She was subtly swaying her body to the house music that was blaring from the speakers, eyeing him as she smiled. She ran her fingers through her short, curly hair before turning back to her friends, posing in a way that allowed him complete visual access to her ass. He couldn’t lie—it was a nice ass.
The hip-hop art show he was at had beckoned Miami’s hipsters, cultural innovators and “tastemakers” (as they lamely called themselves) to a trendy venue appropriately titled The Loft. The place was swarming with women who wanted to be noticed, and this particular one was working overtime.
“Damn, B,” his friend Nathan said, pressing his beer bottle to his lips as he hungrily eyed the girl. He swallowed and glanced at Brian. “She’s checking for you hard.”
Brian took another sip of his drink, letting his eyes roam over the rest of the space, subtly ignoring him. The street art installations that decorated the stylish space were daring and bold, created by local artists who were eager to show off Miami’s expanding arts scene, although he figured that most of the people that were there probably weren’t as interested in the art as much as they wanted to mingle and get drunk on the free drinks that were flowing amply.
“Hi.” A woman passed by him in five-inch stilettos, her hair hanging loosely over her bare shoulders as she openly assessed him. He grinned, politely, nodding his head at her as she continued on her way, swishing her hips like she was on a runway.
Miami was peculiar place. He’d been living there for a little over four months and he still hadn’t really gotten used to it. It was overpriced—almost twenty bucks for a cocktail kind-of overpriced. Too many people he encountered were shallow. The women were thirsty and the tourists were clueless to anything outside of South Beach, which irritated him, even though he wasn’t a native.
“She hasn’t stopped looking over here yet,” said Brian’s best friend, Dorian, causing Brian to inadvertently look toward the curly-haired girl again. She was wearing a tight black nylon skirt and a white shredded t-shirt with black combat boots, giving her a sexy, rocker edge. “She’s really choosing.”
He eyed her. Was the girl attractive? Hell yes. Once upon a time there wouldn’t have been any hesitation on his part to take her up on her obvious offer. But that was a long time ago and his head and heart were in a totally different place now, as Dorian was well aware.
He eyed the girl for a second longer before looking away again. He knew that an attractive woman was simply that—an attractive woman. He’d had his fair share of them over the years.
“Her friend is fine as hell too,” Nathan continued, turning toward Dorian.
Nathan slanted his head toward the long-haired girl who looked a little like Kerry Washington. She was wearing a tight brown dress that left nothing to the imagination.
Dorian didn’t acknowledge Nathan, but Brian knew he’d already checked her out. She was exactly the type of girl Dorian always went for. It wasn’t so much her physical look, but the way she carried herself. He liked prissy girls. Women who tried to put off an innocent front but were clearly experienced.
He watched as Dorian flashed his deep dimples at Fake Kerry Washington. She smiled, giggled, flipped her hair and hastily sipped the drink she was holding. Brian almost rolled his eyes as Dorian shot him a triumphant look.
“C’mon, D,” Brian said, sipping his drink, “you know you’ll be tired of that chick before the sun is even up.”
“And?” Dorian shrugged, not denying his observation. He glanced at his phone. “That leaves about six hours.”
Brian chuckled and shook his head. He’d known Dorian since they were in the sixth grade. They’d both played basketball for Samuel Middle School, and their talent easily surpassed everyone else on the squad. Their sense of competition and natural skill had pretty much assured they’d become friends, but it was one incident in particular that had cemented their relationship.
They were up by fifteen points with only three minutes left in a particularly brutal game. Like most boys who were full of testosterone and misplaced pride, one of the players on the losing team lost his head and pushed Ronnie Daniels to the ground in an unnecessarily hard foul. Ronnie was, as the adults around at the time referred to him, “a little off.” But he was good people, and both Dorian and Brian subtly went out of their way to make sure none of the dudes on the team messed with him, and, only when they were already up of course, he got to handle the ball a little. When Ronnie went flying across the bruised basketball court, too scrawny and timid to stand up for himself, Dorian immediately came to his aid, yelling and pushing the guy who’d done it. When the bully turned to get away, it was Brian who’d punched him square in the nose, without uttering so much as a word.