She eyed me from head to toe while asking Azmir, “Oh, so who’s this?” with a faux smile.
Azmir maintained that seductive grin with his set exclusively on me, “A good friend of mine, Rayna Brimm. Ms. Brimm, this is Lady Spin from 101.8 Hot Jams. She’s a radio personality there with a syndicated show. I’m sure you’ve heard her on the radio.”
“Well, of course. It’s a pleasure,” I lied.
I rarely listened to L.A. radio. It was whack and didn’t hold a candle to New York’s. One of the many things I purchased when I traveled back home were mix tapes. I kept those in the car for times when I wanted to jam. But he was right, I’d likely had heard her on the radio over the past few years since living in L.A. I felt like that was the least I could say to keep what appeared to be an awkward meeting civil.
She flashed the most contrived smile as to say, yeah, whatever, it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. She then turned back to Azmir and said, “I’ll be waiting on that drink. Don’t be long.” Lady Spin walked away.
“See, Mr. Jacobs, when your girl comes over asking for a drink, it’s not wise to tell her to wait until you’re done talking to another woman,” I said half serious.
I didn’t know how to feel. Something felt different. I felt a little betrayed. I’d just slept with him days ago. I thought we had made love. We shared a very intimate and romantic evening together. He had even invited me to a social event with a moral theme. You don’t do that to someone you’re just fucking. I couldn’t calculate my next move.
“That would be true if she were my girl,” he said with a slight pause. “Come…let’s go out on the veranda to talk without all the energy in here.” He motioned to follow him just after he asked the bartender to send a rum and coke to the woman in black in white at the D.J. booth and handed him a twenty dollar tip.
I followed him with apprehension and eagerness. I didn’t know if I was embarrassing myself by continuing to show interest after discovering he was clearly sleeping with other women. But there was something magnetic about him that didn’t feel shared with others. I’m sure even if I had more time to think about it I would’ve gone with him anyway. And I damn sure wasn’t checking for Sebastian’s ass.
On the veranda there was a cool breeze flowing. Other patrons of the party were out there mingling and some smoking. I could even swear I saw a few people in a corner bending over a table sniffing coke. I didn’t want to gawk so I couldn’t confirm it.
We stood as Azmir said, “I want to chat about what you saw in there with Lady Spin. We’re good friends and we have been for a few years now. But that’s it; we’re just friends,” he said calmly yet emphatically.
“I don’t know, Azmir. Thou seem to protest too much,” I teased.
I realized that I did it again. A man tried to share a vulnerable moment with me and I shut him down. I didn’t want to do that to Azmir, but there were still some suspicious things about him that made me feel safer in my oyster.
“Oh, you can’t talk yourself. You’re here on a date,” he quipped.
“I’m not on a date. Let’s just say I’m fulfilling an obligation to an associate. A date would require wanting to share a space with the person in question,” I defended.
“So what makes you want to share a space?” he asked while motioning to his bodyguard for a waiter to come over. The waiter came over, took my glass, and asked if I wanted another martini, to which I declined. Azmir ordered Armagnac and the waiter hurried along.
I didn’t know how to respond. “I don’t know. That’s a difficult one because typically one would run down a wish list of characteristics and attributes and I don’t believe in those. When the person comes along that I want to co-space with, I’ll know.”