Rhythm & Bluez

ℕ 𝔸 𝕊 𝕋 𝕐

Kehlani
Unique

"Girl, I need a new look! That club had me looking basic!"

Jas tossed her braids over her shoulder with dramatic flair, arms folded as she gave a side-eye to her reflection in the shop's dusty mirror.

"So... you liked it?" I asked, half-distracted, my hands moving on autopilot as I stocked a shipment of vintage jackets. The scent of leather and lavender cleaner hung in the air. It had been weeks since I first sang at Free Xone, but that night still lingered in my mind like smoke.

I hadn't planned to go back.

But lately, I'd been considering it more seriously. Money was thinning out like cheap lotion, especially now that I'd secured a three-bedroom apartment for Manny, Liza, and me. It was barely furnished, but it was ours. Our own air, our own quiet. Since the night the twins got taken, my father had vanished. Not a call. Not a whisper. It hurt more than I let on, but his absence gave me the space to build something—brick by trembling brick—for the three of us.

Still needed a car, though. Fatima had been patient, but the day she got out, I knew she'd be needing hers. I couldn't rely on borrowed wheels forever.

Jas was rearranging racks beside me, talking fast, her words full of spark.

"Lani, I told you—just go for it. It's not what you think. The vibes are immaculate. Even Janet Jackson's dancers be there. I saw Dom and Denzel the other day, just chillin'. Like, what?"

I raised a brow, folding a pair of jeans. Jas had always been good at spinning gold from gossip.

"And did you know that Gil—yeah, the dude who paid you—is Janet's bestie? We cool now. He told me Free Xone is owned by one of their friends or some secret artist collective. Lani... you are literally fumbling the bag." She gave the mannequin she was styling a little shove, looking at me like I was the one in need of adjustment.

"You ever go on burlesque night?" she added, snatching a silk blouse from my hands and dragging me over to the worn-in velvet couch like I was the reluctant star of her own personal show.

"I thought you'd never ask. Sit, bitch. Sit down."

Her excitement was magnetic. I let myself fall into the couch cushions with a sigh, half-curious, half-annoyed.

"Burlesque night is basically Janet's night. From what I can tell, it's sacred. I've seen the rehearsals, and Lani—when I say it's like a mini Janet concert? I'm talking lights, sweat, stilettos. They don't just sing her music—they transform. It's like every woman on stage becomes her own version of a goddess. The outfits? Dangerous. The vibe? Very grown. Very raunchy. All up in your face." She snapped her fingers like punctuation.

"And tonight is the night," she finished, eyes sparkling. "You tryna roll with me or nah? I can text Gil." But her smirk told me she already had.

"I'll go. But the moment I feel off, I'm gone."

"Say less."

"You already sent the damn text, Jas. Shut the hell up."

"Damn, you think you know me?" She cackled. "Okay, I did send it. As soon as you said maybe. You're welcome."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were part of their recruiting team."

"Nah, I just want you to stop being broke. Let's be real here, sugar foot."

"Country ass."

"Ya bald-headed mammy."

I snorted. Fatima was bald, but she pulled it off better than anyone I knew.