Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
“You smell like women’s perfume,” Eden mentioned when I took my seat beside her in Seven’s VIP section.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I probably do.”
The media might’ve constantly hinted at the possibility of Eden and I being a couple, but that didn’t make it true. We were friends—nothing more, nothing less. I wouldn’t let magazines like Fame Weekly feed into some out-of-reach fantasy.
“You letting your hoes meet you outside your bedroom now? Looks like you got your shirts mixed up redressing yourself.”
I pulled in close, whispering in Eden’s ear, “Just so we’re clear—you know you not my girlfriend, right?”
Her eyes shined with an unspoken laugh, playful and lively. She was giggling when she replied, “Dude, I know. It’s just that all of America thinks I am, and I can’t have you embarrassing me in these streets.”
“Your first concert was a great success, Eden. You don’t need rumors to sell tickets no more.”
“A great success,” she repeated, leaning in to grab a champagne flute on the table in front of us. “I must be in the twilight zone because that actually sounded like a compliment.”
“Take it as one,” I offered with a slight smile.
“You’re in a better mood than usual,” she noted, placing a hand on my forehead to jokingly check if I was burning up.
Around us, the few people who were allowed in the VIP area watched us like they were getting an inside look on a romance that didn’t actually exist. “I guess whoever Ms. La Vie Est Belle is, she’s got the juice. ”
My smile faded.
“Uh-oh,” Eden noticed immediately. “Was it something I said?”
I shook my head, ready to move on to something else. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, Kain.”
“Do you still think about your exes when you get drunk?”
Eden chuckled at first, crossing her arms. “Who says I think about my exes ever?”
“Your debut album is titled EX.”
“Those are also my initials, boy.” She swatted at my shoulder, eventually getting to the truth when her smile disappeared. “But yeah… I wrote that entire album about this guy I dated when I was at Berklee.” With a shake of her head she muttered, “Fuck that guy.”
I wasn’t curious about the relationship as much as I was curious about the effect it had on her.
“You can’t imagine yourself downing eight shots of Hennessy one night and just finding yourself crying on his shoulder?”
“First of all,” Eden started, setting her champagne flute back down, “I don’t know what kind of death wish I’d have to have to take eight shots of Hennessy in one—”
“Focus,” I redirected her back to the point.
“To answer your question, no. If I get drunk, I’m not calling his ass. I’m not texting his ass. I’m not missing his ass. I’m not even thinking about his ass.”
“Because…?”
“Becauuuuuuse,” she stretched out the word, looking at me from the tops of her eyes. “Because the feelings aren’t there. Obviously. Why do you ask? You still thinking about your summer thing from last year?”
Eden passed a hand through her brown and green hair, twisting a strand around her finger, and waited for my response.
I didn’t say anything at first, choosing to take a moment to think about what tonight meant.
I knew not to get ahead of myself. I knew it wouldn’t be wise to expect a knock on my door in the morning, with Lauren waiting on the other side, telling me that something about how this current reality felt wrong, and asking for clarity.
I guess it could be said that part of me hoped that day both did and didn’t come. If Lauren ever sought me out looking for answers, I would either have to reinforce the lie, or tell her the truth. Neither of those options were high on my bucket list.
Dr. Eloise said what I was doing all this time could be seen as a form of self-harm.
Personally, I considered it sacrifice. I was choosing someone else over myself.
“Is that why you were late?” Eden asked, cutting into the lull in our conversation. “Your boo thing from last summer put away eight shots of Henny and cried on your shoulder?” Eden flicked her eyebrows upward briefly, murmuring to herself, “Messy…”
***
In Miami’s entertainment district, the last call time doesn’t exist.
If they so please, nightclubs can remain open twenty-four hours a day. Of course, the cost benefit analysis of keeping a club open for that long was poor, so the latest that most Montgomery clubs would stay open was five o’clock in the morning.
At Seven, however, we stayed open—you guessed it—two extra hours.
The club was a complete ghost town by the time the clock struck five.
I was sitting at the bar, stirring the ice in my glass of water.
The only other person who was here was the bartender.
His name was Joshua or Jose—something with a J—and he wiped down the bar counter in silence as I watched the ice in my glass melt.
Four hours before, I’d gotten an all-clear text from Marlon, confirming that Lauren had been safely dropped off. However, not at her parents’ house, he revealed. Lauren had requested to be taken to her best friend’s apartment in the Miami Park West neighborhood.
“Were you working the bar the whole night?” I asked the only other person in the room.
He stood up straight at the sound of my question—revealing his silver nametag pinned to the right strap of his black apron. Ahh, I was close—the guy’s name was Josiah.
“I was.”
“Just you?”
He nodded at the question, not really seeing what I was trying to discern by asking. That is, until I concluded, “So you’re the nigga that thought it would be a good idea to let a lightweight drink half a bottle of Hennessy in one go.”
Quickly, he got to making excuses, his hands coming up opened, as if getting ready for me to throw blows. “Yo, I knew that that was a bad idea.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“You don’t understand—she had this pout, and these big brown eyes that just—”
He stopped talking in response to what could have only been the look on my face. I was not sitting around with this nigga, trying to have a conversation about how compelling Lauren’s beauty was.
I’d been in his shoes once—pouring Lauren drinks she couldn’t handle because she looked at me a certain way.
I knew exactly what he meant when he talked about her eyes.
But when I’d given in to them last year, she nearly got herself raped.
And tonight could have been just as catastrophic if she hadn’t stumbled upon my office.
Just before I could say anything else, Josiah reached under the bar’s counter and placed a purse on the surface.
“It’s not hard to guess that you’re about to fire me,” he stated, pulling the tie in his apron loose. “I apologize for my judgement, and I hope my being fired is the worst of it.”
What a long winded way of requesting that a person refrain from knocking your teeth in.
A lot of things could have happened to Lauren due to Josiah’s oversight, but the worst of it was the fact she’d thrown up on my shirt, and a guaranteed hangover come sunrise.
Nothing truly bad had actually occurred, so for this, I didn’t feel the need to get my hands dirty. Firing him would be just fine.
“What’s with the bag?” was all I said in response.
“She left it here. And since you seem like you know her…” I suppose the anger in my eyes made that fact clear. “…I guess I’ll leave it with you and get going.”
I reached for the purse as Josiah tucked his folded apron under the counter.
He left in a hurry, seemingly thankful that the loss of his job was the worst of it, and wanting to leave the building in case I changed my mind.
When the main door closed behind him, I was truly alone in the disheveled party aftermath.
Out of curiosity, with the purse in my hand, I checked for what was inside.
“Of course,” I said to myself, pulling out undisputable necessities from the pockets of her bag. A phone, a wallet, house and car keys—practically her whole life. If I were a spiritual person, I would’ve taken this as a sign.
***
I woke up in a cloud.
Around me, a bleached white duvet covered my body, keeping me warm in a bed of plush softness. Even though I knew I wasn’t in my room, I didn’t immediately go into a panic.
No, this place was familiar.
I sat up, holding my head in my hands so I could get a better look of my surroundings. The sunlight hit my eyes then, and in that moment, it was like setting a fire alarm off in my head. I rushed to shield my eyes, scanning the room around me until I realized where I was.
“Lux!” I called out into the emptiness of the bedroom. This was her apartment, so I knew she had to be close by. “Ouch.”
Shouting out loud did something to aggravate a dull headache I only realized I had after I spoke.
Great, I’m hungover.
What happened last night?
Between the sheets of Lux’s bed, I only wore a borrowed night gown that I didn’t remember changing into the night before.
I wracked my brain, images flashing in my mind and coming in clusters, broken and discontinuous.
Which parts were memories and which parts were dreamed? Did I really see Kain last night?
I patted the bedding around me, hoping to find my phone somewhere close by, only to come into contact with just plush, white sheets. Nothing. Rising to my feet, I went for the blinds first, eager to block out the room’s sunlight because the brightness of it all was only worsening my headache.
“Lux,” I called out more quietly as I walked the halls of her quaint one-bedroom apartment in the city.
It wasn’t until I reached the main area that I found my friend sitting at her kitchen island, headphones in on loud, looking like she’d just come in from the gym.
I pulled one of her headphones out. “Girl, what happened last night?”
Lux’s eyebrows came together confusedly before she broke into a smile.