/ˈ(h)wərlˌwind/: an hasty yet passionate affair between two individuals that leaves both in an inebriated and sometimes toxic state.
The story of two people who cross paths and form a union that seems almost unbreakable. It was so pure, so genuine y...
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"Oh my god! Riley, I thought you said this place was close?" Leslie's complaints had me rolling my eyes as she barely trailed behind me in her six inch heels.
She had been on a roll since we left the front door of our apartment and I had an inkling I'd never hear the end of it. It's wasn't my fault though, no one told her to wear the tallest and most painful pair of shoes she could find in her closet. Therefore there was no correlation between what I might have said to her and her feet burning as we speak.
"It is, and it'd be even closer if you had almost twenty dollars to cough up for parking. You know that shit isn't free in Queens, hell in New York period, but you weren't trying to contribute. Especially when admission to this place is twenty dollars too, were you?" I questioned with a smirk playing along my lips, her answer already spoken through her perturbed tone.
"Ooh bitch, don't get smart. I will take these shoes off and give you this handwork." She quickly threatened. "Dammit, my feet are killing me!"
I could only shake my head as she continued to complain the entire walk down the block that lead to the rusted doors of the lounge. As we approached them I noticed a nice size line forming along the wall, and that alone perked my brow up as we both headed to the end of its tail. That made Leslie complain even more.
In all honesty, I wasn't expecting a large crowd. For one, this was one of Queen's smallest lounges so there was a capacity limit. And finally, I didn't think that Dame and his friend were popular enough to draw more than twenty bodies. I guess I was wrong though.
"Who's performing here again? From the looks of this line it's damn sure not your cousin." Leslie teased as she secured her stance against the concrete building and adjusted the straps around her ankles. I snickered at the truth in her statement and shrugged as I glanced down at home screen of my phone to see that my other partner in crime was either here or standing me up. Without hesitation I pulled the phone to my ear and spoke.
"Where are you?"
"I'm pulling up beside the club now." My eyes peered out toward the street searching for some sign of Donovan's black GMC Denali, but saw nothing.
"Are you lying to me?" I quizzed as his presence remained ghost.
"No, I swear I'm parking...now!" As soon as he sputtered the word I saw his truck parallel parking right aside us. I immediately hung up with a grin plastered on my face as he got out a few moments later and made his way over to us, adjusting the sleeves of his buttoned up blue jean shirt. Donovan wedged his body into the tight line before he stretched his arms open wide enough to lock around me.
"Wait, you found a park in front of the club?" Leslie wondered aloud as she stood upright in a bit of a daze.
"Yes, and it was free. I mean, the sign didn't list any restrictions I don't think." Donovan added, making her swing her head in my direction with her brows furrowed together.
