I sigh, grab my bag, and head back out.
“How it look now?” I ask, standing awkwardly in front of him. His warm chocolate eyes roam me. Nickoi and these annoying ways.
“Better,” he smirks.
“Okay.” I go over to my babies. Zahir’s reaching for a toy, Zahira’s swaying with her spoon.
“I love you. Be good.” I kiss them both and they giggle. Awww, look at my babies. I hate leaving them. From the corner of my eye, I catch Nickoi smiling, he’s my baby too.
“It’s 8:20,” he checks his Rolex. “Yuh late?”
“Not really.” I scroll through my phone. First class starts at 10. Technically, I’m late. Teachers should be there from 7:30, but let’s be honest, I barely make it.
“Mi have a 10 o’clock class. I should be at school early though,” I hiss. No idea what’s wrong with me. Even when I wake up early, I still end up late. Maybe it’s my talent.
“Aah… just don’t hurry,” he says, running his hand along my curve. “Mi love yuh, enuh. Mek sure yuh drive safe.”
I smile. My palm slides over his cheek and I stare into his eyes. There’s something in them I can’t describe. He bites his lip and squeezes my ass.“I love you too. An’ mi a go drive safe.”
“Wear yuh seatbelt,” the concern in his voice. Whew. That sound alone always warms me.
“Alright, Mami.”
“Later.” I wink. His face lights up. Lust gleams in his eyes. Did I just wake the devil in him? I drag my frenchies down his chest before walking off. He’s definitely mad I’m leaving him stirred up like this. I glance back, and nearly lose my breath. He’s staring at me like I’m a prey. I hop into my Benz, buckle up, start the engine, and head to work, smiling the whole damn way.
NICKOI
A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. That’s the best way I can explain Rick right now. He has a new girl, but the guilt is eating him alive. Every minute, he brought her up. The way she loved his son like her own. The way she listened to him. The way she made him feel seen, but the ghost of Gina still lingers in his chest. I sit there listening, blowing out smoke, nodding slowly. But the moment he starts getting angry, blaming himself saying. “Mi feel guilty… Mi know how this look” I lean forward and knock over the cup in front of me.
“Enough liquor, bro.”
This is not the place for this shit. We’re in the middle of a club, Tyga’s Rack City blasting, dim red lights, fog in the air from smoke machines, weed, and naked bitches, with oily skin and glitter between their thighs, swinging around poles, ass clapping, heels clicking, bills floating. One girl has these cherry-red braids down to her waist and gold rings on every finger. She bends over like rubber, tongue out.
Still, all I can think of is how broken Rick sounds.
“She makes me feel seen, bro. And she loves Aden. She’s everything I should want but… it feel like mi a replace Gina.” I tap my spliff out in the tray and look him straight in the eye.
“Yuh nah replace Gina. You’re still loving her. But you also have to live, Rick. She would a wah see yuh happy.”
He nods slowly, eyes glassy. Then his attention shifts to the strippers.“Keep an eye on him,” I say to Gutta as Anna jumps in the conversation, drunk as a bat.
“Mi wah keep a yacht party!” she shouts above the music. Everyone turns to her, still that’s not enough to her. She pouts, annoyed no one responded.
“When?” I ask, gripping the Don Julio bottle by the neck, taking the last shot. The burn kicks hard. The bwoy Gutta a force this pan everybody.
She smiles like she won. “We could do it anytime you’re available cause I know you’re always busy.”
“Just mek a date mon and we make it happ’n.”
“The real way,” Gutta chimes in. Strippers are back to their madness, twerking and doing splits, pouring liquor down each other’s backs. One approaches me. Pretty, smooth skin, full lips, ass round.
“Yuh want a lap dance, Prezi?” she asks, leaning down. She touches my chest, slow and soft. I look at her. She’s fine. Real fine. But she isn’t Zara. Not even close.
“Nah, mi Gov.” She smirks, disappointed, but walk away, frass too, feeling the blood flooding to my dick, my legs rocking as I reach for my pocket. No phone. Shit. I check the Crown, and spot the missed calls when I plug it in: all from Zara.
F—
I tell Gutta again, “Watch Rick” once more, then I left. When I got home, I unlock the front door and step into the warm light. The living room is quiet except for the low hum of the TV. Zara is curled up on the couch in one of my shirts, her legs pulled to her chest. Her eyes land on mine.
