NOVA:
“Dice, where are you? I thought you were coming out tonight.”
I stared at the video screen on my phone. Deep down, I already knew he wasn’t coming. Still, every now and then I could talk him into keeping me entertained while I bartended at The Spot on weekends.
Dice smirked through the screen, that familiar grin only he could pull off.
“Now you know that ain’t my scene, shorty. I do that for you.”
“You always say that,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“You know this shift is hell without you,” I added.
He laughed.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m in for the night, shorty. Got something waiting on me. Besides, nobody told you to work there—you know your father would lose it if he found out.”
His attention shifted for a moment, and I caught it. That look. That little smirk. He licked his lips slightly, and I already knew what time it was.
Dice always had women ready to show up at any hour just to be near him. And I couldn’t even deny it—my best friend was that guy. Dark caramel skin, deep dimples, waves laid perfectly, eyes like trouble. And on top of that, he was paid.
“Yeah, yeah. I know what that means,” I said, shaking my head. “Goodnight, D.”
I ended the call with a small laugh.
The Spot was exactly what it always was—loud, crowded, and alive.
Ballers filled the room, and women dressed like they were already somebody’s main attraction. The DJ had the whole place moving to “Wanna Be” by GloRilla, and the energy was thick with money, perfume, and ego.
I stood behind the bar, working through orders, watching the scene unfold like a routine I’d memorized.
Then I heard him.
“Excuse me, miss lady.”
The voice cut through the noise.
I turned to my left.
And there he was.
Dark chocolate complexion. Warm brown eyes. Neatly trimmed beard. Waves so deep they looked intentional. The kind of man you didn’t just look at—you studied.
I walked over with a smile, leaning in slightly so I could hear him over the music. Up close, he looked like he stepped out of a casting call—something like Trevante Rhodes in another life.
And the cologne… it didn’t belong in this building. It was expensive in a way you could feel, not just smell.
“Miss, huh?” I said, tilting my head. “I just know you not from around here.”
He laughed, a little embarrassed.
“Is it that obvious? Here I was thinking I was blending in.”
“I’m Prize,” he added, extending his hand. “What’s your name?”
I shook it. His grip was firm, controlled.
“I’m Nova. So… Prize, huh? Nice to meet you. What can I get you?”
“That’s a beautiful name,” he said. “I’ll take Henny on the rocks.”
He scanned the options briefly, then looked back at me like he already made his decision the second he saw me.
I nodded.
“Coming right up.”
As I turned to the bar, I asked, “So where you from? I’ve never seen you around here before.”
I grabbed the Hennessy from the top shelf, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. Something about his presence told me immediately—he wasn’t local.
Texas energy. No question.
I slid his drink across the counter with a napkin and straw.
“Henny on the rocks.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lady,” he said smoothly. “And you’re right—I’m from Houston.”
He gave me a quick wink, then disappeared into the crowd, heading upstairs toward VIP.
“Damn, he fine—and he in VIP?” my best friend Tikka said, leaning in immediately. “Girl, who was that? He not one of our regulars.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“I don’t know. Name’s Prize. And yeah… he fine as hell.”
Tikka grinned like she’d already planned a future with him.
We both laughed and got back to work, moving through the crowd as the night slowed slightly.
Eventually, I noticed Tikka’s new guy—Von—signaling her from the end of the bar.
“Hey girl, you mind covering for me?” she asked quickly.
“Yeah, just don’t be gone forever,” I replied.
She laughed and walked off.
Von was one of those light-skinned pretty boys she always went for. Met him at Uptown a couple weeks ago. My type and hers were completely different.
I liked them tall, dark, and hood.
She liked pretty boys with soft edges.
We used to joke about it all the time—especially after my messy breakup with Twan back in high school. I made a whole promise after that: never again would I let a light-skinned nigga play in my face.
And I meant it.
I looked up toward VIP.
Prize was leaning over the balcony now, talking to a heavily tattooed man with long, neat dreads and a solid frame. Bodyguard energy. No doubt about it.
Both of them scanned the room slowly, watching everything like nothing escaped their notice.
Then it happened.
For a split second, Prize looked down.
And our eyes locked.
He held it just long enough for me to notice.
I didn’t look away.
Instead, I smiled and gave a small wink, already knowing tonight was far from ordinary.
Then I turned back toward the bar—
Midnight rush was coming.
And something told me… so was trouble.