In The Mist Of It All

Rhianna rummaged through her walk-in closet, running her fingers over the rows of carefully curated outfits hanging neatly in color-coordinated sections. The space was her personal oasis-soft recessed lighting illuminated the shelves lined with designer handbags, while a glass display in the center showcased her collection of heels, each pair a testament to her love for fashion. A full-length mirror stood against the far wall, reflecting the image of a woman who had worked hard for everything she owned.

Being a successful radio personality had its perks. Her smooth, sultry voice filled the airwaves every morning, waking up thousands of listeners who tuned in for her sharp wit, engaging interviews and unfiltered take on trending topics. It wasn't just a job-it was her passion. And it paid well enough for her to afford the sleek high-rise condo with a stunning city view, the luxury car parked in her garage and of course, the endless wardrobe choices that now lay before her.

Tonight, she wanted something that struck the perfect balance between effortless and alluring. Something that made a statement without trying too hard. As she pulled out a silky white blouse and a pair of curve-hugging jeans, she smiled. She knew that the moment she walked into the bar with her friends, heads would turn. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy the process-the thrill of choosing the perfect outfit, the anticipation of the night ahead, and maybe, just maybe, the possibility of something unexpected happening.

She stood in front of her mirror, turning slightly to admire how her dark, high-waisted jeans hugged her curves in all the right places. Paired with a silky white blouse that cinched perfectly at her waist and dipped just enough at the neckline, she felt effortlessly sexy-stylish without trying too hard. She slipped on a pair of sleek black heels, added a touch of gold jewelry, and gave herself a final once-over.

"Damn, girl," Toni whistled, stepping back to take in the full effect. She and Larsa was dressed just as fly as she. "You're about to cause some trouble tonight!"

Larsa grinned, "That top was made for you! You look expensive."

Rhianna laughed grabbing her clutch, "Let's just hope the drinks match the look".

By the time they arrived at the bar, the atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation. The crowd was a mix of well-dressed professionals and the usual younger scene that showed up once the night got going. As they stepped inside, heads turned. Rhianna could feel the weight of lingering glances, the subtle nudges between men as they whispered and watched. Confidence surged through her and her friends. It was nice to be noticed. They made their way to their usual table near the stage, where the band was setting up. Before they could even order drinks, the first round arrived-courtesy of the table across the room from them.

Larsa smirked, lifting her glass in the direction of the admirers. "Well, that didn't take long," after returning her drink for a non-alcoholic one. Minutes later, another set of cocktail appeared, this time from a different corner of the bar. A well-dressed man at the counter raised his glass in their direction, flashing an easy smile.

"I swear, we should start keeping score," Toni joked, swirling the olive in her martini. "Men in suits: one. Group of athletes over there: two. Who's next?"

Rhianna chuckled, sipping on her whiskey sour. The smooth burn of the liquor settled warmly in her chest, mixing with the thrill of the attention. But even with all the suitors vying for their time, her gaze kept drifting back to the stage-back to the keyboard player.

He was adjusting his mic, fingers grazing the keys in a lazy melody as he waited for the set to start. And them, just as she took another sip of her drink, he looked up. Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, the noise around her faded.

Another round of drinks landed on the table but this time Rhianna barely noticed. Toni and Larsa noticed the eye match that Rhianna and the mystery keyboard player was playing. They had bugged her about it all week, insisting that the tall bald, milk chocolate brother behind the keyboards was obviously into her.

"He's always singing directly to you," Toni teased.

"And did you remember how he smiled at her when he was singing Nice and Slow the last time we came? He was really into it," Larsa added, sipping her non-alcoholic beverage.

Rhianna rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile forming on her lips. "You guys are reading too much into it. He's just friendly!"

"Girl, please," Toni scoffed. "Tonight, if he looks at you like that again, you better acknowledge it."

"Or at least flirt back," Larsa chimed in. "We're tired of doing all the work for you."

Laughing, Rhianna thought that maybe tonight would be different. Maybe she'd finally let herself see what her friends had been talking about.

The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the bar, accentuating the rich mahogany counters and the exposed brick walls adorned with vintage posters of legendary musicians. The air was thick with the mingling scents of whiskey, citrus and a hint of old wood, familiar aroma that felt like home to the regulars. Plush leather booths lined the walls, while the center of the room was dominated by a dance floor that seemed to pulse with its own energy. At the far end, a small but well-lit stage held the heart of the night-the live band, tuning their instruments and preparing to unleash a sound that would bring the entire bar to life.

As the band struck the first few notes of a classic Go-Go beat, the energy in the room shifted instantly. It was a sound that belonged to D.C.-an unmistakable rhythm that made standing still impossible. The congas rolled, the cowbells clapped and the heavy bassline vibrated through the club. The crowd erupted in cheers, and just like that, the dance floor transformed into a sea of movement.

Rhianna and her friends didn't hesitate. They made their way into the center of the floor, letting the music take over. Go-Go wasn't just something you listened to-it was something you felt. The call-and-response chants, the relentless percussion, the way the beat refused to let up-it was electric. For the next hour, they danced without a care, moving the fluid, rhythmic steps that had been ingrained in them since childhood.

Around them, suitors lingered, waiting for their moment to step in. Some joined in naturally, grooving along with the ladies, while others made playful attempts to steal a dance. A man in a sharp blazer spun Toni around before seamlessly shifting to Larsa. Another, tall and confident, matched Rhianna's movements for a few beats before grinning and stepping back, allowing the next contender his shot. The floor was alive, bodies swaying, hands in the air, feet never missing a beat. The band fed off the crowd's energy, extending the song longer than usual, because that's how Go-Go worked-the people dictated the rhythm, and tonight, no one was ready to stop.

Breathless but exhilarated, Rhianna laughed as she twirled back towards her friends. Sweat glistened on their skin, but no one cared. The night was still young, and with the way things were going, it was bound to get even better.

When the band slowed it down, the girls went back to their table to rest after dancing. The waitress came to their table with drinks and she placed them on the table nodding to the table across from them. They accepted the drinks.

"Oh, girl the keyboard player is checking you out again," Toni whispered.

And this time, she looked back. Rhianna still could not tell if this man was looking at her of if he was flashing that beautiful smile at someone behind her. She looked behind her to see if he could possibly be smiling at someone else but there was no one behind her. She suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach, something she had not felt since she was a teenager.

"Are you looking for someone?" Larsa asked Rhianna teasingly.

"Girl you crazy!" Rhianna laughed nervously. She took a slow sip of her whisky sour, letting the cool, citrusy liquid roll over her tongue before swallowing. The warmth of the whiskey spread down her throat and settled in her chest, a soothing contrast to the crisp chill of the ice in her glass. She sighed, enjoying the way the alcohol dulled the edges of her thoughts, allowing her to sink into the moment. She had promised herself that she would remain single for some time. No complications. No emotional entanglements. Not after what happened the last time.

It had been months since Jordan came back into her life-a high school boyfriend turned weekend whirlwind romance. He had called suddenly, all charm and familiarity, sweeping her up in nostalgia and making her believe, just for a moment, that their connection had been something worth rekindling. She had not known how Jordan Simms got her number but if she had to guess she would say that he had sweet talked her Mother into giving him her number. Her mother always thought that she and Jordan belonged together.

He had called her out of her sleep one Saturday morning, his voice waking something up in her that she had totally forgotten about. The first thing she said was, "Who is this?" as if she did not know.

They talked on the phone for hours, rekindling old times. The next thing she knew he was in the parking lot of her condo and she was in his arms kissing him like it was yesterday. They had never been intimate with one another when they were younger, other than he feeling all over her body and touching her in places that she never knew could make her feel so good. And now after seeing him after almost ten years, Jordan Simms made love to her like no man ever had. It was a wonderful weekend of getting reacquainted and making love. Rhianna was elated. But Jordan left Monday morning and she was not so elated. They had talked on the phone two or three times but then Jordan went ghost. She stopped calling after several attempts to reach him. It has been a year and a half now. At first she was hurt. Then she was furious. Then exhausted.

And now?

Now she was sure. The anger had faded, but a dull ache remained-a ghost of something unresolved. She took another sip of her drink, pushing those thoughts aside. She was here to have a good time. To laugh with Toni and Larsa, to enjoy the music, to lose herself in the energy of the night.

As if on cue, the band stopped playing for a ten minute break. She glanced over at the keyboard player whom was lightly playing a tune. When he looked up, his dark eyes found hers, holding her gaze for just a second too long. A small, knowing smile played on his lips. Was she imagining things or was that smile just for her?

Rhianna felt the familiar tug of intrigue, the whisper of possibility. Maybe tonight wasn't just about drinks and music. Maybe, just maybe, something else was waiting to unfold. She headed towards the restroom feeling the butterflies in her stomach again.

The restroom was a brief sanctuary from the intensity of the night. The cool air inside contrasted with the heat of the dance floor and Rhianna took a moment to collect herself, dabbing away the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. In the mirror, her reflection stared back-eyes bright, lips curled into the remnants of a smile.

Back at their table, Larsa and Toni were fully engaged in conversation with the latest round of admirers. Rhianna didn't mind; she needed a moment to breathe. But as she adjusted her blouse and smoothed her jeans, a different thought crept in -the keyboard player was no longer on stage. The band had finished their set and now the music was coming from the bar's old-school jukebox in the corner, glowing neon in shades of red and blue. Would he approach her? Should she approach him? The thoughts made her stomach twist, a flicker of nerves she wasn't used to feeling. She had no trouble brushing off men who threw free drinks and smooth lines her way. But the keyboard player held her interest now. And she was a bit nervous. Shaking off the nerves, she pushed the restroom door open and stepped back into the bar. The energy had shifted again-without the band, the dance floor had thinned slightly, but the jukebox had picked up the slack, playing a sultry old-school R&B track. Couples swayed in dim lighting, the hum of conversation filling the spaces between the bassline.

She weaved through the crowd, her eyes flickering to the stage, but the man she wanted to see was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe he wasn't watching her as her friends had declared. Maybe-

Suddenly she felt a warm hand slip into hers. Rhianna barely had time to react before she felt the heat of someone close behind her, a deep, smooth voice whispering into her ear, "hey girl what's your name?"

A slow shiver traced its way down her spine as she turned, and suddenly, the room seemed to fade in the background. All the noise, the music, the crowd-it all dulled as her eyes met his.

"Rhianna," she whispered. "What's yours?"

"Ahmad".

His name left his lips in a way that felt like a quiet confession, like he was offering her something more than just an introduction. For a second, it was just them-standing in the middle of a crowded bar, but somehow alone in their own little world. The way he said it-low, deliberate, with a subtle undertone of intrigue-made her chest tighten. For a second, it was just them. The bar, the crowd, the distant hum of conversation-all of it faded into the periphery. The only thing that mattered was the warmth of his hand still wrapped around hers and the way his dark eyes held her in place, as if he had been waiting for this moment all night.

Rhianna wasn't sure if it was the whiskey in her system or the magnetic pull of his presence, but she suddenly forgot the usual defenses she kept in place. The ones that had shielded her from wasted time and broken promises. Right now, she wasn't thinking about Jordan, about past mistakes or about the silent vow she had made to stay unattached.

"Rhianna," he said repeating her name.

A slow smile spread across Ahmad's lips, as if her name tasted just as good in his mouth as his had in hers. His grip on her hand tightened briefly before he let his thumb graze the back of it-a touch so subtle yet so electric it sent warmth rippling up her arm.

"Do you slow dance as good as you look?" he asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Rhianna smirked, tilting her head. "You tell me."

Ahmad chuckled, stepping a little closer, and just like that, the room came back into focus. The jukebox switched to another classic, Play Another Slow Jam by Midnight Star -a slow steady groove that seemed to wrap around them like a promise.

And as he swayed on the dance floor with her now in his arms, Rhianna had the strangest feeling that tonight was about to take a turn she hadn't seen coming.