Page 5 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

“A valid point.” Feyi hopped over a puddle. “He’s good at it, too.” She had steady orgasms with him, they cuddled and all, but Feyi always left in the morning. No breakfasts, no dates. It was clean and simple that way.

Joy looked over at her. “I’m glad it’s still going well, babe. You deserve some fun.”

Feyi’s throat caught with feeling. There had been so much darkness after the accident, years and years of thick numbness, when she couldn’t bear for anyone to touch her, yet she was here, now, on her way to meet her fuck buddy and his friends at a bar. Feyi linked her arm in Joy’s and pulled her close.

“How’s it going with that bartender girl you were seeing?” she asked.

Joy lit a cigarette and allowed the tangent. “Found out she’s married; can you believe it?”

Feyi laughed. “You still fucking with her, though, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Joy exhaled a feather of smoke. “Fuck I care about a husband.”

One of these days, Feyi knew she was going to have to talk to Joy about how she kept going after straight girls, but then again, they had been friends for a long time and it wasn’t like Joy didn’t know her own patterns or the gnarled roots they came from. Everyone had a right to keep some hurts buried and private. Like Milan, for example, who kept lightness and fun wrapped around him like armor. Some nights, Feyi would see him staring up at the ceiling when he thought she was asleep, heaviness sedimenting in his eyes. She always pretended not to notice; she had a whole country of open wound inside her and no desire to brush up against his own rawness. It was nothing to feel guilty about. Feyi had spent a very long time building salves for herself, and they were finally working—Joy’s face laughing through a mist, the arms of a casual lover waiting at the end of a night, an insomniac city with enough lives in it to forget the ones she had before.

So she said nothing, crossing the street with her best friend as the moon shone down on them. It was almost enough, or it would have to be, because they didn’t have anything else.

• • •

At the bar, Joy twirled her straw in her drink, and her eyes glittered as bright as the gold mesh of her dress. “Fuck him, and then fuck his friends,” she suggested, with a wicked grin. “I think that’s the only sensible option here.”

Feyi laughed and handed her card to the bartender to start a tab. “Nah, I can’t be out here moving that mad.”

Joy tilted her shaved head, her honeyed skin reflecting a thousand small lights. “I know we just got here, but I feel like I need to remind you. Have you seen his friends?”

Feyi flipped her turquoise braids over her shoulder and glanced to where Milan was drinking with his boys. Joy had a point— Milan’s friends were gorgeous, ridiculously so, and the cumulative effect of them rolling in a pack was utterly unfair.

“Shit, you right.” Feyi giggled. “I almost wish I’d gotten to choose from the menu back at that rooftop party. How the fuck are they all this fine?”

“Why you asking questions when you could be catching trains? Choo-choo, motherfucker.”

Feyi choked on her drink, and Joy laughed, throwing a shot back.

“I’m just saying!” She slammed her shot glass on the bar. “Y’all aren’t really together; it’s not like his friends are off-limits.”

Feyi rolled her eyes. “Girl, you know they be sensitive. Bro codes and shit.”

Joy scoffed and gestured to the bartender for another shot. “One more time, have you seen these niggas? Man, fuck a bro code.”

Feyi snuck another look just as one of the guys lifted his head from his phone. Their eyes met, and she found herself staring again, just like when she’d first seen Milan. This one was lean, his skin a smooth deep brown, and he was wearing a casual suit, his shirt unbuttoned at his throat. At first, the air between them was neutral, just two people caught in a glance, registering each other’s features. Feyi wondered what she looked like within an evaluation like that, from inside his eyes. He was relaxed, slouched against the wall and sitting on a barstool, his jacket open. A few seconds passed, and he didn’t look away. Neither did she.

The air between them tensed like a dare, like a challenge. When he put his phone aside and straightened up, interest now prowling through his narrow face, Feyi suddenly felt like she was in the path of something, but she wasn’t sure what. She watched as he leaned over to Milan, speaking softly while still looking at her, blatant with those interested eyes.

Joy caught on and squealed under her breath. “Oh, bitch, that man is gunning for you.”

“Shut the hell up,” Feyi hissed, keeping her mouth still and her lips curved as Milan turned and smiled warmly at her and Joy, gesturing for them to come over. The man next to him hadn’t taken his eyes away, not bothering to cloak the curiosity that sharpened with every step Feyi took closer to him.

“You’re fucked,” Joy whispered back, keeping her smile equally fixed as they walked over.

“Hey, babe,” Milan said, sliding an easy arm around Feyi and kissing her cheek. “This is my homeboy Nasir. Nasir, this is Feyi.”

A corner of Nasir’s mouth turned up, a glimpse of white teeth underneath, and she held out her hand.

“Hi,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

He took her hand, and his skin was dry and warm against hers. “Pleasure,” he replied, holding her gaze and her hand a moment too long. Milan didn’t notice.

“You must be Joy,” Milan was saying, letting go of Feyi to extend his arms in welcome.