Page 22 of The Influencer

He doesn’t. Jade only gives me a grin, a nod, and turns to walk away. “Have a good night,” he calls over his shoulder.

Yeah. You, too.

6

jade

I brought two men home with me the night Asher left me on the street at the club, just to make sure I still could. I don’t particularly love being rejected, even when I know the proposition I made him was outrageous. Regardless of Asher, though, the night ended on the ultimate high note.

Anyway, that’s all in the rearview. I’ve hardly thought of Asher since then. Not about the dejected look on his face when I’d caught up to him outside the club, the glimmer of interest I’d noticed when I’d made him an offer, nor have I spared more than a couple of seconds at a time thinking about what it might have been like if he’d taken me up on it. Nope. And I honestly don’t care whether he has freckles on his shoulders or not. I really couldn’t give a shit.

On Monday morning, my closest friend Aven and I are walking through my newly renovated condo, each holding a roll of blue tape to mark up the final spots for touch-ups the contractors need to address. I’m moving back in tomorrow, and to my relief, there’s not much left that needs doing. We approach the bedroom, and I remind Aven not to judge me. Since they’re about the least judgmental person known to humankind I’m preaching to the choir, but still.

“You did what?” They gasp, hand over their mouth as they stare wide-eyed at the space.

I made a sex room. That’s what I did. The wall behind my bed isn’t painted. Instead, it’s covered in black quilted padding with my social media handle done up in Swarovski crystals embedded in the fabric. A small uplight makes the letters glitter even in the bright daylight since the curtains haven’t gone up yet.

“Jade…”

I grin. “It’s so perfect, right?” I’ve had all the lighting I’ll need permanently installed. I’m totally over fucking around to properly position ring lights for every collaboration I film.

I experiment with the four switches and the dimmer settings, but there’s not much I can tell in the bright morning light. I’ll need to come back tonight and make sure everything works the way I want it to before I give my final payment to the contractor.

Let’s face it—in order to be successful in all my lines of work outside of dancing, I need to make myself as attractive as possible. Having an appealing space can only add to my draw. And in order to work with the best people, I have to look like the best person to work with.

“It. Is. Everything,” Aven says, running their hand along the quilted velvet wall.

Aven and I are perfectly platonic. They dance on Gideon’s tour and live in town as well, and we’ve gotten along since we first met. Aven is ace, though, so I’m not sure they fully appreciate how epic this bedroom remodel is in terms of what it’s going to do for my sex life, both monetarily and potentially otherwise.

“Can I see the closet?” they ask.

We walk into it together. The third bedroom in my three-bedroom condo used to serve no purpose, but now it’s a posh, windowed walk-in closet with a vanity, six dressers and an entire wall for shoes.

“You are going to have so much fun here,” Aven says. “When do you move back in?”

“Tomorrow,” I say, noting a small area near a baseboard that’s missing paint. I tear off a scrap of tape and stick it to the wall. “But the sofa and bed won’t be here until Wednesday.”

“Why not wait until Wednesday?” they ask.

“Homesick, I guess. It’s enough time to stock the kitchen and shop—make sure everything is working in case we miss something today. I’ll probably just sleep in here until then.”

“It is nice carpet,” Aven comments on the plush rug we’re standing on. The closet is the only area I had carpeted, and I spared no expense.

“Thanks,” I say. “I know.”

They turn to me, thick, purple hair swinging behind their shoulders and greedy curiosity in their dark brown eyes. “So, I heard you brought a date out the other night… not your usual type from what I understand.”

“Oh, Asher wasn’t my date. He’s just some straight guy with blue balls trying to figure out what he wants. But it’s true, he’s not my type.”

“Heard he was gorgeous.”

I stiffen slightly, unable to keep from scowling. “Said who?”

“Micah.”

Micah needs to mind his damn business. “He is technically gorgeous, but he’s…” My words trail off. What is Asher anyway?

“Confused,” I say.

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