Free Jahleel by S. Ann Cole

taste.
    The inimitable concoction that could heal a throat that wasn’t even sore yet.



Chapter Six

    T here were a heck lot of invitees at the so-called ‘invite-only’ celebratory party when my usual party crew and I arrived: Lion, his big butt girlfriend Twana, Amanda and Ferbie. Neither of the giggly twats were welcome.
    The venue was on the rooftop of Viscas Hotel and was surprisingly ace for being planned in haste after the concert’s success. How they managed to get this many celebrities to fly in from wherever to SF on such short notice was beyond me. Unless this was covertly planned before, with optimistic hopes that the concert would be a success—another step to push the G2K girls higher in their fast climb to stardom. Their record label was real shrewd.
    As usual, we arrived late, so the party was pumping when we arrived. All-white decor, high-tables and cushy stools, illusory purple flames flickering in large clear vases, potted palm trees in corners, purple cushions and purple psychedelic lights glowed on everyone. Lots of chattering, congratulations and it’s-good-to-see-you’s behind fake smiles, the usual.
    For this event, I got dressed in skin-tight high-waist black jeans, a black bustier bra cropped just below my C-cups to show off my ‘ Fuck D’ Werl ’ tattoo on my left side, a studded black leather jacket, and black thigh highs—yes, heels . Ugh. Six goddamn inches, too. Curse my stylist.
    My hair, of course, was its usual mess of wild raven curls.
    Tired of smiling and engaging in meaningless conversation with people fawning over my accent, or how “rad” and “badass” my outfit was, or how much they liked my hair, blah blah blah, I left Lion in the midst of the all the mindless blabbering and found myself an empty table and a stool.
    Hating these pretensions as much as I did, Amanda was there with me in the next minute, plopping down on a stool, sipping a Nuvo straight from the bottle as I was. Ferbie had disappeared somewhere, but I knew he was safe here.
    Even though we were in this lifestyle, we weren’t exactly of it.
    We were more laid back people who’d rather get loose with a handful of people we knew and were comfortable with, preferably within the confinements of our home. I attended red carpet events because I had to. But parties, such as this one, usually took a lot of convincing on my manager’s part.
    “Ugh. Lawd,” I grunted when I spotted Tiara making a beeline to our table.
    Tiara Minott—nigh six feet tall in heels. Long, platinum-blonde hair with not a strand out of place. Big, bright blue eyes, and an impeccably white, L.A. girl smile.
    In a sparkly silver dress that stopped mid-thighs, showing off her toned, tanned long legs, she was stunning. I used to love how impeccable she was, and I never went without complimenting her. Now, I wouldn’t, because she’d given me reason envy to her.
    She had what I wanted. Craved.
    Laughing into her drink, Amanda mumbled, “What did the poor girl do to you? Except sleep with a man who’s not, I repeat , not into you? Don’t be mean to her, Kia. Tiara adores you.”
    “Blah.”
    Tiara approached with her blinding smile. “Saskia, you came!”
    My manager forced me . “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Tiara. I heard the concert was a bang, yeah? Congrats!”
    She swung her arms around me and hugged me tight. “Awe, thanks. Never in a million years… It feels so good to be this high.”
    Don’t flatter yourself, it was only a concert. The real, stressing work is yet to begin. “I know right? You girls are fucking incandescent. No worries, it only gets better, trust me.”
    She pulled from the embrace, grinned at me then drew me in for another tight hug. “I so totally adore you. You’re awesome, Saskia.”
    Amanda cleared her throat, and I knew she was laughing at my expense, but Tiara took it differently, thinking Amanda felt neglected.
    Turning to her, Tiara gave her a hug, too. “Amanda, I’m so