Page 8 of Brown Sugar
Frustration boils inside me, making me hot.
All petty thoughts, but how can Inotbe petty after finding out he’s cheated on me?
After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve sacrificed for him…
We hit the dance floor as the latest club bangers play, but I’m distracted the entire time. The group of party girls I’ve brought with me hardly notice. They’re busy shaking their asses to the music and sipping on the limitless drinks I’m buying.
Amari is the only one who notices I’m hardly dancing. She frowns as she wanders over from the other side of the dance floor. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him. Forget his ass.”
“Unless you’re a mind reader, you don’t know what I’m thinking about.”
She raises her brows at me. “K…”
“We just broke up,” I sigh. “Four years, A. Cut me some slack.”
“Cutting. But also remembering my sister is fucking Kiana, world famous superstar. Here, drink.” She shoves her pineapple vodka into my hands. “You need to be tipsy. Then you’ll enter your ‘fuck him’ stage.”
“I’m still meeting up with Tommy about the security thing.”
“One or two drinks won’t hurt.”
Though I give a roll of my eyes, I take Amari’s advice, sucking down a few mouthfuls of pineapple vodka.
Amari supervises at first, as if she’s worried I’ll relapse into mourning my breakup with Shawn. The second she catches sight of a cute girl with butterfly locs and a bullring, she’s gone from my side. I glance left and right, wondering how she disappeared so fast, then spot her by the bar chatting the girl up.
Shaking my head, I let out a small laugh.
Amari’s always been the bigger flirt of the two of us. The first day we entered high school, she was already racking up crushes left and right.
I sip on more of the pineapple vodka, swaying to the music, trying to do what Amari’s said.
Actuallyenjoy myself.
Tonight was a huge one for my career. I won another Grammy and pulled off a performance that I’m told had the highest viewership and streams of any during the ceremony. The YouTube video of my performance is already trending number one with millions of views and likes.
My upcoming album will be released soon. In a few short weeks, I’ll be going on another worldwide tour.
I’m young, healthy, famous, and rich, living out my dream. I’m blessed beyond anything I ever imagined. Does it really matter if my boyfriend turned out to be some fuckboy who can’t keep his dick in his pants?
My inner-monologue pep talk helps as I finish the pineapple vodka and start dancing for real. The song playing is by one of the hottest artists out right now, DJ Spitfire. We have a collab coming up on my next album.
Tommy and the label have already decided it’ll be the second single I release. It’s not the song I would’ve chosen, but the label gets what the label wants.
Me and the other girls I’ve brought with me to the Ice Lounge form a small circle to dance. Others nearby take notice,gathering around to watch us. We’ve taken the spotlight like I always do no matter where I go.
I’ve learned to feed off the attention. You have no choice when under a constant microscope.
I shake my hips and move to the beat, mouthing the lyrics word for word. The rest of the crowd feels faceless, shrouded in the dim, cool lights of the Ice Lounge.
Except for a familiar face that’s seated in the VIP section.
I freeze mid dance step, my arms dropping limply to my sides.
Shawn and the same girl I caught him with earlier are huddled close, whispering in each other’s ear, his hand on her thigh.
Pain twinges inside my chest, striking my heart. The kind of feeling that makes you think it’ll snap in half.
I’m immobile for a long second as the people who gathered around to watch me and my party-girl friends dance glance left and right. Everyone’s wondering where I’m looking. What could have caught the attention of superstar Kiana?