Page 23 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

“Whatever, whatever,” I laughed. “Please cut the bullshit.”

Straightening, she cracked up and approached me with opened arms, her five-inch platform wedge-boots making her tall as hell with her titties hitting my forehead as we hugged. High-Fee looked like she was headed to a rave, and the neon-orange fishnets tucked into her mint green boots that matched her high-waisted miniskirt, the furry, cropped black coat over a white tank top, and the cat-ear head band were right in line with that.

“It’s not every day that a Grammy Award–winning producer steps into my booth. I’m honored.”

Groaning playfully, I waved her off.

“Chill out.”

She took a step back before she’d made it over to where I stood and mimed taking pictures of me.

“Cyn Tha Starr! Cyn Tha Starr! Look this way!”

Cracking a smile, I hit a couple poses to the beat of the song playing as Nacora cheered and depressed the imaginary shutter. We both busted out laughing after the third pose. She stood from a crouch and beckoned for me to cross the small space and join her at her setup, where she immediately resumed mixing.

“So, what’s up with you?” she asked, glancing my way. “How you been? How’s that Grammy treating you?”

“What’s up with me is that I have this new track I’m hoping you can slide in sometime during your set.”

Her eyes widened and she rubbed her hands together, a sly grin coming onto her face. “Is this the track that the girls been asking for?! The one Jucee danced to?”

My nod was slow, my answering grin full of pride that the buzz the song had already gained was strong enough for Nacora to catch wind of it.

“One and the same.”

Clapping, she bounced on her toes.

“Send it over! I been waiting to get my hands on this Cyn Tha Starr track.”

Chuckling, I pulled out my phone and airdropped the file to her. I watched as a notification popped up on one of the screens in front of her. She accepted the file on the mounted MacBook directly in front of her, nodding in satisfaction. Selecting the song, she dragged it over to the software she was using for the night.

“What’s the vibe?” she asked as I watched her scroll her queue.

“It’s low and sensual. Think anything Victoria Monét or Bey’s ‘Speechless.’”

Lips pursed, Nacora gave a deeper nod and inserted the song where she wanted it. I didn’t take it for granted that she was putting the song into her set without having heard it first. She trusted that I wouldn’t give her some bullshit, and I honored that trust by making sure I never did. Grabbing a microphone, Nacora turned a dial to lower the music a notch.

“How y’all feeling?”

She paused and allowed the cheers from the crowd to float up to her. The building was packed and the people were feeling good. High-Fee was a damn good DJ and knew exactly how to move the crowd just how she wanted.

“I’m lovin’ it, I’m lovin’ it.” Lowering her voice, she infused pure sex into her voice as she continued speaking. “I want to turn the heat up in here a little bit. Y’all cool with that?” There was whooping, some cries in the affirmative, and one person who screamed “Yes, lawd!” which had me cracking up. Nacora grinned and glanced back at me. “Aight, I’mma slow it down a little bit.” Switching the mic off, she raised the music and faded one song out while the opening beats of 112’s “Anywhere” faded in.

I shot off a text to Xeno, letting her know that “The Rest of You” would be playing sometime soon, and then I watched Nacora spin through a couple of songs. A server in a black jumpsuit entered the booth and handed Nacora two drinks. I raised an eyebrow at her double-fisting as the server disappeared. Grinning, she handed me one of the glasses.

“What is it?” I asked while bringing the glass to my nose for a sniff before taking a tentative sip.

“Mocktail version of my huckleberry mule. It’s good as shit, right?”

The tanginess of the odd fruit matched with the crisp bubbles and danced on my tongue. I nodded.

“Different, but not bad.”

I started to ask her how she knew to order me a drink when it was just her up here, but she shot me a look and nodded at the crowd as she picked up the mic. Turning the music down, she lifted it to her mouth.

“Who’s fucking somebody when they leave here?”

Straw in my mouth, I damn near choked when she asked that. There were a few whistles and several shouts that went up in answer of her question. The cheers from the crowd were almost deafening.