His Last Name by Daaimah S. Poole Page A

I know you?” a deep, sexy voice asked. I turned to see a handsome guy who could be the rapper Common’s cousin. He had a rugged beard against his almond-colored skin. I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone, but my mind could be swayed by the right man.
    â€œI don’t think so,” I responded.
    â€œI do know you. You’re the chick from the ‘Slide It Down’ video with the fat ass.”
    â€œYeah, that was my first video.”
    â€œHow could I forget that ass? Damn,” he said, eyeing every curve in my dress. “Can I get a picture?”
    I struck a sexy pose, leaning over the cute guy’s shoulder. I thought he was going to ask me for my number, but he didn’t. Instead, he tried to grab my ass and asked, “How sweet is that pussy?” Before I could answer him, he said, “Let me buy you a few drinks. I bet you take it in that big ass?” I thought about slapping the fuck out of him, but I remembered I was working. Instead I whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry about it. You can’t afford it.”
    â€œYou sure I can’t?” He pulled out a stack of twenties, and I laughed. I knew he was flashing his paycheck that took him two weeks to make. Dudes like him were the reason I was single. I looked around the club, and in every direction I saw couples. Loving couples who were dancing and hugging each other. Watching them dance reminded me of Jabril. Suddenly, I became jealous, because me and my bae used to club together. I don’t know why I was in my feelings, but I was. Five glasses of champagne does that to you. Alcohol brought out true feelings. I wished I could stop thinking about him. I missed his scent and his touch. I used to love the way we would go at it all night. He would fuck me so good that I couldn’t think straight. Besides the good sex, he was my friend and just an all-around good person. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t in my life anymore. I looked on his Instagram, and I saw pictures of him, his daughter, and his fiancée. That made me sadder. I was hoping to see pictures of him being single, not as a family man. At least then I would have thought I had a chance. Seeing him happy let me know it would never happen.
    I had thirty minutes left at this club, and then I would be on my way back to the hotel and hop on a plane home in the morning.
    â€œExcuse me,” a voice said, as I felt a tap on my shoulder.
    â€œI’m not taking any more pictures tonight.”
    â€œI don’t want a picture, I want to introduce myself. I’m the owner and producer of Don’s label. Deuce.”
    I turned around and said, “Okay, nice meeting you.” I wasn’t interested. He smelled good and was handsome, but he had about a hundred and fifty extra pounds on him that I didn’t find attractive at all.
    â€œSo, how long are you in New Orleans?”
    â€œTomorrow I leave.”
    â€œShanice Whitaker, when you get home, you need to let me take you out.” He thought he was special because he knew my real name.
    â€œYou don’t even know where I live.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. I can fly you to me from anywhere. You have to give me your number.”
    â€œIs that so?” I liked his confidence, but that was all. I’ve never been into big guys. I liked my men in just about any shade of brown, but I had an over five foot eleven requirement and a nice body was just one more category on the checklist. With my heels on, I was taller than him. He couldn’t have been over five foot seven. “All I have to do is stand here and look good.”
    â€œI need to take you out, and you will lose that little Philly thug attitude.”
    â€œThat was kind of funny. You sure know a lot about me, Deuce. Are you a stalker?” I smirked at him.
    â€œI’m not. I just know things. But I’m serious. When you get back, I want to take you to dinner.”
    â€œI’ll