Page 24 of Body Language
I zipped my bag and pulled my hoodie over my head. “Nah. That club held us down for years. When we ain’t have shit, they gave us something. Ima let him know wassup, though. But I’ll still slide through on the slow days or when this place is closed. Loyalty still is everything to us.”
Ty nodded. “Bet. That’s real. That sound like a plan.”
We walked out, headed towards the back door. I didn’t expect anything else tonight. I was satisfied, tired, and full in every way that counted. But the moment we opened that back door to leave, he was standing there.
Leaning against the side of a matte black Escalade, talking on the phone like he was mid-conversation.
But I knew he wasn’t. He looked too casual to be caught off-guard. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone up to his ear, but his eyes locked right on me.
He knew I’d come through that door. I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t blink, speak, or smile. But inside, my chest was thumping. I walked right past him and let my shoulder graze his chest just enough for him to feel me.
He didn’t flinch or move, but I heard him hang up that fake-ass phone call, and I smiled to myself.
8
Kendrix
She walked past me like she didn’t feel the heat I was throwing. She didn’t slow down or bat a lash. That type of self-control only comes from someone who chooses not to give in. I liked that.
“‘Excuse me, pretty…” I said, my voice smooth and slow.
She turned halfway, one brow raised, wearing a sweatsuit like she didn’t just make the entire club forget their mother’s names.
Before she could say anything, her homegirl started laughing.
“Oh yeah, sis… I see he’s tryna be poetic. I’m going to my car to make a call. Handle that.”
She laughed. “I’m good, Ty. Love you. I’ll be right behind you leaving, sis.”
She turned back to me and I tilted my head, my eyes never leaving hers. “You sure about that?”
She squinted a little. “Sure about what?”
“That you’ll be leaving right behind her.”
She smiled, already folding her arms like she was setting up the chessboard in her head. “Yeah, I’m pretty positive.”
I smiled. “I’d love to have a little of your time.”
I stepped in just a little closer, close enough to smell the soft vanilla on her skin. She looked down at her wrist—where a watch would’ve been—and tapped her bare skin. “Well, time is money. And it takes money to get my time.”
Arms still folded. Chin slightly tilted. Waiting.
Shit.
I laughed a little under my breath. “Aight, you got it. That’s fair.”
Then I looked her straight in her eyes, “So what’s your name?”
She gave me a smile that hit harder than any punch I ever took in my life.
“You never ask a dancer her real name,” she said. “You have to earn that. So, for now…”
She leaned forward just enough for me to feel the whisper on her lips.
“…all you get is MissCommunication.”
Damn.
