Page 36 of Pills and Potions: Kase
“Nothing,” Kase smirked. “I killed that shit.”
I raised a brow. “Boy, that was basic.”
“Basic but effective,” he nodded like a motivational speaker.
We were actually having a decent time, until one of Kase’s old flings strutted over in a crop top and leggings so tight they looked airbrushed. She leaned over the booth, cleavage out, voice sweet, laugh faker than a press-on nail. The old Kase would’ve had her giggling in 60 seconds. But potion-Kase? Whew. He was a mess. He tried to play it cool, but keptsnortingmid-sentence. Then he knocked over a drink trying to gesture smooth, spilling it right onto her phone. She jumped back like he’d thrown acid and stormed off, cursing under her breath. Kase just stood there looking crazy because he had never been rejected by women. We were crying laughing as he came back over, looking dazed and wounded, like a puppy that got kicked at prom.
He leaned toward me, desperate. “Is my breath okay, Blyss? Or do I got a fever? Cuz I’m out here doing dumb shit.”
Boy, I thought,you ain’t got flavor—you got confusion.These hoes don’t want your soul. They want your pockets.But I kept it cute.
I leaned in, fake-sweet. “I can’t tell. Come closer.”
He tilted his head. I sniffed. His breath? Perfect. Then I touched his forehead, knowing damn well he didn’t have a fever.
“So, what the fuck is wrong then?” he whispered. “I been messin’ up with the ladies.”
I shrugged, playing innocent. “I don’t know. Come here. I’ll help you.”
Even though I knew he was on the potion, I took my shot. He was so disoriented, so crushed from being curved, I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in as my glasses bumped my nose. So, I said screw it and stuck my tongue in his mouth.
Tuesday shrieked. “I KNOW Y’ALL NOT MAKIN’ OUT AFTER A BOGEY!”
Jace threw his hands up. “Nah. Now I KNOW he’s on drugs. KissingBlyss in public?!”
“What you tryin’ to say?” Tuesday snapped. “My cousin is a prize, fool!”
I pulled back and Kase looked at me with wide eyes. With a smirk, I picked up a golf club and went right back to hitting balls like nothing happened.
Chapter 11
Kase Madoxx
Work would drain the life outta you if you let it, so me and the homies decided to shake off the stress and get turnt up watching ass, but I was on some bullshit again.While the crew hyped each other up in the sprinter, talkin’ about their favorite dancers and how they were gon' make it rain, I was sittin’ in the back Googling how much glitter exposure it takes to cause long-term skin irritation.
“Yo, what the hell are you doin’?” Vernon leaned over, squintin’ at my screen.
“Just wonderin’ if the glitter they use is biodegradable,” I said, dead serious, like I had a TED Talk scheduled at a strip club.
Vernon frowned, “Nigga… what?!”
“Ah, hell. How much Henny you drink?” Paul asked, holdin’ the bottle up like it lied to him.
Jace smirked. “You good, bro?”
I slapped my phone down like it said somethin’ disrespectful. “Yeah. Never mind. I was trippin’.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Since when did I give a damn about stripper glitter and the ozone layer? I needed to lock in. There was ass in myimmediatefuture.
We pulled up and hopped out like royalty, chains swingin’, fits clean, birthday energy on full disrespect. The smell inside hit me like a spiritual slap: Henny, baby oil, and seasoned booty.
The bouncer dapped us up. Inside was full chaos, bass thumpin’, cheeks clappin’, strobe lights flashin’ like somebody pulled a fire drill on lust. Usually, the DJ go crazy. Tonight, the music sounded like a Roomba caught in a mosh pit.
“Damn, this my joint!” Vernon yelled, hittin’ a two-step like he just got cleared for a refund check.
I muttered, “This frequency finna mess up my circadian rhythm.”
The crew looked at me straightly before they kept walking.We slid into our regular spot, close enough to catch vibes, but far enough not to catch glitter in the eye.Three dancers popped up in our section like we ordered bottle service and bad decisions. One had on sparkly thigh-highs, lookin’ like she stepped straight outta a fever dream. Another had curls for days and a G-string that was fightin’ for itsdamnlife. But the last chick? Man… she had so much glitter on her, it looked like she wrestled a unicorn, snapped its horn, and wore the sparkle as war paint.
