Twisties

Prologue

Tara

It was Friday night and I was kicking it at the usual place, Club Haze, the nightclub my boyfriend owned. Said boyfriend was nowhere to be found though, so I was temporarily single and ready to mingle.

That's how I picked out the Terry Crews look alike over at the bar. With an arm leaning against the counter and a shot in hand, he was the picture of perfection. Listen, this man was built like a house, and he looked like if he made any sudden movements, his shirt would rip apart. I bet he could bench press 350, but I knew he could bench press me.

Deciding staring wouldn't be enough, I walked on over, making sure to sway my hips side to side like I was in Ariana Grande's video. "Hi there," I said when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Would you like to buy me a drink?" I hoped he noticed me staring at his ass fitted in some Levi's.

He straightened up once he saw me. "Excuse me?"

God, he had a southern accent too? Blessed be.

"I couldn't help but notice you here all alone. I'd thought I could keep you company," I said, a finger twirling around a kinky curl. I knew I was being sexy as fuck.

He gave me a small smile but shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm good."

I pulled myself closer to him, so that my chest was squished up against his bicep and his back against the counter. "Don't be shy." I get it, I intimidated men. My black halter dress hugged me in all the right places, and I had some cute ass toes that were painted a dusty pink. (Guys don't like ugly feet.)

Surprisingly, he shook me off and put some distance between us. "No, I'm for real. I came out tonight to chill and have a drink after a long day. That's it."

"Well why can't you drink with me?" I asked, pouting. I moved closer to him. "Maybe I can relieve some of that pent-up stress." I don't think I could've batted my fake lashes any faster.

But before I could blink anymore, he threw his drink on me! I was gasping like a fucking fish with alcohol dripping from my hair. I knew my mascara had to be running.

I heard people laughing around the bar and I felt my face get hot. Could've sworn I heard someone in the back yell "Worldstar."

Terry Crews double's nostrils flared as he stared me down. "How dare you? I did not come here tonight to be harassed by some pig! Do you not comprehend the word no? Dumb bitch." With a roll of his eyes, he flipped me the bird before leaving the scene. Rude!

I heard a low whistle behind me. "Damn." When I turned around, Deon was watching my attacker leave, before he busted out laughing.

"It's not funny!" I shouted.

Tonight he was dressed casually, choosing to wear sweats instead of his normal boujee ass suits. His beard, which he always bragged about, was looking jacked up. Dude was a hot mess.

"This is all your fault! You made me wait!" I hollered, already (sexually) frustrated with the night's events.

He sighed before he reached down to pinch my cheek.

"Ow! Deon, stop it!" I said, slapping him away.

"Listen, my girl was giving me shit today, my bad. But I don't wanna hear your mouth either."

Now I understood why he was looking bummy. I calmed down, deciding to be on my best behavior. I didn't want to stress Deon out, like his wife. I was supposed to be his peace. I crossed my arms and pouted. "Fine but get me a steak. And some new clothes." I wasn't tryna be wet all night.