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“Not tonight they don’t.”

I couldn’t even argue because I was laughing too hard.

By our fourth shot, shit stopped looking quite as crazy.

Actually…

I was having fun.

Real fucking fun.

Nesha was already loose.

Some fine-ass Jamaican man had come up to us about fifteen minutes ago, and somehow this bitch had gone from telling him she was married to having her tongue halfway down his throat.

I stared at them.

Neither one heard me.

I turned back toward the bar.

“Can I get one of these?”

I pointed toward the cocktail menu.

The bartender leaned closer.

“The After Dark?”

“Yup.”

Vodka, passion fruit, lime, something with pineapple and some other shit I stopped listening to after he started making it.

I didn’t care.

It tasted good.

And I felt good.

Better than I’d felt in months.

Men had been approaching me all night too.

That part?

I couldn’t lie.

I liked that shit.

One tried dancing with me.

Another bought me a shot.

One fine brown-skinned nigga with locs told me I had pretty legs and asked if I came with somebody.

“Nesha.”

He looked over at her still tongue-wrestling with Jamaica.