Mina Inferno
Tironi Lounge, Tribecca
My legs swung as I sat at the bar, baby-sitting the gin and tonic that sat in front of me. The glass was sweating because of all the ice the bartender used. My hands caressed the side of the glass, listening to the jazz music play softly in the background.
This wasn’t the kind of lounge I usually frequented.
I’ve been in plenty lounges and had been fucked in a handful of them by Papa.
We loved to explore a public bathroom while he knocked the attitude out of me.
In place of the peeling wallpaper and smell of smoke was marble and gold accents everywhere.
The glossy marble floor had been freshly polished before they opened for the night.
Each tufted couch had a freshly chopped pillow resting in its place. Just waiting for some woman to slide her ass onto the seat and cross her legs at the ankles, if she was classy.
Mama had always told me that ladies crossed their legs at the ankle.
I looked down at my crossed legs, and they weren’t at the ankles.
I snickered, as I admired my freshly polished red toes that gleamed under the dim lighting.
The small lamps on the tables planted around the room did nothing to brighten it, but that was part of the aura they wanted to provide tonight.
“Something wrong with the drink?” The bartender started to wipe up the pool of water; my drink had accumulated.
“Starting with too much ice and not enough gin.”
She continued to wipe up the mess and then looked around before turning her attention to me. “They encourage us to be light handed when it comes to the liquor.”
“In this high-class establishment?” I was appalled.
Mostly because the price of the membership was as high as Mary’s pussy.
I wasn’t a member but knew one and what it cost to be part of this slut club.
People loved to feel like they belonged, so if you put a piece of shit in the middle of the room with glitter and charged a membership fee to view the glittered shit, people would pay.
Then they would brag about them seeing shit that sparkled. I had been around a long time, and though most of the time I barely remember any of it, I still remembered the name of the game and that was exclusive.
Women and men crowded into this lounge because they were desperate to belong. They wanted to be looked at as someone, and belonging to a high-priced lounge that served watered down drinks was the price.
Fern was considered a hole in the wall compared to this place, and we served good drinks. The drinks at Fern would have put this place to shame. I could end up on my ass with two drinks there. Here, I would need to be drinking all night to feel a little something.
“Yes. It keeps them ordering more drinks,” she continued to explain, her green eyes sparkling as she put the dish rag on the counter.
I smiled and pushed the drink towards her. “Are they cheap with the cranberry juice?”
“I got you.” She took the glass and went to make me a virgin drink.
It was an insult to drink a cranberry juice with how good I looked tonight.
I wore an oversized leather blazer; light washed jeans and a pair of Louboutin heels that killed me to walk in.
Capri told me they were her favorite heels, and seeing as she pranced around in court in them all day, I was starting to see why both she and Blaze were a match made in heaven.
My wash and set had seen better days, but nothing a little dry shampoo and prayer couldn’t fix. I ran my hand through the curls I had put in them earlier. Mama, her wooden brush and blow dryer never steered me wrong. I just wished she was here to assist in helping with my hair tonight.
This was where you came if you wanted to spend time with a Haven’s List girl.
A modern-day saloon, if you asked me. I watched as the men checked in with the front before finding their spot for the night.
Some crowded the bar, begging for the watered-down drinks, while others took a quiet seat in the corner, keeping an eye.
Most of them were married men who needed a release from everyday life. The kids, nagging wife, and then the stress from work. It was easier to slide into this discreet lounge and have your pick of the pussy.
Corleon: Just entered.
I looked up from my phone at the same time Preston Vance showed his face. Corleon didn’t have to give me a heads up, because his face had been plastered all over the media. I could point him out in a line-up with my eyes covered.
There was no denying that this man was handsome, and he knew it. Men were always dangerous when they knew they were fine. I would know, I married one, had two children by him, and he was still dangerous.
Preston had deep brown skin, sharp features, and dark eyes.
His eyes held a calm intensity that lured women in.
Preston probably never had to raise his voice to make a point.
Whenever he spoke, people listened and held onto his every word.
Some may have tried to scoop up his words before they even left his mouth.
I was certain he had the thickest curliest hair as a child.
With the way his waves sat neatly in his hair, it looked like he had an old school stylist give him finger waves.
His beard was thick and perfectly groomed.
Even married and an older woman, I wasn’t blind.
Those pink lips stuck out from his beard, and that was what got the women.
His broad shoulders and muscular arms filled out the tailored suit, making it clear that fitness wasn’t a casual hobby for him. You didn’t get a body like his without having discipline.
From the moment he stepped through the door, he jumped into action. From checking in with the perverts, to talking to some of the bartenders, as if he was reminding them not to go too heavy on the alcohol.
Who was I kidding? The men who entertained places like this weren’t looking to become drunk. They were here for one thing, and that was enough to make ‘em drunker than the watered-down drinks ever could.
Aside from a woman who entered earlier and headed towards the back, I was the only woman in the lounge. There were a few men down at the other end of the bar whispering among themselves, trying to figure out why I was here.
I opened my compact mirror as I listened to Preston. His cologne with hints of leather became closer, along with his voice.
“Everything all good?”
The man snorted, sounding like he slept with a C-Pap machine at night. “As good as it will get. Where’s the women?” the old impatient White man questioned.
“Patience, Castello.”
I couldn’t see him, but I imagine that he was rubbing his shoulder to calm the horny fucker. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks…not looking forward to this funeral.”
My ears were already perked when I heard him mention a funeral. “We’re all suffering his loss. Easy, tiger. I’m gonna have the girls take care of you tonight.”
I could tell from the way Preston kept trying to wrap the conversation up that he wanted to get away from him. However, the man continued to talk his ear off. From his name, I assumed he was some kin to that murdered judge who had been all over the news.
Well, what was left of him.
Preston had finally managed to wrap up the conversation and was heading my way. I put my mirror away and accepted the cranberry juice from the bartender. She didn’t have much conversation since Preston was on his way over here.
I sipped the drink, half expecting it to taste like the juice I made for my grandbabies. Little juice and a lot of water.
His scent greeted me before he did.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as fine as you around.”
Slowly, I spun around in his direction. His hand was planted firm on the marble bar top, as he smiled at me. “I’m old enough to be your mama.”
I continued to sip the cranberry juice. “You’re not though… most important thing, right?”
Shrugging, I smiled. “Guess that’s the important first step… that we’re not kin.”
He stepped closer. “As beautiful as you are, it would have been a shame. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Never offered it.”
“Preston Vance,” he decided to give his.
I removed my hand from the sweaty glass, and shook his.
“Mariella.”
“Not too many women hang around here.”
I looked around. “I’m starting to notice that. I needed the distraction.”
“From?”
“Work.”
He was intrigued when I mentioned work. “Guess we all could use a distraction from work. What business do you deal in?”
“Imports,” I nonchalantly replied while staring down at my phone. “Sorry, my husband.”
Papa had sent a text message to check in with me. He never worried about anything and knew that I knew how to handle myself. If he did worry, then it would turn me off. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of feeling helpless again.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
People worried about you, and constantly checking in on you. Once my memory started to recover, I remember Papa being so worried that he barely left my side.
As a husband, that was expected of him. It was his job to make sure his wife was alright. I hated how he looked at me with pity in his eyes. He always wanted to help me, even to do the smallest things.
“I respect marriages.” He backed up, smiling with the hint of mischief in his eyes. Had I given him an inkling that I wanted to disrespect my marriage, he would have been down.
“Thank you.” I smiled, as I watched the elevator doors open.
Recommendation: Listen to “Cockiness” Remix by Rihanna ft A$AP Rocky
Queen Inferno made her way out those elevator doors dressed in a black floor length leather jacket, thigh high stiletto boots, and a little black dress that left little to imagine once she decided to shake the jacket off.
Sipping my cranberry juice, I replied, “Her.”
Preston looked at me confused. “Huh?”
I pointed while Blair was talking to one of the bouncers. He was asking if she wanted him to take her coat. He slowly turned and his mouth was at his feet as he drooled over my daughter.
Her pixie had grown out a bit, but that blonde always stopped the show. Her light eyes zoomed in on me, and she looked away.
“Who is she?” I pretended not to know.
“Good fucking question,” Preston mumbled as she made her way towards the bar.
He didn’t even say goodbye before he was making his way back to the other end of the bar. Even in this dim ass lighting, those red nails could be spotted anywhere. She ordered a drink, even though she would babysit it because she was still breastfeeding.
When I spoke about feeling helpless, I thought about my daughter. Everyone treated Blair like she was a fragile piece of cloth that couldn’t be torn. When in reality, she had been through more shit than all of us.
I liked to think I was tough as nails and had the battle scars to prove it. Even then, I was certain that I couldn’t have endured half of what Blair had gone through and still remain standing.
Not with a smile or without a chip on my shoulder.
Once I got my second chance, I knew I wanted to love on and get to know my family on a deeper level. I wanted to know about my new daughters-in-law. I had spent years staring into the abyss and not knowing who or what I was. This was my second chance to be present.
I couldn’t say that I had been all that present before my misdiagnosis. I raised my boys, but that was with the help of my mother. Me and Papa were out there living our lives and chasing behind one another. I always figured I had more than enough time to raise my boys and be there.
Then I didn’t.
She had so many reasons to doubt the world, not trust men and tell everyone to kiss her ass. Life handed her bullshit and expected her to make something out of it. While some couldn’t make that happen, this girl did.
I spent more time with Blair than I did with Capri. Suga had a demanding career, and when she got home, I knew the last thing she wanted was her mother-in-law discussing her feelings while trying to get four kids down for bed.
Blair also had a million and one things going on with her business as well, but I gravitated towards her more. I overheard an argument with her and Quasim one day, and she was telling him that she wasn’t some weak ass wife.
Not that he treated her like one.
Sim worried about his wife, and he had every reason to.
People had tried to take her from him multiple times.
I knew my son and knew things from the past kept him awake at night.
If he was anything like his mama, then he stared up at the ceiling and relived everything that had happened, so it was fresh in his mind.
Blair stayed in the range like she had something to prove, and she did. She felt she had to prove something to everyone that doubted her. Every person who saw her as just the king’s wife, and not Queen Inferno.
Most importantly, she had something to prove to herself.
I listened to her story, understood her pain, and knew that pain often made the perfect shot.
Blaow.
I tossed a few bills onto the bar and stood up. Snatching my clutch from the counter, I watched Preston approach Blair, while she pretended to play unbothered.
Got ‘em.
As I made my way towards the elevator, knowing that my job was complete, I felt a hand snatch my arm. I quickly turned, and my eyes connected with the old impatient man. His teeth were yellow, lips were dry, and the pink blotches on his skin resembled rosacea.
“About time you wrapped up that little break. Get the hotel key, so we can go.” He held onto my arm.
Just his touch alone made my skin crawl. It made me want to scream for the women who had to actually sleep with this man. I understood that these women had a choice and were well compensated.
It still didn’t make me feel any better.
Snatching my arm back from him, I rubbed his face and caressed his neck. More than likely making his dick hard. The soft moan escaped his fat lips, as I continued to caress his neck, tightening my grip, causing those soft moans to turn into choking.
“If you ever touch me again, I will slit your throat in your sleep… Sua vadia gorda.”
From afar, it looked like me and fatty pants were getting steamy. Only he and I knew what I would do to him if he ever touched me again. I gently slapped his flustered cheek and headed toward the elevators.
“Mr. Vance, thank you again for your hospitality,” I called to Preston, who could give a fuck about me anymore.
“Of course. Thank you for coming.”
I smiled. “Queen, he’s a great catch.”
Blair smiled, holding up her glass. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
If Quasim saw the way this man was staring at his wife, he would have slit his throat in front of all of these people. Blair was confident, and she was fine. I could tell that she could handle herself, and she was safe.
I made sure of it myself.
Me: He took the bait.