Six Months Ago
Friday Night
(Two Days Before Graduation)

The crowd roars to life as DJ Lex ends the countdown on the current number one song. Drake's latest hit blasts through the sound system, making clubbers go wild.

"You're leaving early tonight? Me too! What are you and that boy toy of yours, doing? Each other?" Sasha leans her head back and belts out an impish laugh, making me smirk at the thought.

Sasha Baxter and I met on campus last year, quite by accident. After receiving an email with a class schedule addressed to her, I went to the Office of Student Affairs to fix the mix-up. When I arrived, there she was, standing at the counter complaining that she'd received a class schedule with my name on it. We became fast friends after that and recently got jobs, working together at Club Lotus.

"We're going to a concert down at the Rave. Miguel is performing tonight. I'm so excited!" I rub my hands in anticipation.

"I love Miguel! You're so lucky! You know his music is all about sex! Sounds like your night is gonna end well!"

"It just might!" I reply, grinning from ear to ear. I'm waiting for my drink orders to be filled when I spot a new face in my section. Pulling Sasha's attention away from the table she's wiping, I nudge her.

"Hey, who is that? Over there?"

"Who? The guy with the goatee, talking to Nick?"

"Yeah . . . him." My heart does a somersault.

"Oh. He's hot, right? Wish he was standing in my section." Sasha moves in close and whispers, in a gossipy tone. "He's the CEO of that huge real estate firm downtown." She snaps her fingers. "You know, the one that has that commercial on TV?"

I shake my head causing my curls to bounce. "I'm drawing a blank."

"Anyhow, he made Forbes "30 Under 30" list a couple of years ago. He's a real estate rock star. And sexy as hell, if I might add. He's the type of guy any girl would be happy to snag!" A naughty smile dances on Sasha's pretty face, and she returns to the task of clearing tables in her section.

"Rugged with a side of sexy," I say to no one, in particular.

Just then, my boss motions for me to join him. Niccolo Moretti never fails to make me think of a 1920s gangster. The ones with pinstripe suits and Tommy guns.

He yells over the music. "Hey sweetheart, come here for a sec. There's somebody I want you to meet."

I pat down my black crop top and mini skirt before walking across the club in my stilettos. My heart is about to leap out of my chest. I hope no one can tell. I force myself to project confidence in my stride. It's always been a good cover. "Hey Nick, what's going on?" I glance from Nick to Mr. Ruggedly Handsome.

Resting his chubby hand on the small of my back, Nick turns back to Ruggedly Handsome. "This is Aria. She's a doll. The best of the best, I tell ya. She'll be taking care of you tonight. Anything you need, there's nothing too small, just let her know." Nick turns to me. "Ain't that right, baby girl?"

"Yes, of course. Anything you need."

Ruggedly Handsome is a work of art. Being this close to him is dizzying. Up close, he's extraordinarily good looking and his clean, masculine scent invites me to come closer.

"Aria, this guy is a close friend of mine. He's the man to know if you ever want to make big moves. Trust me, you'll want to stay on his good side, he has real pull in high places. We go way back, so make sure you treat him like the best of the VIP. Cause that's what he is!" Nick smiles at Ruggedly Handsome.

I nod politely.

"Nick. I finally see your vision. Club Lotus." He lets the name percolate the air. "I like it. It's trendy. Sexy. Definitely hot. Everybody's talking about this place. You did good, man."

I'm thrown. He doesn't speak the way I expect. With a resume as impressive as his, I expected some arrogance. But he's nothing like that. Confident, yes. Cocky, no. At least not right now. I imagine he's the type that owns the boardroom while still having serious street cred. He successfully straddles the fine line between both worlds.

Why is that such a turn-on?

I get the sense that just below the surface there's a tornado of intensity. Something in me wants to descend into his depths.

His lean-yet-built physique makes that tailored charcoal gray suit look like candy wrapping. I'm more than sure that I'd love the hard candy underneath. I can tell he works out. Hard. With toned arms and broad shoulders that make me think he'd have no problem lifting a woman up onto a counter. His almond-shaped eyes and long lashes make it impossible not to get lost in his gaze. Is he mixed? Black with Asian, maybe? That would explain his smooth, creamy light-brown complexion. His dark eyes, sharp nose, and chiseled features say sexy male model, all day long.

He's forcing my heart to work overtime.

He takes a moment to look around. Judging by the way his eyes come alive as he watches the dance floor, I can tell he appreciates the nightclub's ambiance.

My eyes follow his from the modern, all-white leather furniture, to the sleek white, wavy walls. Even the lighting which, right now, happens to bathe the entire club in hues of lavender and teal. This place is out of control. We're almost at capacity with a long line around the corner, while neighboring clubs are half empty. The music is banging. The atmosphere is alive with buzzing conversations. And everywhere you look, it's packed wall to wall with people dancing, on the white table tops, on the platforms that border the walls, and on the balcony that lines the second level. Everywhere I turn, there's laughter, smiling faces, kissing couples, and glasses going bottoms up. He's right. Club Lotus is sexy. Searing. White. Hot.

"Yeah, man," Nick says, startling me out my daze. "I get to run my own show now, thanks to your investment. No more working for some prick. We've been open for a few months now. And I couldn't be happier. Everything is going smoothly." He's all sunshine.

"Glad I got in early. They won't be able to touch you once this place takes off. And it looks like you're off to a helluva start." With one hand in his pocket, Mr. Ruggedly Handsome takes a sip of his drink.

Tuning in to the walkie-talkie on his hip, Nick excuses himself, leaving me alone with a man deemed to be one of the Midwest's most eligible bachelors.

Suddenly, I realize we're in two totally different worlds. He seems impossible to measure up to. What kind of woman can keep a guy like him?  I feel like a tiny, inexperienced kitten in his presence. I have yet to find my place. I look down at my feet as I try to think of something clever to say. A wave of panic causes me to flush.

"I'm sorry, what's your name again, Miss?" His attention is fully on me now. His gaze pierces right through me. Those eyes tell me he's good at reading people. And that makes me want to run and hide.

"Um." I gulp. "I'm, Aria."

"Right. Aria?" He leans forward.

"Davenport."

"Well, Aria Davenport...you're a breath of fresh air. I'm Phoenix Prescott." He extends his hand with a warm smile.

You are so charming. I reach out to greet him. Play it cool.

"It's nice to finally get your name." I tease with a smirk, trying to calm my frenzied heart. Poking at people has always served as a good way to distract my overactive mind. "You and Nick kept going on and on and on. I thought I'd never find out who you are. Jeez!"

His smile grows wide and seems to invite my playfulness. "Oh, so you're curious about me?"

"Just a little." I intentionally use the same gesture women use to describe a small dick. "I saw you talking to Nick for a while, I knew you had to be someone I should know. Plus, you know, you're standing in my section. So . . .  it's basically my job to get to know you," I say with a patronizing smile.

"Ow, ow. That hurts!" He laughs loudly. "That's the only reason you wanted to know my name? Because it's your job?"

I shrug. "That's why."

"I just met you and you're already taking shots." He steps back to look me up and down, as if re-assessing me. "I was wrong about you."

"In what way?" I ask, honestly wanting to know.

"Never mind that. It's good, so don't worry about it. Tonight, will be fun."

"Is that a threat or a challenge?"

"Take it how you like it, sweetheart." He sips the last of his drink and smacks his lips together repeatedly.

He's funny.

"I take it you want another?" I ask.

Nick returns. "Duty calls. Place can't run itself. Aria, take care of my boy. Listen, Phoenix, relax. Start the weekend right and have a blast tonight. That's what we're here for!" He pats Phoenix on the back, then looks over at me. "You good, doll?"

I nod. "I'm good. Thanks, Nick."

Nick disappears into the crowd, officially leaving me alone with Phoenix.

This time I don't experience the jarring feeling of being unplugged from life support. After talking to him, I realize I can stand on my own in his presence. He's not as intimidating as before, but he still has a powerful effect on me. And I don't hate it.

We take a few steps towards an occupied VIP table and couch in my section. Phoenix motions to the men standing there. "These are my boys. This is Jackson Carter, but everyone calls him JC. My man! He's saved my ass so many times" —Phoenix laughs— "we call him Black Jesus. He's a straight miracle worker."

"In the courtroom, that is." JC laughs, shaking his head. "Hey gorgeous, how are you?" He shakes my hand.

"You ever in trouble, he's your man," Phoenix continues.

"I love your locs. But locs in a courtroom? In Milwaukee? Don't get me wrong, you look amazing, but Milwaukee made it on a top ten list of one of the most segregated cities in America."

JC flashes a look of surprise at Phoenix. "This one's quick on her feet." He sits his drink down and thinks for a second as he runs one of his hands down the buttons of his navy suit vest and tucks it into the pocket of his slacks. "There are some serious race issues that need to be addressed here. Can't deny that. But you can't bury your head in the sand. Gotta fight the good fight. From my experience, nothing beats being prepared," JC replies triumphantly, palms facing up.

It's almost like he's saying, Come to me my child. He really does look like a modern-day black Jesus.

"Yep. His success rate is through the roof. This man is good at what he does. Wouldn't be on my team if he wasn't." Phoenix pats JC on the back. "And this is Ryley Williams, but we call him Riz. This man is the definition of cool and somebody you want on your team. He's plugged everywhere we go. Even has the key to Miami."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa! How'd you get that?"

"Believe it or not, football," Phoenix interjects.

"Hey, Lovely!" Riz pulls me into a suffocating bear hug.

"OK." I cough. "You're . . . a hugger." I cough. "That's nice." I wince under my breath. A few quick pats on his back and I slowly back away getting into my own space.

"Your ink! How many tats do you have? That must've taken years!" I find myself staring, tracing the intricate designs along his bronze forearms and neck with my eyes. I wonder how far they extend.

"You like these guns?" Riz smiles, pulling up the rolled sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt and flexing his muscular arms to show off his artwork.

Phoenix turns to the last man standing at the table. "And this is Nixon Reed. Not to be confused with that lying-ass, cheating president. This Nixon is actually trustworthy. We grew up on the same block. Been boys since we were boys." Phoenix playfully elbows Nixon.

"That's right." Nixon smiles as he runs his hand through his curly mohawk. Not a look all guys can pull off. He puts me in the mind of Odell Beckham, Jr. The most casual of the group, he sports a plain white T-shirt with a black suit jacket and matching slacks. A glint of light catches my eye. It's his wedding band.

What's a married man doing in a club like this?

This club is like an adult playground, ripe with possibilities and potentials. Shouldn't he be home . . . with his wife!

"Nixon, huh?"

"How do you do?" He nods from behind his aviator shades and gives a casual salute. "Yeah, these bullet heads gave me that crazy nickname. My real name is Nick —"

"— But when Nick gets lit, Nick's on. Nixon!" Phoenix laughs gregariously. "He's quiet and keeps to himself now. Don't let him start drinking. It's over." Phoenix grins as he imitates the hand gestures of a boxing ref announcing to the crowd that an opponent is knocked out cold. Riz and JC join in, laughing and dapping each other.

"Hey, bruh, I'm no worse than you! You want to see somebody clown? Check him out after a few drinks! Don't make me tell her about the club last week!" Now Riz and JC side with Nixon, laughing wildly amongst themselves. They remind me of boys hanging out in high-school gym class. All jokes and wise cracks. I've always had the most fun around guys like that. 

"And this is Aria. She'll be our gracious waitress tonight. But don't let her smart mouth fool you. She's a sweetheart deep down," Phoenix completes introductions.

How would he know?

"That's really sweet." After I've been anything but. "You look thirsty, what can I get you?"

"Let's start off with a bottle of Grey Goose and a bottle of Remy. White and brown, something for everybody, right?" Phoenix looks around, gaining consensus from the guys.

Standing at the bar waiting for my bottles, I load my tray with the essentials before picking it up. I balance it perfectly, carrying bottles of liquor, a few carafes of juice, a bucket of ice, drinking glasses, straws, and napkins. Rocking my four-inch black stilettos, I catwalk back and set the table. The display is beautiful when I'm done with it.

"Here you are, Mr. Prescott. Is there anything else I can get you?"

He nods in approval. "Call me Phoenix. I think that's everything. Nick was right, you're good."

"Well, I am here to please," I boast.

He pauses for a minute. "Good to know." Behind those intense dark eyes, he's calculating. I can just imagine what's captured his imagination.

____________________

A/N: Hey Gorgeous Gals and Handsome Guys! We've come to the end of chapter 2. What do you think of Phoenix. Is he someone you'd want to get to know more about?

I dedicated this chapter to @isabelleronin because she is so bad ass. Her hard work paid off and now she's a published author. Go girl!

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