Chapter 9 Fancy Meeting You Here #2
He bumps my shoulder. “You’re being posh. It’s chill, bruv. Relax.”
I scan the room anyway.
Security posted at the edges.
A girl sliding into the seat beside me like she’s been invited too.
This is the part I don’t talk about in interviews. Because this is the part that annoys me the most.
All of it closing in at once.
I tip my head back, stare at the ceiling lights cutting through smoke, and willing myself to last the night.
But I can’t. I refuse to suffer unnecessarily. So I’m calling it.
“Light,” I stand up. “I’m gotta head—”
That’s when I smell it.
Nutmeg. Cinnamon.
Sweet and smoky.
My chest tightens.
No way.
It hits me before I even turn.
My eyes search the crowd, scanning through bodies moving in sync to the beat, laughter cutting through the music, drinks flashing in the light.
“What’s wrong?” Solace asks.
I hold a finger up before leaving the section to find the source. The balaclava helps me move freely without being stopped for photos.
I let my nose guide me through swarms of people, suddenly not caring how close they all were to me.
It all disappears until I see her.
Frankie.
She’s in something dark.
Her hair’s down, skin glowing under the amber lights. She’s at a booth with two women, laughing and dancing.
And for a second, I forget the music, the crowd, everything.
She shouldn’t be here.
And I damn sure shouldn’t be looking at her like this.
I watch her for a while before I move.
I tell myself I’m just being polite. I’m gonna say hi, maybe apologize for yesterday and let her enjoy her night out.
But that’s a lie.
When I finally push through the crowd toward her booth, she’s mid-laugh—head thrown back, hand over her chest, eyes bright in a way I’ve never seen before.
She spots me before I can speak and the laugh dies.
“Seriously?!”
That smile widens at her annoyance, but before I can process it, she’s up and wrapping her arms around me.
I freeze.
Frankie. Hugging me.
What the hell?
Her scent hits me again.
Warm, spiced, dizzying.
I don’t even hug back right away because I’m too busy trying to understand what’s happening. By the time I do, she’s already pulled away, grinning like we’ve been best friends since primary school.
“You’re here!” she says, practically bouncing. “What are the odds?”
“Yeah, uh…” I clear my throat, still thrown. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She waves a hand like that’s ridiculous. “Tasha dragged me out. Oh, do you know Tasha? Tash, this is Chinaza’s brother Jabari! Jabari, this is Tasha! She’s my partner.”
The woman beside her—Tasha, I surmise—lifts her drink and smiles like she’s been waiting for this introduction.
“Oh, the infamous Jabari,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you through that very intimidating mask.”
“Yeah, Francine. How could you even tell it’s him through that thing?” The other girl asks and I wonder the same.
“Oh please,” she waves us off. “This man’s been hanging around my flat for the past week. I’d recognize those huge fucking shoulders anywhere.”
I chuckle.
So she’s been watching me.
“Right, right.” Tasha nods. “I guess after someone eats their way through your fridge you’d have their body frame burned into memory.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Frankie’s been talking,” Tasha clarifies.
Evidently.
Frankie laughs it off. “Ignore her, she’s drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Tasha says, setting her glass down. “I’ve had one cocktail and a shot.”
“Exactly.”
Then she pulls me into conversation with Tasha and the other girl, Mantis, who looks like she’s about to start a mosh pit in the lounge.
I’m still confused.
She has such strange friends. And where’s Za?
It’s weird. All of it.
Frankie, especially.
She’s… bubbly. Animated. Laughing at everything like it’s stand-up comedy material. The same woman who was wishing death on my entire lineage twenty-four hours ago is now leaning close to ask if I want a drink.
I’m not used to her like this.
“Where’s Za?” I ask when there’s a lull in the noise.
She blinks, like she didn’t expect the question. “Home. She doesn’t really do the clubbing in the city thing.”
Makes sense.
Za never struck me as the ‘bass shaking your ribcage’ type.
Frankie leans across the table to grab her drink, and my gaze follows, right down to her cleavage.
“Come sit, Jabari,” she says, patting the space beside her. “We won’t bite.”
Tasha snorts. “Can’t promise that.”
Everyone laughs.
Except me.
Because I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
This isn’t my Frankie I’ve grown fond of annoying. This carefree spirit reminds me of the girl I left behind when I moved to Gombe.
And I can’t decide which one I want more.
It’s nostalgic.
It’s intriguing.
But there’s too many eyes on us right now for me to find out more.
“Actually,” I lean closer so she can hear me over the music, “I wanted you to join me in my section. It’s just around back.”
“What for?”
“I want to talk to you. Privately.”
She cocks an eye. “Again, what for?”
My eyes drop to those brown-lined, gloss-covered lips.
“Come see.”
She hesitates, glancing at her friends. “I don’t know. I came here with these girls. It’s a bit rude to ditch ‘em.”
“They’ll be alright,” I say, not taking my eyes off her.
“They’re my ride home,” she counters, sipping what’s left in her glass.
“I’ll make sure you get home, Francine. Don’t worry about it.”
“I still don’t know.”
“You gonna make me beg again?”
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile.
I sigh and hold out my hand. “Please?”
This time she takes it.
“Night,” she says to the table, waving them off before letting me lead her through the crowd.
As we make our way to the back, I’m not sure what the hell I’m thinking, or worse, why she’s actually going along with this.
Maybe it’s the drinks.
Maybe it’s me.
Solace is too busy with some girl in a blue bodycon to notice us, so I pour us drinks from his bottle and take her to the seats near the back.
I sit first and pull her next to me, handing her a cup. Her thigh brushes mine, and I swear I feel it in my chest.
“So,” I murmur, mouth near her ear, “what’cha doing out here?”
“Just enjoying myself,” she says, her voice lazy. “Been a while. Work’s had me locked in.”
“I know. You’ve been so tense lately.” I tilt my head, watching her tongue skim the rim of her glass. “You having fun?”
She grins, cheeks flushed. “So much fun! What about you?”
“Seeing you makes it better.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Are you having a laugh?”
“No, not at all,” I say, holding her gaze. “I’m glad you’re here. Seeing you actually made me decide to stay.”
“Jabari McKingsley,” she says slowly, like she’s trying the sound of it, “are you flirting with me?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
Her brow lifts. “No, not really.”
“Come off it,” I lower my balaclava just enough to expose my lips.
Which she notices.
“I don’t know what it is about you but you make my head spin in ways I don’t completely understand.”
“Same here,” I confess. “I don’t know if I want to kill you or kiss you half the time.”
She tips her head, teasing. “Oh, please. If you wanted to kiss me, you would’ve just done it already.”
She’s so different tonight.
The sharp edges I’m used to are gone, replaced by something soft, playful.
I drag my thumb along the condensation of my glass, eyes on her mouth.
“You’re right.”
Instinctively, I stretch my legs out.
It’s not even a conscious thing. When you’re a tall man such as myself, you take space where you can get it. Especially in a tight, overstimulating environment like this awful club with low benches, cramped seating, nowhere to breathe.
Unfortunately , that means less room on this already tiny bench for Francine who is obviously staring at my crotch.
She doesn’t even care that I see her.
I summon her with two taps on my thigh.
“Hell no,” she shoots back instantly.
“Why not?” I say, raising a brow. “I promise you it’s more comfortable than this piece of shit bench.”
She scoffs. “Are you insane? You are so off-limits for me the limit does not even exist. You’re not just forbidden fruit, you’re the whole damn tree. Do you know what Zaza would do to me if she even dreamt—”
I roll my eyes and grab her before she can finish the sentence, lifting her easily and settling her into my lap.
“For Christ’s sake, Frankie,” I mutter. “You’re sitting on my lap, not on my face. Though, that could be arranged.”
A gasp escaped before she slaps my knee lightly which in turn makes me laugh.
She freezes for half a second… then, against all her earlier protest, she melts into me. Her body relaxes, fitting far too naturally against mine.
“…You’re annoyingly comfortable at least,” she admits.
“Told you.”
She shifts slightly, settling in. “You better not tell Za a thing.”
“My lips are sealed,” I love the way her body was pressed against me.
I felt everything.
It was like being surrounded by the softest quilt in the world. Paired with the most seductive scent.
Both so intoxicating it drowned out the music.
I wanted to close my eyes and savor it.
She glances back at me. “I’m not too heavy for you, am I?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
She smirks. “Just checking. Though it would be very unattractive for someone your size, big man.”
“Keep calling me that,” I murmur near her ear, “and I’m gonna get turned on.”
“I know,” she says coolly. “I can feel it getting stiff on my arse.”
I laugh under my breath. “Maybe you should give me a lap dance.”
“I’d charge.”
“And I’d pay.”
She clicks her tongue. “Tuh. You can’t afford me.”
I tilt my head. “How much you charging?”
She turns in my lap, straddling me now.
“More than you could ever afford.”
And it hits me harder.
That scent. I inhale deeply without thinking.
“You know what I like about you, Frankie?” I ask.
She blinks, surprised by the change in tone. “Hm?”
“You’re so fucking pretty.”
She doesn’t look away, but surprise flashes from her green eyes.
Her mouth tips up slowly in amusement.
“Mm. What else?”
God, she wants me to say it.
Fine.
“You’re confident, sexy, always on point…”