Page 31 of Thirst

What does one wear when preparing to have their blood sucked? There's a question I never thought I'd have to ask myself. Once I get over how ridiculous it is, I try to focus on the answer as the hour approaches. I thumb the hangers in my closet, bypassing anything that doesn't look phenomenal, because I want to look perfect since this is the first time I'm seeing Amari outside of Fantasies. He has never seen me not wearing lingerie. So, this has to be just right.

I choose a strapless black Maxi dress with a side front split that will put my entire right leg on display with a single exaggerated step forward. The semi-sheer skirt hangs down to my feet, neatly covering my black heels until I want to show some leg. I keep my hair curled at the ends and my makeup more subtle than what I do at Fantasies, and by the time nine o’clock rolls around, I'm feeling good about the package I'm presenting. I stand in front of my mirror and give myself a onceover, lifting a foot in the air to see the entire ensemble. I think it all comes together nicely, and the moment I taste even a little confidence, there's a knock at my door to send my anxiety up to the moon.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Nine on the dot.

I walk over to the door and reach out to open it, but then I pause. My nerves ignite like dynamite. Am I really about to go through with this? At this point, I've done way too much to bail out. Then again, I'm a grown woman, and nobody can make me do anything I don't want to do.

But I do want to do this. How can I complain about how dull my life is, and then balk at the sight of color? This is what I toasted for. I can't let a little blood play push me back into the recesses of life—back into the colorless shadows forever. I have to bask in what’s new in order to shed the old stuff I've been stressing about, and opening the door is the first step to standing in the sun.

I'm greeted by a stocky Black man in a black-on-black suit—black pants and blazer with a black undershirt and dark gray tie. He has a well-kept beard and a head covered in gorgeous waves. I know he was rocking a durag until the moment he stepped out of the car to come to my door, because waves this crisp are not an accident. His skin is the color of gingerbread and his light brown eyes are caring, yet stoic. He's not on Amari’s level, but he's a good-looking man who flashes a nice smile as he nods to me. If this goes well, I might have to introduce him to Janae.

“Good evening, Aaliyah,” he says in a baritone voice. “I'm Shawn, Mr. Goddard’s assistant. You look great. Love the dress.”

I grin at his compliment. He's well-mannered just like Amari. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says. “Are you ready to go?”

I turn around and look into my apartment as if I’ve left something there, but there's really nothing left to do except step over the threshold. “Yeah, I think I'm ready.”

“Great. Mr. Goddard is ready and waiting at Black Coins. He's very excited to spend the evening with you.”

I smile and nod as Shawn waits for me to step into the hall and close the door. We walk side by side to the elevator, and take it down in silence to the parking garage where a black Mercedes awaits with the lights still on. To my surprise, Shawn opens the back door for me on the passenger side. He smiles politely as I slide inside, and gently closes the door after me. While he walks to the front to get in, I let my eyes roam around the car and take it all in.

The Mercedes’s interior is black leather with gray stitching in the cushions and dark woodgrain around the dash. It smells of cologne and is clean like it’s fresh off the lot—not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. From Shawn’s clothes to how tidy this car is, I would guess that Amari runs a tight ship. Everything about him is as put together as a Lego set.

As the car drives out of my parking garage, a million thoughts run through my head. Shawn keeps his eyes on the road as we pull out into city traffic and come to a stop behind a forest of red lights. “That’s You” by Lucky Daye comes on, playing quietly over the speakers like little more than a whisper, and it occurs to me that now is the perfect time to find out as much as I can about Amari without having to ask him outright. Usually, if someone is a terrible person, the people around them know it best, and it can be difficult for them to answer certain questions without their true feelings showing on their face. If I want to know about Amari, who better to ask than the man who works as his assistant? I bet they spend tons of time together, and I'd wager that Shawn is the person who knows more about Amari than anyone else.

I clear my throat and let out a light breath, trying to stay calm in the midst of all this newness. “So, uhh, what’s it like working for Amari? Do you like it? Is he … cool?”

Shawn glances up at me in the rearview mirror, his expression blank until I see a squint in his eyes as he smiles.

“Is he cool?” he says, chuckling to himself. “Yeah, he’s cool. I've known him for fifteen years. Definitely the coolest fifteen years of my life.”

I smile as a sense of comfort washes over me. “Yeah? That’s good to hear. So, he's a good person?”

Shawn nods, keeping his eyes on the slow-moving traffic. “Yes, he's a very good person. He works hard and treats everybody who works for him with respect. You feeling nervous about getting to know him?”

“Uhh, yeah,” I admit, shaking my head. “Don't tell him I said this, but there's a part of me that’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nobody is made of all green flags. There just has to be something about him that would give me pause, right?”

Shawn’s eyes find me in the mirror again, but the squint is gone this time. I can only see the top half of his face, so maybe I'm reading it wrong, but I swear he looks deathly serious. Something off-putting shows itself in his gaze, like a ghost watching me from around the corner that disappears when I turn to look at it. When he sees that I notice it, his face softens immediately.

“Mr. Goddard is built like that,” he says. “He's genuine and down to earth, and that’s probably what you find so endearing. You can rest assured that he's not some creep or asshole who’s gonna flip on you the moment you develop real feelings. He's made a lot of money, but he's still a real one. It’s a pleasure working for him every day.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “Well, what does he like to do in his spare time?”

“He doesn't have a lot of spare time. He's very busy handling business in the casino and dealing with all of the managers who work there. He’s almost always unreachable during the day, because that’s when he sleeps … or takes business meetings. He usually gives me his phone during the day so that he isn't disturbed. He’s very much a night owl.”

“He gives you his phone during the day? Wait, so—”

“Yeah, that was me who texted you earlier today. I responded from his phone.”

“You responded as him?”

“Yeah, it’s a habit really. He was unavailable, so I spoke for him. I do it all the time, at his request, so that he’s able to handle his business. Like I said, he’s very busy.”

“Wow, he must be, because that’s crazy. I'm a night owl, too, but I can carry my own phone. And doesn't everybody like to do something?”

“Mr. Goddard likes to make money. He doesn't spend much of it, though.”