Chapter 2 #2
“You said that at the last spot, and somehow you managed to still throw it back on the dancefloor,” she shot back, laughing. “Come on. Just one more spot. If it’s not jumping, we’ll take you home. I promise.”
I knew that promise was worth about as much as the cheap liquor they were serving inside, but I didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she was right. I’d bounced back before. Maybe I would again.
We made our way down the block toward where the cars were parked, our heels smacking the concrete in an uneven rhythm. The street was lined with cars, and I was just about to tell her I needed to sit down for a minute when a figure stepped out from between two parked vehicles directly in our path.
My eyes went up, and up, and up some more before they finally settled on a face that made my stomach do a flip.
He was tall, like, really tall, with shoulders broad enough to block out the streetlight behind him.
His skin was like a rich slab of melted chocolate, and his neck was covered in tattoos.
His hair was laid in waves so sharp they could cut, and when he smiled, dimples made deep craters in his cheeks.
He was draped in designer clothes, his teeth were pearly white, and his jewelry caught the light every time he moved. Everything about him screamed money, power, and trouble, the kind that made your mouth go dry and your panties wet at the same time.
“Girl, that’s Booda,” one of them whispered beside me, and I felt the grip on my arm tighten.
I turned toward her voice automatically, but the second I tried to focus on her face, my head throbbed.
The pain hit right behind my eyes, and I squinted, trying to force her features into place, but they wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to catch them.
Her mouth moved. Earrings swung near her jaw.
Dark hair brushed bare shoulders. That was all I could hold onto before everything blurred together again.
I blinked hard and looked away. It felt wrong not being able to see her clearly when she was standing right beside me.
“You know him?” I asked, my eyes pulling back toward his face.
“Not personally, but his name rings bells in the hood. He got that paper, girl,” the girl holding onto me whispered so only I would hear.
The alcohol made everything feel slower and dreamier, as if I was gazing at him through water.
He stepped fully into the light, and my heart kicked up speed when I really got a good look at him. Booda was even more handsome than I’d originally thought.
The wind picked up, and his cologne hit me. It was that same mix of bergamot and sandalwood they keep locked behind glass at the department store. Booda not only looked it, but he smelled like money, too.
“You good, Mama?” he asked, his voice smooth as butter with a rasp underneath that made my knees weak.
I blinked, trying to remember how to form words. “I’m straight,” I said, but my mouth betrayed me by going dry and catching the ‘t’ at the end.
Booda looked past me and nodded at one of the girls, then let his eyes return to mine. I recognized that look. It was one of hunger that made me want to suck in my gut and stand up a little straighter, but I was too drunk to front. Instead, I just stared right back.
“Where y’all headed?” he asked, those eyes never leaving me.
“To The Milk Bar,” one of them answered for us, voice suddenly coy.
Booda chuckled as he shook his head, and the sound made my whole body want to move closer to him.
“Nah, lil’ momma, that’s where you headed. She’s leaving with me.” He swiped his thumb across his nose and pulled himself up to his full height, his eyes boring into mine as if daring me to say otherwise.
My friend let out a small laugh, letting go of my arm. She didn’t even try to argue.
“Well,” she said, looking between us, “I guess that answers that.”
“Girl,” I drawled, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.
Booda was fine as fuck, and I was adventurous enough to leave with him without even having a real conversation. I knew I should decline, but my body had other ideas.
The alcohol swimming through my veins made me bold in ways sobriety never would, and the way he was looking at me, like he could see straight through to whatever was broken inside me, made it impossible to look away.
“I came with my girls,” I said, but even I could hear the weakness in my argument.
“And now you’re leaving with me,” Booda replied, refusing to take no for an answer.
Before I could retort, my friend backed away, putting distance between us. “Text me when you get home, babe,” she called out with a wink before leaving to catch up with the other girls.
I watched her go, my mind sluggish as I tried to catch up with what was happening. One second, I was standing on a street corner with my crew, and the next, I was being claimed by a man I’d never seen before in my life.
“If I had known a nigga was gon’ kidnap me, I would’ve packed a spend-a-night bag,” I joked, though there was nothing funny about my situation.
Booda’s mouth curved into a smile that suggested he found my joke amusing. “You don’t need that shit. I prefer you naked anyway.”
“I can’t walk around like that.”
“You never have to walk when you’re with me. I’ll carry you wherever you need to go,” he replied before sweeping me off my feet.
“And don’t worry ‘bout nothing else either,” he went on, adjusting me in his arms. “Whatever you need, I’ll get it in the morning. I don’t mind dropping a bag on you. Yo’ pretty ass gon’ be with me all weekend anyway.”
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bed that wasn’t mine, tangled in sheets that smelled like him. Sunlight was creeping through the cracks in heavy curtains, and my head was pounding like somebody had taken a sledgehammer to it during the night.
A horn blasted somewhere behind me, and I jerked as the memory broke apart. The street came back into focus, along with the parked cars, the narrow road, and the same sign staring back at me.
Then, Booda’s face floated into my mind, the warmth of his smile betrayed by the distance he kept. Did he really not want to see me, or was that just what I had been told?
The tightness in my chest returned, a reminder of everything I had lost. The echoes of our past reverberated through my thoughts, leaving me questioning everything. Had I made a mistake by giving up on us so easily?
Shaking my head to clear the fog, I forced myself to focus, but thoughts of Booda still lingered, and I couldn’t shake them, no matter how hard I tried.
“Damn,” I said, dragging a hand down my face as I pushed the door open and stepped out, snatching my phone off my lap as I went.
One memory had already shaken loose from this block. I wanted to see what else it might give up.
I walked to the end of the street and stood there, waiting, but nothing came. There was no point in continuing to stand here. Shoulders dropped, I turned back around to head back.
Across the street, a car sat with the engine running, its windows too dark to see through. My steps slowed when the window partially rolled down, and I caught the eyes behind the glass.
They were on me. Their stare wasn’t casual, and it damn sure wasn’t one of curiosity. They were locked in, like they knew exactly who I was.
I slowed down without meaning to, a chill running down my spine as a feeling of dread washed over me.
Those eyes, familiar yet unsettling, struck a chord deep within me.
I couldn’t place them, but the instinctive recognition filled me with an icy fear.
They reminded me of shadows lurking too close, and the realization sent my heart racing.
“Word on the streets is you dead, but I see that was a lie. I guess I have to make that come true,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine as a slow smile spread across his face. He lifted his hand, shaped his fingers into a gun, then said, “Pow.”
I instinctively reached toward my waist, where I would usually keep the pistol I found at the stash house.
It wasn’t there, and I felt as exposed as the day I was born.
Before now, I hadn’t understood why I felt the need to carry it with me everywhere I went, but now it made sense.
Even without my memory, some habits had stayed with me.
They had a reason.
My hand dropped to my side, but I didn’t break eye contact with him. I forced myself to stay where I was, even though everything in me was telling me to run.
Eventually, I turned around, keeping at a pace that felt normal. Drawing attention would only make things worse. I crossed the street, picking up my pace to put some distance between us without making it obvious.
“Where is Boodaaaaa?” The man laughed, his voice following me down the street as he repeated it. “Booda. Booda. Booda.” He dragged the name out each time, taunting me with it.
“Don’t look again,” I urged myself, but my curiosity won out, and I glanced back.
They were still there, those eyes, unblinking and watchful, sending a wave of anxiety through me.
Panic clenched my chest as I stumbled toward my car, fumbling with the keys until the lock clicked open under my shaking hand. I slid inside and locked the doors, heart pounding like a drum in my ears. A moment later, the engine roared to life, drowning out the sound of my breathing.
I pressed the gas, the tires squealing as I took off, and followed the route on my phone, my mind racing faster than the car.
Whoever that was… they weren’t just a watchful presence. They were a threat, and I had no intention of sticking around to find out why.
I had to escape before it was too late.