Page 5 of Body Language
Do I feel bad about it? Not really.
I don’t scam.
I don’t sell dreams.
I just know my worth and invoice accordingly.
I never lie.
I might not tell the whole truth, but I still don’t lie.
God dealt me this hand because He knew I could play it.
Bad cards and all.
Still win.
Still smile.
I still leave the table with a full plate and my dignity intact.
So, if a man wants to feel seen? I’ll look.
If he wants to feel heard? I’ll listen.
And if he wants to feel needed?
Well…
There’s always a price for that.
3
Niveah
My phone was tucked between my cheek and shoulder as I stood in front of the mirror, dragging a chestnut brown liner across my bottom lip with precision. My skin glowed like melted chocolate. The kind of skin they write poems about but never get to touch.
“Mmm,” I hummed, slow and syrupy. “That’s the thing about you. You walk like the world owes you something, but your heart still folds when nobody’s looking. I know that type.”
The man on the other end of the line didn’t speak at first. Just a breath. Deep. Raspy. Soft, like he was sitting somewhere expensive, finally feeling seen.
“I’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” he said. “Like… really see me. Your mind is just so beautiful.”
They always said that. Because It is.
“You've been holding so much in,” I whispered. “The family. The business. The pressure to always have the answers. Who holds you when it’s heavy, baby?”
His breath caught.
Hook set.
“Niv…” He sounded undone. “No one understands how hard it gets.”
I had a strategy. A price list disguised as poetry.
He cleared his throat. “What you got going today?”
I adjusted the straps on my bodysuit and gave my reflection a slow once-over. Waist snatched. Hair long and thick. Gold hoops. Diamond jewelry on my wrist and ankles.
