He placed her on her feet and then lifted her under her armpits like she were a child. He brought her to his lips. She was so short that it had become a habit of his … one that she liked.
“Will I see you tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ma pull up,” he assured.
He set her down, and Aria reluctantly put on her clothes. “I guess I should go. I have no clothes here. I need to stop by my place first,” she said.
“You’ll have a closetful by the time you get back,” he assured. “Send me your sizes.”
“Okay,” she said. She hurried into yesterday’s outfit and then cupped his chin in one hand, planting a sensual kiss on his lips. His dick against her stomach, then a hand to her ass, pulling her into him as she groaned.
“I hate you, boy,” she whispered.
“I hate you like a mu’fucka,” he responded. She turned, and he slapped her ass. Aggressive. In need.
“Quit playing if you ain’t gon’ do nothing with it,” Aria said before rushing out the door. “I’m going to be late,” she said to herself as she hopped in her car and pulled away from Isa’s house. She had been in a bubble with him for two days. Since the day he had proposed, they hadn’t left the house. Nothing else had existed. Not even Ahmeek and Morgan could interrupt their bliss. She barely wanted to leave, but Isa was right. She couldn’t let him throw her off from everything she had worked hard for. She promised herself she wouldn’t get lost in his world. She couldn’t lose herself trying to find love. She refused to. Aria was halfway up the highway when her phone rang.
She smiled as Isa’s face popped up on her screen. She answered on Bluetooth. “Hey.”
“I thought you forgot about me. I’ve been blowing you up all weekend.”
Aria frowned when the sound of a female’s voice drifted through her speakers. She picked up her phone, double-checking to make sure it was Isa who had called.
“You here now, ain’t you? You came to complain, or you gon’ do something useful with that mouth?”
Aria’s brows lifted, and her heart sank. Isa’s rude-ass voice filled her car, and her stomach hollowed.
Aria was so silent she could barely breathe. She gripped the steering wheel in angst.
“Hmm, I missed you, boy,” the girl moaned.
“Daddy missed you too,” Isa groaned. “Shit, baby, suck that shit.”
Aria didn’t even look first before she crossed over two lanes to catch the upcoming exit.
She wanted to hang up the phone, but she couldn’t. She had to hear every single second of Isa’s exploits. She wanted to know every detail so she could remember never to fuck with him again. She felt like she would throw up, and her eyes prickled. Lying-ass nigga. Such a fucking liar. Why would you trust him? You know how he is! She scolded herself the entire way, trying to put some courage in her spine, trying to fill the hole that was digging through her body along the way. She was shaking, she was so angry. Her feelings had never been so hurt. When she pulled up to his house, she parked directly behind the Chevy Malibu that sat in the driveway. Whoever was in the house wasn’t leaving until Aria allowed her to.
Aria hopped out the car and tried the front door. It was locked. She picked up her phone and dialed Isa’s number. When he sent her to voice mail, Aria saw red. She lifted one Chanel sneaker to his front door and kicked.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
She knew his temper would cause him to open the door without looking because she had come knocking like the police. He was so predictable. The door flung open, and a shirtless Isa stood in front of her. Sweatpants hung low around his waist, so low that she could see wiry hair peeking up from his waistline. Evidence that he had thrown them on without drawers, proof that he had been naked before she knocked and had only put the pants on in haste to answer. The look of irritation on his face disappeared as soon as he saw her face. A girl stood behind him in her panties and bra.
The shit don’t even match. Aria scoffed and shook her head in disgust. Fucking arrogant-ass nigga.
“I’m a fool,” she said. She had come with the intentions of wreaking havoc, but seeing him there with this random girl deflated her. He had bigged her up, made her feel like they shared something, convinced her that she was different just to treat her the same. His guilty eyes rang in alarm.
“Ali, let me talk to you for a minute,” he said.
She shook her head and took a step away from him. Her legs barely held up. Devastation made her weak … so much regret filled her because she had known all along that he would do this … why she had convinced herself that Isa could be good to her … that he’d meant it when he said he loved her … she didn’t know.
“No. I’m good. What’s understood needs no explanation,” she answered. Her voice trembled, and she hated it. She hated that she was hurt. She hated that he knew she was hurt. She had known better. She knew how Isa operated, and she had trusted him anyway. She had given him her body, and he had taken it knowing what it meant to her. “You and I…”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence. She just shook her head in disgrace as she headed back to her car.
“Yo, Aria!” he shouted as he followed, frantic and desperate because she was walking away like she wouldn’t come back.
She didn’t stop. She made it all the way to her car. She opened the car door, and he closed it. She opened it again; Isa closed it. Aria’s eyes were welling with tears, and he wrapped a hand around her waist, planting his lips in her hair. Aria refused to face him, but the kiss sent a quiver down her spine.
“Look at me, Ali. Don’t leave me, baby,” he whispered.
He was a world-class actor, motherfucking Denzel, because the sincerity in his tone made her half believe that he wanted her here. Her body was rigid.
“Let me go, Isa,” she said. “Go back to your main. That’s what she is, right? That’s her?”
His silence was all the admission she needed. Isa turned her around, and her chocolate face was filled with an emotion he couldn’t identify. Disgust. Disappointment. He had spent an entire weekend staring into her eyes. They had been hopeful. Happy. Now they were dark. Now they were injured, and he was to blame. If she had come to his door with this very expression, he would have been ready to push it to a nigga for making her so sad. He was to blame, however. No one else but him. He had hurt her.
“I’m sorry, Ali,” he whispered.
Aria didn’t say anything to him. She looked past his shoulder, steadying her gaze on the house behind him, trying to maintain control of her tears. She made him wait, her silence making him uncomfortable, making him nervous. Finally, she asked, “Who is she?”
“She’s nobody,” he said.
Aria was silent. Her mouth pinched tight in disdain, her hands crossed over her chest, and her eyes on the house with the red chipped paint.
“Ali—”
“That’s not my name,” she said, her tone flat and unforgiving. Aria wasn’t the girl to give a million chances. You either got it wrong or right on the first try.
“That’s your name, baby,” he whispered, placing hands on her hips. “I named you, Ali. What else I’m gon’ call you?”
“Nothing at all. You won’t need to call me anything, because we won’t be talking. You won’t be seeing me. I’m good on all this. I’m done,” she said. Her lip quivered, and she pulled it into her mouth. She was angry at herself for even caring, for giving him this power over her emotions.
His brow dipped. “Fuck that supposed to mean?” he asked. “You’re wearing my ring, Ali. That means you’re staying. Through whatever. I thought you was riding for a nigga.”
Aria’s brow lifted. “Wrong girl. I’m not riding for you. I’m not dying for you. I’m not ignoring cheating and lying and disloyalty.” She pointed to his house where the girl in the mismatched panties and bra was standing, peering nosily out the door. She looked like she wanted to say something, and Aria hoped the bitch made one peep, just so she could have a reason to knock h
er head off. “And the disre-fucking-spect,” Aria finished. “For what? Ride or die for what, Isa? Just to say that I belong to a nigga that don’t belong to me? You were on your knees proposing days ago, and you’re already in there fucking the next bitch. It hasn’t even been a week since we got engaged and you’re already on some bullshit! Did you even change the sheets after I left? I came all over those sheets hours ago, and you slid the next bitch in my spot without thinking twice!” she shouted.
Isa rubbed the top of his head and blew out a deep breath. “I’ll make her leave, Ali. She’s fucking nobody. Just a little bitch from around the way. If I’m choosing, I’m choosing you,” he said.
Aria shook her head. “If only it was yours to decide,” she said. “You’re lucky I didn’t beat the brakes off that bitch.” She pushed by Isa and opened her car door.
“Ali…,” Isa said.
“That would mean I saw something worth fighting for, and I don’t. Whatever I thought this was, it isn’t. I made a mistake with you. Lose my number, Isa. You butt-dialed me, by the way. Might want to lock that phone, playa.”
“Aria!” he shouted.
Aria got in the car and drove away, leaving him standing in the middle of the street, speechless.
She didn’t allow herself to break down. Her chin quivered, but she clenched her teeth, driving through tears so heavy she could barely see. She refused to let even one fall.
Fuck him, she thought. She had a performance to get ready for, and nobody stopped her art. She was a hardened girl, but the stage was the only place she allowed herself to be vulnerable. Dancing allowed her to cry, it allowed her to weep for every little fucked-up thing that had ever happened to her. Ever since she was a child, music had helped her purge pain from her soul, and now Isa had added more that she needed to get out.
* * *
Aria lifted one stiletto boot to the chair and leaned over to roll the leather up over her leg, then past her knee until it stopped at her thigh.
“Bitch, you trying to kill shit tonight, huh?” Mo asked.
Aria stood and pushed her titties up and licked her lips before flipping her long ponytail over her shoulder. It sat on top of her head and was so long it kissed her ass as it swung behind her. Her makeup was flawless. All black everything. It was lights out for these niggas tonight because Aria was back on the market.
“I got to bag something new,” she said, and she smudged her lipstick, then finessed her baby hair before squinting. “I see you on your Aaliyah vibe.”
“I’m on my Morgan shit,” Morgan replied, smirking.
“Bitch, that’s vintage baby girl. Give credit where it’s due. Aaliyah was the queen, but you making it work though baby mama,” White Boy Nick added. “I mean, you could show a little more skin, though. What’s the point of having all that ass if you ain’t gon’ show it?”
“Look, y’all lucky I’m even here. I haven’t been onstage in two years.”
“This ain’t a stage. This is practice. This little club is nothing. Relax. Just pretend its rehearsal. It’ll warm you up for Vegas,” Aria said.
“I never agreed to Vegas. This is a onetime thing. I’m just filling in,” Mo protested. “Bash doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“And? He ain’t your parole officer, Mo!” Aria shouted. “Just do what you do. You know you miss it.”
“Let’s go, hoes, it’s time to stroll!” Nick yelled, interrupting their petty argument.
Aria was focused as she walked out onto the stage.
“Detroit, what up, doe?” she shouted in the microphone. The crowd turned up instantly. Aria was a whole damn mood. “Can I get some love? I’m trying to put something on y’all real quick. I’m looking for the realest in the city. Where he at? Nigga got to be heavy, though, cuz I don’t do nothing light. Y’all gon’ show Stiletto Gang some love?”
The crowd erupted.
“I got my girl Mo’ Money with me tonight! She ain’t been on the stage in a minute. Y’all missed her?”
Mo strutted her pretty ass on the stage like she was in a Miss America pageant.
The crowd showed love. They were so loud that Aria’s ears rang.
“I’ma let her rock this shit first,” Aria said. “Mo, get your pretty ass out here. DJ, drop something for her.”
I want a slim, fine woman with some twerk with her
Morgan rode that beat like the music had infected her soul. She didn’t even care that she couldn’t breathe. Every inch of her body moved. Every move was exaggerated. Her hair stuck to her face as she worked up a sweat. Her nose turned up, and her brow deepened as her lips curled.
Morgan’s hands were balled like she was gripping drumsticks and she was in a drum line. On every offbeat, she banged on ’em. The crowd went crazy. Morgan popped pussy like it was her profession. She was so arrogant onstage that not a dancer in sight could keep up. Aria came close, but Morgan’s ears, her interpretation of music, made her incomparable.
Do it, baby, stick it, baby, move it, baby, lick it, baby
Suck up on that clit until that pussy get a hickey, baby
Morgan didn’t half step. Those dainty hands went to the front of her womanhood, and she moved them in a circle right over her clit. Then locked her fingertips before flicking her hand to the crowd.
“Bitch!” Aria screamed, jumping up and down off to the side. She was always Morgan’s biggest hype man, and Morgan stopped dancing as she fell into a laugh. She snatched the microphone from Aria.
“DJ, run that back. Y’all want to see her act up now?”
Aria pulled the mic back.
“Okay, okay, we all know Mo Money got it. White Boy Nick, where you at?” Aria shouted.
He came out flamboyant and turned to the crowd twerking.
His fans screamed and egged him on. Morgan had just been the introduction. The warm-up. It was game time. The trio was about to tear the roof off this club.
Aria paused when she saw the crowd begin to part. Isa and Ahmeek made their way through the club. Aria was so livid it was like they were moving in slow motion. She heard her heart beating in her ears, and her stomach hollowed. Ahmeek bit his lip and dapped up someone he knew on the way to VIP, hitting Morgan with a two-finger salute of acknowledgment. Isa trailed him, chewing on gum, and taking pause to laugh with another man along the way, showing love, shaking hands, before making way to an empty booth. Two fine-ass niggas had just elevated the temperature in the room. Their status was unspoken. Kings. Plain and simple. The crew had entered the building.
What is he doing here?
She turned eyes to Mo, then rolled them back to the crowd. She didn’t miss the shooters the duo put on the door. Isa and Ahmeek walked directly into VIP. A group of men were already seated at the booth they chose, and they dapped up apparent friends before getting comfortable.
“If you see something you like, show me. I’m choosing tonight. Let’s go!” she shouted. She placed the microphone on the DJ booth and bopped to the beat as it dropped. She was center stage. Mo stood to her right, a step back, Nick rounded out her right. Aria turned on like a light. A quick sixteen steps made the crowd buck. The City Girls track set the tone. It was twerk time. Aria held no prisoners as she turned and rotated her ass like a DJ rotated a track. Her ass didn’t miss one 808. Normally, Morgan ate the stage. Her twerk sessions were legendary, but tonight, Aria had a point to prove.
Itty bitty pretty, I’m the realest in the city
Aria butterflied her pretty chocolate thighs so hard that they quaked. She was throwing all 140 pounds of her body all over the place as her hands hit her knees and she popped her body. She was so angry that her temper flowed out into her choreography. She lifted her hands, bit her tongue, and moved that thang like her life depended on it. She could see Isa’s frown through the crowd. He sat there, surrounded by groupies. They were coming and going, flocking like birds, but his eyes never left the stage. By the time the set ended, he was on his feet, gripping the railing to the loft area and hawkin
g her every move.
“What type of shit you on tonight? Where that come from?” White Boy Nick asked. “You started getting dick and you a whole new bitch!”
Morgan snickered as Aria laughed. The crowd gave it up, and even though the set was over, Aria bounced into the crowd. She pulled Morgan and Nick to the dance floor, grabbing a bottle of Moët out of the bucket of a random table on the way. Aria tipped the bottle to her lips as she freaked it.
I do, what I like I do, I do.
Aria was in a zone as SZA sang her life. She did whatever she wanted to do when she wanted to do it. Isa was about to learn an important lesson about her. She refused to stress over one man when she had her pick. She turned and saw a girl hanging all over Isa. Aria’s temper flared. He got me fucked up.
“Let’s grab a booth!” she shouted to Mo and Nick over the loud music. She made her way to VIP and took the booth that the owner kept reserved for them. Three bottles were already on ice. They were close enough to the crew to witness the fanfare, but not close enough to take part.
The DJ mixed in the smooth sounds of Jhené Aiko, and Mo grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bucket.
Baby, while we’re young
She stood on the cushions of the booth and lifted the bottle to her lips, then into the air as she snapped fingers on one hand while gripping the bottle with the other. Her body floated softly, swaying side to side to the melody. Her eyes closed, and her brow pinched, because she felt this shit. Every word, every pretty note. Nick stood in front of her, and Morgan wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing as she sang the words to him and he sang back. She pointed at him, opening her palms and exaggerating each movement.
Telling everybody you’re mine and I like it
And I really hope you don’t mind, I can’t fight it
The lyrics reminded her of Ahmeek. She hated to admit it, but he had infiltrated her brain. She tried to fight it, but her thoughts drifted back to the zoo. The memory they had made. An absolutely flawless day.
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