Page 54 of Body Language
She leaned back a little, biting her lip like Christmas came early. “Oh, so we doing gifts now? You tryna spoil me already, Givelle?”
“Not trying,” I corrected, sliding my hand into my jacket pocket. “I am.”
I pulled out a small velvet box and set it in her palm. The second she felt the weight of it, her whole demeanor shifted. She loved gifts. I could see it in the way her smile softened, like she was already picturing herself wearing it. Not because it screamed money, but because it screamed thoughtfulness.
“Go ahead,” I said.
She opened it slow, like her body couldn’t decide between playing it cool and squealing. Inside was a delicate bracelet. White gold with a line of small amethyst stones, deep purple and gleaming under the light.
Her lips parted. “Kendrix…”
I smirked. “You like it?”
“I… yeah,” she whispered, eyes glued to it. “This is… shit. It’s beautiful.”
I took the bracelet from the box, holding her wrist gently as I slid it on. “Purple’s my favorite color on a woman,” I told her, fastening the clasp.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because it makes us look like royalty or some shit?”
I grinned, leaning closer so my lips brushed her ear. “Exactly. Purple stands for power. Passion. Mystery. And every time I see it on a woman… it reminds me she’s dangerous enough to make a king kneel without lifting a finger.”
She laughed, shaking her head.“Boy, you smooth as hell. Talking about kneeling like you ain’t the one tryna have me bent backwards somewhere.”
“Don’t get it twisted. I’ll do both.”
She looked down at the bracelet, then kissed me. When she pulled back, her lips were shining, and that smirk of hers was lethal. “I gotta go,” she said, sliding off my lap, leather creaking as she moved. “Your bitch, Arlette, has me entertaining some men before a meeting.”
I leaned back, smirking. “You gone stop calling that hoe, my bitch. But yeah, Pretty. That meeting’s with me.”
She froze mid-step, glancing over her shoulder with a look of fire. “Figures.”
Then she started walking, hips swinging like she knew I was watching.
“Don’t be late, Givelle. I like my men punctual… and hard.”
The lounge was thick with smoke and money. Two men sat across from me, Derrick and Sosa. Suits, gold watches, and the kind of smiles that looked good but meant you needed to count your fingers after shaking hands. We’d been talking numbers for weeks, and it was supposed to be the final sit-down.
But the second I stepped in, I damn near lost my train of thought. Pretty was on the pole. Leather still painted to her ass, body glistening under the soft lights. She moved like the music was built for her spine, her hair brushing her shoulders as she spun.
Derrick leaned back with a grin. “The dancer already made us real comfortable, Kendrix. Hell of a show while we waited on you.”
Sosa laughed, sipping his drink. “She had us forgetting why we came here.”
I lit a cigar, forced my smirk to stay calm. “Good to hear,” I said, like she wasn’t the reason my chest was tight too.
I exhaled smoke slow, leaning back in my chair. “So… where we at?”
Derrick tapped the table. “We like your idea. The expansion on the cigar lounges. We bring in our liquor, your cigars, and use the poker rooms as the front. Money circulates clean. Everybody eats.”
Sosa nodded. “We’re ready to move forward. Just needed to look you in the eye before we shake on it.”
On the surface, it sounded good. Too good. But I’d been in this game long enough to know when a nigga was selling me water in the middle of a rainstorm.
And right then… I noticed Pretty.
The way she moved. She wasn’t just dancing anymore. She was communicating with me.
Her spin slowed, her body swaying side to side instead of front to back. Then, she hooked her ankle high on the pole and stretched, pointing that heel in the direction of Derrick and Sosa.
