Hey, y’all! I’m still finishing up issue #4, so here’s another teaser for those of you who are interested. This is section three of what will be a six-section issue.
Straps & the City is an ongoing Black sapphic fiction about four Detroit-based women navigating life, love, and friendship.
Previously: After a disturbing dream about Jazz, some ‘sisterly love’, and one glass of red wine too many, Cassidy is forced to reconsider how she balances career with love life. It’s giving 3 a.m. life rebrand with a side of rash decisions.
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The club exploded into a frenzy of excitement as the DJ spun a classic Detroit ghetto tech track by DJ Assault.
There was everyone from seasoned OG’s cooling by the bar to wide-eyed baby gays looking on in awe as a high-energy jit battle unfolded—the community was showing up and showing out.
The intersection where Black queer culture met Detroit’s club scene was truly a sight to behold.
Pride swelled in Bailey’s chest as she took it all in. She’d never been prouder to be born and raised in the city.
This wasn’t just hitting the club after ending a long relationship. It was a homecoming.
I need to start making more time for stuff like this.
The scent of sweat, black and milds, and questionable decisions wrapped around her as she walked up to the bar with Jazz and Bria. She smiled to herself as she watched her friends try to communicate over the loud music.
Bria pointed towards the stage enthusiastically, to which Jazz returned a slow, confused nod.
A bump from behind redirected Bailey’s attention.
“My bad, sweetheart,” a stud rocking a low taper fade flashed a smile. Her hands cradled Bailey’s hips like they belonged there.
“I’m just tryna squeeze by you.”
When she turned her head to see who was being so bold, an involuntary grin crept up. She wasn’t usually a fan of random people getting too familiar, but this girl was fine as hell.
“That’s alright.”
Bailey’s eyes lingered at her mouth for a couple of beats before she managed to tear them away.
The stud licked her lips and gave a slick smile as she continued to push past.
I’m not ok with how easily I would’ve folded for her.
She turned back and saw that Bria was gone, leaving a mopey Jazz sitting alone at the bar’s edge.
Walking over to the seat next to her, she sat down and crossed her legs at the ankle.
“Bria dipped,” Jazz smirked, arms folded across her chest. “I think she said somethin’ about seein’ her future baby mama?”
Bailey rolled her eyes.
Typical Bria.
“Ok. So, you ready to tell me what’s wrong then?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
She had no qualms about cornering Jazz if it meant finally getting the truth out.
When she and Bria came to her house for pre-gaming earlier, something was clearly off with her. But, just like Cassidy, she remained tight-lipped when questioned about it.
This coy little game they were playing was becoming increasingly frustrating.
Jazz stared back at Bailey with tired eyes.
She didn’t look sleep-deprived, though—more like she needed to let go of something she’d been holding on to for too long.
Bailey paused, giving her the space to find her words.
“I just miss her, man,” Jazz muttered softly. Her eyes darted away as she fidgeted with the clasp of her watch.
See, now we’re getting somewhere. All it took was a little coaxing.
“I’m sure she misses you too, Jazz,” she rubbed her back soothingly.
Bailey’s warm, quiet tone came naturally.
Despite being the youngest by six months, she was the unofficial mom of the group, a role she took pride in.
“I just feel like I fucked everything up,” Jazz continued. “And now shit can’t ever go back to how it was.”
Bailey felt bad for her and Cassidy.
They had crossed the forbidden line—the one separating friend from lover.
Now, they were dealing with the messy consequences.
“Everything’s not fucked up,” she replied tenderly. “I’m sure y’all can figure out a way to fix this. You just need a little time and communication.”
Jazz’s eyebrows knitted together as she stared blankly ahead.
“But I was supposed to be his friend, Bay,” she shook her head defeatedly. “Cassidy was right. I fucked his girl behind his back. Ain’t no fixin’ that.”
Wait, this is about Destiny? Aw, hell.
A quick pep talk after making the mistake of fucking a friend, Bailey could do. But, making Jazz feel better about backstabbing Tim?
She needed to call in reinforcements for that one.
“You need a drink,” was all she could muster before shooting up from her seat. “I’ll be right back.”
She carried her legs to the bartender as quickly as the five-inch heel on her thigh-high boots would allow and ordered one of Jazz’s go-tos.
“Can I get a Casamigos straight?” she asked the curly-haired woman behind the bar.
Her lime green stiletto nails appeared fluorescent under the club’s lighting as she grabbed a glass from underneath the counter.
“Put that on my tab, Toya,” came a voice from behind.
The bartender nodded in acknowledgment as she poured the drink.
Bailey’s eyes narrowed.
Damn, they applyin’ pressure in here tonight, ain’t they?
She did an about-face and locked with a set of brown eyes that harbored a hint of trouble, not behind them, but on full display.
“Wassup, my baby?”
Her accent was heavy and deliciously hood, as the words rolled coquettishly off her tongue.
“I’m Kash.”
Kash was too damn sexy, and she was definitely aware of that fact.
She wore white buffs and a Detroit Tigers cap over locs that were pulled back into a low bun.
Laid back with just enough showiness to suggest she had motion.
Everything about her screamed ‘I’ll fuck you like we’re in love and then act like all we did was shake hands afterward.’
If she was a pretty flame, then Bailey was the curious toddler about to reach her hand out to touch it.
“Hey, Kash,” she managed to spit out. “I could’ve gotten that myself, you know.”
The open back of Bailey’s skin-tight, long-sleeved mini dress was doing very little in the way of ventilation. She was itching to tug at the neckline and let some of her trapped body heat out.
“Oh, no doubt,” Kash nodded, grabbing the drink from behind Bailey and placing it in her hand. “But, you too fine to be spendin’ your own money. Simple.”
Bailey flushed.
“Well, thank you,” her eyes flitted to Jazz like she was looking for an out. “This is actually for my friend over there, so I should be getting back.”
Recognition etched Kash’s face when she looked in the direction Bailey was pointing.
“Aw, shit. Jazz?” she quirked a smile. “That’s my nigga. I might as well come say hi. Wouldn’t wanna be rude or nothin’.”
She held out an arm for Bailey to hold on to.
“Shall we?”
The pair walked over to Jazz together—Bailey trying to act like she’d been outside before, and Kash playfully eyeing her the whole way.
Jazz’s somber demeanor faded when they approached.
“Kash?” She smiled broadly as she stood to greet her. “It’s been a cool little minute. What you been on?”
“Shit, nothin’ much,” Kash grinned back. “Just tryna convince your fine ass friend here to dance wit’ me.”
Bailey’s jaw dropped briefly, but she picked it back up before anyone noticed.
“Is that right?” Jazz glanced at Bailey with a slightly raised brow.
“Well, don’t let me get in the way,” she said, gesturing to the dance floor with her glass. “Y’all go have fun.”
Bailey’s eyes widened.
Girl, not you throwin’ me to the fuckin’ wolves.
“Are you sure?” Her tone was uneasy. “You don’t wanna finish what we were talkin’ about?”
Jazz touched her arm.
“Bay.”
It was partly an order and partly reassurance.
Bailey nodded in understanding.
“Ok,” she half whispered.
Kash took Bailey by the hand and tugged.
“She’s in good hands, bro,” she shot over her shoulder as she led her to the dance floor.
Bailey looked back at Jazz apprehensively as she took slow, measured steps.
“Try to have fun,” she mouthed before disappearing into the crowd.
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