she reserved for Sunday mass. But I also remember going to the clubs with my mother for her rehearsals, or just watching her dance while she’d make dinner, and while priests always told my mother that it was a sin to make men lust after her, and that being immodest was a sin, every move my mother made drew attention of the male sex and even the female. My mother was absolutely beautiful, and with that beauty came an ability to make others look. She’d do a simple two step and that could stop traffic all on its own.
So, I lose myself to the music, body taking control of my extremities and let the crowd move around me, letting me be just a drop among the many bodies. I don’t care who I dance with so when the music changes to a body pulsing sensual beat, I don’t mind the hand at my waist pulling me in t dance. But I do notice.
I notice everything because that’s how Cobra and my mother raised me. To notice and note everything around me because you never know when you are going to have to either fight or flee. So, I note the dress pants, the shiny black shoes that are so different from all the shoes around us, like this guy had just left an important meeting or job. The forearm that is curled around me has its sleeve rolled up, showing me that he has a tattoo that looks like a coat of arms, but I can’t make out exactly what makes up the coat of arms.
“Name’s Vin,” his voice is a deep rumble with a heavy accent, though where he’s from is hard to distinguish.
“Priest,” I offer in return while looking over at Angel who has managed to drag Bones on the dance floor. The tall man can dance, none of that lanky gangly awkwardness remains from our teenage years, as he holds Angel’s hips and grinds against her, her face blissfully happy.
Remind Bones to thank you for all those dance lessons as teens, I think.
“Your name is Priest?” Vin asks and I fight not to roll my eyes.
“It’s what I answer to.” I tell him as a non-answer. Only a handful of people know my real name, my mother and Cobra had made sure of that, mom being her over paranoid self, Cobra saying my real name just didn’t fit me.
“Interesting. Where you from?”
Man read the room, this isn’t 20 questions, playa.
“Local,” my voice is clipped, hoping to convey the fact that he’s fucked up my vibe, and extract myself from his arms, “Thanks for the dance!” I call over my shoulder and head back to the bar, keeping my back to the crowd and dance floor.
Sage is the bar tender tonight, his deep brown skin making those green eyes pop. He’s crew as well as a good friend, so he already knows what I want and pours my whiskey, handing it to me when I take my seat. He’s quickly moving on to the net drink order, but not before he nods his head at me, eyes trained over my shoulder.
Shit.
I look behind me. Sure, enough Vin is making his way from the dance floor toward me. Now I can see his face, and I have to fight the urge not to roll my eyes at his very fuckboi face. He’s perfectly kempt, hair gelled in place, eyebrows either waxed or tweezed to perfection, and it’s easy to tell that this man takes longer to get ready that I do, hell, probably longer than Angel does and that girl actually puts on makeup and does her hair.
I take a sip of my drink, trying to figure out this guy’s angle. That’s one thing you learn quickly here, that everyone who isn’t your crew has some sort of angle they are trying to play you with, whether they want you in the sack, want to steal your money, or just want to cause some pain, either way they want something from you.
“Sorry, Priest, it’s just been a while since I’ve actually gotten to enjoy anything outside of work,” Vin says as he comes to stand beside me, and I’m still trying to figure him out because what he said just doesn’t sound sincere.
“It’s whatever Vin. I don’t do heart to hearts with strangers.” I shrug my shoulders.
“We don’t have to be strangers.” Vin says low, so low most people wouldn’t have heard so I choose to act like I