“Where are you going?” the girls mewled.
“Don't worry about it.”
I made my way to the dance floor and bee-lined straight for Camille and her guy. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Hey bud. You mind if I get this dance?”
He looked at Camille. What was he looking atherfor? Did he expect herto be the man in this situation?
“But—I just—” he whimpered.
I stepped in front of him and budged him out of the way. “Thanks, pal.”
Camille stared daggers at me. And Mr. Wall Street stood on the sidelines and glared at me too.
For a second, he looked like he might actually want to do something about it. Not that I was worried. I stood a head taller and had at least 70 pounds of muscle on him. What was he going to do? Scold me?
But then that anger left his face in a flash, replaced by a boyish excitement instead.
“Wait a minute. I just realized—you'reBeau Bradford!” he squealed. “Can I get a selfie with you?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Sorry bud. I don't do selfies.”
“Oh, uh, okay … thanks anyway.” And with that, Mr. Wall Street put his head down and left me alone with his woman.
Mywoman now.
I grinned at Camille. She didn't look too thrilled—but for me, that whole scenario couldn't have gone down any more perfectly. Over the loud club music, I had to lean in and speak directly into her ear.
“SupRach? Glad you could make it.”
She gave me a dirty stare.
I leaned in again. The closeness was nice, even if we hated each other. I could feel her warm puffs of breath against my neck.
“Sorry if I butted in on something there. That was some guy you were talking to.” I chuckled sarcastically. “C'mon, you can do better than him.”
She stood on her tip-toes to reach my ear. She reached for my navel with her tiny hand and grabbed a handful of my shirt to hang on for support. I leaned down and met her half-way.
“You're such anass,Beau.” She slapped at my shoulder angrily. “He was actuallynice.You know what that word means, right? Being kind and considerate to people? You might try it sometime.”
“Oh, yeah,” I grinned. “You sure know a lot about that, don't you?”
Her eyes darted to the left. “I dunno what you're getting at.”
I didn't lean in to say anything that time. I just forced a smile.
A crowd of bodies surrounded us, moving to the club's hip-hop beats. They closed in on us, tightening like a knot.
“So, you wanna dance or what?” I shouted over the music.
“What about your harem?” she shouted, nodding in the direction of the four MeatMarket girls. Each of the four girls had a glowing phone screen jammed in their faces—a sight that made me roll my eyes. “Won't they be mad?”
“You think I care?”
“I know you don't care!” she shouted with a wicked smile. “That's why I said you're anass!”
I had to laugh. She had a point.
