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I ran into my old friend and classmate Princess Young while I was there. Newly divorced, she was actively seeking to have a good time and suggested we check out karaoke night at a spot called Geneva’s. I didn’t recall the place and I hit every night spot in Romey on the regular when I was in school, so I figured it was relatively new, or maybe just new to me. Either way, I was down. I was feeling good. Brooklyn’s drunken revelation had me on cloud eighteen.
She loves me.
I’d spent the time I wasn’t asleep thinking about it, and yes, she was drunk but it was hard to find a lying drunk. Alcohol loosens inhibitions and tongues, gives one courage to say things they’d never utter sober.
She loves me.
Shestillloves me.
I couldn’t think of a thing in this world that was better than that.
The place was packed and there were no tables available, so we ended up sitting at the bar, arriving just in time to witness a guy strangle the life out ofMan in the Mirror. By the time he was done, I wanted to kill the man and break the mirror. He also drove me to order whiskey instead of beer. Princess was fighting not to laugh. It was just too tragic for me to see the humor in it.
The next person was announced. A petite woman dressed like she was either on her way to or from a COGIC church revival, big ass hat and all. When she started singingErotic Cityby Prince, I damn near fell off that stool. She sounded good, too!
There was a break in the karaoke performances during which Princess threw back another drink and muttered, “Nothing but old folks in here? Old or with dates. Shit.”
“Damn, how long has it been? You act like you ain’t had none in years.”
Rolling her eyes, she tilted her head to the side. “I am in my forties, Vann. This is my sexual peak! I could fuck hourly, and it wouldn’t be enough.”
“Word? You sure you’re still a lesbian? I mean, we’ve been friends a long time. I could help you out.”
She flipped me off and I laughed.
Shifting her eyes from me to the stage, she said, “Where didshecome from? That’s my speed right there!”
Following her line of sight, I almost hopped off the barstool. Where did she come from? Had she been here when I arrived, and if so, how had I missed her? At this point, I should’ve sensed her presence.
Yeah, I wanted her that bad.
Brooklyn stepped onto the stage in tight leather pants and a white blouse with long sleeves and a high neck. Ruffles accented the collar and cuffs and it was sheer, like, I could see her black bra through the fabric sheer.
Damn.
Her hair—a weave, a wig, her own…shit, I didn’t care—was, wavy hair, brushing her shoulders. Face made up, dark skin glowing under the lights. I was speechless. She was so fucking beautiful.
Her name and chosen song were announced by an unseen MC, and then the music began, a lone acoustic guitar—My Allby Mariah Carey. Princess said something about loving the song, but I couldn’t respond as Brooklyn began singing, performing vocal acrobats to mimic what Ms. Carey did on the song., moving on to the first verse, her voice soft and windy. As the song continued, she picked up steam and was belting out notes in perfect pitch.
I was in shock. I mean, she’d once told me she liked singing, pillow talk from a college senior, and I was so pussy drunk at the time, I didn’t really hear her, but this? This was beyond talent. This was something more, something ethereal and magical.
What the hell was she doing in Romey working as my sister’s secretary? Why didn’t the world know about her, her beauty, her body that all these years later, still belonged to a dancer, and her voice.
Her voice.
Wow. If I thought I loved her before, I couldn’t even explain what I felt for her now.
“Damn, can you close your mouth, London?” Princess quipped.
In response, I truthfully shook my head, no. I couldn’t close my mouth or shut off my brain or control the raging erection that was growing more painful by the second.
“Well, I saw her first and I’ma shoot my shot as soon as she steps off that stage.”
That statement got my attention and I turned to look at my friend. “As the song goes, shawty don’t swing that way.”
“If you’re referring to the song I think you’re referring to, you are actually incorrect, and you don’t know anyway.”
“Oh, I know. I know for damn sure.”
