The Girl from Stadium

The moon was out in full. It was chilly, but not bad enough to keep the kiddos inside at this hour. They craved the night. Girls pranced around in their freakum dresses. Guys were on the prowl. Cabs rolled up in front of the residential hall and packed five girls at a time in the back seats. One girl was walking around barefoot, apparently having forgotten where she’d left her stilettos. Sitting on the bench, cigarettes in hand, Bo and Miguel watched all of this unfold with great interest.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” asked Bo. He took a long draw from his cigarette and blew it into the night sky. Smoking, him! Who would have thought?

“Naw, we went out last week, holmes,” said Miguel, craning his neck to look at a group of girls who’d just walked past. Bo swatted the smoke out his face and turned his head in an attempt to gain a glimpse of the girls before they disappeared around the street corner.

Grinning, they both looked at each other and simultaneously exclaimed, “And so what?”

“YOLO!” Bo hollered. He tossed his cigarette into a bush, stood up, and enthusiastically pointed in the direction of the girls.

“Seize the day!”

Bo wagged a finger. “No, my friend, seize the night. There are lovely ladies on every block and street corner just looking for someone to take them home for the night. As the fine gentlemen that we are, I think we are obligated to bring some of these fine women back from the club with us. Do I speak fallacy?”

“Mostly never, my good man, mostly never,” said Miguel.

“Then let us commence our quest. Shall it be Stadium, Love, Ibiza, Fur, or Eden?”

“Hmm… I don’t think we’ve hit up the Stadium yet.”

“Which is why it was the first club that came to mind,” Bo replied, walking over to the curb and waving for an oncoming cab. The cab pulled up. He opened the back door and a trio of chatty girls rushed over.

“He-e-ey, Bi-i-ig Bo-o-o,” they drawled, giggling hysterically. “Can we get a ride?”

Bo gestured and the girls hopped in. He looked back at his friend. “Shall we?”

“Fire!” someone shrieked like a bat out of hell.

All eyes turned to the burning bushes beside the benches. University Police hustled over to the flaming vegetation as a quartet of bros started chanting, “WE DON’T NEED NO WATER, LET IT BURN, BURN!”

In sync, Bo and Miguel dug into the pockets and flung their cigarette packs into the street like guilty children.
_____

There was a line. Bo hated lines. White and pink neon lights washed over him from the sign above, accentuating his Polo Ralph Lauren and powder-white trousers. The trio of girls stood in front them. There hadn’t been much conversation between the girls and guys, just simple introductions and lots of gay laughter. As they stood there, he and Miguel watched as ravenous packs of men stumbled their way out of the club with five or six girls in tow. There was something to be envied about the way they did it. What was it about the assholes that girls found so attractive? Bo himself was not much of a ladies’ man, but they flocked to him anyway. Not that he had to try hard. Girls seemed to lower their standards after dark. Plus, he had money. It was all about fun. Reaching the pinnacles of pleasure.

“Yo, you sure you wanna do this?” asked Miguel, interrupting Bo’s thoughts, his eyes shifty, head swiveling in every direction but up and down.

“Do what?” asked Bo, blankly staring at his friend.

“Go inside,” Miguel continued, avoiding eye contact.

“Huh?” The trio of girls in front of them snickered. Bo scratched his neck, cheeks flushing. Annoyed, he pulled Miguel to the side and hissed, “What’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”

“You didn’t say it was a strip club…things might get a little…wild.”

Bo placed the back of his hand on Miguel’s forehead. “Are you feeling well?"

“Wha-“

“You must have come down with something, because you’re acting weirder than usual. You, the self-proclaimed king of clubs, do not want to enter Stadium?”

“I am…I mean I do but-"

Bo playfully slapped Miguel and grabbed him by the collar. “Snap out of it! You are the king of clubs, understand? Stadium is the only one you have yet to conquer. This is no time for self-doubt.”

“But-”

Bo swung a backhand at his friend, who caught the hand and, laughing, threw it back. Miguel’s left cheek was a rosy red now.

Bo smirked. “If you “but” me one more time, I will beat the shit out of you. We are going to go inside and enjoy ourselves. End of discussion.”

The line finally started to move.

“Yo, we really need to stop hanging out. Keep acting up and people will start mistaking you for a real Brooklyn boy. Still practicing the accent?”
“Check it out.” Bo cleared his throat. “I’m at the Stawbucks on toidy-toid street.”

Miguel pressed a clenched fist up under his nose, barely able to contain his snickering. “Not bad,” he lied.

The line started to move. Bo paid for himself, Miguel and the trio of girls to get into the club. Of course, once they were set, the girls quickly vanished into thin air, leaving Bo and Miguel to navigate the building on their own.

“Son, just for the record, if we were in New York and you’d pulled that same shit outside the clubs I be at, you might have started a riot.”

Skin brushed against skin at all points on the steep metal staircase. There was barely any room to move.

It was boiling hot once they got inside. The smell of alcohol, sweat and perfume wafted through the club. Midnight blue lights gave a dark outline to everything and everyone. The hip-hop track playing had a pounding bass that bludgeoned the ears of everyone inside the club. Men leered with dilated pupils at the voluptuous vixens dancing on poles lined up across the room. Bo and Miguel exchanged a look, grinned, and bumped fists.

Bo scoped the bar. “We should find a seat at the-”

“I gotta use the toilet,” Miguel yelled, clutching his Yankee cap, tripping over his sagging jeans as he hastily scurried off.

“You have to do what? Miguel!” Bo yelled back, shuffling sideways as a crowd of rowdy individuals were escorted out by a massive black dude in a suit just as black. “What in God’s name? Oh, never mind, I don’t care anymore.”

Bo grabbed a seat at the bar and bought a bottle of Ciroc. It was a little awkward just sitting there on his lonesome. Every now and then someone would stop just to give him one of those “you-are-so-out-of-place-its-not-even-funny” looks. He did not blame them. He had just turned 21 and he had the face of a sixteen-year-old boy. Minus the acne. Beginning to feel self-conscious, Bo opened the Ciroc and chugged a quarter of it in under ten seconds.

“It’s her, it’s her!” someone yelled.

Every head in the room turned towards the source of the yelling. It was a young guy in a dark blue suit, and he was pointing enthusiastically at something, a look of worshipful fascination on his face. Bo turned in the direction of his index finger and saw what every male in the room was now gawking at.

It was one of the pole dancers. But this one was different. For one, she was one of the only black girls in the club tonight. And she was black. Midnight black, the color of the bouncer’s suit, the color of the night sky itself. Her eyes were like purple fire, each iris shooting beams of heat to each man’s pants. Everything she did was in slow motion. The wave of a hand, the way she dropped to the ground and brought her ass back up, the way she bounced and rolled it.

An invisible force, the hand of God, pushed Bo off his bar stool. It shoved people out of the way with a supernatural might as Bo made his way to the ebony goddess’s workstation. And then, he was as close as he could be. He stood before her, stiff as dry cardboard, and watched her work. Her pole sucked up a bit of her essence with each touch and pulsed with a divine aura of its own. Everything was rightly proportioned. Her breasts, hips, ass, all were ample. She was divinity.

Just then, her gaze hit him like a Category Four hurricane. The club swirled around him. The people faded away. The music was stripped down to nothing but the pounding bass. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. She brought her hand closer, closer, close enough to cup his face in her hands and blow in his face. The scent of her breath intoxicated him, more potent than the Ciroc that coursed through his veins.

“Your name?” Bo croaked. His buried a sweaty, clammy palm into his pocket and pulled out a $100 bill.

“Titi,” she said breathily, pulling her G-String open. Bo slipped it in before slipping into unconsciousness.

II

Stat class. Professor Wade began his lecture. Bo began perusing his Facebook. Bloody hell, twenty-seven notifications!? Those had to have accumulated over the past few days. He never received more than ten notifications a week, and he hardly ever used Facebook to communicate. Anyway, twenty-seven notifications could only mean one thing: people were talking. Specifically, people were talking about his excursion to Stadium over the weekend. He’d waken up Sunday morning in the hospital. Alcohol poisoning, and an allergic reaction to something he’d encountered in the club. Luckily he was still alive. Or at least, he’d thought himself lucky up until he had to come to Stat today. He seriously feared Stat was going to drive him towards suicide one day. Couldn’t Wade at least try to spice things up a little? Do a little dance. Stop peppering every other sentence with the word data. Use the whiteboard for once. Something!

Oh well, he thought. At least he could use this time to…

The classroom door opened. The lights in the classroom were pretty dim in comparison to the hallway lights, which flooded into the classroom and temporarily blinded everyone. The silhouette of a girl stood in the doorway for a quite a few seconds, long enough for Wade to ask, “Excuse me, miss, could you step inside and close the door?”

“Whatever you want.”

Bo’s ears perked up immediately. That voice… suddenly, his breathing became irregular. He stared intently at the doorway. The silhouette stood motionless for half a second longer before stepping inside. Bo’s breath caught in his chest. It was the stripper, the one from Stadium! But she was different. She had on clothes, for one. For two, she was dressed in pretty normal clothes, sweatpants and a matching top. It did nothing to diminish her stunning beauty though. The aura surrounding her was just as thick as it was on Saturday night.

“Sorry to interrupt, is this Stat 1051?” she asked. Bo stared at her incredulously. She sounded like a regular person! How was it possible?
“Yes it is. And you are not only late, but you are interrupting my lecture. Take a seat, miss,” Wade replied.

What a jerk, Bo thought. Did he know how this girl was? Did he know what she’d done? Even he, in his decrepitude, must see the same thing Bo was seeing. The girl was divine, the second coming of Eve.

The girl approached Bo’s row, the front row, where most of the seats were vacant. She gave him a sideward glance as she walked past. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she went by and continued to stare even after she sat down. Bo kept her in his peripheral at all times and once even turned his head fully to look. How odd it was. Just a few days ago she’d been a grown woman in a strip club letting grown men put cash on her backside, and now here she was, a student in Wade’s class taking notes like an honors kid. Who was she?

The lecture came to an end an hour and a half later. Bo waited for the girl to pack her things before he began to pack his. He waited for her to walk past him before he got up, adjusted the pulsing bulge in his sweatpants, and followed suit. As he followed her, he desperately thought of a way to introduce himself. He couldn’t just say “Hi, I’m Bo, I met you in the strip club the other night.” Well, he could, but that would just be awkward for the both of them. When he’d finally thought of something to say, he quickened his pace to catch up, tapped her on the shoulder and smiled.

“Hi. Sorry, I was just wondering if you recalled Wade saying anything about our assignment for tonight.”

She spun around. Have mercy! Purple fire shot straight into Bo’s pants. Shrugging, she replied, “No. Everything should be on Blackboard though, right? Or the syllabus?”

Bo cheeks flushed. “Oh, right. Well, thank you.” Turning to leave, he bit his lip and tried again. “Sorry, how rude of me, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t throw a name your way.”

Stunned, Bo stood motionless, thinking of how to respond, before his Blackberry started vibrating. He dug into his right pocket and pulled it out. What could Miguel possibly want at this hour? His text read [dat bitch thght she cud pull a fast one on me. i caught er tho. i dont play that shit. im muthafukin Miguel Melendez!!!]. What in the world?

“Titi.”

Bo glanced up and, to his great confusion, was greeted with an outstretched hand and a warm smile.

“Bo Berkshire,” said Bo, shaking her hand. Her palms were warm and moisturized.

“Big Bo…hmm, didn’t I meet you in the strip club the other night?”

Unable to catch himself, Bo burst out laughing. Titi, slightly surprised, smiled and eventually joined in on the laughter, perhaps thinking it was an inside joke.

Bo caught his breath and wiped his eyes. “Forgive me. I didn’t want to bring up the strip club in pleasant conversation.”

Tit frowned. “Why not?”

On red alert, Bo’s mind instantly barricaded his mouth with a filter. These American girls were highly sensitive, downright volatile at times. “Just didn’t think it was something you wanted to, you know, talk about.”

“Why would I mind talking about it?”

“You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t. I just meant that I did not want to offend you.”

“Offend me how? By acknowledging that you saw at me work? I happen to like my job. Are you offended by my occupation?”

Frantically waving his hands, Bo said, “No, not at all. I greatly admire women in the adult entertainment industry.” As soon as he said it, Bo felt unbearably awkward. Titi must have sensed this and mercifully changed the direction of the conversation.

“You’re cute. Anyway, tonight’s assignment is pretty long. Do you want to work on it together?”

“Definitely,” Bo replied enthusiastically.
_____
The fourth floor always smelled like weed. One of the many reasons why Bo never came up here. The eastward hallway was perpetually covered in darkness, and the lights in the other hallways flickered on and off at random times of the evening. All of this created quite the eerie scene as Bo crept through the unlit halls searching for Room 420. The halls were carpeted, and Bo couldn’t help but notice the squishy sound he made with each step. Either someone had spilled something huge or there was some major flooding occurring in one of the rooms. How was it possible that he had never seen Titi around despite the fact that they lived in the same dormitory? Unless she’d quarantined herself on the fourth floor for a semester and a month, it was impossible that Bo had never seen her.

As he thought of an answer to this mystery, suddenly, a loud bang rocked the entire building, knocking him to the ground. The liquid soaking the carpet instantly drenched his clothes. He brought a wet hand to his nostrils. Thank God, it was just water. Bo didn’t dare move until he was sure the building was stable. Damn, he cursed. The water had penetrated his sweatpants and was now working on his boxers.

“Need some help?”

Bo’s ears perked up. He spun towards the source of the silky voice. Purple eyes. That was all he could see in the suffocating darkness. Eyes that burned with fire, that beckoned him over. Instinctively, he crawled towards the purple beacons, which suddenly disappeared.

“Wait!”

“Three doors to your left. Come.”

Realizing he was still crawling, Bo rose to his feet. Water streamed down his face and matted down his hair. Like a blind man, he pressed up against the wall and counted the door frames he passed. The third frame he came to had no door at all, but a bead curtain in its place. He stepped through the curtain.

The scent of scented candles and various body lotions wafted through the air. A faint amber glow emanating from a honeycomb-shaped lamp which sat on a side table provided the only light in the room. Water, at least an inch deep, flowed like a river across the hardwood floor. The Washington Monument was visible through the window, blinds open wide.

The only piece of furniture in the room, a single, was a bed, which sat in its center. On top of the bed lay Titi, draped in a silk nightgown the shade of moonshine.

“Slippery when wet, Big Bo.”

Bo stood motionless, frozen by anxiety. What was he going to do? This wasn’t an environment conducive to studying. He couldn’t leave, he wouldn’t leave. Not when he had her so close and cornered.

“Erm..hi,” said Bo. “Having some issues with the pipes?”

“Oh no, this water isn’t coming from my bathroom. Apparently there’s some wild construction project being done on the dorm. I think that crane on South Street might have hit the side of the building, probably what caused the shaking earlier.”

“Probably…um, should I come back another time?” he asked, hoping she’d say…

“No need.”

Before he could celebrate in his mind, she added, “I’ve already finished the assignment. I wanted to call you beforehand to tell you there was no need to come, but I dropped my phone in this water and it died on me.”

Straining to hide the pained expression on his face, Bo turned to leave and muttered, “Oh. No problem then, I’ll just…”

“Strip.”

Bo blinked twice. Was he hearing things? “Sorry?”

“I said strip. Your clothes are soaked. You don’t want to catch a cold, do you?” she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

Bo stared dumbly for a few seconds. What game was she playing at? Just because he was freezing, he decided to do as she said. He pulled his sweatshirt and white tee over his head and dumped them into the water below. He pulled down his sweatpants and let them drop as well.

“Aren’t the boxers wet too?” she remarked, head cocked to the side, a Mona Lisa smile plastered on her face. Was she checking him out?

“I think I’ll keep these on,” said Bo, although he wasn’t sure why.

Titi patted twice on her mattress. “Well don’t stand there, come sit down.”

“I thought you were finished the assignment,” Bo said, smiling coyly.

“Yeah, but I thought you could still help me with my Econ homework while you’re here.”

“Oh.”

Covering his genital area with folded hands, Bo walked on his toes towards the bed and climbed aboard as Titi made room for him. There they sat, across from each other, Indian-style. Bo stared into his lap, well aware that the girl’s eyes were boring into his soul. He half-feared that he would turn into stone if he looked up. An Economics textbook slid into his field of vision. She was studying the laws of supply and demand from he saw on the open pages.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit confused about the some of these concepts. Mind quizzing me?”

“No problem,” said Bo. “Let’s see here…oh, okay, define elasticity.”

“Hmm, that’s an easy one. It’s the measure of responsiveness of a dependent variable to the change in an independent variable.”

She was an intellectual! “Nice. Can you give an example?”

A wild gleam passed through Titi’s eyes. As if in slow motion, her moist hand fell on Bo’s bare right thigh and slid its way up to the hem of his boxers. Bo’s breath caught in his chest, his pupils dilating.

In that hypnotic voice, she said, “For what your supplying, Big Bo, my demand is inelastic.”
_____
Back in their dorm room, Miguel and Bo sat on their beds across from each other. The former was busy deleting photos of him and his recently ex’d-girlfriend from his Facebook. Apparently, Miguel had seen Ashley at Stadium with another guy the same day he and Bo were there. It certainly explained Miguel’s odd behavior that night. The latter had just come back from what was supposed to be a study session with Titi.

“What?!” Miguel cursed as the sauce from the lasagna he just spit up seeped into his laptop’s keyboard.

“It’s true. She’s in the School of Business,” he said dreamily, staring into space.

“And she strips?”

“I asked her out,” said Bo, his friend’s voice unable to penetrate the fog he was in.

“What?!” More lasagna sprayed from Miguel’s mouth.

“It’s true. Great timing on my part, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”

“And she strips?”

“She said yes.”

“What?!” The keyboard was drenched in cheese and tomato sauce.

“That was a surprise. I was sure she’d say no.”

“And she strips?”

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, YES, MIGUEL, SHE STRIPS!” Bo resented his friend for disrupting his temporary high by making him shout. Now that he was Earthbound again, he had to plan for his date.

After a minute, Miguel asked, “Did you beat it or cradle it?”

“What?”

“Your fucking style, man. Did you rough her up or did you rock the boat?”

“That is highly inappropriate. What makes you think we slept together anyway?”

Miguel grinned. “Your body gave you away. You smelt like a virgin this morning.”

After a minute, Bo said, “Cradle.”

Momentarily shocked, Miguel shook if off and said, “Well well, aren’t you a lucky son of bitch this week. A stripping businesswoman…the stuff of great porn. Erm…can I give you some great advice, as a friend?”

“Oh, Lord…”

“Naw, I’m serious. Do not extend this thing between you and her past tomorrow. Hang out, do what you need to do with her, and dump her ass immediately. You’ll only get hurt if it happens.”

Bo raised an eyebrow. “If what happens?”

“You fall in love with a stripper.”

III

Why was it so fucking warm? It was the second week of February! Miguel zipped, then unzipped, then pulled off, then put back on his fleece jacket. His fault for not checking the temperature on his iPhone before he left the room. He took his time walking to his Geology lab. Ashley was usually his partner in class, but seeing as how they were no longer intimate, he wanted to delay the discomfort he’d feel around her as long as possible. Besides, he usually made her do all the work anyway. Would she even notice if he was absent?

Just as he was about to cross 14th Street to get into Cade Hall, Miguel spotted a familiar frame strutting towards the Cafeteria. It was just a frame because he was looking at the girl from behind, but the ass definitely looked familiar. Miguel had a talent for committing breast sizes, ass widths and plumpness, and other things he shouldn’t commit about different females’ figures to memory. He jogged over to the girl.

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. The girl spun around.

“You.” It was the stripper! God, this bitch was the definition of sexy.

“Me,” Titi replied, a tone of annoyance in her voice.

“You’re Bo’s friend, the girl from Stadium,” said Miguel, excited. He extended a hand. “We haven’t met formally. I’m Miguel, Bo’s roommate.”

“Bo?”

Miguel arched an eyebrow. “Bo. Bo Berkshire. You know, ruddy complexion, British accent, kind of awkward, hella rich.”

Titi stared blankly at him. “I have no idea what you’re going on about, but I’ve got to get to a dance rehearsal in twenty minutes, so…”

“The guy you spent last night with!” Miguel interjected, slightly irritated.

“You mean Ben? I thought he lived in a single.”

Was she serious? “Ben? The fuck?! I said Bo, B-O.”

“Look here, you, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I didn’t spend last night with anyone other than my boyfriend, Ben, and I didn’t even get that much time with him. I had to work last night.”

Wide-eyed and angry, Miguel continued to grill her. “Are you being serious right now? Or do you just get run through by that many guys?”

Now leering at him, Titi stepped closer and cupped his jaw in her hands. Her long, painted fingernails dug painfully into both sides of Miguel’s face. “Watch your mouth, freshman. But now that I think about it, I do remember Big Bo,” she said. Miguel pried her hands from his cheeks. “He was a keeper,” she continued, sarcasm oozing from her words.

Miguel gave her a hard look. He shook his head and said, “Bo’s a sensitive kid. I won’t let you hurt him with your games.”

Titi sighed. “Have I attracted one of those again? Well, if Big Bo wandered into the jungle, Big Bo has to find his way out.”

“I knew you were no good. I’ll tell him everything.”

Titi laughed. “Tell him what? I’m a stripper? I get lots of male attention? I highly doubt any of this is news to him.”

Miguel froze. She was right. Bo surely knew what she was really like, but Miguel knew that Bo was in over his head with this one. She was dangerous.

“But between you and me, I wonder whose story your beloved Bo would believe.”

“What are you talking abou-“

“You’re clearly trying to push up on your friend’s girl,” said Titi, sighing again. “You broke up with your girlfriend and now you’re looking for a rebound. I’d hate to be the reason behind the end of such a strong friendship.”

“Ho,” Miguel spat.

Titi grinned. “Jealousy is a bitch trait, Miguel. Why not let Bo-Bo have his fun? I’d be more than happy to accommodate you once I’m done with him.”
_____
Chocolate. It was Godiva. The kind of chocolate you only break out on special occasion. But of course, tonight was a special occasion for two reasons. Valentine’s Day only comes once a year, and Titi decided to go out on a real date with Bo. He spread the chocolates out over the sheet. He pulled the grape cider out of the fridge and stuffed it in a bucket full of ice, which lay next to in the middle of the pile of chocolate. His laptop sat on the bed as well, the “Two-Hour Burning Fireplace” YouTube video already playing. The condoms and massage oil he left in the desk drawer. Couldn’t make it seem like he’d planned that far ahead. Two roses lay in water in a vase on the window sill, the cool evening breeze floating inside to stroke the petals.

The room still smelled like man, Bo thought. Best buy scented candles or something of that sort. Girls liked that’s stuff. Bo walked over to his clothes drawer. He grabbed his wallet from the pocket of his jeans in the top drawer and stuffed it in his jacket. As his fingers hovered over his keys, which lay on top of the drawer, he heard the jingling of keys elsewhere. Immediately, he ran out of the side room and towards the bed. Miguel was fumbling with his own keys just outside the door.

Bo cursed, scrambling to stuff the chocolates in the desk drawer. He rolled the bottle of cider under the bed and hurled the massage oil across the room. Tripping over his own feet, he leapt across the room to cut off the lights. The door creaked open. Bo dived into his bed to feign sleep.
As was his custom, Miguel poked his head inside first and proceeded to bring his whole body through the threshold. Through half-closed eyes, Bo saw the bags of groceries and drinks that the boy carried. Perhaps Miguel had a date as well. Not a surprise, the boy rebounded fast. Bo stuck his face into his pillow as Miguel walked over to check whether he was really sleeping.

The sound a rolling glass bottle made Bo’s ears perk up. “What the…well, well, someone decided to go all out this year, huh? Cider, though? Cidah? Might as well have bought bottled wortah.”

Bo kept quiet, the back of his neck quickly heating up. Miguel’s foot must have found the grape cider. A pair of cold hands wrapped around Bo’s neck and shook it vigorously.

“Ow, that hurts!” Bo shouted. “What the hell, man? I’m trying to sleep!”

“Without finishing your preparations?” asked Miguel, a mile-wide grin on his face. He shook his head. “And here I thought you were trying to be fiscally responsible this new year?”

Bo sat up. “I think you have better things to worry about other than my New Year’s resolutions.”

Grinning, Miguel pulled a small chocolate from his pocket and shrugged. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t blow $160 bucks on Godiva for any broad, even if I did have a date for Valentine’s Day. Come on, man, she’s a slu-“

“Watch your mouth,” Bo interjected, his steely gaze piercing through his friend’s visage. Miguel recoiled, an eyebrow raised sharply. The room fell dead silent as he mentally cycled through a list of synonyms.

“Bus-iness-woman,” Miguel drawled, every syllable of the word dripping with disdain. “You really think she cares about you?”

“Maybe I know that. I know the kind of girl she is. I know she doesn’t want a relationship with me. I accept that, that’s just the way it is in college.”

“Do you really, son? I saw the tweets last night. Not sure which ones nauseated me more, the ones ending in #younglove or the #youdaone’s. The lengths you’ll go just to impress a girl…”

“I’m finished talking about this! You don’t know the first damn thing about me, and the day you assume to is the day you’ll be sorry.”

“I don’t know you, dude, really? I’m the one friend you haven’t had to buy on this fucking campus!”

“You’re pathetic,” Bo scoffed. “Like I’d have wasted a penny on you. Nobody gave you the time of day before you started hanging with me.”
“Well fuck you, then! I hope you and that crazy bitch enjoy your date,” Miguel shot back.

“Fuck you!”

“I don’t give three fucks!” Miguel shouted, slamming the door on his way out. One second later he burst back in and pointed a condemning finger at Bo. “You know what you are? You’re her bitch, Bo! One more thing you have in common with Obama’s dog!”

And with that, he marched out of the room.
_____
Bo sat there, staring into the white sea that was the tablecloth before him. He could not bear the mocking stares of the waiters. Could she be running late? That was wishful thinking. She should have joined him an hour ago. La Masseria would close in an hour, which was not enough time for her to order and get her food even if she arrived now. The truth was painfully obvious. She’d forgotten about their date. It was understandable, she had a lot on her plate, midterms and all. He tried texting her, but received no reply. He tried calling her, but it went to her voicemail. Eventually, Bo concluded that she must have had to work tonight. He walked out of the restaurant and waved for a cab.

Stadium was live tonight. Bo thanked the heavens that the line moved quickly. He proceeded up the metal staircase. The big black bouncer greeted him at the top of the stairs. Impatient, Bo pushed past him and pushed his way through the sweaty, drunk masses. How sad they were, here to satisfy their bestial impulses by feasting their eyes on naked women. What did they know about love? What did they know about Titi?

There she was, dancing on a pole, working her magic as packs of men tossed handfuls of dollar bills her feet. Bo felt secure in the fact that all they could do was look. They could not fathom what it was like to be with her, to feel the warmth of her skin on theirs, the scent of her breath seeping into their lungs. He was the one she wanted. He was the one in the crowd that belonged to her.

Just then, he saw one of the men slip out two hundred dollar bills. He froze as he watched Titi strut over to him and open her G-String. Righteous anger brewing inside him, he clenched his fists as the guy licked the bills and stuck them on Titi’s bare ass. Titi pulled the young man on to the stage and sat him down in a wooden chair. She climbed over his spread out legs and danced in his lap. Rage boiled in his heart. The club went dark. Nothing existed anymore. He didn’t hear the bouncer call after him. He didn’t see the security detail run over to stop him. He ran, leapt up on stage and grabbed Titi’s wrist. He stared into her eyes.

“What am I to you? Tell me!”

“Security!” Titi screeched, struggling to break out of Bo’s iron grip.

“I love you, Titi. I love you!”

“Get off of me! Are you crazy?!”

Beefy arms wrapped around Bo’s waist and swept him off his feet. They hurled him into the arms of the big, black bouncer, who grabbed him by the collar and dragged him towards the metal staircase. Bo winced with each step his butt bounced over as the bouncer dragged him down the staircase before flinging open the double doors and throwing him into the street.

And as he sat there, Bo couldn’t help but reflect on what Miguel had warned him about.

“You’ll only get hurt if happens.”

“What happens?”

“You fall in love with a stripper.”