Who's That Lady? by Andrea Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

borrowed some of Shonté’s perfume. She melted at the appreciative smile on his face. “Yeah? Thanks.” Her knees felt a little wobbly. Maybe she was unusually susceptible to men after her long dry spell. Key was her friend, she reminded herself, and this was only a friendly outing. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse.
    “Well, let’s go,” she said.
    A mellow ambiance accented the dinner at an Italian restaurant. Then the movie was biting and funny, making her feel like an intellectual insider.
    Key’s enthusiasm bubbled for the new rap artist they were going to see. The club was small, smoky, with vibrant beams of light stabbing the darkness. Inside the packed club, they were among the oldest people in the audience.
    She had a jab of apprehension, thinking about the gangster reputations of some rap artists and their fans. The news was full of shootings in and out of clubs like this one. Was that why the name of this one seemed familiar to her?
    But one look at Key’s broad shoulders, plus the feel of her hand in his, soothed her nerves. She knew he had zero tolerance for lyrics that objectified women or glorified violence. If he liked this young artist, he must have something of substance to him. Besides, no thug with any sense would go up against a man with Key’s powerful physique. Crystal held onto to Key’s hand a little tighter as he plowed through the crowd, searching for a place to sit.
    They ended up jammed around a small table with a group of three young men and two women, all of them dressed in the latest street styles. Crystal tried not to stare, but one of the girls appeared to be dressed from neck to toe in fishnet, except for a few strategically placed strips of electric pink satin. In her loose sweater and comfortable denim, Crystal felt like somebody’s grandmother.
    In a few minutes, Key managed to charm everyone at the table and they were all sharing some bottles of Hennessey and spritzer. She gulped down her drink.
    Crystal barely heard the preliminary acts—a comic and a local radio DJ—over the crowd noise. But after her second drink, she started to find her tablemates fascinating. After her third drink, she started giggling riotously at some earnest story one of the young men was yelling into her ear, even though she didn’t understand a word he said. On the other hand, the humor might have come from the fact that he looked like Clay Aiken with short blonde hair but sounded like Snoop Dogg. When the bottle passed around again, Key gave her a warning nudge, but she defiantly pushed her glass up for a refill anyway. Snatching the glass, she rolled her eyes at him. Wasn’t he the one who had told her to get wild? Liquid from her glass splashed on the table, causing Key to jerk out of the way. Shaking his head, Key gave a little shrug and laughed.
    When he asked her to dance she agreed with enthusiasm. He led her out to the raised, gleaming black dance floor in the middle of the room. At the end of that song they headed back to the table, but before she could sit down, the young white guy asked her to dance. After that she barely left the dance floor. When she wasn’t on it, she stood in one of the aisles between tables, rocking to the beat like a lot of other people.
    Finally the rap artist was introduced. He and some backup dancers bounded onto the small stage and the audience went wild, surging to their feet with a roar of approval.
    While music pounded a compelling undercurrent, the young man’s rough voice growled, demanded, confronted and worked the crowd. She was soon responding as raucously as anyone else. Everything seemed a little surreal. She had no idea why, but she got in a yelling match with a young girl over some man while a small crowd egged them both on.
    Key dragged her out of the crowd before things got physical. “Let it go, Shortcake,” he said in a soothing voice.
    She tried to pull her wrist free of his grasp. “But she called me a fat ‘ho’!” she