Gemstones.
Brazil looked in the bathroom mirror backstage at the Red Room preparing for her performance, admiring the cherry lingerie set Blu suggested she wear. He said her eyes looked like gemstones when she wore the color red, especially that specific shade and Maze, like the intimidated little girl she was, sucked her teeth.
He was right, though.
Brazil admired her reflection, relishing the silence as everyone was almost always in the changing room, the bathroom was her little slice of peace. Her perfect escape. It was clean, smelled like strawberries, big enough and quiet enough to leave echoes that resounded three times over.
The best part was that the mirrors were floor to ceiling, giving her the advance she needed to obsess over herself unabashedly. She smiled and kissed the glass where her mouth was, leaving a lipstick stain as a parting gift.
Her hips swayed as she sauntered over to the back room again, this time paying close attention to the engagements between Blu and Maze. Something was off. And from all of her snooping this morning, her bet was that Maze had found out about the pretty girl from earlier- the interviewer who was so clearly attracted to Blu.
To the blind eye, the two best friends were operating cordially- a muted conversation here, a courtesy laugh there, corny jokes and a sprinkle of awkward tension between them, but to Brasilia, they were tiptoeing around each other, testing the waters. If the lines didn't blur a little bit between those two, it was up for questioning.
She watched observantly when he oiled Maze down effectively but hastily, his fingers gliding over her curves instead of sinking into them like they normally did- that was all the confirmation she needed. He was touching her like she was just another girl.
Babs walked up, knowing she shouldn't be sneaking backstage but always breaking that rule anyway. Her locs were twisted in a low ponytail. "Is it me or are they acting weird?"
"No, it's them. They're finally acting the way friends should: platonically."
She twisted her head to the side with her hand under her chin in question, "Is that what that looks like?"
Brazil laughed, "Surprisingly, yes."
"Hmm." She shrugged her shoulders. "You know, as close as those two are, you would think it'd be easy for them to communicate something so obvious."
"What? That they're clearly head over heels for one another?"
"Yeah, like...?"
"Right? But I know Maze. I know the type of girl she is. She keeps her pretty glass heels on hearts, she's fickle. She's noncommittal, incredibly competitive, manipulative-"
"Damn, go off."
"All of that but it's like she's... I don't know, irresistible. And silly, extremely fun and wild. It's like when you first meet her, she weaves you into this web where you can't leave. But the thing is, you don't want to."
Babs nodded but Brazil knew that she couldn't understand. She wasn't apart of that web, she had her own life and responsibilities, her own obligations. Babs was the friend of a friend, who could come and go into the equation as she saw fit.
Brazil continued. "Maze wouldn't be able to take a love like that serious without fucking it up. She'd break his heart, Blu out of all people. She can't help herself."
"You think so?"
"I do."
Babs opened her arms wide in surrender."You gotta give my girl more credit than that."
"I won't." She flipped her sleek hair over her shoulder.
"Sheesh."
"What can I say? I'm a realist."
"I hear you." Babs chuckled at her disregard. She tugged at a loc before she drifted out, teasing Maze and dapping up Blu in the process.
The opening girls had already started performing which meant Brasilia would be hitting the stage soon. There was no stage fright or butterflies, no sinking feeling in her stomach. She was on her job.
Everyone knew Maze and Brasilia performed very similar to one another, though B's expertise was solely in pole dancing. She could admit that she wasn't as good as the Prima Ballerina and not nearly as flexible but that's because Brazil didn't have her heart in it the way Maze did.
This was a job she could do to stay fit, be sexy, and have a little excitement every once in a while. That was all. Every night, the time came and went of her spinning around on silver but she never heard the music or felt the stares. There could've been millions of people watching or no one at all, it didn't matter. Stripping was her meditation.
When the nights ended, her feet would hurt, her callouses would burn, her body would feel numb but it'd all be worth it because for a song or two, she was as light as air.
"Damn," she mumbled to herself.
Brazil had blinked and there was money already at her feet, her moment of escape gone too quick. She had noticed that reality seemed to be slipping in to her safe havens, pulling her back to the surface if her head was underwater for too long.
She was lucid enough to know that now, it was time for a lap dance.
In scouting out the perfect guy, she noticed Shebazz looking guarded and distant in the crowd, something clearly on his mind. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about pulling him up with her to give him the dance of a lifetime since his own girlfriend didn't even insist on doing it herself but she refused. Not in this situation, not today. Brasilia wouldn't be messy no matter how much the devil on her shoulder insisted she live a little.
Her target was staring up at her like she was a statue, it was probably his birthday. His circle of friends enthusiastically nudged him and clapped their approval, lust swimming in their irises. She grabbed the boy's hand which had already started to moisten at the palms, and took him to the stage, absently glancing at the section where Angel would be punishing his chicken wings. There were only bones there, his table not even clear which meant he must have recently left.
Much like her solo dancing, the time seemed to disappear; she couldn't feel eager hands around her waist. She couldn't see a shy but bashful boy of a man just happy to get closer, it was just her, red strobe lights, and the thumping bass of the club. Everything else was an accessory.
If this was a dream, it'd be the one where she was falling up, rising closer and closer to the sky, because nothing was real. She was just Christina, in the coffee shop, Angelina, the day before, attaching herself to these names to make herself heavy again, so she'd stop floating around. Cups full of matcha raspberry her only anchor, with names scribbled just under the lid that never belonged to her.
Always escaping.
The funny thing was, her life wasn't bad, it just wasn't perfect and that was reason enough for her to live in her mind at any opportunity.
And from one escape to another, she found herself where she started after it was all over: ducked off in the bathroom, watching her green eyes sparkle in the dimmed lighting.
"So this is what you do in your free time?"
She whipped around on her heels to face Angel whose gaze took her in from head to toe. There was nothing lascivious about it, he was indifferent and calculating, revealing little. How did he get back here without anyone noticing?
Decidedly, she squared her shoulders as he approached, noticing for the first time that he was taller than he seemed and far more attractive than she gave him credit, his eyes rivaled hers in their beauty. Despite the tattoos and nose ring, Angel had a sweet face, pretty like his name, soft but handsome, angular bone structure, like one of those guys in the magazines selling perfume bottles. The one a teenaged girl would stare at longer than necessary, grab a permanent marker and encase his face in hot pink hearts- rightfully so. However, it did nothing to ease the apprehension inside of her. She tilted her chin up, "do I know you?"
"You've heard about me, I'm sure." Amusement lit up his eyes before he let out a laugh.
She crossed her arms over her chest in defense. "Something funny?"
"Yeah, you. Puffing out your chest like you could defend yourself against me. In your lace lingerie and stripper heels."
She pulled out the small but sharp blade she kept tucked on the inside of her thigh, pointing it at his neck. "Not so funny now, am I?"
He squinted his eyes, a smirk on his mouth. "You're a little warrior, aren't you?" In one swift motion, he pulled her against him, jolting a pressure point on the inside of her arm, hard. Without her volition, she dropped the blade right into his free hand. "Your move."
"What do you want from me?" Her heart thrummed, torn on what she should feel about him; she was enthralled as much as she was afraid. Those hushed conversations were running freely in her mind and if they were true, that meant she was standing toe to toe with a bonafide killer.
Silently, he mulled over his response, still watching her like he was impressed. "I have questions."
Just then, the door rattled and two pairs of heels clacked on the tile amid conversation. Angel whipped her away, tucking her back against his front behind one of the stalls. She fixed her mouth to scream but he grabbed her throat and pinched her nose.
Brazil, ever the fighter, bit the inside of his fingers until she could taste blood. He didn't even wince.
"Brasilia Celine Gomez." He whispered against the side of her face. "Has a nice ring to it."
How did he know her name?
Out of shock and fear, her jaw went slack, and she scrambled noisily to get out of his hold so she could at least breathe again. The girls continued their conversation, completely unaware, gossiping, babbling, she could've been fucking dead by now. Calmly, Angel thumbed at another pressure point underneath her jaw and her nerves seemed to melt away.
No, she wanted to scream. No, no, no! But her body was losing its instinct to fight or flight, the will seeped away.
Black dots were lining her vision when the girls finally exited the bathroom as loudly as they entered. Abruptly, Brazil gasped for her breath once he released her, her sight clearing up again. "Are you gonna kill me?" She asked, bracing the sink behind her.
Angel held his fingers up to the light for close examination. "Probably not, no. Look at that," he flipped his hand over for her to observe, "your teeth marks in my flesh. Isn't that poetic?"
"Are you gonna rape me?"
His eyes flashed over to hers looking several shades darker and narrowed like a snake's. "Absolutely not."
"What is it? What did I do?" She asked frantically, praying her tears wouldn't spill.
"Calm down, Brasilia."
Her chest rose and fell violently, "don't tell me to calm down! And how do you know my fucking name?"
"I know everything, sweetheart."
She started to run to the door but he gripped her up again, picking her up off her feet so her shoes would stop clacking.
"So tell me," he struggled in the least when she attempted to wiggle out of his grapple. "that was just your own nosiness getting the best of you at Koffé, right?"
"Huh?"
"Huh? Now isn't the time to act dumb." He gripped her tighter. "See, I have a blade of my own that's got a couple inches. Rumor has it that you don't have a gag reflex and I would love to see how far it goes before it snips your uvula off." He dug in his pocket for effect.
She scrambled. "Yes, yes, I was just being a nosy bitch! I promise. I swear to God that's all I was doing. Please just let me go!"
Angel set her down and covered her mouth to stop the yelling, propping her up against the mirror behind her. Searchingly, he tilted her head up, peering into her with his hand still over her mouth. He was evaluating whether or not he could trust her while tears slipped from her eyes, down his knuckles.
"You're not lying, are you?" She shook her head imploringly. "If I move my hand, you won't scream?" Again she shook her head.
Slowly he released his hold, her hand around his wrist for good measure. "I don't trust you." He stated, matter-of-factly. "But I'll let you go this time because I seriously doubt you're this good of an actress."
He handed her blade back, though it hadn't been in her grasp for five seconds before she sliced it against his cheek. Her breath was jagged with adrenaline.
Blood peppered up at the surface from the cut, it was shallow but would still leave a scar. He looked in the mirror, tapping at the bruise, then back at her spiteful expression and smiled. "Funny, I didn't think I would like you. I was wrong. Guess there's a first time for everything."
Brazil said nothing, just spat in his face instead. He used the saliva to seal his wound then laughed.
"Fuck you." She snapped, pushing passed him on her way out.
"Hey, I spared you," his grin was wide when she looked back at him, "don't make me regret it."
Mockingly, he blew her a kiss before she pushed the door open.
She had had enough, Lewis needed to up the security in this joint.