The Boy

"But Alone Is Exactly How I Should Be" -- Donald Glover

March 4th, 2014 — Xstacy (club) — 12:34 am

I sat alone at the bar carelessly stirring my shot glass of vodka. Well, I wasn't really alone, but I might as well have been. I sat with my friends, note that is being used loosely, Chancelor and Jahreem in the secluded area of the bar, somewhat towards the exit door.

Chancelor sat charming up the girls that swung over, spitting them a shitload of lies. I watched in awe as each girl (seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was just with another) quietly slipped him a slit of paper and sashayed out the door. Chance stuffed the number deep in his pocket before trailing over to me with a smirk on his face. I chuckled and continued to stir my vodka, ignoring his presence. Noting me ignoring him, Chancelor smacked his teeth,

"Bruh, you need to get in the game."

I shook my head in disagreement, looking around the bar's colorful assortment of drinks on the wall. "Nah, I'm good."

"You good.. Boy what the hell is wrong with y—"

"Nothing," I state matter-of-fact tone, cutting him off. He rolled his eyes and adjusting to the bar stool next to me. "What are you sitting next to me?"

He glared over at me before sighing and waving his hand for the bartender to come. A woman, somewhere in her mid-to-late-twenties tread over with a margarita shaker in her hand and a dry towel in the other. Her chocolate brown hair lay in endless wisps that stopped just below her shoulder blade, complimenting her (mighty) fitted red strapless shirt. Her dark brown eyes are surrounded  by the nice glow of a magenta eye shadow. Shit, the way I'm describing her you'd think I'm in love.

"What cha' need, man?" She questioned, setting the shaker down.

"Give me uh.. uh... Give me a Blue Kamikaze," he replied, "on the rocks." She nodded and whipped him up a drink. She slid him over the glass and he downed it in no time, sucking in some air afterwards. "Reese, man, get you a drink."

I shook my head no. "You do realize I have to drive back right? I can't be arrested over you."

He shrug his shoulders and turned back in his stool. I looked over the club at the classic, Guido scene. Girls half-dressed danced on table-tops and shake their no-asses on jackass guys. Most of the men fist-bumped and partied among themselves. 

As this was going on, a dark skinned girl, maybe in her early twenties, strode over to the bar, placing her purse on the counter. I watched as she slipped in the chair, swinging her shoulder length hair and gold Christian Louboutin in her feet. She flashed a white smile at me and I responded with a small three-fingered wave. She smirked and sat her drink along the counter, running her finger over the rim of the glass. I did nothing.

What was I supposed to do?

"Hi..." She whispered sheepishly over to me. "I'm Amber."

"Hi Amber," I stated continuing to glance over the club. She blinked her eyes at me and I sighed. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just.. bored."

"Oh okay."

"What's your name?"

"Clarence. Clarence Wilfred," I replied.