twenty two
Someone had turned the music off, but the bass from the main stage still pulsed through the walls-steady, low, a reminder that out there, the night wasn't over yet.
Mariah was perched on the edge of the vanity, her heels kicked off, legs swinging like she couldn't sit still. She was hugging a plastic cake topper to her chest. The frosting on the cake read Good Luck Bitch in loopy pink letters.
It was the nicest thing any of us could think to say.
Tati sniffled, dabbing under her eyes. "You're gonna be so bored at your new job, you know that, right? No one's gonna flash you hundred-dollar bills just because you smiled at them."
Mariah huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "Honestly, I think I'm okay with that."
Shanice-still in her stage makeup, hair pinned up in rollers-leaned over to peel a stray piece of confetti off Mariah's shoulder. "Swear to God you better not forget about us."
"Yeah, right," Mariah said. "Like I could ever."
Nessa, who'd only been dancing here six months, toyed with the corner of the cake box. "How long have you been here again?"
"Two years," Mariah said, her voice softening. "Started two weeks after I turned twenty-one."
"Damn," Tati breathed. "Feels like longer."
"Feels like yesterday," I said.
Mariah looked up at me, her eyes a little glassy. "You were the first person to talk to me. Remember that?"
I did. She'd been sitting right where she was now, clutching a purse too small for anything useful, looking like she was about to bolt.
"You were wearing that red set," I said, smiling a little. "You were so scared."
"I was terrified," Mariah admitted. "But you were nice. You told me not to let any of the girls see me cry or they'd eat me alive."
"That was good advice," Shanice said, nodding solemnly.
"I was lying," I confessed. "We were all crying back then."
More laughter. Softer this time.
Mariah wiped under her eyes, smudging her eyeliner. "I don't know, y'all. It's weird. I thought I'd be happier. Like, relieved."
"You are," Tati said gently. "You're just also sad. It's allowed."
"I keep thinking I'm gonna walk out that door and feel like a different person," Mariah said, her voice quiet. "Like everything's gonna change."
Nessa shifted closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "It will. But not in a bad way."
Mariah leaned her head against Nessa's. "I hope so."
For a while, no one said anything. We just sat there-girls in various stages of undress, smelling like hairspray and cheap cake, all of us thinking about what it meant to leave and what it meant to stay.
Shanice clapped her hands together suddenly. "Alright. Enough crying. Someone say something stupid before I start again."
One by one, the girls hugged her. Someone snapped a few more pictures on their phone. Mariah wiped her eyes again and slid off the vanity, picking up her beat-up duffel bag.
Nessa squeezed her hand. "Text us when you get home."
"I will."
Tati leaned in for one last hug. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," Mariah whispered.
When it was my turn, I pulled her close and held on longer than I meant to.
"You're gonna be okay," I said quietly.
"I know," she murmured against my shoulder. "I just...I'm gonna miss you."
"Same," I whispered back.
When she pulled away, she looked lighter. Like she'd let something go.
She slipped out the back door without much ceremony.
Just like that-she was gone.
And we were all a little quieter than before.
The back door swung shut behind Mariah with a soft click.
For a second, nobody moved. The dressing room felt emptier than it had any right to, like all the noise had slipped out with her.
Tati exhaled, brushing a stray lash off her cheek. "God, I feel like I just went through a breakup."
Nessa let out a weak laugh. "I'm gonna need a drink after this."
Sam cracked her neck and stood, smoothing her palms down her jeans. "Y'all coming? I'm not about to be the last one out and get stuck turning off the lights."
A few of the girls mumbled goodbyes, drifting toward the door in twos and threes. Somebody flicked the speaker back on, but the music sounded tinny and too bright.
I picked up my bag from under the vanity and slung it over my shoulder. Tati was still standing in the same spot, arms folded tight across her chest, like she was trying to hold something in.
"You good?" I asked.
She nodded, but her eyes were shiny again. "Yeah. Just...makes you think, you know?"
I did.
Sam looped an arm through mine, tugging us gently toward the hallway. "Come on. If we stand here any longer, I'm gonna cry again, and I am not ruining this makeup for a second time."
We slipped out into the back corridor, the three of us moving in step like we always did.
The air outside was warm and heavy, the kind of sticky summer night that clung to your skin. A few cars idled at the curb, headlights cutting pale stripes across the sidewalk.
For a minute, none of us spoke. Just breathed. Letting the quiet settle in our chests.
Sam shifted her weight, looking between us. "You wanna get food or something? I'm too wired to go straight home."
"Maybe," I said. "You working tomorrow?"
"Yeah." She glanced at Tati. "What about you?"
Tati didn't answer right away. She was staring off across the street, her mouth pressed into a thoughtful line.
I touched her arm, gentle. "Tati?"
She blinked, like she'd forgotten we were there. Then she looked at both of us, eyes wide and earnest.
"Can I tell you guys something?"
Sam straightened a little. "Yeah, of course."
Tati sucked in a slow breath. "Seth...asked me to come to Texas with him."
The words landed soft, but they still felt heavy.
I felt my brows lift. "Wait-like...move there?"
She nodded, her voice small. "Yeah. Just for a while. He's got this pre-season training, and...he wants me there."
Sam's eyes flicked between us. "Shit."
"Have you decided?" I asked carefully.
Tati's arms tightened across her chest. "No. I mean-I don't know. Part of me thinks it's stupid to even consider it. But then..."
She trailed off, glancing back toward the club like she could still see Mariah slipping out the door.
"...I don't know. Seeing her leave tonight, it just made me think...maybe it's time for me to figure out what's next."
Nobody said anything for a second. The city noise stretched out around us-cars hissing by, distant music floating up from an open window.
Finally, Sam sighed. "Look. I'm not gonna pretend I don't have opinions, because you know I do. But whatever you decide...I get it."
"Me too," I said. My voice came out softer than I meant it. "And you know we love you either way."
Tati's eyes went shiny again. "I love you guys, too."
She laughed once, a little shaky. "God, I'm such a mess tonight."
"It's okay," Sam said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "You're allowed."
For a moment, we just stood there-three girls in too-tight dresses, sticky with sweat and makeup and all the feelings we didn't always say out loud.
And even though everything felt like it was shifting, I couldn't help thinking...maybe that was okay.
After a while, the street started to empty.
Sam's ride pulled up first-a dented silver sedan with one taillight out. She hugged us both tight, promising to text when she got home.
Tati lingered a little longer. She looked like she was about to say something else-maybe something final-but instead she just squeezed my hand and climbed into her own car without another word.
When both cars had pulled away, the quiet settled over me all at once.
The club door clicked shut behind the last girl, leaving the sidewalk empty except for me and the security light buzzing overhead.
I tucked my bag higher on my shoulder, pulled out my phone, and called a ride.
It was almost four in the morning. The city felt softer at that hour-like it had finally exhaled.
While I waited, I scrolled through my messages. Nothing new from Brooks. Not that I expected any. He never blew up my phone when I was out. Never asked questions he knew I wouldn't answer.
Still, when I thought about seeing him, something warm and unsteady moved in my chest.
My ride pulled up-a dark SUV with tinted windows. The driver nodded at me through the passenger window as I climbed into the backseat.
"Where to?" he asked, glancing in the mirror.
I gave the address without thinking.
Brooks's address.
The car eased away from the curb, the streetlights sliding over my face in soft, intermittent flashes.
I let my head fall back against the seat, the exhaustion finally catching up. But under it, there was something else-a quiet hum I didn't have the energy to name.
By the time we turned onto his block, the sun was just starting to tease the edge of the horizon.
And for the first time all night, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The doorman didn't even look surprised to see me anymore.
He just dipped his chin, polite and a little amused, as he pulled the door open. "Morning, Miss Amira."
"Morning," I murmured, tucking my hair behind my ear.
The lobby was quiet, all soft lamplight and spotless marble. Even the hush felt expensive.
I crossed to the elevators, tapping the button with a fingertip that still smelled faintly like vanilla frosting.
When the doors slid open, I stepped inside and pressed the penthouse floor. My reflection looked back at me from three different angles-tired, mascara smudged under my eyes, hair falling out of the clip I'd twisted it into after work.
But when the elevator eased to a stop and the doors opened, none of that mattered.
Because Brooks was awake.
The lights in the living room were low, but I could see him through the open doorway to his office-still in his shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his forearms braced on the edge of his desk. Papers were spread out in front of him in neat rows, but he wasn't reading any of them.
He looked up the second he heard me.