Page 9 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Kendrix

She walked past me like she didn’t feel the heat I was throwing. She didn’t slow down or bat a lash. That type of self-control only comes from someone who chooses not to give in. I liked that.

“‘Excuse me, pretty…” I said, my voice smooth and slow.

She turned halfway, one brow raised, wearing a sweatsuit like she didn’t just make the entire club forget their mother’s names.

Before she could say anything, her homegirl started laughing.

“Oh yeah, sis… I see he’s tryna be poetic. I’m going to my car to make a call. Handle that.”

She laughed. “I’m good, Ty. Love you. I’ll be right behind you leaving, sis.”

She turned back to me and I tilted my head, my eyes never leaving hers. “You sure about that?”

She squinted a little. “Sure about what?”

“That you’ll be leaving right behind her.”

She smiled, already folding her arms like she was setting up the chessboard in her head. “Yeah, I’m pretty positive.”

I smiled. “I’d love to have a little of your time.”

I stepped in just a little closer, close enough to smell the soft vanilla on her skin. She looked down at her wrist—where a watch would’ve been—and tapped her bare skin. “Well, time is money. And it takes money to get my time.”

Arms still folded. Chin slightly tilted. Waiting.

Shit.

I laughed a little under my breath. “Aight, you got it. That’s fair.”

Then I looked her straight in her eyes, “So what’s your name?”

She gave me a smile that hit harder than any punch I ever took in my life.

“You never ask a dancer her real name,” she said. “You have to earn that. So, for now…”

She leaned forward just enough for me to feel the whisper on her lips.

“…all you get is MissCommunication.”

Damn.

I felt that shit in my bones. Not just the way she said it, but the fact that she meant it. No thirst. No flinch. She was holding her own, and she knew she was the one with the power in this exchange.

I nodded once, that grin creeping up slow.

“MissCommunication, huh?”

She stood tall again and didn’t blink.

I rubbed my beard, eyes still locked on hers.

“Aight. I can respect that. I like a woman who makes a man work for his answers… especially when he’s got the money to keep asking.”

She didn’t have to respond because that smirk of hers told me everything.

“You got time to sit somewhere and talk?” I asked.

She tilted her head, thinking. Then she slid her hand under her chin, like she was weighing the pros and cons.

“Hmm,” she said, lips curling just a little. “Let me think about it…”

A dramatic pause.

“Probably not.”

I blinked. “Damn.”

“I don’t know you,” she added, shoulder shrugging. “You could be anybody and could do anything to me. So until I know you a little better, we can only speak outside, in the open, with my gun close enough to shoot you if you try me.”

I couldn’t even be mad at it. That was the sexiest shutdown I ever got in my life.

“Shit,” I chuckled, rubbing my chin, “I was hoping for a different response…”

Then I looked her right in the eyes.

“…but I like that one even more.”

A woman like that didn’t just walk home with any rich man who whispered something sweet. She was smart and cautious.

She reached into the side of her bag and pulled out a small black card with no name, no number, just a QR code on it. She handed it to me.

“What’s this? A booking card?”

She laughed.

I held it up and shook my head. “I ain’t tryna book you for a party or no private dance, MissCommunication.”

I stepped a little closer, lowering my voice just enough.

“I’m tryna spend some time with you. That’s it. I seen how you dance… Now I wanna see how you think.”

She smiled big and just when I thought I might’ve been saying the right shit for once, the back door busted open like the SWAT team had just pulled up.

“Baaaby!” Arlette slurred, stumbling out with a hand over her chest like she was shocked to see me outside. “I been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing out here?”

She made her way toward me, wobbling like a toddler in church shoes. “I’m so drunk. The bartender had me taking shots to celebrate. Are you ready to go home?”

I didn’t even get to answer cursing her ass out. MissCommunication took one look at the whole performance and laughed.

She tilted her head at me, eyes still full of fire.

“Well,” she said. “Looks like you have other responsibilities.”

And just like that, she turned and walked off toward her car, hips swaying like she knew they were the last thing I’d be dreaming about tonight.

I was so fucking pissed, I could feel my blood pressure in my teeth. Arlette wasn’t drunk. She was jealous. And I was two seconds from forgetting every ounce of home training and making her feel that shit.

She pressed her body up against me like I was supposed to melt.

“I told you to stop doing that shit,” I said, stepping back like her presence was contagious.

She blinked, confused. “I told you I wanna get back together. Look how good the club did tonight. That’s us, baby. We could be Antionette’s next power couple like Jay and Bey.”

She slid in closer, kissed my neck like the shit still worked. “I’m horny too. You know no one can make me cum like you.”

I wiped her kiss off like it was bad news. “Too bad. Go masturbate to our memories.”

She blinked fast, lips parting like I just hit her with a frying pan.

“Chill the fuck out, Arlette,” I said, real calm but loud. “You not my girl. Stop poppin’ up every time you see me with a woman like this is your dick. It isn’t.”

She crossed her arms like a toddler in time out. “Wow. So you tryna talk to a bottom-of-the-barrel-ass bitch? A pole-dancin’ nobody?”

“Bottom of the barrel?” I stepped in closer, eyes locked. “Arlette, you were the barrel. Full of expired ass and delusions.”

Her jaw dropped.

“And let’s get this straight while we’re on topic,” I added. “You’re not competition. You’re not even a consideration.”

I started to walk to my truck, but stopped and turned back one more time.

“Oh, and cut that ‘go home’ bullshit,” I said laughing. “We never lived together. You just had a drawer and a dream.”

“Whatever, Kendrix! You gone want this again. And when you do, I’ll be unavailable.”

I opened my truck door, climbed in, and rolled the window down.

“Unavailable?” I smirked. “Perfect. Be unavailable, undelivered, uninstalled. I don’t give a fuck. Just be gone.”

By the time I made it home, it was already past four.

The silence hit me like a wave. Just me, the marble floors, and a whole lot of damn space I didn’t feel like being in.

I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt while I walked through the kitchen, thinking I’d grab some of the leftover lamb chops my chef made earlier. I didn’t even have the energy to reheat.

I opened the fridge, looked at ‘em, and closed that shit. I went and pulled out some dog food instead. At least somebody was eating tonight.

“Come eat, Pharaoh,” I called out.

He came running in like he owned the place. He ate. I watched. Then I gave him a pat on the head and took my tired ass upstairs.

I loved my house. Paid for every brick in full. But I ain’t gonna lie, I was a little delulu when I bought it. Too much space, too many rooms. That’s why I stayed at my clubs so much.

I only wanted one person there with me. The woman who danced without speaking, warned me without words, and got my attention without even trying.

When I finally laid down, the cool silk sheets didn’t even comfort me like they usually did. All I could think about was that damn card she gave me. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbed it, and scanned it with my phone.

It pulled up a photo of her looking fine as hell and underneath it were her social handles, a business number, and an email.

Damn.

I stared at that screen longer than I should’ve. Then said fuck it and hit the number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

By the seventh ring, I was already annoyed.

Was she sleep? Ignoring me? Did I just get curved with a QR code?

“Hello?”

Her voice was low. Sleepy. But still soft as satin and just as dangerous.

I didn’t give her time to say another word.

“Pretty,” I said, voice rougher than I meant. “This Kendrix. From the club.”

I paused, smirking to myself.

“I know this is your business phone but ain’t nothing about this call business. So Ima hang up… and let you call me back from your personal line.”

Then I hung up. I didn’t wait for no reply.

I knew I was taking a risk. But oh fucking well.

She’d already taken too much control anyway.

Hanging up in her face, demanding she call me from her personal line like I was paying her bills and laying pipe was crazy.

Maybe I overplayed that one. But hell… I couldn’t be no regular nigga in her eyes, so I had to move different.

I needed a distraction, so I grabbed the remote and threw on The Chi to keep from overthinking. Fifteen minutes in, my eyes started drooping. I was halfway into a dream about ass and oxtails when my phone started ringing. Unknown number. I damn near dislocated my wrist trying to grab it fast.

“Hello?” I said, voice halfway sleep.

“UNBLOCK ME RIGHT NOW, KENDRIX!”

I sat up like I saw a ghost.

“Man, what the—?!”

“Yes, nigga! You got me out here looking crazy like I ain’t still a part of your life. We still go together real bad!”

I closed my eyes, gripping my temples. I was too tired for this Tyler Perry-ass monologue.

“Arlette, get the fuck off my line. I thought you was someone important.”

“Oh, so I’m not important now?! Wow. That’s crazy. You acting like I ain’t been down. Like I ain’t help you when your little brother went to jail. Like I wasn’t the one helping you stack all that money on the side so he could come home to more than he left with.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said what I said, Kendrix. I was THERE. Not these other bitches.”

“Shut the fuck up, Arlette.”

“I’m just saying.”

“NO. The fuck you not. You’re not just saying nothing. You’re weaponizing some shit that broke my family just to make yourself feel important.”