Page 55 of Body Language
I raised my brow behind a cloud of smoke. Message received. Something’s off.
I leaned forward, cigar between my fingers. “So, let’s talk numbers one more time.”
They started running the play again, but my ears weren’t on the math. They were on the way Pretty’s eyes cut toward them every time they overpromised. On the way her body slowed when they lied, the same way it picked up when they told the truth.
The table was covered with neat stacks of paper, contracts typed up real professional, pens sitting on top like they just knew I was about to sign.
Derrick leaned in, tapping the first page. “All we need is your signature here, Kendrix. You’re about to triple your profits in less than six months.”
Sosa nodded, flashing all them teeth. “Easy money. We handle distribution. You just keep doing what you do best. Nobody loses.”
I rolled the cigar slow between my fingers, my eyes on the paperwork but my mind on Pretty.
She was still moving on that pole. At first, she looked like she was just vibing with the music, but I knew better. I’d been watching her too long not to recognize the pattern.
Her hips swayed side to side like a no. Her eyes cut quick at Derrick when he said nobody loses.
Then she spun around, arching her back, legs splitting wide in the air, toes pointed right at the papers in front of me.
I raised an eyebrow.Don’t sign that shit.
Derrick leaned closer. “What’s the hesitation, Kendrix? You asked for a smooth move, we delivered. This is it.”
I smirked, leaning back. “Smooth ain’t always smart. Sometimes it’s just slick.”
Sosa’s grin faded, but Derrick laughed like I cracked a joke. “You don’t trust us?”
Pretty’s pace changed again. She spun up the pole, gripped tight, then leaned back into an upside-down hang. Her legs scissored before she stretched one out pointing straight down at the bottom of the contract like a damn arrow.
The fine print.
I reached over, flipping the pages without breaking eye contact with her. “Nah, it ain’t about trust. It’s about detail. And something in here don’t smell right.”
Derrick shifted in his seat. “Everything’s clean, Kendrix.”
I smirked, looking dead at him. “Maybe for y’all. But for me? This clause right here,” I tapped the bottom paragraph with my cigar, “means you walk away owning half of what I built while I cover all the risk.”
Silence.
Pretty dropped down the pole slow, knees bent, arching her back like she was sealing the deal, and I knew I said exactly what she wanted me to.
Derrick cleared his throat. “We can adjust the terms.”
“Yeah, you will,” I said smoothly, leaning back and blowing out a stream of smoke. “Or this conversation’s over.”
Out the corner of my eye, Pretty smiled faintly, swinging around the pole. I leaned forward, stubbed my cigar out on the ashtray, and said,
“So, what’s it gon’ be? Adjust the terms… or watch me walk out with every dollar you thought you were about to eat?”
15
Niveah
I was halfway through touching up my lip gloss when the door flew open without a knock. I didn’t even need to look up to know it was trouble. The smell of too much perfume and not enough class gave it away.
Arlette strutted in, heels clicking like she was sending SOS signals to her insecurities. She tossed a bag onto the vanity in front of me, stacks of cash peeking out.
“There,” she said, flipping her hair. “That’s all I need from you today.”
