Basquiat.

chapter seven.

•••

Masika

I lustfully eyed him from across the room. He was beyond handsome, he surpassed perfect. He was my art teacher, and completely out of my league.

His bold white attire sat upon his slim structure so neatly.

His caramel dipped skin glowed flawlessly under the neon lights.

That impeccably sculpted jawline sat perfectly above his music inspired tattoo.

That nappy, yet properly groomed hair.

Those baby soft pink lips, I imagined doing more than just talking.

I needed him. I wanted him. I couldn't have him.

Mr. Perfect.

••

"Hello? Could I please order a drink, ma'am?"

I hadn't realized I was day dreaming and basically neglecting customers for an entire half hour.

"My apologies, sir. What could I get for you?"

"An Amaretto sour, please. No ice. No lemon."

"Coming right up."

I poured his drink while keeping my attention on Stacy and Mr. Alsina.

"Someone caught your eye, love?"

"Oh no, just making sure things are running smoothly around here is all."

"Hm. So you wouldn't mind me asking for your number?" He grinned while adjusting the cufflings on his suit.

"Wouldn't you like to know my name first?" I laughed while wiping down the bar.

"Of course, how silly of me! What is your name, dear?"

"Masika."

"Masika? Unique. I absolutely love it," he cheesed while sipping from his drink.

"My mother came up with it."

"Well, I'm sure she's just as stunning as you are."

I blushed, trying to refrain from smiling like an idiot.

He was like a black James Bond.

Tall, dark, handsome, and Brittish. He could charm the pants off of any woman he chose.

Tonight that woman was me.

"I apologize for my upfrontness, I'm not sure how you Americans manage to ask beautiful women, like yourself, out on a date."

"You're fine."

Literally people. This man was finer than a ball point pen. Anyway...

"So? Your number?" He asked anxiously while peeking at his Rolex.

"One sec."

I bent down and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the storage under the bar counter.

"Call me this weekend, uh..."

"Broderick. Broderick Hunter."

"Okay, call me then."

"Will do, darling. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have an important business call to tend to. It was a pleasure meeting you."

He extended his hand and reached for mine, only to plant a warm kiss on my fingers.

"We shall meet again, Masika."

"Yes, we shall."

Mr. Alsina, who?

••

August

Me and my niggas was lit.

We had a couple women in V.I.P and this one braud in particular caught my eye, Stacy, or some shit like that.

She was bad as a muhfucka.

I wasn't into snow bunnies like that, but this one in particular had some ass on her. I wouldn't mind taking her home for the night.

She ground her ass into me while I sat on the couch sipping and feeling on her body.

"What you doing later tonight, baybeh?"

"It depends, what you trying to get into?"

"Shit, chill with me tonight. We could blow a lil sumn sumn."

"I don't smoke."

"You do tonight," I smirked while grasping her waist tighter.

"Look, I know you just trying to get ya dick wet, and I'm down with it. I need some good loving too, you ain't gotta beat around the bush, baby boy."

I looked at her astonished by what she just said.

"A nigga might fuck around and wife you up."

"A bad bitch like me can't be held down."

"Oh really na?" I grinned.

She nodded.

"Gon' and dance fa' daddy then," I whispered and smacked her ass.

"Okay daddy, damn."

I was definitely winning that bet.

*Broderick in the MM
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