Chapter Three- Eshe
I was a living testimony of how you could still feel lonely in a room full of people—and I was. Because the way sadness had me in a chokehold made no fucking sense, but I just couldn’t shake it off. It clung to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of everything I was going through.
I needed help.
In the middle of the club’s VIP section, with music about popping pussy thumping through the speakers and the weight of my sorrows pressing down on me, I closed my eyes and did something I hadn’t done in a long time—I sought solace in a prayer.
“God, if you send him back to me, I promise to—” I stopped myself mid-thought and let the rest evaporate like smoke, because I didn’t actually want him back—and I realized that in that exact moment.
I didn’t want him. He was just a bad habit I had trouble breaking. I knew that. I wanted peace.
“Eshe!” Sinica called my name loud enough to cut through the music. I turned, already annoyed, surrounded by six of her friends who looked like carbon copies of her: light-skinned, lace fronts, thin, lithe bodies. I almost rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, what?” I asked, deadpan.
“Sherry asked if you ever thought about taking out your locs. You might lose a few inches, but you’d look so pretty with relaxed hair.”
I barely heard anything after that because the white boy sitting with a group across the way had my attention. He was staring at me as if he knew me.
I squinted to get a better view of his face in the dim lights. Something about him was… magnetic. I didn’t usually find white boys interesting to look at, but he was too handsome to ignore, and he was sitting with a crowd full of Black folks.
I licked my lips. He smiled and nodded at me like he was inviting me over.
I shook my head, even though something in my chest tightened at the idea. I already had too much going on with the man I was dealing with.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, gave him one final look, then turned away.
Everyone at the table was waiting for me to respond. I had to mentally rewind to remember she had asked me about my hair.
Why in the fuck would I risk damaging my hair to fit their standards?
I picked up my drink—a Crown Royal, straight—and took a slow sip before answering with a simple, “No.”
I spat it out. The question had left a bad taste in my mouth. This was exactly why I didn’t bother with Sinica and her friends. I was tipsy enough not to let it really get to me, but I wasn’t about to play with them either. It was time for me to go home.
I gathered my things, stood up slowly, and threw my purse strap over my shoulder.
“I’ll see y’all at the wedding,” I said flatly. No hugs. No fake smiles. Just walked away.
My patience was damn near nonexistent. Cordial was the best they were gonna get.
Sinica called after me—like she hadn’t just sat there and let her friends fuck with me.
I didn’t turn around.
Moving through the club made me feel like I was suffocating. The thick heat was stifling, and the bass thumped through my ribcage like it was trying to crack me open from the inside. Perfume, sweat, spilled drinks all mixed in the air and made my stomach queasy. I ignored the urge to cover my nose.
I pushed past a group of girls twerking near the bar and squeezed between two men dapping each other up.
I was halfway to the door when a hand wrapped around my wrist.
I froze.
My head snapped to the side, ready to snatch my arm back and cuss somebody out—but when I looked up, it was him. The white boy from across the club. The one with the smile that made something low in my stomach clench.
I yanked my hand away, still.
“Don’t be grabbing on strange women,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes up at him, trying to look intimidating.
A wide smile split his lips. Then he gave me this look—like he’d just figured something out about me in a few seconds.
He leaned in, and my heart ticked up. He smelled sweet and hot, like the spicy candies I remembered eating when I was little.
“I’m allowed to reach for who calls to me,” he said, so soft I almost didn’t hear him over the music.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, but his eyes never left mine.
“Us meeting here was meant to be. But I can tell by the look on your face you aren’t ready for me.
My baby momma wore that same look when she was loving a man who didn’t deserve her.
I see the same heartbreak in your eyes. Same weight written all over your pretty face. ”
I opened my mouth, ready to curse him smooth out, because why the fuck was he prophesying my life like he knew me?
He held up a hand—
“That man who fucked over my baby momma happens to be my best friend. So I seen it from both sides. I learned from his mistakes, so I know how to help you when the time comes,” he added, voice low, calm.
“So I’m going to let you deal with whatever issues you got, because I won’t be helpful—not at this point, when you look fed up with everybody. ”
I blinked hard, looking up at him.
Who was this man?
I let my eyes slowly rake over his face—his sharp jawline, his sad-ass eyes that looked like they’d seen too much.
He did the same in return.
His eyes on me made my entire body tingle.
He stepped back, giving me space.
“I’ll let you go now. I know we’ll meet again, beautiful. And you’re gonna be ready for me then.”
He gave me one last look, like he was memorizing me—not the girl I was now, but the woman he swore I’d become. Then he turned and walked off, slow and unbothered, slipping through the crowd.
I stood there for a second, heart kicking like it was trying to outrun itself. I hated that he had read me right. Hated that for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about the man who’d been breaking my back and spirit.
Back at his table, he waved—and then two women waved too.
I didn’t know whether to wave back or walk over and ask what the hell was wrong with him. Who told him he could see me?
I didn’t do either.
I just exhaled, gave my head a shake, then turned and headed for the exit while ordering an Uber.
The Uber’s backseat smelled like cheap air freshener and other people’s regrets. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the club lights blur into streaks of color—like my life, smudged at the edges.