velvet paradise (ftm x fem)

Track 7

ALAIA

"I told them bitches my cousin was gonna be famous!" Amor screams over the Gunna song.

Despite it being spring, she twerks in fuzzy Christmas socks on the bamboo floor. She clutches her third Hurricane cocktail. The alcoholic potion, infused with a sunset-like pink hue, ripples with every bounce without overflowing her glass. I'm savoring my first cocktail. Unlike my cousin, I can't get too messed up. By the door, my bags wait for Jaire to arrive.

Yesterday, I signed the contract of a lifetime. I met music industry heavyweights, who are now my bandmates and potential friends. Today, I'm moving in with them. This is too surreal, from a lower-middle-class neighborhood in New Orleans to a Malibu mansion in a matter of months. I fucking made it.

"Bitches had a lot to say!" I shout. The rum's intense warmth surges through my veins, burns my chest, and triggers a sensation of conquest. "Bitches left me in the dust, and now I'm speeding past their asses!"

"Talk ya shit!"

"And anyone who hated better not hit my line! Mariah can stay her sorry ass where she's at!"

"Oh, she's gonna be sick!"

"As a damn dog!" The walls reverberate with my maniacal cackle. How much rum did Amor mix in this shit? "She broke off our engagement because she thought I was 'too obsessed' with having a music career. She said it would never take off. It took off as soon as she left!"

"I told you she was holding you back." Amor finishes her Hurricane and runs to the kitchen to pour a fourth serving.

She will be alone in her spacious apartment, intoxicated and bored, once I leave. Amor and I were inseparable before she left for college. Pure bliss has characterized the past three months of our reunion. I will miss the cozy ritual of getting my hair cornrowed by my cousin while we sip wine and watch Scandal reruns. Jaire promised an open invitation for Amor to visit or stay over. Malibu can seem distant because of the stop-and-go traffic. Who wants to make that drive?

Rome lives in Malibu. Our flings usually happen at an upscale hotel nearby, but sometimes he wants me at his place. He sends a driver or scoops me in one of his vintage sports cars when we link up. He tends to accelerate and brake abruptly, making his driving dangerous and unpredictable—another reason he's not "the one." I say a silent prayer every time he takes a daredevil turn. My fingers dig into the seat every time the car hits a bump. He's lucky he has the skill to fuck my anxiety away, or else I would've been done with his ass. With him closer, I can say goodbye to those adrenaline-racing car rides.

"One day, you're gonna learn to listen to me!" Amor yells, taking a sip from her glass. The fruity cocktail is so flavorful and potent that she sways with ecstasy as she drinks. "How many times I gotta tell you I'm just like granpè?! I'm never wrong, bitch!"

With a sarcastic eye roll, I join Amor at the granite island counter. Like me, Amor has a spiritual gift. My power is more peculiar than powerful. Some things I just know.

I can decipher someone's life trajectory or experiences with a single glance. My claircognizance ability is a rare gift I can't predict or control. Even with my intuitive knowledge, the steps to success can still be complex. Since childhood, I've held certainty that I'll become a superstar, but the path to glory is unknown. I have to trust faith to guide me and believe fate will unfold as it should. Simple in words, hard in action.

Amor's gift has been getting on my damn nerves since childhood. Amor has the talent of picking up a pen, asking a question, and having the ancestors answer with precision.

Amor in 3rd Grade: Ancestors, what am I getting for Christmas?

Amor in 6th Grade: Ancestors, will anyone send me a candy gram for Valentine's Day?