Page 4 of Good As Hell

We laugh so hard tears crowd the corners of my eyes.

“Oh my goodness.” Grabbing a tissue from her proffered hand, I dab the corners of my eyes.

“Wow, that was cold-blooded.” She shakes her head. Just as she does, my gazes skims past her to the tall figure standing on the opposite side of the room. He’s standing in an alcove alone, sipping a clear liquid.

None of that is surprising. What has the breath arrested in my chest is the fact that he’s looking at me. Not just that he’s looking at me, but the way he’s looking at me.

The green topaz gaze of Hassan Al-Rasheed smolders as he takes me in across the room.

“What, or rather, who are you looking at?” Fifi swivels to look.

“No,” I snap, barely noticing the frown puckering on her flawlessly made-up face.

“Don’t look.” I still can’t take my eyes off him, even as it’s more than clear to him I’m talking about him.

“It’s Hassan,” I say, barely moving my lips, but the quirk of his brow lets me know he read my lips.

I can’t stop the curl of a smirk that gives me away.

“Nooo, I thought you said he was mean.” Grabbing her neck, she gasps, her long lashes adding to the drama of her roundingeyes. “He’s so mean. Fi.” She adds in a baby voice with a pout to boot.

“He was,” I concede, watching as he finishes the drink and handing it to a passing server.

His eyes never leave mine. Slipping one hand in his suit pocket, he takes out what looks like a credit card. A server materializes out of nowhere. He speaks to the man, his eyes still steady on me. With a brief nod, the man disappears. He looks at me seemingly forever.

My heart races. I don’t understand what’s happening. He looks positively feral. Why does that make parts of me that have long lay dormant awaken with a ferocity I haven’t felt since I lost the love of my life — a passion I never got to experience despite the love we shared? I felt like I was too tainted and Justice thought ironically that I was too pure.

“Uh-uh, babe, he ain’t the one.” I barely hear Fi’s ferocious whisper as I watch him slice me with one long, lingering look before he pivots and leaves without a backward look.

I sit back, disappointment bracketing me like a deluge on a hot summer day in Birmingham. Only it’s nowhere near as comforting. Only leaves the ick you feel when hot, steamy clothes cling to you as you bake in the sweltering heat of summer sun.

“He left.” I raise my gaze to her worried one. Being one of the four people who knows my story, she’s fiercely protective of me. Maybe too much sometimes.

He’s not worth it,” she tells me with a steel resolve in her tone, letting me know she’ll fight me on this if need be.

“Babe, you say that about everyone with your cock blocking tail.” I scoff, pulling the near empty Remy towards me but having no desire to drain the rest of the drink.

“Well, we both know I ain’t blocking no cocks, hunnie.” I can’t help breaking into a little giggle at her naughty words.

“You ain’t never lied,” I tell her.

“He’s not a terrible choice.” Slowly turning the glass in slow revolutions, I wonder at his mercurial behavior. A man blowing hot and cold with me is unusual. Most can’t wait to tell the lie about me sexually. There’s no doubt he’s heard about my escapades. I know more than one guy who’s put off by my so-called active sex life, even the NBA player who himself has a notorious reputation for his love life. When we dated one time after I’d set him on a merry chase of conquest, he was so preoccupied with those he thought were my many ex-lovers. He got dumped without even a kiss, bless his heart. I’m too grown to baby men. I don’t speak about my past. No one deserves my story until they have proven themselves worthy of my trust. I know from loving Justice that when I love, I love hard. Lose myself completely in the glow of their adoration. I wanted to breathe Justice in and will never forgive myself for being so close, only to lose it all. Loving me back then cost him his life as much as his mom’s activism.

“His loss.” I tip my glass to my bestie.

“Damn straight.” Glasses clink. I drink down the rest of my Remy, ignoring the twinge of disappointment.

“Excuse me.” Turning, I look into the eyes of the same server Hassan spoke to earlier.

He holds a silver tray in my direction with a black card placed on a linen napkin.

I barely hear Fi scoff, “I know you fucking lying,”

Chapter Two

JAMEELA MEANS BEAUTIFUL

LYRIC

---