He’s full of shit with that statement, and we both know it. Preston came in on a tidal wave, with his unavoidable personality, grabbed my hand and took me with him for most of his ride this semester at prep. We’ve been a force to be reckoned with for the last couple of months, mostly due to the attention of our skirted coeds, which only made us more noticeable and got us into a few fights, mostly his, because he loves a challenge.
For some reason, I trust him, and I trust myself with him. He doesn’t have that edgy look in his eye, he’s into this purely for sport, not self-destruction, and that appeals to me. Nothing pleases me more than pushing the limits of what I can get away with.
The few times I’ve turned down his invitations were to study to maintain my GPA or because I had to fly back home. But we more than made up for lost time with matching hangovers. His is the easiest and most low maintenance relationship I’ve ever had. With him, I’ve allowed myself a freedom I’ll never have back home. And I know for a fact that once he’s gone, I’ll go back to my reclusive ways.
“Last night, King,” he says, plucking two rocks glasses from the stocked bar and dividing the rest of the gin between them. “Let’s make it count.”
He extends one glass to me, and I clink with him.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been…off. Though my grades are stellar, my high GPA is no guarantee, and I’m going to have to push myself to be ready for the entrance exam to HEC next fall. It’s all up in the air at this point as my efforts to find old contacts of my parents for help and guidance have proven to be fruitless. My birth father seems to have ruined my chances with his past behavior. No one wants to deal with Abijah Baran’s son. My list is almost exhausted at this point. With each door that gets slammed in my face, the more I’m beginning to think my presence here is a mistake. An expensive mistake. I’m getting nowhere, and between the stress of worrying about my brother, his safety, and our dwindling finances, while making no progress here, I need all the escape I can get.
“I’m in.”
Luniz raps “I Got 5 On It,” as heavy bass thunders at my feet. Angelic-blonde hair blocks my vision, tickling my nose before a heart-shaped ass takes up the rest of my line of sight.
“Tu me vexes.” You’re hurting my feelings.
Attention fully drawn back where intended, I’m rewarded with the upturn of her full, bright pink painted lips. “Te voilà.” There you are.
“Pardonne-moi.” Forgive me. Tracking her movements with appreciation, I tuck one of the bills into the string of her thong.
“On ne touche pas.” No touching.
“Pardon.” I lift my hands as the bouncer standing guard next to our booth steps forward with a look of warning. In my defense, her pole and elevated stage sit barely a foot from our table, making it prime real estate, and for me, a good excuse to take a closer look.
“Est-ce ta première fois dans un endroit comme celui-ci?” Is this your first time in a place like this?
Neck heating from transparency, I decide there’s no point in lying. “Oui.”
“Ah, mais un homme comme toi ne devrait pas avoir besoin d’être ici.” Ah, but a man who looks like you shouldn’t need to be at a place like this.
Her voice is pure sex, her body an offering, but I do my best to keep my wits about me, despite the quarter gallon mix of wine and gin coursing through my veins. But she’s dead-on in her assessment. I’ve never been to a place like this, and even I know this club is as upscale and exclusive as they come. And since we strolled in just past midnight, bellies full of the finest French cuisine and expensive wine—that I immediately acquired a taste for—we’ve gained the attention of a majority of the dancers, especially since Preston has no shortage of money and has been so generous with it. The woman intent on breaking my concentration gently sways her hips in a deliberate taunt as I avert my gaze back to the man sitting in VIP. It’s clear he’s not a first-time patron. The section where he’s taken up residence is just across from our booth, elevated just a few short steps above the main floor to make sure we know our place in the food chain.