Page 1 of Sparks Will Fly

I’ve beenall in my phone. I got options…

My body swayed to the melodic rhythm of Summer Walker’s hit single “Body” in tandem with bursts of heat escaping off the many bodies stuffed inside Mobay’s. Drey was behind me with her hands fastened to my waist as I sang the lyrics like they were written for me. My hips followed a rhythm of their own that had every eye in the vicinity watching the show.

I gave no regard to the outside world. All I wanted was a night of fun to free myself from the weight of my work. I loved pouring into the children in my community, but it could be tiresome. Tonight was about adult fun, which was why I accepted the strawberry margarita that was slipped into my hand. I could trust Drey, so I didn’t think twice about draining the plastic cup of every sweet, yet bitter drop mixed inside.

“Alright now, cousin. You keep dancing on me like this, and I’ma forget we’re not from Alabama.”

I giggled uncontrollably as I stopped dancing.

“You’re sick,” I joked seconds before a hiccup slipped out.

I slapped a hand over my mouth when another came then another.

“Guess I’m growing!” I yelled over the music.

“Or you’re drunk as hell. Let’s go sit at the bar. My feet hurt so bad I can’t even feel them anymore.”

I followed closely while still enjoying the music flowing from the speakers. Mobay’s was packed per usual for Thursday night. They were known for their drink specials. Who didn’t love five-dollar Don Julio shots on a good ole thirsty Thursday?Squares!That’s who. They knew exactly what they were doing to keep the place packed, alcohol flowing, and ass being thrown from left to right because the DJ was doing her thing.

“Finally.” Drey huffed as she slid on a bar stool, allowing her to relieve the pressure from walking in her stilettos.

“Told you not to wear those shoes,” I reminded her with a smirk. I was sitting comfortably in a pair of platform heels that kept my feet supported. I could dance all night in these.

She waved me off. “Beauty is pain. I’ll live.”

“But will your feet if you keep cutting off their circulation and shit?”

She gave me a side eye before shifting her focus to waving down the bartender. Her lips parted to make a request when he beat her to it by sliding two lemon drops across the bar.

“Oh là là. Who’s our sponsor?” She pried for information.

Drey was always on the prowl, always looking for a man to put her through the mattress just to wake up the next day and move forward with her life like nothing ever happened. She swore she wasn’t afraid of commitment, but who was I to judge when I had my own fears and reservations in the love department?

The bartender nodded to two guys sitting at the opposite end of the bar. One was handsome with long and neat locs, but that other one had the face and body only a mother could love. The smirk on Drey’s face said she saw what I did, and I knew she had me fucked up.

I knew what was coming long before she turned in her seat to suggest we go over to thank them. I shook my head adamantly.

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. I was not taking one for the team tonight. “It’s just a drink; we don’t have to thank them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right, but wouldn’t it be fun to see where things could lead?”

“Fun for who ’cause I know how you are. You’re going to go for the fine one and leave the thick, ugly one for me. How the fuck he got more hips than me?” I was getting pissed off just thinking about it. I glanced in their direction one more time and shook my head again. “No.No!Hell no.”

Drey blew a raspberry followed by a very childish display of her tongue.

“You are no fun anymore.”

“I’m plenty of fun, and you know it. Just not when the man looks like that.” There was nothing she could say to convince me to entertain that man. “I’m about ready to go home anyway. There’s still a lot of planning for Wanderlust, and I don’t want to get too behind.”

She waved me off. “All you wanna do is work. Those little fun suckers at that community center better be glad you give a damn about them, because the way my mind is set up, it was fuck them kids a long time ago.”

I nearly choked on the remnants of my drink trying to hold in my laughter.

“Exactly why children are my calling and not yours.”

She beamed. “Yeah, ’cause they wouldn’t stand a chance if they had to depend on me.”

I got ready to say more when Muni Long’s “Made for Me” began blasting. That was our song, and we sang it to each other like it was the first time. Drey and I were sandbox besties because we were cousins. She was my twin in every way except for the fact I loved children, and she would rather be run over by a car than associate with them. Her career as a divorce attorney kept her far enough away along with the birth control she popped like clockwork every day.

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