Jayla
“Mila, I’ve told you this a million times. Khalid said the dress code for tonight is super chill.”
Leave it to my little sister to come over with a garment bag full of clothes to try on as if she couldn’t have just arrived to my place already dressed. And of course she had brought along a bunch of stuff that didn’t exactly scream “housewarming party”.
More like, Grammy’s after party.
“Well this is my version of super chill,” she replied as she adjusted the hem of her skintight leather dress, turning around to check her ass out in the mirror before throwing her fur vest over it.
While the ensemble did look good on her, I still couldn’t help teasing, “Jamila, you look like you’re about to sit front row at a boxing match. I mean, is the leather and fur really necessary for an in-house function?”
Running a hand down the front of her dress, she defended, “First of all, I’m vegan now. So if anybody asks, this is pleather and this is faux fur. Second of all, you should probably mind your own business since you’re dressed like you’re about to work at a boxing match as a corner man.”
“This Adidas tracksuit is brand new! And if this isn’t considered super chill, I don’t know what is,” I replied, glancing at myself in the mirror and wondering had I overdone it on the “chill” part.
I was determined to break out of the polished and pristine persona my mother had ingrained in me, but I also didn’t want to look like a total slob. And Jamila didn’t exactly make me feel better about it when she patted my shoulder to sarcastically reply, “If you say so, Run DMC.”
With a sigh, I huffed, “Fine. I’ll change. But it has to be something made of soft, stretchy material.”
The task of dressing me was one of Mila’s favorite things, so of course she sprung right into action, vigorously flipping through my closet until she found her first option. “How about this t-shirt dress?”
“It shrunk in the dryer, so now my ass practically falls out of it,” I told her, expecting her to put it back so I could donate it later.
But instead of doing that, she squealed, “Perfect!” before pulling it out and laying it on my bed. “We’ll do this. A little denim jacket for some contrast and flare. And... those tennis shoes you never wear.”
“You mean, the tennis shoes I was already planning to wear,” I muttered as I unzipped my track jacket and got rid of it along with the matching pants and t-shirt so that I could replace it all with Mila’s pick. And while I wanted to be mad at her for making me change, the outfit looked too good on me to complain.
Mila knew it too, peeking over my shoulder as she emphasized, “See. Super chill, but make it fashion. Now you actually look worth a damn.”
“I always look worth a damn,” I replied as I licked my lips and flipped my hair over my shoulder, almost tempted to take a selfie since the lighting was still perfect from Mila doing her makeup earlier. But I must’ve been feelin’ myself a little too much since Mila only rolled her eyes in response.
“You take a girl from looking like a potato to looking like a snack, and suddenly she’s flipping her hair and popping her lips in the mirror,” she groaned annoyedly, making me giggle since she was really just being a hater.
Instead of letting it get to me, I only smirked when I replied, “In my opinion, potatoes make the best snacks. Now are you ready to go? Or do I have to sit through another outfit change?”
“You’re in luck. I already ran through all the outfits I bought with me. So unless you wanna drop-by my…”
“Nope! Let’s go,” I told her, practically dragging her out while I still had the chance. And it didn’t take long at all for us to get to Khalid’s house, though I was a little surprised when we pulled into the neighborhood that looked straight out of a middle-class magazine.
Similarly-designed two-story homes with monotonous color schemes, freshly manicured lawns, enough stray bikes scattered in the driveways to recognize there were kids in the neighborhood. And then there was Khalid’s house, with a driveway full of cars and even some lining the street in a way that reminded me of Londyn’s birthday party.
Clearly, this little shindig wasn’t as low-key as he made it sound. But it was too late to turn back now, especially since Mila was already out of the car before I even got a chance to turn it off. In fact, I was only able to catch up to her because she stopped on the sidewalk to acknowledge, “Okay, future baby daddy. This is niiiiiice.”
“Especially for someone on a security guard salary,” I said more to myself than her, becoming a little curious about just how much Khalid was making. I mean, it must’ve been pretty good money if he wasn’t in a rush to quit his job now that the money from our social media hustle was starting to come in. Then again, it could’ve been the extra money that had allowed him to get the home in the first place.
Suddenly, I felt proud of myself. But that feeling almost got cut short the second we made our way up the stairs and I heard someone shout, “Jayla, you make me sick! Always lookin’ so damn fine. I need to take some bad bitch lessons with you, for real.”
From anyone else, I might’ve been a little taken aback. But coming from Londyn, someone I considered a friend and fellow bad bitch, I could only smile as I replied, “My little sister deserves all the credit. She’s the one who convinced me to change out of the Adidas tracksuit I wanted to wear.”
“I’m sure you looked bad in that too,” she responded as she pulled me into a quick hug; though her words didn’t pass without my little sister muttering, “More like an Idaho potato…” And the second I pulled away, she wasted no time introducing herself.
“I’m Jamila. I think I’ve seen you on Khalid’s Instagram story before. Londyn, right?”
With a proud smile, Londyn replied, “In the flesh. And I promise I’m a much nicer person off-camera. Khalid is just annoying.”
“Annoying and fine,” Jamila emphasized with a lick of her lips that told me she was definitely looking forward to seeing her “future baby daddy” even if he wasn’t exactly checking for her like that.
At least, I don’t think he’s checking for her like that.
Before I could get too in my head about it, Londyn rolled her eyes to reply, “The worst combination known to man.” Making Mila laugh as she insisted, “Let’s get inside. I’m sure Khalid will be happy to see you, Jayla.”
Since I wasn’t as sure of it as she seemed to be, I didn’t respond, instead let her lead us into the house as if it was her own and found it just as full as I imagined it would be.
Yep, definitely not low-key.
Londyn wasn’t at all fazed by the crowd, easing her way through the living room as she explained, “There’s plenty of food and alcohol in the kitchen. If there’s a song you wanna hear, just add it to the playlist on the iPad that’s hooked up to that adorable Hennessy speaker you gave Khalid to advertise. The bathroom is down the hall. And if you wanna smoke, you can do it on the back porch with the others. Did I miss anything?”
“Where should I put my gift?” I asked, holding up the gift bag that contained a nice picture frame Mila told me not to buy. In fact, “Most niggas don’t put pictures up in their house. They just… live in it,” were her exact words.
I worried that Londyn was thinking the same thing the way her eyebrow piqued when she asked, “You actually brought a real gift?”
“Uh… was I not supposed to? I mean, this is a housewarming party, right?”
She nodded. “It is. But everyone else just bought gift cards.”
Jamila’s eyes almost immediately shot my way since that was exactly what she had suggested for me to do too. But I wasn’t going to indulge her, instead keeping my attention on Londyn as she said, “You can just give it to him. He’s right over there.”
My eyes followed her line of direction, and a little gasp slipped from lips since… damn, he looks good. I thought I had the whole “super chill” dress code down pact, but Khalid was practically the poster boy with his gray sweatpants and fresh white tee. Even the little bit of scruff to his locs and facial hair gave off the right vibe, making me jealous and turned on all at once.
Shit, it’s been a minute.
As if he felt me staring at him, he looked up and his eyes locked with mine, a sheepish smile growing on his face as he waved me over. And you would’ve thought he was holding a magnet the way I immediately drifted his way, not even bothering to include my little sister on the journey.
She’d be alright.
The second I got close enough to reach, he pulled me into the tightest hug, teasingly growling right against my ear, “I could’ve sworn I told your fine ass this was super chill. But nahhh, you just had to come in here lookin’ all good and shit.”
With a laugh, I pulled away to defend, “I really tried to chill! Had the tracksuit on and all, but Jamila the stylist wasn’t having it.”
“Guess you just gotta wear it the next time you come and visit then,” he insisted with a wink, the glaze in his eyes telling me he had already been enjoying the libations before we arrived. And you would’ve thought he had read my mind since he continued, “Lemme get you a drink or somethin’.”
He was already making moves toward the kitchen when I stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait. Before we do that, I got you a gift.”
Smirking, he accepted the gift bag from my opposite hand, blowing past the tissue paper to pull out…, “A picture frame with the standard white couple still in it. You could’ve at least hit me with a selfie, a glamour shot, somethin’.”
My face scrunched. “Are you serious? That would’ve just been… weird. Here’s a picture of myself for you to put up in your house that doesn’t have pictures of anyone else because I’m that damn full of myself to think you need it.”
Instead of agreeing, he only shrugged. “Would’ve been better than this picture of Peter and Jenny, I know that for a fact.”
“Gotta capture your own moments, Khalid,” I insisted with a teasing jab to his arm.
Well, it was supposed to be a teasing jab until Khalid caught me by the wrist and snatched my breath all at once when he replied, “Certainly looking forward to it, Jayla.”
The usual playfulness in his eyes was there, but there was also a hint of something else; a hint of interest that had my heart beating a lot faster than it should’ve been by the time he asked, “Can I give you a tour?”
“Uh… sure,” I pushed out, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that came in response to him exchanging my wrist for my hand. But it fit so well, and it felt too right, and he smelled so good, and…
“Jamila’s here. I’m sure she’d like a tour too,” I blurted, hoping to break up some of… whatever it was brewing deep in my lower belly.
I had to.
But Khalid didn’t even break his stride, nor drop my hand, to reply, “She can do the self-guided version. This tour is reserved for only my most special guests.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” I asked with a grin, unable to contain it since I really was flattered as hell. I mean, Khalid’s charm was truly his secret weapon. The secret weapon that had grown his audience, the secret weapon we were currently monetizing, and the secret weapon I was easily falling victim to.
“God forbid he has an even better weapon somewhere else,” I thought to myself, wishing I would’ve gotten that drink first when Khalid licked his lips to reply, “You should be.” Then he eased us through the crowd down the hall that included stops at a bathroom, a spare bedroom, a den, and finally his master bedroom.
“This is where the magic happens,” he announced with his hand against the door knob, making me giggle once he added, “The magic of faking like we’re sleep until we actually fall asleep.”
“Never thought about it like that, but you have a point,” I told him as I followed him inside, my eyes first going to his bed, then shooting straight up to the giant Tupac painting hanging over it. “Really, Khalid? Who do you think you are with this Tupac painting? Jody in Baby Boy?” I asked teasingly, stepping closer to get a better look at the painting that was well done, but also looked like Tupac was already judging me for being in here.
But I thought only God could…
“Tyrese should’ve won an Oscar for Baby Boy if we’re keepin’ it real. At least for Best Original Song. Just a Baby Boy still rides.”
I wanted to laugh until I realized Khalid was dead serious. And while I could assume BET playing the movie a million times a week had brainwashed him into believing the movie deserved those kinds of accolades, I didn’t get a chance to call him out on it since someone barged in the room to announce, “Aye, cuz. Some people are out here looking for you… are beautiful as fuck.”
Crossing my arms over my chest nervously, I waited for Khalid to make sense of the unfamiliar face. And he seemed annoyed when he finally explained, “Jayla, this is my little cousin Shaq. Shaq, this is the boss lady, Jayla.”
His little nickname for me was beginning to stick, but I still wanted to make it clear when I told his cousin, “It’s more of a partnership, but it’s nice to meet you, Shaq.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, boss lady,” he replied through darkened lips that told me he had definitely spent a little time out on the smoker’s porch. But let me be clear, Shaq was far from unattractive. In fact, he seemed like the type of guy my little sister would be into if she wasn’t so busy checking for my… friend… associate... client.
He’s my client.
“Some folks out front say they know you, K. But I don’t know them, so they can’t possibly know you,” Shaq expressed enthusiastically, making me chuckle since I knew his logic was quite flawed.
It seemed as if Khalid knew it too the way he released a heavy sigh before he put a gentle hand to my arm to say, “Stay here, Jayla. I’ll be right back.”
Before I could respond, he was already out of the room, leaving me to figure out how to pass the time without being straight up nosy. Really, I probably should’ve just made my way back to the party to find Jamila, but something told me to stay put. And of course, the urge to be nosy took over in no time at all.
It started with a little glance at the book on his nightstand; The Autobiography of Gucci Mane. Then it moved to the top of his dresser that was covered in an assortment of cologne bottles and jewelry pieces; a particular pair of black diamond earrings enticing me to take a better look. And after a quick peek at the door to make sure no one was coming, I picked one up to discover it looked even more gorgeous up close… until it slipped from my fingers onto the ground.
“Shit,” I hissed, glancing down at the plush carpet around my tennis shoes and not spotting it right away. I had no choice but to get down on my hands and knees to search for it, running my fingers through the synthetic fibers and finding everything except what I was actually looking for.
Damn, damn…
“Damn.”
It took me a second to realize the last one wasn’t in my head, but had actually come from someone behind me. And once I thought about the full moon I was showing off thanks to the shrunken t-shirt dress Jamila had outfitted me with, I felt embarrassed as hell, falling onto my butt in an attempt to cover up what Khalid had already seen. But there wasn’t any covering up the reason for me being down here in the first place, something Khalid wasted no time addressing when he crossed his arms with a smirk and said, “I hope you never find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Your earring,” I admitted with a little pout, peeking back at Tupac who was definitely judging me now.
Instead of siding with Tupac, Khalid came over and joined me on the ground, running his fingers through the carpet the same way I had as he said, “I drop these mothafuckas all the time. But I figure it’s better happening out here than in the sink or somethin’.”
Nodding to agree, I watched as he continued his search, eventually hitting the jackpot and pulling the earring from the carpet.
Thank God.
“So you liked the black diamonds, huh?” he asked, holding it out to me so I could finally take a look the way I had originally intended to.
To avoid any more accidents, I let him keep it in his hand, sitting up on my knees to get closer and reply, “They’re gorgeous.”
“They’d look good on you,” he insisted, bringing it near my ear as if he wanted to see for himself. But since I couldn’t see anything, all I got was the effects of his finger grazing my ear in a way that made a low groan slip from my throat.
A low groan that I tried to cover up with a cough as I told him, “I think I might need that drink now. We should probably get back.” Then I tried to make my way up from the ground until Khalid caught me by the wrist again mid-attempt.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, his eyes practically pleading with me to stay. And I wanted to stay; enjoyed being in this space with him a little too much, in fact. But staying in this space meant the possibility of crossing lines I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near, so I was forced to come up with a reason to escape.
“I need to... check on my sister.”
Considering how weak the excuse was, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he easily brushed it off. “She’s good. Hanging out on the back porch with Shaq.”
“Should’ve known,” I thought to myself, gnawing on my lip as Khalid waited for me to make a decision - more like, waited for me to come up with more excuses. And the only reasonable one that came to mind was, “I need to… go take those pictures of the speaker. For the post you need to make on your Instagram.”
It was the truth, but I could tell Khalid wasn’t too happy to hear it the way he immediately frowned in response, releasing my wrist and using his hand to push himself up from the ground. Then his frown turned into more of a half-hearted smile when he huffed, “Right. Business as usual,” before heading back to the party without me.