“Avian, this is Jordin,” I said, leaning against the counter. “The woman I’ve been telling you about.”
Avian’s face lit up as she extended a hand. “So this is Jordin. Girl, he’s been talking nonstop about you. Every time I call, I be hearing you giggling or singing in the background. He got you up in his house and everything. That is not Chester’s way.”
Jordin’s eyes shot to me, narrowing. “Has he?”
“Oh yeah,” Avian said, her voice dripping with amusement. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“She got jealous when she saw us,” I added casually, watching Jordin’s reaction.
“I did not,” she said quickly. “I was just—” She paused. “Who is Chester?” Her eyes cut to me. “Don’t tell me your real name is Chester.” She tittered.
My face heated. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. What my Wikipedia say?” I had gotten that shit changed when I was sixteen. What the fuck I look like being a Chester? My moms was wild for that shit...
I cut my eyes at Avian.
She laughed. “Y’all are too fucking cute. You both should come to my club tonight after the ceremony. First round’s on me.”
Jordin hesitated, her gaze flicking to me.
“We’ll be there,” I answered for both of us before she could object.
She sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m checking into my room first.”
“You’re not checking into a room,” I said, grabbing her hand.
“Ciarán—”
“You’re staying in my suite,” I said firmly, tugging her toward the elevator.
The faintest hint of a smile curved her lips. “If I stay, can I call you Chester?”
Twenty -Ciarán
I had won Songwriter of the Year, as I expected.
Jordin had convinced me to go out to celebrate when Avian offered. But the second I stepped into Avian’s club, I knew this wasn’t what either of us expected. But I wasn’t mad either.
The energy in the air was heavy, sultry, and electric. The lighting was dim, punctuated by red and purple hues glowing from the ceiling and hidden corners. A faint bassline thumped in the background, paired with the occasional crack of a whip and the soft whisper of voices. There were half-naked and fully naked men and women walking and crawling around the room. I saw nipple clips, dildos, and strap-ons in every direction I turned, and it was mostly Black people. This was Atlanta, though.
I glanced over at Jordin. Her eyebrows had lifted slightly, and her lips parted just a bit as she took in the scene. The way her eyes darted around told me she was as intrigued as I was.
Avian was ahead of us, turning back with an amused grin that lit up her pretty face. “Y’all ain’t scared, are you?” she teased, tossing her thick braids over her shoulder. Her gold hoops caught the light when she laughed.
“What the fuck kind of club is this?” I muttered, my head on a swivel. To my right, a pair of women passed by wearing nothing but leather harnesses and thigh-high boots. To my left, a group of topless men lounged, their nipples pierced with silver clips. I winced just looking at them.
Avian smirked. “Fix your face, Ci,” she said, laughing and motioning for us to follow her deeper inside. “This is my kind of club.” She threw me a wink over her shoulder, her heels clicking against the polished floor. “Welcome to Obsidian. Every room here has its own… theme. You’ll see.”
Jordin shifted closer to me, her voice low. “Your cousin is wild as fuck, Cia…”
“Tell me about it,” I said, already feeling the adrenaline pump through my veins—'cause even with all this wild shit, a part of me felt like maybe this place knew something about me I didn’t.
Jordin kept glancing around like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to run or stay forever.
Avian led us into the first room, her voice lilting as she explained the layout. “Some folks in here like to watch. Some like to be watched. Some like both.”
My eyes hit the platform in the center of the room, and my whole body went still. Two couples were tangled together—one woman riding a man’s face, smearing her pussy all over his lips, while another dude slow-fucked a thick girl from behind, gripping her hips tight, making her ass ripple. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and they were all moaning loud, fucking under the spotlight aimed at them like they ain’t give a single fuck who saw.
Jordin’s hand brushed against mine, and I glanced over to find her biting her bottom lip. Her gaze was locked on the scene ahead. Something was swimming in her eyes—like curiosity, heat, maybe even jealousy. Like part of her wanted to climb up there and show out.
