“Why are you in my spot with a bottle in your hand? You can barely stand up in those old ass kitten heels.”
“Boy, please. Get the stick out your ass. I look good! You act like I can’t turn up because I’m somebody’s mama.”
I spun around to address Khalil. “You okay with your lady walking around looking a mess. That’s your business. I just don’t want to witness the train wreck. Find somewhere to chill.”
“Ishmael, I can celebrate Church,” my mom blurted out. “If it were a problem, the big niggas at the door wouldn’t have let me in.”
“They let you in because my name is good in here. Your best bet is to leave before I put you out.”
Mariah’s weepy stare sliced through me.
“You would do your mama like that, Ishmael? You hate me that much?”
“My mama has done worse to me. Go home, Mariah.”
She talked shit and cursed my name, but she grabbed Khalil’s hand and staggered off. Silently, I prayed she made it homesafely. Despite my feelings for my mother, I didn’t want Isabella to have to deal with losing her.
The mixture of cigar smoke and my thin patience pointed me through the back exit in search of fresh air.
The instant the warm breeze swept over my face, my clutched fists became undone. However, my moment of silence was interrupted by a call from Clarke. When I answered, I listened to her background instead of speaking. I didn’t hear Clarke’s voice, but the sound of breaking glass and roaring engines put me on edge.
“Ishmael? Ishmael, can you hear me?”
The slur in her tenor scorched my eardrums. “Where are you, Clarke?”
“Somewhere I don’t want to be. The plan was to go out for drinks with Simone and Pinky. I don’t know how that turned into being in the bathroom with bitches taking pictures with cocaine mustaches. I know that shit is already hitting the blogs,” she explained in a low tone. “They’re trying to go to another club, but I don’t want to. Can you come get me? Please. Pretty please.”
Though I wondered why she didn’t call Rock, I didn’t hesitate to tell Clarke to send me her location. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her after she called me for help, and after the ugly exchange with Mariah, I deserved to look at something pretty.
“Baby, why are you over here by yourself?”
A deep voice touched the line, and I cringed at the image of someone in her face.
“Did you get it?” Clarke asked, rejoining the call.
“Yeah,” I spat out. “Tell whoever’s in your face to back the hell up. I can hear him breathing over the phone.”
Clarke’s giggle faded in the background before I heard her say, “Excuse me. Can you back up? My man can hear you, and he doesn’t like niggas all in my space.”
As she addressed her surroundings, I stuffed my dinner jacket in my trunk and removed my helmet. I had a thought to go home and get my truck, but Clarke’s speech didn’t sit right with me. Her shaky tone urged me to go to her before doing anything else.
Thankfully, Clarke wasn’t too far from the clubhouse. I hopped on the freeway, and after passing two exits, I sped down Obama Road. The area had a bar or club on every block for miles, and celebrities were known to hang out and get high in the VIP sections.
I weaved through parked cars and people who loitered in the streets until I pulled up to where Clarke stood with her friends in front of a Venetian-style building. Everyone around her socialized and danced to music that could be heard outside the club. Still, Clarke leaned against a poster-filled wall with her arms crossed and her eyes covered with shades. She looked like a rockstar dressed in a cropped leather jacket, boots made of the same material, and a silk dress that stopped above her knees.
For a second, she didn’t seem to recognize me, but by the time I lifted my helmet, Clarke found me amongst the crowd. A smile graced her face as she removed her glasses and met me in the middle of the sidewalk. “You came for me.”
“You called. That’s my job.”
“Is that the only reason you came?”
“No,” I confessed. “Are you all right? Smells like you had too much to drink.”
She squared her shoulders. “I did not. I can walk a straight line and all!”
Clarke stepped back, attempting to prove her sobriety. However, she tripped over her own feet. Without missing a beat, I caught her back before she hit the ground. From the outside looking in, we probably looked like lovers enjoying a dance.
“It’s time for me to get you home.”
