The Choir Director 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

they’d recently been featured in both Vibe and XXL magazines as one of the hottest dance clubs in the country.
    It looked like the club was going to live up to its reputation when we showed up and saw that the line to get in was snaked around the block. Kenya seemed to know everybody, and judging by the fact that no one complained when she grabbed my wrist and led me straight to the front of the line, they all knew her too.
    “Kenya, how’s it going?” the doorman, a big bruiser of a white guy, asked as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. My girl Kenya has this petite body and these big huge tits that seem to drive white guys crazy.
    “Much better, Paulie, now that I’ve seen you,” Kenya flirted.
    “Who’s your friend? I thought you rolled solo.” He gave me the once-over but didn’t seem impressed. I have a dynamite ass, but I’m lacking in the breast department.
    “I usually do, but this is my girl, Tia. She just broke up with her man. We’re celebrating the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. I’m about to get her drunk and laid.”
    I joined in with her laughter, although I was only agreeing to the getting drunk part. The getting laid part I wasn’t so sure about. Kenya was the slut, not me, which was why my ex had always made it his business to keep us apart.
    “Well, you brought her to the right place to do it.” His eyes were feasting on Kenya’s cleavage as he opened the rope and allowed us to enter the club. “Hey, Kenya, save me a dance, will you?”
    She turned around and smiled. “I’ll save you more than that if that girlfriend of yours isn’t around tonight to block it.”
    There was no doubt in my mind that she was serious. If she had a chance, she’d be screwing that white boy later that night.
    “She’s here. I’ll take a rain check on that and settle for a dance,” he said with a wink.
    Kenya squeezed my hand and led me into the crowded club, which was already jumping. I had to stop myself from displaying a wide-eyed, gaping-mouth expression, because I’d never been to a club like this. There were raised platforms with half-naked dancers simulating sex acts. On the dance floor, hot, sweaty bodies were pressed up against each other, grinding to the beat as the DJ served it up.
    We got lucky and found seats at one of the bars when a couple got up to dance. Five minutes later, Kenya was on the dance floor with some guy she’d obviously been screwing, and I was left sitting there by myself, nursing my drink. Justin Timberlake’s “Suit & Tie” hit the turntable, and I felt my body swaying to the beat when I noticed a really hot white guy leaning against a pole, giving me the eye. He wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was looking, either. I gave him a smile when our eyes met then turned away to order a drink. Before I could get the bartender’s attention he had slipped into Kenya’s seat.
    “I’m sorry, but that’s my friend’s seat,” I shouted over the music.
    “Your boyfriend?” he shouted back, looking disappointed.
    I shook my head, pointing at Kenya on the dance floor. “No, my friend!”
    “It’s okay. I’ll keep it safe until she gets back. Can I buy you a drink?” He flashed a flawless smile at me. I wanted to say no, but I had to admit he was easy on the eyes and, well, one glance at Kenya told me that she had no plans of coming back to her seat anytime soon.
    “Sure. You can buy me a drink.” I tried to play it cool, but inside I was nervous as hell. After all, less than twenty-four hours ago I wasn’t even single.
    Now, normally white boys weren’t on my radar, but this one was all kinds of fine: green eyes, dark hair, and a body his tailored shirt couldn’t hide. Besides, maybe after what had happened this afternoon with my ex it was time for a change. “I’ll have an appletini.”
    “Appletini it is.” He moved in closer so he wouldn’t have to shout. “My name’s Michael.”
    My first thought was to give him a fake