Jayla
“Hopefully I can see you again sooner than later.”
Cuddling deeper into the couch, I gnawed on my grin while reading the text a few times over, trying to decide what to send back without sounding too thirsty. I mean, it had been so long since I’d really done the whole “talking” thing that I wasn’t even sure if the rules were still the same, especially once you added the wild world of social media into the mix. And with that, I found myself legitimately stuck, deciding to use a lifeline and ask the audience which only consisted of my temporary houseguest - my little sister.
To my surprise, when I peeked up to ask her, she was already staring at me, a smirk on her face as she adjusted her position on the couch and said, “That peen must’ve been made of gold the way you’re over there grinning a whole week later.”
Instead of shutting down her assumptions like usual, I only laughed. “What? What are you even talking about, Mila? I’m just… happy.”
And that was the truth.
Work was going well with a few new potential clients on my radar, I hadn’t gotten any flowers from Jason this week meaning he might’ve finally been ready to leave me alone for good, and I had unexpectedly met someone new. A handsome someone new who had waited an entire week to use the number I had given him at his little sister’s birthday party, his use of time only making me that much more excited to hear from him now.
Then again, maybe I should’ve been turned off by that, like he didn’t think I was good enough to get in touch with sooner.
But isn’t a week standard? Or was it three days?
Before I could come up with an answer, Jamila suggested, “Yeah, you’re happy alright. Happily out of your dick drought,” making me laugh again before I admitted the truth.
“We didn’t even have sex yet. Just… fooled around a little bit. You know, kissed and stuff,” I told her, almost feeling guilty about it since making out with a total stranger was way out of my lane. But in the moment, it felt too right, Eric being an expert with his lips and hands as the music played out just like it would at the high school basement parties I used to sneak and go to back in the day.
All the freaky songs for last.
Instead of being impressed with an obvious step out of my comfort zone, Mila’s face only scrunched when she whined, “What are y’all? Teenagers? Grow up, Jayla.”
“Not everybody has to put out on the first night like you,” I defended with a roll of my eyes, glancing down at my phone when I realized I hadn’t texted Eric back yet.
“He made you wait, so he can wait a little bit too,” was the conclusion I drew in my head just in time to hear Mila reply, “Except… that was the whole point of you going to that party in the first place. I mean, you just got out of a marriage for fuck’s sake. Do you really think you need a boyfriend right now?”
Once again, I reminded her, “We’re just talking, Mila. You know, like normal people do.”
In fact, there had only been a few texts exchanged before this one, hardly enough to qualify as a substantial conversation. But of course, my little sister still wasn’t buying it, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest to challenge, “Does he wanna fuck you?”
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m assuming so. Eventually.”
“Then y’all aren’t “just talking”. He just wants you to think that so he can ease his way right into your dirty panties,” she replied, only making me roll my eyes again since she was probably right.
I mean, if anybody knew the signs, it would be her considering she bounced in and out of situationships more than those Armenian reality sisters. But instead of admitting she was right, I tackled the second part of her statement that was just as, if not more important than the first.
“My panties are not dirty.”
“Then why don’t you wear the same pair two days in a row?” she asked with a twisted smirk, my delay of an answer allowing her to claim an easy victory once she huffed, “Exactly.”
Even if she had won out on the whole panties thing, she wasn’t going to win when it came to what I had going on in my love life, something I felt pretty firmly about when I told her, “Anyway, Eric and I are just getting to know each other. And if it goes there, it is what it is. We’re…”
She didn’t let me finish, holding up her hand - her phone - to cut me off. “Wait. Hold that thought. Got a notification that my future baby daddy just posted on Instagram.”
“You can-not be serious right now,” I muttered more to myself than her, watching the excitement grow on her face as she plopped back down on the couch to open the app. And once she did, her shoulders sank with a heavy exhale as she dreamily stared at the screen wearing a lustful grin.
“I swear to God I’d throw it back on sight, no questions asked.”
Peeking over her shoulder to see what internet stranger had her so eager, I started, “Mila, that’s disgusting. You don’t even… oh my God.”
The rest of my words got caught in my throat as I stared at what was obviously a thirst trap. At least I hoped it was a thirst trap since I was caught up on every detail; mainly the face that allowed me to finish, “I actually do know him.”
“And you haven’t put me on? What kind of sister are you?” Mila asked with a scowl as if she was legitimately offended, though her attitude was easy to ignore with Khalid’s picture still on the screen in front of us.
I mean, the man was unfairly fine, the sun hitting his sweaty, caramel body in a way that made him look especially ripped since he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And it wasn’t just his body that benefited from the natural light, but his eyes and smile as well; a sexy smile that made sense once I read the caption.
“When shorty shows up to your pick-up game lookin’ like a snack...”
“So he does have a girlfriend?” I asked in my head while Mila asked out loud, “So are you gonna tell me how you know him, or are you holding onto those details too?”
Telling her about the situation at the store that led to the situation at the party would’ve been way more information than she needed. So instead, I kept it plain when I answered, “He… works at my job. I mean, he works in the same building as me. He’s the security guard in my building.”
“Well I guess Monday will be take your sister to work day cause I need all parts of this,” she replied with a little chuckle as she clicked out of the single picture to his full profile, the idea of thirsting over more of his pictures tempting until I noticed something equally interesting on the page.
“He has a lot of followers. Like, a shit ton. Why?”
As if I had asked a stupid question, Jamila’s face scrunched. “Uhhh… did you see how fine he is? His body? His dick print? His smile? His impeccable locs? His…”
This time, it was me cutting her off. “Okay, okay, I get it. Shallow. But I get it,” I told her, catching the satisfied grin on her face as she finally started her scrolling. And it only took a few aesthetically-pleasing pictures for me to really get sucked in, even going as far as taking over the scrolling for Mila when she got tired of showing off her “future baby daddy”.
The deeper I got into the archives, the more I became hip to what it was that kept me scrolling; his natural glow that made me - and his thousands of followers - want to be wherever he was, doing whatever he was doing just because of how good he made it look. In fact, the ideas for how I could turn him into a real brand were already churning in my head, the fact that he was still working security telling me he obviously wasn’t monetizing his influence. But that was something I could help him with, something I hoped he’d be interested in when I finally admitted, “He’d make a great client.”
While my mind was strictly on business, Jamila’s was strictly on pleasure when she countered, “He’d make a great escort.”
“Mila!”
With a shrug, she continued, “I’m just sayin’. He could make good money if that’s what he wanted to do. I’d happily pay for a night with his fine ass. I’d even pay extra to include dinner. You know, make it feel like a real date.”
“What a great way to invest all the money you’ve been saving by living at home,” I told her sarcastically, catching the glimpse of annoyance on her face since I was going there yet again.
But instead of really absorbing my shade, she kept her nose high to reply, “In the words of my favorite Canadian philosopher, you only live once.”
“Bitch, those are Drake lyrics,” I said with a laugh I couldn’t hold in if I wanted to, especially once I saw Mila stay in character to whisper, “Brilliant. Truly brilliant.”
“Anyway, I think I’m gonna mention it to him next time I see him,” I told her, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that I hadn’t seen him at all this past week; hadn’t seen him at all since the party.
Before I could come up with an explanation for his absence, Mila interrupted my thoughts to ask, “Mention what? That I’m ready to empty my pocketbook on his hotel nightstand?”
“Pocketbook? You really need to get out of mom’s house, ASAP,” I told her with another laugh, catching her side-eye as I continued, “But, no. That I think he should consider being a social media influencer, and that I would be willing to represent him in that arena if he’s interested.”
“Not nearly as fun as my suggestion, but I guess that makes sense,” Mila finally replied with a shrug as I grabbed my own phone to copy down his username, then gave hers back. And once I found his profile, I got right back to scrolling, this time with a real purpose.
Research.
&
It had taken me three whole days to actually run into Khalid, the fact that he had gone ghost for a solid week and a half when I usually saw him nightly making me feel as if he had been avoiding me on purpose. Then again, what reason did he have to be avoiding me?
A few possibilities - or maybe just Eric - came to mind, but I shook it off since I had finally spotted the man I’d been low-key stalking, doing my best to sound chipper as hell when I walked up to his desk and squealed, “Khalid! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”
“Mrs. Anthony,” he replied plainly, keeping his eyes on the security monitors instead of looking at me.
I tried to get his attention by leaning into the countertop and putting on my best smile to remind him, “We talked about that, remember? You can call me Jayla.”
Instead of accepting my efforts, he only added more ice to the cold shoulder he was giving me when he replied, “Not so sure anymore. Rather be safe than sorry, you know?”
Him not being too happy with me wasn’t really a surprise considering I had sort of neglected him at Londyn’s birthday party. But I was tempted to call him out on it since, according to his little caption on Instagram, he had a girlfriend meaning he shouldn’t have been pushing up on me in the first place.
“Not your business. Stay focused on the mission, Jay,” I coached in my head, pushing out a breathy, “O...kay,” to stabilize myself before continuing, “But anyway, I wanted to talk to you because I have a... proposition of sorts. A business proposition, that is.”
“Go on,” he tossed out, his expression remaining stale as hell when he finally gave me his eyes. And even they looked especially disinterested, their usual brown glow replaced with something much darker; something much more serious.
Once again, I reminded myself to stay focused, getting to the point of my little visit when I started, “So I stumbled across your Instagram this weekend and noticed you have quite a following.”
“Yeah, what’s your point?” he asked with a shrug, keeping his attitude intact while also giving me a little more of his attention.
But his attention was all I really needed since the rest spoke for itself, something I was excited to share when I told him, “Well, I work in marketing, more specifically influencer marketing. And I think you really have something. That thing that everyone wants. The ability to get paid for just being yourself.”
His expression turned confused. “I still don’t think I’m following.”
“I want you,” I blurted, watching as his eyes only tighten even more before I quickly elaborated,“ I want to get you in front of companies willing to pay you good money, as an influencer, to advertise their products.”
It was truly the perfect pairing, something I was surprised hadn’t come up sooner since companies were almost always looking for people like him - micro-influencers - to push their products. And it was clear Khalid was at least a little familiar with the process when he said, “Look, Jayla. I respect the vision, but that shit is for women. I mean, what I look like tryna tell another nigga to drink flat tummy tea? And I’m pretty sure Fashion Nova doesn’t have a men’s line yet, so…”
With a laugh, I insisted, “Khalid, it’s not just for women. There’s plenty of companies that would want to work with you. I mean, you truly have the look.”
Between his attractiveness and his charming energy, not to mention his natural knack for entertaining according to the videos scattered amongst his page and on his story daily, he was an easy sell. Though he saw things a little differently, smirking when he replied, “You ain’t have to come up with some fake ass marketing strategy just to tell me I was fine, Jayla.”
Even though the part about him being fine was true, I was still quick to defend, “Khalid, I’m serious! I’m talking four, even five-figure checks for just doing what you already do on social media. And consistently posting about products so others will be more inclined to check them out.”
As expected, mentioning an actual number was what caused him to really give it some thought. And when he rose from his seat, I hoped it would be to accept my proposition so we could get the ball rolling ASAP. But instead of giving me what I wanted, he sized me up, leaning into the countertop to ask, “What’s in it for you?”
His question caught me off-guard, or maybe it was just his positioning - his glare - that had me a little shook. Either way, I did my best to stay on track, pulling my shoulders back to explain, “Well, as your representative, I’d get a small cut for being the gatekeeper, connecting you to those companies, keeping your endeavors in order to make sure you’re abiding by the contracts. etc.. But this is easy work for you. I mean, you can’t tell me you dreamed about working this security desk for the rest of your life.”
At least I hoped he hadn’t dreamed about working security forever. Not that there was anything wrong with his job, and I respected him making a living for himself period. But I also knew he was leaving a hell of a lot of money on the table if he didn’t take me up on the offer.
I worried that was exactly what was going to happen when, instead of showing interest, he only shrugged, plopping down in his chair to reply, “Maybe I did.”
Still, I wasn’t backing down, ready to lay it all out there when I whined, “Khalid, come on. I can see you’re still mad at me for... playing you out at the party, or whatever. But don’t let that come between you and your coins.”
“Oh, so you do know what you did?” he asked, his eyebrow piqued teasingly as if he wasn’t as upset about it as he was acting; something I was thankful for since that meant it was easily rectifiable with a little apology even though I could argue that I hadn’t done anything wrong.
But… it wasn’t about how I felt; it was about getting him on board, meaning I was especially sweet when I leaned into the countertop and told him, “I’m sorry.”
He brushed me off. “Don’t be. You deserve to live your new singlehood to the fullest. I guess I’m just jealous.”
While I could appreciate his honesty, I still snapped my head back to challenge, “Jealous of what? You have an almost cult-like following of women ready and willing to risk it all; my little sister included. I’m small fish compared to them.”
Seeing the way women responded to him was fascinating to say the least, and I could only imagine how his girlfriend felt about all the extra attention he got. But instead of agreeing with me, he only laughed. “You’re not small fish and you know it. But if you wanna play humble, I get it.”
With a smirk, I went in for the kill, pouting my lips to beg, “So will you just… think about it? Please?”
He didn’t answer right away, only stared blankly at the security monitors as if he was weighing his options. And when he finally spoke again, it was to ask, “You really think companies would wanna work with me?”
“Oh, definitely. With that following and that face, it’s a no-brainer.”
“Like, what kinda companies though? I can’t be reppin’ shit I ain’t really about,” he said, the fact that he wanted to keep his integrity intact something I welcomed since I knew just how easily the extra spotlight and money could change people.
I used my research from the weekend to reply, “Well for starters, I’m thinking something sophisticated. Maybe watches. And then we can get into other apparel, especially fitness since that’s a hot market.”
His face lit up when he suggested, “What about those little teeth-whitening things? My dental insurance just kicked in, but I’d do that shit for free just to try it out.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I explained, “First rule to this, nothing comes for free anymore, with the exception of charity-related posts to show you actually give a damn about the rest of the world. But we can put them on the list if that’s what you want. I’m really just here to facilitate.”
The excited expression on his face had me excited too, quick to capitalize on his mood when I offered, “How about we set-up a meeting for later this week? Maybe over dinner?
“I mean, as long as your boy Eric won’t get mad,” he replied teasingly, stepping from behind his desk to meet me on the other side. And now that I had a full body view of him, I was only reminded of what had started all of this in the first place; his charming ass looking especially fine in his security uniform.
“Yep, he’ll definitely be an easy sell,” I thought to myself, grinning as I told him, “He’s not my boy. And besides, this is business. No boys are ever getting in the way of that.”
He seemed satisfied with my response, offering me a nod as I dug in my purse for my business cards and handed one over to him. “Just shoot me a text when you’re ready to set something up.”
My walkaway might’ve been a little enthusiastic in the hips to ensure that text would be coming sooner than later. And while I wasn’t expecting it to be as soon as it came, I was happy to know I still had the juice when, by the time I made it home, there was a notification waiting for me.
“Saturday. 8 PM. Perry’s Steakhouse.” - Khalid