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My father was the founder of Wilson International Bank, and no matter what, I would always own thirty-eight percent of it. I was better off than over ninety percent of the country—I should’ve been happy, I shouldn’t take anything for granted.
Yet, it meant nothing to me.
“What do you think?” Imani came back and stretched out her legs so that I could see the shoes. She wore a blue dress with the sides cut out and her hair was in tight curls.
“You look good.”
“I know, right? Take a picture, make sure to get everything,” she said as she handed me her phone and posed in the doorway.
I took the picture and she turned and propped her hands on her waist as she puckered her lips.
“Imani, we need to go.” I laughed. I took another picture before finally grabbing a simple pair of black heels.
“I’m having a few friends pick us up,” she said as she checked the images on her phone.
“What? I thought it was just us, remember?”
“I know, but…” She tried not to say it.
“But I’m boring,” I finished for her.
“Oh, they’re here. Let’s go.”
“That’s not an answer, Imani.” I grabbed my purse, and followed her out and down the stairs. Our heels clicked against the marble as we made it to the door. I stopped and shifted the Greek vase that once belonged to my parents, as I passed by the cabinet near the doorway. My mother had gotten it while they were on their second honeymoon. It was the first thing she bought when they’d started to make money. She said Greece was filled with magic, and that I should rub the vase for good luck. I was nine, so I believed her.
Before she opened the door, she glanced at me with a serious expression. “Just don’t be boring tonight, okay? Seriously, Cora, just let loose. For once in your life, just live a little.”
“Okay—” I stopped when she opened the door and I saw two guys, who I didn’t know, standing in front of a black Escalade. “Imani…” I began
She gave me a look before she walked up to her friends and gave them a hug.
“Derek, Otis, this is my cousin, Cora. Cora, Derek and Otis have been telling me all about this club, The Ram. I’ve been trying to get in for weeks, but it’s always packed.”
“Don’t worry, babe, we got you,” the man to her left said, as he pulled her to his side. He stood at least a good foot and a half taller than her.
“You guys ready?” Derek clapped his hands, as he looked between us.
“Don’t we look ready?” Imani pouted, pulling at one of her curls. How she could be so at ease was beyond me.
“You both look fineee,” Otis, whose voice was just a bit deeper, said, as he stretched it out. “Let’s roll out.”
Derek held the door for me, and with a forced smile, I slid in, all too aware that he was checking out my non-existent ass as I got inside.
“Why you ain’t tell me your house was so nice, babe?” Otis said to Imani up front as we pulled out of the driveway.
“I know, right? They livin’ in a gated community and shit. The security at the front all about pissed himself when he saw us.” Derek laughed.
“You know, WIB, Wilson International Bank?” Imani asked.
“Yeah.”
“Cora’s father founded it.”
“You all got it like that?” Derek looked to me.
She did a small fist pump. “Yep, if it weren’t for good old Uncle Adam, we would be stuck in Southbend with y’all hoodrats.”
“Well, excuse me while I change banks,” Derek joked as he pulled out his phone.
“Hold up. Hold up. He coming again.” Otis snickered and slowed down as we got to the front post.
Rolling down the window, I smiled at Old Man Pierre. He was in his early fifties but he had a thick black mustache above his lips. I was sure that he dyed it, but it looked good on him. He always came out of his booth to see every car.
“Ms. Wilson.” He nodded to me as he looked over the car.
“Good evening, Mr. Pierre. They’re friends of ours,” I told him.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Of course. Enjoy your night, Ms. Wilson.”
“You too. Be safe.” I waved as we pulled out. It was only when we were far enough away that all of them broke out laughing…Imani included.
“What?”
“Good evening, Mr. Pierre.” They all mocked me.
“You have the strongest white girl voice I’ve ever heard,” Imani laughed.
“You sounded like you were about to serve him tea or some shit,” Derek shook his head at me.
“How should I sound?” I asked them all directly and no one had an answer. They just shrugged it off like it was nothing and I suddenly remembered why I hated going out with Imani and her friends. I always felt as though I wasn’t living up to who they wanted me to be or who they thought I should be.
By the time we reached the club I was more than ready to head home. As we neared the club, I noticed the line for the Ram wrapped around the corner. Otis and Derek just led us forward.
“Boss,” one of the bouncers said to Otis, as he stepped aside and let him pass.
“Boss?” Imani stopped and turned to him.
Otis shrugged his shoulders. “When I said I got you, what’d you think I meant?”
“You’re lying. Y’all own the Ram?” Imani gasped as she placed her hands over her mouth.
“Southbend hoodrats are looking pretty good now, huh?” Derek did a small turn and I laughed as we went in.
The whole place was pitch black with the exception of the red and blue strobe lights. The DJ stood in front of the dance floor, with a triple X behind him as he changed up his music.
“How could you keep me out for weeks, man?!” Imani punched both of their shoulders and they grinned.
“Don’t be mad. Come on, let’s dance!” Otis pulled her away.
“Hold up, I got some people to see to real quick,” Derek yelled over the music and into my ear.
“Of course, go ahead.”
He didn’t wait, and was already pushing his way through the crowd.
Coraline, the man repellent.
“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered to myself as I once again contemplated leaving.
Since I’d already gone through the trouble of getting dressed up, I decided to stick around for just one hour, and after that, I would leave.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I made it to the bar even though I had no idea what I was going to drink.
“Can I get a Bloody Mary?” I yelled to bartender. It was the only thing I could stand to sip on.
She nodded, and bobbed her head to the beat of the music as she mixed the drink. She did it with style too. She flipped the bottle over her shoulder and even spun it before she poured it into my glass.
“Thank you!” I yelled as I reached for it. One sip and I cringed at the alcohol.
I’m hopeless.
I tried to force myself to keep drinking, but I just couldn’t do it. The bartender must have noticed, because she came over, took the drink away from me, and switched it out for another drink.
“What is this?”
“It’s alright. Just try it,” she replied.
I took a small sip and laughed at myself. It was cranberry juice…and I liked it. Smiling, I lifted it up and toasted to her.
