Page 55 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

“It’s kind of fucked up to listen to their conversation,” Q announced after watching the women on the security cameras for a few minutes.

“Don’t try to act above it now. You listened just as long as me. I just wanted to make sure the upgraded system worked, and I wasn’t making a dumb ass decision before tomorrow.”

“Khaleesi is solid,” Q noted.

We were at his new studio, doing a final walk-through, discussing security measures. His shit was fly. I was sure it would succeed. There was a music recording studio, a section for podcasters, and a space for freelance photographers.

“She better be.”

“I think you should tell her.” Q urged, scratching the back of his head.

“I can’t tell her to her face. She’s going to want to argue, and I don’t need her trying to change my mind,” I refuted. “But fuck all of that. Why the fuck was she saying I haven’t formally asked her to be my girl?”

“Those are bougie-ass girls. They read romance books, watch Love Island, and have been spoiled their whole lives. They are expecting a cute formal ask.”

“But I—” I paused mid-sentence because I realized I never did. “There had been a few times when I told Khaleesi I was falling for her, and we graduated to saying I love you. I thought that meant we were together.”

“Listen, I took Jameera on this grand picnic and asked her to be my girl after I thought we were together for at least three months,” Q reminisced. “I been there.”

“Alright, well, I need to run by my crib and then to the lounge before they leave. I already know what I need to tell Duke and Stepp to do in my absence.”

“Shit, let’s slide,” Q agreed.

We hopped in my truck, and I rushed into the house. I planned to slip the locket around Khaleesi’s neck while she slept, but I had a better use for it now. It took about an hour to secure the locket and make it to the lounge. I checked the cameras periodically to make sure they were still there. The last time I checked, they were in the booth twerking while “F.N.F.” played.

I texted the host, Ashley, to set a few things in motion. By the time we entered, the lounge was playing Afrobeats as I requested.

“Hi, Xain, how are—” Ashley greeted me, then stopped mid-sentence when her eyes landed on Q. Her mouth dropped open, and she let out a low squeal while blinking rapidly. “Oh my God! You’re Q!”

“‘Sup,” Q greeted her all nonchalant while she was freaking out.

“Ashley, chill. This won’t be the last time you see him. If you did what I asked you to do, I’ll even convince him to sign something for you and take a picture.”

“Oh my God! Okay, Xain. I’m so sorry. It’s just. Q, I love your music,” she sputtered.

“I appreciate the support. Come on, where is your phone? We can take a picture.”

“Okay,” Ashley bubbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Can you take the picture for me?”

I took the phone and snapped a few pictures.

“Now, go tell the DJ to change the song, please,” I encouraged.

“Okay. Thank you so much, Q!”

Ashley bounced off, high off the interaction. I continued through the lounge until I spotted their table. The closer we got, the more attention came our way because of Q’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Khaleesi was up on her feet to greet me before I could reach the table. The bubbliness told me she was off a few drinks.

The DJ switched to KU LO SA by Oxlade, the same Afrobeats song that was playing when Khaleesi put the moves on me in Morocco. The song was short, only two and a half minutes, and I had to make every second count.

“Trying to recreate the night we had in Morocco,” I informed her, grabbing her by the hands.

“Y’all, this is the song I was just telling y’all about. We danced to this in Morocco, and he couldn’t resist me,” she bragged.

I pulled Khaleesi away from the table and into my arms. She swayed in my arms, and I fell into the groove with her. “What do you have up your sleeve? You’re behind the switch in music genre?”

“I am. I just wanted to remind you of that night, and it worked.”