Chapter 15 #4
He leaned forward, pick the phone up and squinted at the screen… then his entire expression shifted.
“Nigga…”
“What?”
“I’m not saying I’m one hundred percent sure… but I swear that’s the same chick you fucked in this very club.”
I frowned immediately. “The one in the bathroom?”
“Yeah,” Knox confirmed, grill flashing as he handed the phone back. “Unless there’s another girl you smashed in the bathroom that I don’t know about.”
I stared back down at the picture, and suddenly, the memory started crawling back.
There was only one woman I’d ever slipped up and fucked in a club bathroom.
And if I was being completely honest, the memory of her still crossed my mind from time to time.
Well, not necessarily her face… mostly the pussy.
That was the problem. I remembered exactly how she felt, the sounds she made, the red dress, and damn near every reckless decision we made in that bathroom, but her actual face afterward?
Blurry as hell. Knox clearly remembered it, though.
I looked up at him. “Why the fuck do you remember her better than I do?”
He shrugged. “Because one of us was sober and wasn’t busy committing health-code violations.”
“Whatever. But nah, this can’t be the same girl.”
“And how are you so sure she’s not? Nigga, yo’ ass was sloppy drunk that night. You came out of that bathroom with yo’ shirt halfway tucked in talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Don’t judge me, I’m grown.’”
“We also agreed we’d never speak on that night again,” I groaned.
“Yeah,” Knox laughed, “but that was before we discovered yo’ mystery bathroom hookup might be carrying yo’ damn baby.”
I rubbed my jaw hard. “This some sick universe type shit.”
“I could still be wrong,” Knox admitted with a shrug. “But cameras don’t lie. We can find out.”
We stepped away from the bar and headed toward the back corridor leading to the surveillance offices upstairs. The music gradually faded the deeper we moved into the restricted part of the club.
Knox walked beside me with his drink still in hand. “Boy, if this really the same girl—”
I shot him a look, cutting him off. “I need you on my side, so think positive right now.”
“Nigga, I got yo’ back, yo’ secrets, yo’ alibis, and probably a few crimes attached to yo’ name,” Knox said with a laugh.
“I’m just saying… yo’ life currently got all the ingredients of a family scandal, a hood romance, and rich-nigga problems. Somewhere out there, a television producer just got chills and don’t even know why. ”
I stopped walking once we reached the office door. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I pushed the door open without bothering to knock.
Marcel, who was head of head of security and surveillance for the club, looked up immediately from the wall of security monitors, fingers still moving across the keyboard while camera feeds flickered across the screens behind him.
“What’s good, boss?” he greeted quickly, sitting up straighter. “What can I help y’all with?”
“I need footage from a night about…” I rubbed my jaw, trying to think. “It was… damn.”
I looked toward Knox.
“When the hell was that?”
“Hell nah!” Knox said, shaking his head. “You not finna act like that night wasn’t memorable.”
I chuckled. “Nigga, hush all that and answer the damn question.”
“Aight, let’s see.” He squinted while thinking. “Oh, shit. The next day was Lala’s birthday dinner.”
Lala was his younger sister.
I frowned. “So that was about what? Ten months ago?”
Knox stared at me in disbelief. “Nigga… her birthday is in September… it’s November now.” He emphasized his point by dramatically pointing a finger at me. “Which means that shit happened a year ago.”
I blinked slowly. “Damn. It’s really been a whole year?”
“Hell yeah,” Knox confirmed with a nod.
“When’s Lala’s birthday again?” I asked.
“September 20th,” he replied, recalling it effortlessly.
My attention shifted to Marcel, who had been quietly observing our banter. “Pull footage from September 19th… around late night,” I instructed him firmly.
Marcel nodded immediately, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he navigated through the security system. The monitors around us lit up with evolving images, quickly cycling through archived files as he searched for the night I needed.
A few minutes later, the footage finally loaded onto the screen. It was a bit grainy, but clear enough.
“There she goes!” Knox blurted, sounding more excited than me.
I leaned in closer, squinting harder at the image displayed.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath.
The woman on the footage had a sleek mid-back ponytail. That red dress clung to her body effortlessly and showed just enough skin to make every man in the building stare when she walked past.
“That look just like that Talia chick! I’m telling you… that’s her!” Knox kept rambling, tapping the screen insistently.
I continued to stare at the monitor, my mind racing as I attempted to piece together the fragments of that wild ass night.
A few minutes later, the footage showed the girl disappearing into the bathroom and following her was the drunk version of me.
“Nah, hold up.” I pointed at the screen. “Look at her body. She’s slimmer than Talia.”
Knox shrugged. “Nigga, it’s been a whole year. Women gain weight all the time.”
I kept staring. “Talia’s hair is also short.”
“She probably cut it,” Knox replied easily. “Women wake up sad one Monday and cut off ten inches. That’s not evidence.”
I folded my arms tighter. “Still not sure.”
Knox gave me a deadpan look. “There’s gotta be something unique that stood out about her that night—a tattoo, a weird laugh, an accent, a mole, scar… something.”
I cocked my head. “I was drunk, remember?”
“Merge, you can’t tell me you smashed somebody in a club bathroom and walked away remembering absolutely nothing but vibes.”
“I can tell you that because it’s possible.”
Knox narrowed his eyes at me, unconvinced. “Well think harder, bruh. Yo’ ass can remember contracts from ten years ago, license plates from drive-bys, and who owed you money in 2018, but you can’t remember one detail about a woman you had bent over in a club bathroom?”
“I didn’t have her bent over,” I corrected with a grimace.
Now thinking about it… maybe I should’ve.
“Matter of fact, she was the aggressor that night if I’m being honest.”
For a brief second, the memory flashed through my head so clearly it almost threw me off balance.
Then I snapped back immediately and cleared my throat. “But I’m usually sharp when it comes to business, threats, and remembering people connected to problems. But that night I was drunk, distracted, and focused on one thing. So let me think.”
I rubbed my jaw in frustration, forcing myself to remember something besides how good her pussy was, the sounds she made, the smell of her perfume, and the way her nails dug into my arm while she looked at me like she already knew she’d regret it later.
Then suddenly…
“Wait.”
Knox leaned forward. “What?”
I held up a finger. “She had this birthmark on her thigh.”
Knox’s brows lifted. “A birthmark?”
“Yeah,” I said, squinting as I dug deeper into the memory that was surfacing in my mind. “It looked like a star or some shit. It was small, but noticeable… and rememberable.”
Knox leaned back slowly. “You ever seen that mark on Talia?”
I shook my head. “Nah, she never wears shorts or dresses around me. It’s usually just sweats, leggings, and oversized shirts. Her ass is super casual.”
“You’re curious, though, right?” Knox pressed, a knowing grin spreading across his face.
I mugged him. “Yeah… but not really. I ain’t trying to see her naked.”
“Nigga, please. You already did once… apparently.”
I ignored him.
“I’m saying…” he continued trying to make a point, “if that birthmark ain’t there? Cool. Crazy coincidence. Everybody moves on. But if it is?”
Knox tapped at the screen.
“That means you smashed yo’ surrogate before Zonnique ever hired her.”
I dragged my hand slowly down my face.
If that shit is true, then this whole situation is about to get even messier.