Liqueur

2. Rabbit

"May I give you a ride home?" James asked with a smile. Zada took a sip of her mimosa and noticed he seemed impatient. She wondered what he did for a living, but quickly dismissed the thought. She doesn't need to know that much about him. "Just because he's 6'2 with smooth, tan skin doesn't mean he's my husband. I didn't even know I was into white boys" She thought to herself. 

"No thank you, I assume my car is still at the club. I can get it myself." She says, pulling out her phone to request a Lyft. "Are you sure? I can have my driv-" She cut him off. "Thank you for the night and the morning, but I can handle myself from here." James smirked at her attitude. He wasn't used to woman declining offers. He studied Zada as she gathered her things and he could tell she was deep in thought. "My ride's here." She said and headed towards the wrong door. "I'm sure your ride isn't in my backyard, the gardener would be pissed." She stopped and looked around. She had no idea which way to go, the house was huge. 

James touched her shoulder, "Let me walk you out." They walked out to the driveway, and Zada got into the car. "Wait, when will I see you again?" He asked. "Never." She replied and slammed the door. 

James clenched his fists as the car pulled off. 

~

Zada sat in front of the vanity and put the finishing touches on her look. Red wig, red lipstick, red leotard. Tonight, she was Jessica Rabbit. In her line of work, she has many characters. Some are made up and some are based off real people. She's a woman of many talents, but private dancing is the one that pays well. She only works for men with money. Her favorite is when they come in groups like tonight. Tonight she'll make thousands. 

She walked on stage and felt a sting in her eyes from the bright light. In the middle of her routine, she saw a familiar face through the money falling in front of her. It's been in same face in a baseball cap in every single crowd for the last two months. He was always in the back, watching. But, he never asked for a private dance, or anything.

James sat in the back of the club watching Zada dance. He's been going to her shows for the past two months. Always in the back, ducked off to the side. He didn't want to be seen. He just wanted to see her. Always thinking about her, always fantasizing about her. He knows where she lives, where she works, who her friends are, what her everyday routine is. 

To him, Zada was perfect. She was everything. She's tall and statuesque, beautiful brown skin. He didn't even know he was attracted to black girls, until now. He noticed she likes to wear her natural hair in a puff when she's not working, it was his favorite part about her. 

Every time he lays eyes on her he has an inner battle. He wants to talk to her, so much that he feel like he HAS to. But, then he always stops himself. However, seeing her in all that red did something to him, his body was hot, his heart was pounding, palms sweating. He was like a bull, and there was his matador, prancing in front of him, taunting him. 

James is snapped out of his trance when the song trailed off & Zada began to collect her money from the stage. 

It's her favorite part of the night, it's the worst part of his.