CHAPTER TEN #3
My lace front was laid to the gods. long, bone-straight hair that cascaded down my back.
My makeup was on point as well. I was rocking a smokey eye with gold shimmer, perfectly sculpted contour, glossy nude lips.
My lashes were long and dramatic, making my eyes pop.
I had gold jewelry, delicate earrings, and a thin chain around my neck, while rocking a few rings.
My nails were done in a French tip with gold accents.
And my shoes were black Louboutin heels with the signature red bottoms, they were so high I was damn near six feet tall.
I looked expensive, and I looked exactly like the kind of woman who belonged at a high-society event.
Mr. Clyde had been the perfect gentleman all night.
He introduced me to people as his "companion for the evening,” he kept his hand respectfully on my lower back, he made sure I had champagne and food.
We made small talk with boring people about boring people shit.
investments, real estate, somebody's yacht, and their vacation homes in the Hamptons.
I played my role perfectly. Smiled at the right times, laughed at their unfunny jokes, acted interested in their stories.
"I'm going to grab another drink," I told Mr. Clyde after about an hour. "You want anything?"
"No, Beautiful, I'm fine. I'll be right here speaking with the Commissioner."
I nodded and made my way through the crowd toward the bar. The bartender was pouring drinks for a couple of older women, so I waited, checking my phone absently.
"The Universe is tryna tell me something," The voice came from behind me, smooth and deep, and something about it made my whole body tense up before I even turned around.
Turning around my breath got caught. Sosa was standing there, looking fine as hell in a black suit that fit him perfectly.
The jacket was tailored to his broad shoulders, the pants hung just right.
He had a white shirt underneath, top button undone, no tie.
His locs were freshly retwisted, hanging down past his shoulders, and that silver nose ring caught the light from the chandelier.
He had a gold watch on his wrist, diamond studs in his ears, and he smelled like expensive cologne.
"Yah-Yah," he said, his eyes slowly dragging up and down my body in a way that made me feel hot all over. “What’s good?"
"Sosa," I said, trying to sound casual even though my heart was beating faster. "Whatchu’ doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." He stepped closer, and I caught more of his cologne.
"But I'm here for some business shit. Making connections, you know how it is.
" His eyes lingered on the slit in my dress, then traveled back up to my face.
"You look... sexy as fuck." "Thank you," I said, turning back toward the bar.
The bartender was finally free. "Can I get a Don Julio and lemonade with a splash of cranberry? "
"Make that two," Sosa said, sliding up next to me at the bar. "So what brings you to a police ball? You a cop now?"
I side-eyed him. "Do I look like a cop?"
“Nah, but shit these days you never know.”
"I'm here with someone," I said firmly, taking my drink from the bartender.
"Oh yeah? Who?"
"That's none of your business."
"Everything about you is my business, ma." He picked up his drink, taking a sip while maintaining eye contact. "Especially when you looking like that." I felt my face get warm.
"Sosa, don't start."
"Don't start what? Telling you the truth?" He leaned against the bar, getting comfortable. "I ain't seen you since that night at the club, when you was out here fighting like Mike Tyson."
"Shut up." I smiled.
"Nah, for real though, shorty you got some hands on you.” He laughed, a sound that was way too attractive. “Ole girl was surprised as fuck.” He continued, The mention of that shit soured my mood immediately. "Can we not talk about that?"
"My bad." He held up a hand. "Sensitive subject. I get it."
We stood there in silence for a moment, me sipping my drink, him watching me with those intense eyes.
Then his whole energy shifted. His jaw tightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was different, harder, more demanding.
"Who you here with, Yah?"
"I told you, that's none of—"
"And I'm telling you I want to know." He stepped closer, invading my space in a way that should've made me uncomfortable but somehow didn't.
"Who the fuck you here with? And why the fuck you looking this good?"
My mouth opened, then closed. I wasn't used to a man talking to me like this, he acted like he had some kind of claim on me, like he had the right to demand answers.
"Yah-Yah, there you are." Mr. Clyde appeared at my elbow, smiling politely. "I was looking for you. The Commissioner wants to meet you."
"Oh," I said, grateful for the interruption but also weirdly annoyed by it. "Um, Mr. Clyde, can you give me just a minute? I'm talking to... an old friend."
Mr. Clyde glanced at Sosa, sizing him up in a subtle way that rich powerful men did when they encountered a young Black man in their spaces.
"Of course. I'll be over by our table."
"Thank you."
He walked away, and I turned back to Sosa, who was staring at Mr. Clyde's retreating form with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Mr. Clyde?" Sosa repeated slowly, turning that intense gaze back on me. "That's who you here with? That old ass man?"
"So what if it is?" I snapped. And his jaw clenched.
"You selling pussy, Yasani?" My eyes went wide.
"Fuck you just say to me?"
"You heard me." He stepped even closer, his voice low but sharp.
“Are you selling pussy? My pussy?"
"Your—" I sputtered, shock and offended all at the same damn time.
"Nigga, what are you talking about? Your pussy?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." His eyes bored into mine. "Now answer my fucking question."
"That's none of your business!"
"It is my business, I aint gon’ tell you that again.” His hand came up, and for a second I thought he was going to touch me, but he just gestured at my dress, my hair, all of me.
"This ain't you, ma. So what's going on?"
"I'm working," I said defensively. "Not that I need to explain myself to you."
"Working," he repeated, like he was tasting the word. "Aight. Cool. You done working now."
"What?"
"Put the drink down." He said and I knew it wasn't a request. It was a command. "We bout to go."
I blinked at him. "We bout to….what? Sosa, I can't just leave. I'm here with…"
"I don't give a fuck who you here with." His voice was firm. “Put the drink down. We leaving. Now."
"You can’t tell me what the fuck to do, I’m grown sir."
"Yasani." He said my name in a way that made my stomach flip.
"Put the drink down. Let's fucking go."
We stood there, locked in some kind of silent standoff. Every logical part of my brain was screaming at me to tell him no, to go back to Mr. Clyde, to do what I was being paid to do. But something else was telling me to listen to him.
Slowly, I set my drink down on the bar. Sosa's lips curved into a satisfied smile.
"Good girl. Now come on."
He started walking toward the exit, and I followed. Just like that.
No goodbyes to Mr. Clyde, no explanation, no nothing. I just...
followed him.
I could feel eyes on us as we walked through the ballroom.
There were people noticing, probably wondering who I was and why I was leaving with this man who definitely didn't look like the type to be at a police ball.
But I didn't care. I kept my head up and my heels clicking against the marble floor as I trailed behind Sosa.
We walked through the grand lobby, past the valet, out into the night air.
And I still had no idea what the fuck I was doing.
* * *
Sosa's car was a matte black Mercedes G-Wagon with custom rims and tinted windows so dark you couldn't see inside. The interior was all black leather, smelling brand new, with LED lights along the floor that glowed a soft blue.
He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, with my dress riding up my thigh as I sat down. I adjusted it quickly, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
He got in the driver's side, started the engine, and pulled out of the hotel parking lot without saying a word. The silence was heavy.
I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, my heart still racing from the fact that I'd just walked out on a job without a second thought.
"So you just out here selling pussy now?" Sosa finally said, his voice cutting through the silence. "That's what we doing?"
I turned to look at him, his jaw was tight, as his hands gripped the steering wheel.
"It's not like that."
"Nah?" He glanced at me, then back at the road. "So what the fuck is it like then? 'Cause from where I'm sitting, you all dolled up for some old ass nigga. The fuck that look like to you?"
"He pays me to go to events with him. That's it."
"That's it?" He let out a harsh laugh. "Aight, so you ain't fucking him?"
"No!" I lied, it wasn’t his business, what I did and who I did it with.
"But you would though, right? If the price was right, you would let that nigga hit." His voice was hard. "Was that the plan?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Because honestly my silence was enough.
"Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought." He shook his head, then cut his eyes at me sharp. "Yatta know about this shit?"
"What?"
"Your brother know you out here tricking with these niggas? 'Cause I know that nigga, and I know he ain't the type to let his sister do no shit like this."
"Don't bring my brother into shit I got going on,"
"Nah, fuck that. I'm bringing him into it." His voice got harder. "That's my mans. So yeah, I'ma ask does he know his lil’ sister out here playing escort for these muthafuckas? What the fuck you think Yatta would say if he knew you was doing this shit?"
"I don’t know," I said quietly, and that was a lie as well. Yatta knew what was up, and he definitely didn’t approve of it, but again that wasn’t Sosa’s business.