“Bwoy yuh unruly,” she says through a laugh, nudging me. I laugh too just as Junior approaches, telling me that something comes up and he has to leave. I make the call gesture.
“Just ring mi bird, badman.” He nods, walking off.
“Ring yuh what?” Zara laughs.
I smirk. “Wah dem give yuh fi drink,? Yuh laugh every second.”
“A yuh slang dem,” she chuckles. “Mi cya manage.” We settle down again and I watch her, her eyes dancing around the venue.
“You like it?” I ask. She turns to me, eyebrows scrunched like she vex. She grabs my chin, pecks my lips once, then again, smiling between kisses.
“It’s perfect.”
32
Bliss
“Look at this,” Uncle Orion says as he steps out of his house. We’d been on the phone for about ten minutes. He strolls over to the side and immediately, his Doberman runs up to him. He rubs the dog’s head. “Not your time, Gretel,” he says casually before walking past her. Gretel? Jah Jah. I chuckle to myself, then glance up when my office door opens. I quickly put out my weed and slide the tray aside. Zara walks in, holding the blue shoe British bought her. She exhales dramatically.
“Excuse me baby, but yuh think mi fi wear this?” she asks.
I nod. “Of course.”
“Alright,” she says, turning to leave.
“Zara,” I call out and she stops in the doorway.
“Yes, babe?”
“You done pack? Or yuh wah mi help?” I ask.
She smiles. “Mi done pack, babe…just the shoes lef fi organize,” she replies. We’re flying to Barbados tomorrow formy birthday, and she has been in the bedroom packing since morning. She walks out slowly, gently closing the door behind her, and I look back at the phone, just as Uncle Orion calls my name again. Jah… d’even member eh dawg.Yea man… cause Zara walk in?My subconscious tease.
“You a look?” he asks again. I hold up the phone and really look this time. My smile spreads when I see what he’s showing me, a sleek black Bentley, polished to perfection, catching the showroom lights.Jah Jah… early birthday gift mi G? Chubble!
“This madd,” I chuckle as Uncle Orion walks around the car. A clean, black Bentley Continental GT… low, sleek, like it just whispered out of a dream.
“This exactly one you wanted?” he asks, circling it with that smug uncle smile.
“Fa sure,” I nod, eyeing every curve. I do remember mentioning to him last year how much I rate the Continental. But how him know mi like the black one? Unless mi mouth slip and mi tell him say mi prefer the all-black over the two-tone. Either way… he got it spot on. Then again, everybody know seh mi rate anything black.
“Uncs, respect enuh,” I smirk. “Mi affi go buy yuh Rolls Royce.” He widens his eyes dramatically at the camera. Man too dramatic, mi cyaa tek him serious.
“You better!” he jokes, and I take a long pull from my Rémy Martin. I changed my drink, tomorrow a lone Hennessy.
“Mi a go dweet, and yuh know that.”
“You?” he scoffs. “A one a the meanest man mi ever know.” I burst out laughing. Man love run joke. Truth is, he knows damn well I’m not stingy. Never been short on cash either. If mi like yuh and you like sup’m, mi a get it.That’s just me.
“Nobody cyaa seh man stingy wid money enuh.”
“Mi know, mi bwoy. Mi just a mess wid yuh,” he laughs. Afi. ‘Cause one thing ’bout Nickoi? That nigga gon’ spend. “You been kind from yuh young, enuh,” he says and I laugh again.
“Believe,” I say, taking another sip of Rémy. “And how yuh mek eh thing look like man old so?”
He laughs. “Mi know it woulda ketch yuh. But twenty-five a young age, man.”
Then he adds. “Mi member when yuh used to spoil Erica daughter.”
