“Chanell, you better let it go. I’m still trying to regain my memory, girl!” I playfully scold her.
“Wait the fuck up, Ray! Im’ma get it. I just need a minute!” she cries desperately. It’s hilarious to watch.
“Okay. I’ll slow it down.” And I do. It takes her several rounds to get the right coordination, but she eventually gets it.
Skating turns out to be a blast! I’m sure the alcohol helps. The music is off the chain. The D.J.’s on fire. He plays party records like Frankie Beverly & Maze’s Before I Let Go, CeeCee Peniston’s Finally, Beyonce’s We Like to Party, and Jeff Red’s You Called and Told Me. I’m in a nice groove on the rink. I take note of the many times the D.J. shouts out Azmir in his absence. He’s showing love to the man that made it all possible. My heart’s elated. Azmir is a man of many layers. Just a few weeks ago, I had accompanied him to a charity function at a mansion in Beverly Hills and tonight we’re with the folks of the Watts. To say my life has been whimsical since encountering Azmir is saying very little.
I’m jamming to the New Jack Swing Era when someone skates up so close to me that they’re on my backside. What the...! I jerk my head around to see Azmir flashing his coochie-creaming smile. It’s warm and well received by my heart. He’s such a gorgeous man. He’s wearing a black fitted long-sleeve knitted shirt with dark indigo denim jeans. His hair is freshly cut into a Caesar and his fast growing goatee is such a turn on. I could get used to it. He gives me swift kiss on the temple. I guess he wants to keep it simple in public. Or is it that we’re skating and there isn’t much fondling we can do without falling? Either way, I’m smitten by his presence.
Wait. Is he skating? And effortlessly?
“I didn’t know you could skate,” I yell over the music.
“Ms. Brimm, you have no idea the extent of my talents.”
I blush. With his long arm, he grabs me by the waist and we glide together to the music. The D.J. blasts over the speakers, “Ayo, e’rbody! We got royalty in the building. Divine, the god, just hit the door and now he on the rink with his fiancée. Let’s show my man some love, y’all. He ‘bout to get hitched. Congrats to him and ‘da future Missus. One love, yo.” The crowd goes up in applause and whistles.
I’m so embarrassed that I try to hide under Azmir’s long arms while keeping my stride. I’m not used to fanfare. I don’t think Azmir likes it either, but he’s been floating on cloud nine since I said yes. He gives the crowd a wave. They love it. And as we brisk past a young guy watching the rink from the floor, I hear him yell, “Yo, man! I always looked up to you like a father, man. Much respect, homie!” Azmir raises his hand to the kid in acknowledgement of the endearing statement as we skate past. That’s a rather warm response to the announcement opposed to the chicks that gives the nastiest gawks. I’ve grown accustomed to those and the other type of women who point and whisper.
“What are you drinking?” Azmir asks while taking my drink from my hand and sipping my cocktail before I can answer.
“Ilk! This is disgusting. What is this shit?”
I shrug. “Some sort of martini.” I giggle.
“All right. That’s it. Time to go,” he commands, pointing to an opening where we can exit.
“Already? You just got here,” I protest. And so did I for that matter.
He nods his head in resolute stubbornness. “I have something I need to show you. We have to go.” He grabs me by the waist to guide me over to exit the rink. My stop is barely smooth. Azmir’s is more so. I see the guards making room for us so that we can get to the counter to return our skates. I had one of the security guards hold my Tom Ford pumps while I was on the rink. The last thing I needed is to have them five-fingered by the staff and have ruined a good night for Azmir. As I’m slipping on my shoes, my attention draws to Petey approaching us.
“Y’all out, Duke?”
“Yup. Got some plans for shorty,” Azmir says, pulling me close to him. The onlookers seem so amazed by our presence. “You good, right?”
“Yeah, man. Ronnie holding shit down,” assures Petey.
“Be sure to tell ‘em I said he did a good job on the planning this year. This is a neutral location.”
“Yeah, so far no drama,” Petey informs. Azmir extends his hand to Petey in an upright position and leans into him to give him some dap. Petey follows suit and then turns to kiss me on the cheek. He’s been greeting me this way since Vegas. It shocked me at first because he doesn’t come off as an expressive man. Petey reserves his smiles. But he’s warmed up to me without effort on my part. I soak it all up. It’s nice and I know Azmir approves.
“Soon ta’ be ‘da Missus! I like that!” Petey gushes. I’m once again embarrassed by the attention, but flattered to receive it from Petey. I give a bashful smile and ask him to give Chanell my regards. I lost her when Azmir whisked me off the rink.