Page 20 of Thirst

“I got you, Von.”

“Good.”

He walks away, and when he moves, I catch Shay staring at me with squinted eyes like she was listening the whole time. We exchange a look, and it lingers until she walks back out onto the floor. When I turn to sit down at my vanity, Majesty is gawking at me.

“Damn, girl. I've never seen you let that loose. You were going that hard on a stranger?”

I shake my head, but my smile is obvious. “He’s not a stranger.”

“Then who is he to you?”

“I don't really know yet,” I reply with a shrug. “But I think I'm gonna find out soon.”

Twelve

Isip from a crystal glass full of red wine while I sit on my couch, my eyes fixated on the blank canvas that hasn't stopped staring at me since I put it in the middle of my living room a year ago. We look at each other like frenemies—it’s all love between us, with bristling hatred burning beneath the surface. Inspiration has evaded me lately, and my canvas feels abandoned. I understand its glare at me. But things have taken a strange turn lately, and I don't know if what I'm feeling is inspiration or something else entirely.

With another big sip, I realize something that I hate to admit, because I'm a grown ass woman and I know better. However, I can't stop thinking about Amari. I know it’s stupid, even with how fine he is. He's a customer of the strip club I work at, and I've long told myself to never travel down this road. But the scenery has never looked this good. I can't get him out of my head, and I hate this schoolgirl style crush I feel coming to life in my chest. I'm at home after work, and I'm excited to go back just so I can see him again—to see what develops between us next time, how good he’ll look, how I’ll feel, what we’ll talk about. It’s not just about our sexual chemistry that is building tension between. I like talking to him, too. It’s like … I like him or something.

I know how insane I sound. But what isn't insane is the fact that my timeline for when I thought I'd end up homeless has been pushed back a bit. Hell, I'm going to have to redo the math now that Amari has given me the best week of tips I've ever had. If he keeps it up, maybe I won't have to worry about the rent increase, at least for a little while longer. That’s facts—tangible, spendable facts that have resulted in real change in my life. The rent increase was a monster, and Amari has arrived as the Black knight to at least push it back for me. Not that I'm a damsel in distress or anything … but a bitch was a damsel in distress. I needed this money, and those cheap regulars at the club weren't getting the job done.

Another sip has me wondering about Amari’s story. He already told me that he has lost both of his parents, and that he was handed ownership of the Black Coins Casino by a family friend. But I want to know more about him. How did he become the cool, smooth, well-groomed, unshakeably confident man that he is today? I'm more interested in him than any man I've dated, and I find myself memorizing a list of questions to ask the next time I see him. I'm so intrigued it’s sickening.

As my buzz strengthens, I lean my head back against the couch pillow and think about the last time he smiled at me. It’s like I can hear the sound of his voice as he says he’ll be back to see me again, and I think I might be going crazy. Why is his voice in my head? It’s like he has cast a spell on me or implanted some sort of microchip in my brain that keeps me thinking about him—wanting him, waiting to be near him again. I mean, I actually went too far from grinding on top of him. I've been with men who couldn't find the spot with both hands and a map, but I was on the verge of orgasm tonight and we weren't even naked. How could I possibly think about anything else?

All I can do is shake my head, laughing at myself for being this sprung already. But I guess it is what it is. Amari has done everything right up to this point, and it has me wrapped around his finger, desperate to learn more and see where this road that I shouldn't be on can take us. He has earned the right to occupy my mind right now, and as I look up at the blank canvas standing in front of me like a watchful apparition, a thought crosses my mind. An idea. An inspiration.

I set my nearly-empty wine glass on the wooden end table and stand in front of the canvas. The inanimate object and I have a brief staring contest before I glance down at the unopened tubes of paint beneath the easel. I have an assortment of colors down there, but my eyes immediately find the dark brown. Without letting anxiety stop me, I open the can and grab my brush. After dipping it in the liquid, I realize that I haven't even put down the tarp to protect my floor. But I don't care. Inspiration doesn't last forever, so I swirl the wet brush on the canvas and begin painting abstract art the same color as Amari’s skin.

“Hey, you broke your dry spell! That’s great!” Janae comes into my apartment carrying two fraps from Starbucks, dressed for her day at work. She hands me a cup, but her eyes stay pointed at the new painting on my easel. “When I got your text last night, I thought you had insomnia or something. So this is what you were up doing all night, huh? It looks great.”

“Thank you,” I reply, taking the cup and bringing it into my kitchen. I put it down on the counter, cinch the strings on my robe, and lean against my refrigerator while Janae goes to inspect the painting closer.

“It’s beautiful, girl,” she says. “So what made you finally break the no-paint-streak? It had been a year, right?”

“It had,” I answer, shaking my head. “But, umm … well I know you don't have a lot of time because you're about to leave for work, but I may have met someone.”

Nae’s head whips around, her eyes as wide as plates. “What? When? Where? How? All the questions. Talk as fast as you can and tell me everything before I have to go.”

I laugh as I lift the drink to my lips and go into the living room with her. “Alright, but you can't make fun of me, because I already know how insane it sounds. I met him at the club.”

Nae’s mouth drops open as we sit down on the couch at the same time. “Bitch, what? A customer? I know you have to be joking, because you always said you wouldn't date a customer.”

“I know, I know. But this guy, Janae, oh my god. You have to see him for yourself, otherwise you just can't understand how fine he is. And it isn't just his looks. He has aura like you wouldn't believe. He walks into the room and the whole world stops to watch. He's flawless, and the way he looks at me has me pinned in place. I don't even know what to say.”

“I think you've said enough,” she says with a laugh. “You look smitten, and I don't even use that word. You're feeling like this off of, what, a few lap dances?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but yes. We’ve talked a lot, and I've learned a little about him, too. We just have this strange chemistry that has been there since I first saw him. You know I wouldn't say anything about a customer if it wasn't something serious.”

“Yeah, I know how much you despise the men in that place. Okay, so what now? Are you dating him?”

“No, I just … I don't really know what we’re doing. I don't even have his phone number or anything. I just know I like him and he likes me, and I'm ready to see what’s next.”

“Wow. Well that’s great. I'm happy for you, but please be careful, Aaliyah. You know how men are. They are not to be trusted. Especially the ones who know they're fine.” Nae looks at her watch and stands up. “I've gotta go, but make sure you keep me updated on this. If you have a meetup outside of Fantasies, I’ll know you're serious. Talk to you soon.”

I stand up and give her a quick hug. “Okay.”

Nae walks to the door and opens it, but stops at the threshold. “Don't forget what I said, okay? Be careful. A lot of these single men are not what they seem. They're good at showing us what we want to see, and hiding their true selves. Don't forget that, okay?”