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I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, it’s his birthday and you don’t know what he’s doing? You not doing anything with him?”
“First of all,” she raised a finger, “he’s not my man. Not gonna make a thing out of his birthday when we don’t even go together like that. Secondly, I let him sample the goods last night. Put that gawk-gawk three thousand on him.” She smiled deviously.
I cracked up laughing. “You are so trifling.”
“I’m making sure he’s putty in my hands so he won’t bat an eye when I ask him for a Chanel bag next week.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m working a bachelorette party, wanna trade?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No, thanks.”
“Rude,” she laughed and headed back downstairs.
They showed up right before midnight, just as I finished setting out the first three bottles of Ace of Spades they’d requested.
I heard them before I saw them. A few men I didn’t recognize came up first, eyeing me with a hungry appreciation that I’d learned to ignore.
Tariq was next, grinning, eyes low like he’d been smoking. He passed by me without a second glance.
Cardez stepped up behind him, somehow looking finer than I remembered. He was in all black—a button-up and slacks that looked like they’d been molded onto his muscular frame. Our eyes locked briefly, but I quickly looked away, unsettled by the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I picked up the bottles and sparklers and made my way over, slipping easily into my work voice.
“Happy birthday,” I said brightly. “Who’s the birthday boy?”
“That’s me,” Tariq said, raising his hand before squinting at me. “Ay yo—wait. Ain’t you Siani’s friend? From the day party?”
I smiled tightly. “Yep. Small world.”
Cardez leaned back on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, ignoring the cheers erupting around Tariq, who held one of the bottles of Ace and rapped into a phone shoved in his face.
I moved through my routine, pouring, smiling, making sure there was enough ice and mixers. The whole time, I felt him watching me.
I refused to look at him directly, and continued to work the section, laughing at the jokes, leaning in when someone ordered something extra. I made two more runs for drinks and bottles before I let myself meet his gaze.
When I did, he didn’t look away or give me that slick little smile niggas give you when they’ve been caught. He just held it, cocked his head slightly and took another sip from his glass.
Most niggas in VIP grilled the bottle girls like we were part of the package. His attention felt different—like he’d decided I was worth watching in the same way I decided he was at the day party last weekend.
On my next trip, Tariq stopped me. “Is Siani working tonight?”
I wanted to laugh. For a dude that was so puppy eyed over my girl last weekend, it was interesting that he didn’t let her know he’d be at her job tonight.
“She’s on the second floor.”
He was already pulling out his phone, wobbling slightly. “She knows it’s my birthday, why she ain’t up here?”
I didn’t say anything and started clearing up some discarded glasses to take to the back.
My phone vibrated as I headed back to the floor.
Siani
Why you ain’t tell me you were working Tariq’s section??
‘Cause you being up here would’ve been a distraction.
Siani
Whatever. More importantly, why wouldn’t this nigga tell me he’s coming to my job??
