Page 19 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

“I… yeah,” she whispered, eyes glued to it. “This is… shit. It’s beautiful.”

I took the bracelet from the box, holding her wrist gently as I slid it on. “Purple’s my favorite color on a woman,” I told her, fastening the clasp.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because it makes us look like royalty or some shit?”

I grinned, leaning closer so my lips brushed her ear. “Exactly. Purple stands for power. Passion. Mystery. And every time I see it on a woman… it reminds me she’s dangerous enough to make a king kneel without lifting a finger.”

She laughed, shaking her head.“Boy, you smooth as hell. Talking about kneeling like you ain’t the one tryna have me bent backwards somewhere.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’ll do both.”

She looked down at the bracelet, then kissed me. When she pulled back, her lips were shining, and that smirk of hers was lethal. “I gotta go,” she said, sliding off my lap, leather creaking as she moved. “Your bitch, Arlette, has me entertaining some men before a meeting.”

I leaned back, smirking. “You gone stop calling that hoe, my bitch. But yeah, Pretty. That meeting’s with me.”

She froze mid-step, glancing over her shoulder with a look of fire. “Figures.”

Then she started walking, hips swinging like she knew I was watching.

“Don’t be late, Givelle. I like my men punctual… and hard.”

The lounge was thick with smoke and money. Two men sat across from me, Derrick and Sosa. Suits, gold watches, and the kind of smiles that looked good but meant you needed to count your fingers after shaking hands. We’d been talking numbers for weeks, and it was supposed to be the final sit-down.

But the second I stepped in, I damn near lost my train of thought. Pretty was on the pole. Leather still painted to her ass, body glistening under the soft lights. She moved like the music was built for her spine, her hair brushing her shoulders as she spun.

Derrick leaned back with a grin. “The dancer already made us real comfortable, Kendrix. Hell of a show while we waited on you.”

Sosa laughed, sipping his drink. “She had us forgetting why we came here.”

I lit a cigar, forced my smirk to stay calm. “Good to hear,” I said, like she wasn’t the reason my chest was tight too.

I exhaled smoke slow, leaning back in my chair. “So… where we at?”

Derrick tapped the table. “We like your idea. The expansion on the cigar lounges. We bring in our liquor, your cigars, and use the poker rooms as the front. Money circulates clean. Everybody eats.”

Sosa nodded. “We’re ready to move forward. Just needed to look you in the eye before we shake on it.”

On the surface, it sounded good. Too good. But I’d been in this game long enough to know when a nigga was selling me water in the middle of a rainstorm.

And right then… I noticed Pretty.

The way she moved. She wasn’t just dancing anymore. She was communicating with me.

Her spin slowed, her body swaying side to side instead of front to back. Then, she hooked her ankle high on the pole and stretched, pointing that heel in the direction of Derrick and Sosa.

I raised my brow behind a cloud of smoke. Message received. Something’s off.

I leaned forward, cigar between my fingers. “So, let’s talk numbers one more time.”

They started running the play again, but my ears weren’t on the math. They were on the way Pretty’s eyes cut toward them every time they overpromised. On the way her body slowed when they lied, the same way it picked up when they told the truth.

The table was covered with neat stacks of paper, contracts typed up real professional, pens sitting on top like they just knew I was about to sign.

Derrick leaned in, tapping the first page. “All we need is your signature here, Kendrix. You’re about to triple your profits in less than six months.”

Sosa nodded, flashing all them teeth. “Easy money. We handle distribution. You just keep doing what you do best. Nobody loses.”

I rolled the cigar slow between my fingers, my eyes on the paperwork but my mind on Pretty.

She was still moving on that pole. At first, she looked like she was just vibing with the music, but I knew better. I’d been watching her too long not to recognize the pattern.

Her hips swayed side to side like a no. Her eyes cut quick at Derrick when he said nobody loses.

Then she spun around, arching her back, legs splitting wide in the air, toes pointed right at the papers in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow. Don’t sign that shit.

Derrick leaned closer. “What’s the hesitation, Kendrix? You asked for a smooth move, we delivered. This is it.”

I smirked, leaning back. “Smooth ain’t always smart. Sometimes it’s just slick.”

Sosa’s grin faded, but Derrick laughed like I cracked a joke. “You don’t trust us?”

Pretty’s pace changed again. She spun up the pole, gripped tight, then leaned back into an upside-down hang. Her legs scissored before she stretched one out pointing straight down at the bottom of the contract like a damn arrow.

The fine print.

I reached over, flipping the pages without breaking eye contact with her. “Nah, it ain’t about trust. It’s about detail. And something in here don’t smell right.”

Derrick shifted in his seat. “Everything’s clean, Kendrix.”

I smirked, looking dead at him. “Maybe for y’all. But for me? This clause right here,” I tapped the bottom paragraph with my cigar, “means you walk away owning half of what I built while I cover all the risk.”

Silence.

Pretty dropped down the pole slow, knees bent, arching her back like she was sealing the deal, and I knew I said exactly what she wanted me to.

Derrick cleared his throat. “We can adjust the terms.”

“Yeah, you will,” I said smoothly, leaning back and blowing out a stream of smoke. “Or this conversation’s over.”

Out the corner of my eye, Pretty smiled faintly, swinging around the pole. I leaned forward, stubbed my cigar out on the ashtray, and said,

“So, what’s it gon’ be? Adjust the terms… or watch me walk out with every dollar you thought you were about to eat?”