by Tiana Laveen
“What’s he do for a living?” Winona drew closer, her big green eyes fixed on Jessie.
“I don’t know exactly. I’ve only seen him twice in my hood, but a guy like that sticks out like a sore thumb.” Everyone but Andrea nodded in agreement. “My brother never told me exactly what Casper does, but with all of his fancy cars, furs and what not, I got a pretty good guess that it involves narcotic distribution or some shoot ’em shit. Whatever it is, he must be damn good at it.” Jessie focused back on her. “Hey, ’Drea. I couldn’t hear what he was sayin’ to you over the music. Did you sell him some perfume or somethin’? Why would he talk to you?”
Andrea shrugged.
Her friend seemed a bit envious, but her nerves were too much of a wreck to pay it any mind.
“Andrea, you’re keeping secrets,” Winona piped up with a grin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Winona. What’s his name again, anyway?”
They started speaking over each other, making faces at her, clearly not believing a word she said. She was saved by the bell, so to speak, as Anita Ward’s, ‘Ring my Bell,’ poured into the club and shook things up. They all began to groove, including her, regardless of how strange she felt after the encounter.
After dancing to a few more songs, she was parched. She parted from her girlfriends and made her way to the bar to get a drink. A pink squirrel sounded perfect. As she stood waiting for the bartender to take her order, she glanced around and noticed a small mob on the dance floor, something that usually happened when someone was an amazing dancer really strutting their stuff. It was hard to see through the human shield. Through a gap that opened up, affording her a view, she zoned in on that motherfucker with two women climbing all over him like he was God himself.
He stood there like some king as they pulled at his gold chains, ran their hands along his fingers covered in jewels, and rubbed his hairy chest while kissing all over his face. Her face burned with nothing short of pure, unadulterated jealousy. She was on fire. All the way from the hair on her head down to the soles of her feet. He was just far enough away for her to have a good look at all the goings on without being caught gawking, but just close enough for her to continue to torture herself with an unbroken stare.
“Lady! What do ya want?!” the bartender yelled, stealing her from her musings. The look on his face proved he’d been trying to get her attention for a while.
“Sorry, didn’t hear you. A pink squirrel.” The guy nodded and she turned around to watch once again, determined to keep tormenting herself. This time, when she spun around, Angelo was staring straight at her.
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!
She fast averted her gaze and banged her fist on the counter, trying to get the guy making her drink to move faster so she could get the hell away from there. As soon as she had the pink concoction in her grasp, she made her way towards a darker, slightly quieter area of the club. She ignored the sounds of two guys fucking a mere ten feet away, and the three women, all wearing silver costumes like spacesuits, snorting coke off a table.
She plopped down in a chair, not caring who it belonged to, and sipped her beverage, her mind racing. What a night. People began to move the sounds of ‘How Deep is Your Love,’ by the Bee Gees. She smiled as she rocked to the melody. It was a beautiful song, one that made her feel okay, even when she felt bad to her core. After she’d swallowed the last of her drink, she placed it on a big tray filled with other empty glasses and decided to track down her friends. All of them were far too busy slow dancing with men to be bothered with her.
She stood there for a bit, unsure what to do with herself. There was no one to talk to, no one to run to. She played with her necklace, mulling the situation. Let me find somewhere to sit until the next fast song comes on. She made her way across the floor. Several men approached her, gently tugging at her arm, trying to coax her to dance. Letting them down easy, she kept moving.
A hand reached out from the crowd, gripped her wrist. She looked down at it, then lifted her gaze to see who that limb was attached to, and saw that black hat and the blazing blue eyes of a fiend who tore her to pieces with a mere look…
He pulled her into the swarm of souls, dragging her towards him, and she felt like she was floating. He pressed his tall, strong, hard frame against her. Still holding her wrist, he looked down at her, a slight smile on his gorgeous face. Her head spun in a million different directions as he slow-danced with her, moving perfectly to the beat. She had no choice but to move her feet. And then, he gave her a soft, warm kiss on the neck. She shuddered as he drew her closer to dance cheek to cheek. She leaned into him, and that firm body of his made her feel sexy and safe, all at once. The end of the song snuck up on her. She’d been in her own little world.
They stared at each other, remaining in their embrace.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to try with me again?” she said halfheartedly.
He looked at her lips, then into her eyes, still smiling in that special way. He moved a curl out of her face.
“You made the first move.” He stroked his chin, looking smug.
“I did not!”
“So, do you look at everyone with fire in your eyes? Seems someone got bit by the green-eyed monster tonight.”
Before she could lie and deny it all, he wrapped his fingers around hers and escorted her towards the back of the club where two men stood in fedora hats. One of them favored him a bit, but he was far shorter and stockier.
“Andrea, this is my cousin, Luciano.” The man nodded at her. “And this here is my friend, Fred.” He handed his hat to the guy who looked nothing like him at all, exposing his lustrous black hair which was combed back, away from his face. A couple of strands fell over his left eye. She reached up and moved the wayward waves off his face, too.
“Say hello, Fred.”
Angelo smirked then chuckled, as if the two were sharing some inside joke. He then handed his pal his jacket, too.
“Oh hey, Andrea,” the man stated, staring at her hard. His nose was long and red about the nostrils. He cradled a joint between sinewy fingers. “Nice to meet cha.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
He introduced her to a few other associates of his. Angelo indeed knew a lot of people. How else could one explain all the hangers-on when he’d entered the establishment? Soon after, they were laughing and dancing, the tension broken. Much to her surprise, Angelo could really boogie.
“You can really cook!” she complimented him as she watched him go, amused by it so.
The guy smiled big, looking light-hearted and relaxed, far less serious than his usual demeanor. The Bee Gees’ ‘Night Fever’ kept them on their toes.
“Oh, you think you’re tough, huh?” she teased as he grabbed her arm and made her go around like a spinning top.
“I’m anything you want me to be tonight.” His smile slowly faded. He stepped away from her, then grabbed her by the waist, yo-yoing her around as they tore up the dancefloor. Moments later, the pair jumped at the opportunity to line dance, doing the Hustle. The son of a bitch knew how to do that, too. Instead of getting tired, she was invigorated. They kept on dancing, sweaty and happy, riding each other’s energetic wave. The DJ played ‘Rock Your Baby,’ by George McCrae, and they kept on going like they’d been practicing for weeks. A small crowd gathered around them.
Every damn move each made, the other matched. Their eyes hooked, and it seemed at times as if no one was there but the two of them. He released her hand and spun around on his own, clapping to the beat. He then grabbed her once again, twirled her fast and hard, so much she saw nothing but swirls of color. He snatched her back to him, stopping her whirling on a dime, then swayed his hips back and forth in the sexiest of ways. She followed suit, falling right into the groove. Stomachs flush against one another, he moved her to the left, and she moved him to the right. Their eyes never left one another. He smelled so good, he sounded so good, he felt so good, but he was oh, so bad…
Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Let me buy you a drink.”
She nodded. They made their way to the bar and she ordered a grasshopper this time around. After paying for their drinks, he lit a cigarette and they both leaned against the bar, smiling at one another in a kitschy, silly sort of way. Her elbow on the counter, she rested her head on her palm and studied him. He looked so dreamy, even more than before. Soft white and yellow lights flickered and blazed behind him, as if he were the sun in the flesh.
“You’re actually fun,” she mused. “This is nice. I’m having a good time with you.”
He chuckled lightly at her words. Taking a sip of his Godfather drink, then a smoke, he looked casually about. When he turned towards her, his sexy eyes were hooded.
“I meant what I said. That dress was made for you.” He caressed her bare shoulder with a soft slide of his hand.
“You like it, huh?” she flirted, tossing him a glance then looking down at her drink.
“I do.”
“You should. You bought it.”
He laughed at that. They were quiet for a spell, and she wondered what was going on inside of his mind.
“I guess, uh, I guess you’re diggin’ me tonight,” she said, breaking the silence.
“I’m always into you, Andrea. You’re digging me, too. Looks like we’re finally on the same page.”
“Sho’ ya right.”
“You smell so good. It’s driving me wild.” When he spoke, his deep, raspy voice reverberated through her soul. No longer could she fight it.
“Once again, you should think I smell good. You bought it.”
“It belonged to you way before I came along, and the scent of a woman is about more than a specific perfume. It’s the way your chemistry blends with it, the heat from your body. It creates a whole new fragrance. A whole new experience. I just love how you smell. You could rub cheap whiskey all over your body, and I’d still want to kiss you all over.”
Her cheeks plumped into a smile and her heart started to race.
I see you like pimpin’ around.” She regretted those words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Looking down, she ran her finger along the rim of her glass. Vulnerability on full display.
“Yes. I like the company of women, if that’s what you mean.” She didn’t look at him as she sipped her drink, afraid of what she’d see. “But I prefer the company of one woman tonight, and I just so happen to be standing right next to her.”
She finally turned and stared into his eyes.
“Casanova workin’ his magic. You sure have a way with words.”
“They’re more than words, cutie pie. I wouldn’t lie to a fuckin’ witch. That’s just stupid.” He shrugged and rolled his eyes as if it were a no-brainer. “Might turn me into a frog. How can I wear my hat then, huh?”
She playfully slapped his shoulder and opened her mouth to respond, but he shut her up with a kiss. Gripping the back of her head, he drew her closer, deepening their kiss. Her stomach knotted and stirred as she tasted the flavor of strong, smooth liquor delivered from his deft tongue. Her mouth begged for more and her eyes fluttered as the music zigzagged through her form, and his body heat consumed her. When he pulled away, he reached into his pocket to get something. She noticed his hard-on and bit into her lower lip.
“It’s getting late. Find your friends and say goodbye,” he said, his gaze on the crowded dance floor. “I’m taking you home with me tonight.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. He chugged the rest of his drink and passed his cigarette to Fred who’d sauntered close to return his hat and jacket. He leaned over the bar counter and began discussing something with one of the bartenders. She couldn’t make it all out. Around them, many of the women in the club were eyeing them. Some appeared inquisitive, some envious, others pissed. They were like packs of wolves wearing lipstick. She huffed and rolled her eyes, daring any of them to say something to her. She practically lost her breath when he suddenly caught her by the arm, then intertwined their fingers.
He took the lead, forcing the thick crowd to part by his mere presence alone. She finally found Winona, who was in the throes of making out with some guy. She rattled off her plans to the lady and told the woman to have a good night. Her friend leaned in close and said, “Fuck that sexy stallion good, girl.” Then, she went right back to her lip lock and slow grind against a muscular Black guy dressed in white from head to toe, sporting a pair of dark shades. She found the other ladies soon thereafter. They were all either dancing their hearts out, or drinking and smoking with the guy of their choice. When she got outside, she bristled once the chilly night air hit her. Like a true gentleman, he took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Wait right here. I’m going to pull my car up.”
About seven or eight minutes later, he arrived. Music poured out from the cracked window of the passenger’s seat. Getting out of the car, he opened her door and helped her inside. She took her seat, feeling like royalty in that big, pretty car. It smelled just like him, too. The sounds of ‘The Look of Love,’ by Isaac Hayes, lulled her to a happy place. He got back in the car, merged into the ebb of traffic, and she drowned under the watchful eye of the city. He reached out to hold her hand, and he gave her digits a squeeze, his eye on the street. Every time he touched her, fireworks went off within her. She was a firecracker, and he was the hot, scorching spark. They worked best together.
Giddiness. Lust. An understanding. It was clear now. This was fate. An undeniable connection that couldn’t be broken with neither curse, spell, nor prayer…
CHAPTER NINE
Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry
Rule 9: When marking a target, never let them out of your sight. Finish strong.
They both were rather quiet in the car. He seemed to be swimming in his own thoughts, just like her. On a deep exhale, he slid his hand away from her touch, lit a cigarette, then offered it to her. She took a puff of it and handed it back. GQ’s ‘I Do Love You’ was now playing on the radio. A few minutes later, Angelo pulled up to his apartment building. He maneuvered his car in a tight spot, back and forth, until he had it just right. He took his time opening his car door; he smoked a little more and sauntered to the passenger door. She even loved watching him walk. Once he opened her car door and helped her out, he led her to the front door of his building. She looked up and saw lights on in some of the windows, the flickering of televisions, and the dull pink glow of illuminated bedrooms.
She tilted her head further back and took a gander at the high structure. Though it wasn’t in Midwood in Brooklyn, it was a pretty damn good spot to nest. She figured Angelo could afford better digs regardless, in places with less riffraff, but he’d let her know that being too far away from his grandmother was a no-no. He stepped aside, allowing her to walk past the threshold, then locked the front door before they made their way to an old elevator. He flicked his cigarette, dropping a little ash on the floor, then placed it to his lips. His cheeks drew in hard, defining his already prominent cheekbones and jawline.
“I’m on the 12th floor,” he announced before pushing the yellow number 12 button with the black font. “I think it might actually be the 13th, but ya know what they do to 13th floors. Lie and deny it.”
“Yeah. Gotta protect the superstitious people.” She crossed her arms and smiled.
“You superstitious?” he asked, his brow arched.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
He shrugged, and they both chuckled.
The elevator rocked a bit as it went from floor to floor, higher and higher. The lights flashed, blinking spastically like some robot tossed in hot water, all circuits fucked. She chuckled, but the damn thing made her nervous. Then it jerked. Hard. She instinctively grabbed his arm, worried the winch
might stop altogether, leaving them with no air or light with the exception of his cigarette embers, or everything would break and they’d plummet to their deaths. Things returned to normal for all of three seconds, then it jerked hard once again, as if some giant were on the other side hitting on the door.
“Close the shades. It does this all the time.” He kissed the top of her head, reassuring her. She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached his floor.
The doors jerked open. He stepped out first, then took her hand and led the way down the hall, which bathed them in an odd shade of lime green from dying fluorescent lights. A heated discussion was going on between a man who bore a striking resemblance to John Belushi and a thin lady with short blond hair, sporting a sheer black shirt. Her small breasts shook about as her abnormally thin arms flailed. The lady moved in erratic ways, cursing out the guy while holding a bottle of beer. As she and Angelo walked past the two who were at each other’s throats, they kept on arguing, ignoring them.
Is that what love does to people? Make them crazy? Sometimes it does. I’ve been crazy before. I’m crazy now, too.
When he got to his door, her stomach knotted and her head pulsed. The more time passed, the more she wanted him, and the struggle within her raged on. He hit the light switch, illuminating a big, open living room with handsome trappings. From the looks of his furniture and lack of decor, it was a definite bachelor pad, but had some designer edge to it, too.
“Nice crib, Angelo,” she said quietly as he removed his jacket from her shoulders. “I believe you said in the car you just moved in, right?”
“Yeah. Only been here a few days.” He smashed his cigarette in an ashtray, then placed the jacket over his white living room couch and marched to a record player that was set up by one of the big windows. There were no curtains, just a view of his street and the starlit night sky. He thumbed through a large collection of music, slipped a record out of its sleeve, and put it on the player. The needle skipped then settled.
