing."

Kia reached for it next, clearing her throat dramatically. "When he offered to pray over our food at Angelica's birthday dinner—and quoted the lyrics to 'God's Plan.'" She shook her head. "Y'all. He said, 'I only love my bed and my mama, I'm sorry.' Dead serious."

Ms. Reesie jumped in with, "When he brought that bland ass potato salad to the barbecue and got mad at me when I added seasoning."

"Imani?" Tina prompted.

Imani rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "When he said 'You're not like other Black girls' like it was a compliment."

"Oh hell no!" Alicia yelled.

And then it was my turn. I took the mic, held it for a second, and said, "The first time we had sex. I laid there like... that's it? And he hit me with the, 'You okay? That was kinda fire, huh?' Like he did something."

The scream that escaped from Tina shook the damn building.

Bella fell out of her chair.

Alicia fanned her face, wheezing.

And Kia said, "Chile. I knew it. That man gives two-pump preamble."

I sat there glowing from laughter, drunk and flushed with joy, the scent of acetone and citrus sugar scrub filling the air, before we wrapped up and piled back into the van, much drunker than we last left it.

20 minutes later, we pulled up to an expensive looking hookah bar that I'd never been to. The moment we stepped in, I knew we were entirely too fine to be acting the way we were about to act.

Low lighting, plush velvet seating, and that expensive-ass scent only luxury lounges seem to nail—something floral, warm, and a little sinful. Everything glowed in hues of purple and gold, the music thrumming low through the floor. The whole place looked like it had been dipped in lavender and lit from underneath.

Tina led the way like she owned the joint, with her chartreuse bodycon dress that matched nothing and still managed to look expensive. Her heels clicked across the marble tile like a countdown to chaos. She flashed a grin at the host—who looked both terrified and intrigued—and announced, "I have a Private section reserved under 'the baddest bitch in here'... It also may be under Christina Reed."

He nodded quickly and guided us to a velvet-curtained corner tucked near the back, complete with a stripper pole, gold-rimmed hookah bowls, and a glowing sign behind the sofa that read Good Girls Gone Wild As Hell in script. It was giving... unhinged opulence.

Kia immediately clapped her hands. "Bitch. A pole?!?"

Tina winked. "You're welcome."

We slid into the curved booth, and the server brought over a tray of drinks already labeled for us—lavender-colored cocktails with little edible glitter floating inside and rimmed with pink Himalayan salt. Each one came with a little acrylic stirrer that said The Last Fuck I Gave.

Raised our glasses, smiling like drunk idiots, clinking glasses with joyful menace.

"To liberation," Tina declared. "To being seen, and loved, and never again settling for a man who says 'Let me just put the tip in real quick.'"

The girls lost it. Alicia damn near spit her drink on the floor.

"And to Angie's new man," Kia added, lifting her glass higher. "The one who pulls chairs out, pays bills, and picks her up like she weighs six pounds. I see him."

We clinked glasses again and downed our drinks.

Bella sauntered her little ass to the pole like she'd been born on it. No announcement. No music cue. Just raw, silent confidence. She gripped it with one hand and rolled her hips, flowing into a climb like her bones were made of melted caramel. Then she flipped upside down, paused midair, and arched with a slow, practiced grace that made everyone holler.

"YOOO!"