Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Twelve

    Drake's boys went wild, hollering and hooting with excitement. The loud noises barely registered to Mia. All she could focus on was how soft Drake's lips were on hers, and the feel of his hands tightly gripping her waist. His kiss was gentle, but probing. When they finally pulled away from each other, she had to catch her breath.

    He looked down at her with pure desire in his eyes. He kept one hand on her waist but lifted the other and turned to his crew, gesturing for them to keep the noise down.

    As the night went on, the two of them were attached at the hip. They danced, talked, and laughed. When she excused herself to spend some time with her friends, he warned her, "Don't go too far, now."

    She left the VIP area and found her friends, who were still living it up on the dance floor.

    "I saw that," Bri said with one raised eyebrow. "You ain't slick."

    Mia smiled sheepishly. Instead of responding, she started to dance. She danced slowly, even to some of the fast songs, completely lost in her own little world where she could still feel Drake's kisses on her lips.

    She could feel Desirae nudging her. She opened her eyes, never stopping her movements or missing a beat, and followed Desi's gaze to where Drake stood on the upper level. He leaned over the railing with his glass in his hands. He raised the glass to his lips and looked down at her over the top of the glass.

    A slow smile curved Mia's lips as she continued to dance. The floor was crowded with dancers, and some of them had their eyes on her, but in her mind she was dancing just for him. She moved her hips in figure eight motions, whirled around and arched her back, angling a look up at him over her shoulder.

    He smiled appreciatively and raised his glass to her.

    "I have to go to the bathroom and you bitches are coming with me!" Bri shouted over the music. She linked arms with both Desirae and Mia.

    They headed to the bathrooms. Bri flocked to the nearest stall and slammed the stall door behind her.

    "Damn, Bri, are you okay?" Desirae asked, going to stand near the stall door.

    Bri didn't respond, but moments later they could clearly hear retching on the other side of the stall door.

    Desirae and Mia exchanged concerned looks.

    "Bri...?" Mia tentatively approached the stall door.

    The stall door opened without warning and Bri stood there, a fine sheen of sweat gracing her brow. She wiped at her mouth with a piece of toilet paper. "I'm fine," she assured.

    "You don't look fine," Desirae muttered, frowning.

    "Thanks, Desi," Bri said wryly, walking over to a sink and turning on the faucet. She proceeded to wash her hands and leaned down to rinse her mouth. "Ugh," she groaned as she straightened to her full height.

    An average height, brown-skinned woman with long, curly black hair strode into the bathroom. She wore a provocative cut-out dress and held an expensive, black designer clutch. It was the woman that Chubbs had warned Drake about. She stood at the entrance of the bathroom, looking at Mia and her friends. The same smirk she'd worn earlier appeared now as she observed the three of them. "Hello," she greeted.

    "Hi," Desirae returned.

    Bri lifted up a hand in acknowledgement.

    Mia stared at her openly.

    "I see that you've gotten cozy with Drake," the woman went on.

    Mia didn't respond.

    "I hope you don't think you're special," the woman continued, walking over to the sink and flipping up the faucet lever. "You're just the flavor of the month. Just like the rest of us. He'll use you. He might get out a song or two about you. And then he'll discard you, like you're a piece of trash. And that's if you're lucky. If you're one of the unlucky ones, he'll continue to lead you on while he goes on dates and hooks up with other women." She washed her hands ritually while peering at Mia in the long mirror posted above the sinks.

    Mia's facial expression didn't change. A million of thoughts ran through her mind, but she didn't want those thoughts to be reflected in the face that this stranger was currently looking at.

    "Are you an exotic dancer too?" the woman asked her frankly.

    "No," Mia responded.

    The woman looked her over. "You definitely have the shape he likes."

    Bri and Desirae exchanged confused glances.

    "After seeing you together, I had to come in and warn you that the man up there you're dancing with, and kissing, and cuddling on...he's no good," the woman said as she dried her hands off with a paper towel. "He'll use you until he has no use for you, until there's nothing left to use. And then for him, it will be onto the next one. And do you know why? "

    Mia folded her arms across her chest. Don't listen to her, she thought. She's just trying to cause trouble between you and Aubrey. You can't trust anything she's saying.

    "He can't fall in love, not now," the woman said. "His career consists of writing songs about the women he's involved with. If he falls in love, and his life is great and happy, what else would he have to write about? His career would be over. And he knows it. He's smart, I have to hand it to him."

    She wants you to doubt Aubrey so she has a shot at getting back with him, Mia told herself while remaining silent.

    The woman smiled sadly. "You probably won't listen to me. You'll probably still give him a chance. You'll tell yourself that I'm some bitter, jealous woman who he doesn't want anymore, a woman who still wants him. And you wouldn't be completely incorrect in thinking that. I do still love him. I always will. But that doesn't make what I'm saying wrong or inaccurate. I love him, but he is a user. He used me. And he'll use you, too." She tossed the paper towel in the garbage can, gave one more cursory glance at Bri and Desirae, and left the bathroom.