THE FLOW

Issue #001

The bass is thudding so hard I can feel my insides shaking behind my rattling ribs. My arms fly up into the air and swing from the left to the right in line with the movements of the women on each side of me. Strangers might mistake our synced movements and chemistry for choreography. Truthfully, we're all just a close bunch of friends enjoying this dope ass party thrown to celebrate Heavy D's 28th birthday. We're drunk and we know each other well. It's all fairly simple, really.

"Here you go, Lenetta!"

Jared's hands hold another one of his specially crafted concoctions. I learned of his masterful skills in the field of mixology through my cousin and I haven't turned my back on him since. I accept drinks from him every chance I can. Strong and delicious is his forte. I'm his biggest fan, I think.

The warmth in my smile is one part gratitude, one part alcohol. Taking the sweet, fruity cup of pink is the best thing I can do for my tastebuds. I'm on my last drink of the night. If I'm going out so soon, it has to be a good one. Anything Jared puts together is sure to be exactly that.

Leaning into his ear, I have to ask, "Where did you learn to do this?" My hand lifts my drink to add context. Jared's laughter prompts my follow-up statement. "I'm serious!"

"I know and that's why it's funny." He continues to laugh.

Adina Howard's breakout debut single comes to an end, creating the illusion of me being free from the corner-eyed sight of my multi-platinum selling cousin grinding against her soon-to-be fiancé like a horny 19-year-old at a college party. Candy Rain coats the room with a deeper sense of excitement in the name of the birthday boy's involvement with the Black male group but I'm more focused on cracking the code of Jared's magic touch.

"Did you take a class or something?"

My friend's head falls back as if I've blown his pants off with the joke of the year. "No," he chortles over the music. He leans deeper into my ear. "You just learn what you learn 'round the way!"

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it!" His laughter falters into a seemingly permanent smile. He asks, "You wanna dance?"

The answer is a crystal clear yes that gets cut short by the hollering to my left.

"Aye!" My head whips around to DeVante, holding up a drink in one hand and keeping Nelly at his hip with the other. "We out! Let's ride!" His word is for their entourage, one I am included in.

Piling into cars is our favorite party trick. As we ride, bodies are dropped off at residences like packaged mail until the core five of us are the last ones standing. One by one, we drop off every friend, friend of a friend, new friend, and friend of a friend's new friend. It's astonishing how many people we, as a collective, are able to rid ourselves of before it's Adrienne, me, Ken, and Jared tailing DeVante's two-seater back to he and Nelly's penthouse.

"I'm not gonna lie," I start, looking for my shoes on the floor of Jared's car as he pulls into a VIP guest space provided in the parking garage. "I'm a little twisted." My laughter is far from lonely as the backseat fills with mutual giggles between my recently adopted adult little sister and I.

Adrienne and I have been two peas in a pod since she was hired by my cousin's boyfriend two years ago. It was the winter of 1992 and I'd become surprisingly acquainted with DeVante on my own after meeting him in passing so many times that we eventually decided to act like we knew each other once he became linked to Nelly. Adrienne was a breath of life, a firecracker— but not the big kind, the kind that aren't banned in the richer counties but still make pretty colors dance across the sky. She's quick on her feet and not even a little bit scared to ask for whatever she desires. She's who I wish I was at twenty-three.