Fast Life (11 page)

“All I know is you better be in before I am,” her mother warned.

“Okay,” she replied acknowledging her mother's warning as she retrieved the bottle of dark cognac from the cabinet. “You want to do this now?”

“Yeah. We might as well,” her mother agreed. She stood and began to make her way to the sliding doors that led out to their picturesque backyard.

 

“To Daddy.” Kyra's voice was tainted with sadness as she tipped the bottle back up. She poured the earth a drink in memory of her father's passing.

“To Marcus,” her mother whispered in the breeze.

“We will always love you, and may you rest in peace.”

Her mother solemnly repeated the sentence and closed her eyes. There was a moment of silence and a gust of air. She appeared to be almost in prayer. Then, without a bit of subtly, she opened her eyes and spoke in a normal, almost cheerful tone.

“I need to go figure out what I'm going to wear tonight.” Those were the last words she uttered as she walked back into the house. The loss of her husband was too painful to dwell on, and she didn't bother to offer any soothing words of sympathy to her child.

Kyra stood outside for a moment alone. Now was the time for her to move on; she could feel it. She would not forget, but she had to let go. If she didn't she was sure she would lose her sanity. She turned to the house as a strong gust of air blew by and made her hair flutter in the wind. She looked up and smiled sadly at the sky. She emptied the liquor onto the ground and blew a kiss from her hand to her father.

 

It was a quarter after seven when the doorbell rang. Kyra's mother answered it in her long red and black cocktail dress to let Angel inside.

“Hello, Mrs. Jones. How are you?”

“I'm fine, thanks, honey. Kyra is in her room straight down that hall,” she said while putting on an earring.

“Thank you,” Angel said.

“Come in!”

Kyra stood in front of her vanity in an orange skirt set. The material was sheer and the skirt was asymmetrical, giving the whole outfit an island style. She also wore heeled sandals that tied around her ankles, and her naturally wavy hair was ironed straight.

“Angel, please tell me that's not what you're wearin'.” Kyra stopped putting on her finishing touches as she looked Angel over in horror. From the small black heels accented by fake flowers to the puffed-out, almost–sixties-style black satin skirt, all the way to the matching top and the pink cashmere sweater tied around her neck, the outfit was the most unfashionable thing Kyra had ever seen, next to their school uniforms.

“This is it.” Angel looked her outfit over with an innocent smile on her face. Unlike Kyra, she was pleased with her choice of clothes.

“Angel…you're my girl and all, but…no. I mean…yo, what the hell is that? It looks like you went in your grandmama's closet! Those are not party clothes, and I'm not about to roll with you lookin' like that. You won't only embarrass me but you will embarrass
yourself
like that.”

“Oh…okay.” Angel didn't quite know how to take the criticism, and her confusion could be heard. “What am I going to do? I don't really have anything else nice to wear to a club, and all my clothes are at home.”

Kyra put her hands on her hips and thought for a minute, then looked at her closet. She had the perfect idea.

“Wear somethin' of mine.”

“Oh no, Kyra. I love your clothes, but I just couldn't.”

“I insist. I won't even touch your hair or makeup if you don't want. I just wanna hook up your outfit. Come on.
Please,
Angel. My clothes have practically been going to waste with us having to wear those uniforms to school. And just think of Quentin's face when he sees you.” She teased and coaxed her friend into delivering an answer, which came after only seconds of deliberation.

“Okay, fine, and if we do an outfit you might as well do hair and makeup, too.” She threw her hands up in defeat.

“Oh, this is goin' to be fun! Come here,” Kyra exclaimed as she opened her large closet.

“You have so many clothes!” Angel's eyes were not at all prepared to take in the sight of the jam-packed closet full of designer fashions.

“I know, I know.”

 

“Okay, don't look yet! No! Stop tryin' to peek! Okay, okay. Now you can look.” Kyra touched up Angel's lip gloss in between swatting her hands away from attempting to lift the handheld mirror. Thirty minutes had gone by and her makeover was nearly complete.

Angel turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. She had on a short white skirt, a pink and tan spaghetti-strap lace top that showed off her toned stomach, and a pair of pink and white Reeboks to keep it simple. Her makeup was light, and her hair was in a simple ponytail with two strands left to dangle on the sides of her face.

“Wow, Kyra. You worked magic on me…I look completely different!”

“So I take it you like it?” Kyra smiled at her success.

“Of course I like it! It's
too
cute.”

“Hey, you two, I'm about to head out. Kyra, make sure you lock up,” her mother said from the doorway. “Oh, don't you look nice, Angel.” She admired the new style of her daughter's friend for a moment and was gone before she could hear any reply.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

“Bye, you guys!” she yelled from the front door.

“Bye!” the girls shouted back together as they listened for the click of the closing door.

“So are you ready to go now?” Angel turned to her stylist, eager to reach the party.

“Yeah, let's be out.”

 

Xscape was packed. Bodies filled the building from the windows to the walls. The room was scorching hot. It was like walking into a human oven. The music was loud and pumping through the crowd, which swarmed the dance floor and moved with the beat.

“Oh, look. I think that's them over there,” Angel said, pointing across the crowd to a group of young men sitting at a table not too far from the bar. It was so dark and so hazy with smoke they could barely see.

The girls squeezed their way across the crowded dance floor, catching the attention of other young men.

“Hey, what's up, everybody?” Kyra excitedly greeted the crew.

“Hey!” Justin stood to embrace her. He was unsure she would come, but was happy she'd made it.

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Justin,” Angel added meekly.

“Angel?” He turned to the unfamiliar girl next to Kyra.

“Yup. It's me.” She waved shyly.

“Q! Your girl's here.” Justin nudged his brother, who was engaged in a leisurely conversation with Michael. Quentin hadn't been paying any mind to the party, but when he looked up, his jaw dropped. He jumped up and in less than a second was all over his girlfriend.

“I'm sorry, baby. I wasn't even paying attention.” He gently took her hand in his.

“It's okay.”

“Damn, you look so good.” He stepped back and looked her body over from head to toe.

“Kyra made me over.”

“Well, thank you, Kyra.”
Quentin made sure to emphasize every word.

“You're welcome,” Kyra said with a smile. She was happy they were both enjoying her work.

“Would you like to dance, baby?”

“Yes.”

Quentin and Angel headed off to the dance floor and were swallowed by the crowd.

“They're so cute together,” Kyra commented.

“Yeah, they are,” Justin agreed.

“Damn, will they come on with the drinks?” Michael interrupted.

“We can drink here?”

“Yeah.” The birthday boy informed his guest of the lenient drinking rules at the club.

“Oh, fa sho I want some.” Kyra was long overdue for a night of letting loose and wilding out.

“Okay, well, I'm about to go dance. Come and join me later?” He gently held on to her hand until they parted.

“I will soon. Promise.”

Kyra walked over to the bar and ordered herself a shot. One shot became two, two became three and, on her sixth shot, Justin intervened.

“Sweetheart, I think you've had enough.”

“I'm straight. Just let me get one more.” She motioned for the bartender to give her another round.

“I got something better.” Justin watched as the bartender refilled her shot glass with 102-proof gin.

“What?” Kyra then swallowed the shot and her face became twisted.

“Come dance with me. It
is
my birthday, you know.” His proposal was sincere, though it was also a means of distraction from her alcohol consumption.

“Okay.” Her stumble was slight but noticeable when she stepped down from her stool.

As soon as Justin led her into the crowd, she pressed her body deep into his and began to grind her hips and move her body to the beat. His hands rested on her waist as he moved with her to the sultry tunes. As the songs changed, Kyra grinded, shook, vibrated, snaked, popped and hip-rolled Justin into desire.

As “Girls Dem Sugar” by Beenie Man, with the smooth vocals of R & B songstress Mya, emanated from the speakers, Kyra turned around and guided Justin until his back was against a wall. She began to grind against him, and stared him dead in his eyes while she did it. He looked at her as he ran his hands over her arms, down her sides and to her butt.

“I want you,” she whispered in his ear, and softly bit down on her lip. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't bother to reply. His eyes said it all.

She leaned up and kissed him, pressing her lips to his and eventually working in her tongue. He kissed her back without hesitation, and the kiss grew in intensity until Kyra stopped. She felt eyes on her. She looked over and sure enough, there was Veronica scowling at her and looking like she was fired up with anger. Kyra smirked at her and grabbed Justin's hand.

“Are you sure you're okay?” As they made the walk to her house from the ferry dock, Kyra stumbled with almost every step. The alcohol was having a noticeable effect on her speech and balance.

“Yessss, I'm fine. Damn, no,
you're
fine.” She slurred her words and laughed for no apparent reason.

“Come on. Let me help you.”

“I'm fine.” She refused any help with a gentle shoo away.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not drunk. I only had, what? One drink?”

“More like six shots. I already know your ass is ripped.” Justin placed her arm over his shoulder to help her walk to her porch. He placed her on the first stair while he stood on the ground.

“Come on. Let's go inside.” She tugged on his shirt like a little girl.

“I better not.” He didn't move.

“But I want it…. I want youuuu.”

“But you're drunk, and that means that I'd be taking advantage of you, which I don't do. If you really want it that bad, we can get it poppin' when you're sober. I can wait.”

“I'm…I'm…” With those last words, Kyra lost her balance and landed in his arms.

They stared into each other's eyes, and when she moved in for another kiss, he spoke out.

“I really need to get you inside.”

Inside the pitch-dark house, Justin managed to find her bedroom and tuck her under the covers. He moved the hair from her sleeping face as she lay peaceful and admired her allure for a moment before he stood. He was readying himself to leave when he stopped and decided not to.

He took a seat in one of the wicker chairs and made himself as comfortable as possible. If she woke up and was disoriented, he wanted her to see him and know where she was. He wanted to be the first face she saw when she opened her eyes. His party was the last thing on his mind.

He double-checked to make sure everything was just right. He made sure the blankets covered her enough so that she wouldn't get chilly in the early morning when the temperature was low. He then ran his hands over her hair and gently over her face. He studied its restful look for a moment and then kissed her forehead, leaving her to sleep undisturbed.

 

At the crack of dawn, Kyra's eyes flickered open to the pain of a splitting headache. She slowly sat up and realized she was still in her clothes from last night.

Damn, what happened last night?
she thought as she staggered out of bed and stretched her body. She then looked over at her sitting area to see Justin asleep in a chair. Her eyes bucked open and she jumped back, startled by his presence. She didn't remember anything from last night, especially not why he was in her bedroom. She patted herself down to make sure all her clothes were still on. Everything was intact, and she let out a sigh of relief. Now she could rest assured that she had no regrets.