“No,” he smirks. “We not playing no Q and A. We jus’ a get fi know each other.”
I look away, hiding my smile as it tugs at my lips. “No sah, okay. So we just a talk now. No Q and A to yuh thing.”
He nods once, giving me that lowkey grin that always messes with my chest.
The road narrows as we drive deeper into the hills, winding between tall trees and gated properties that start to feel more and more spaced out.
“Who live so far up in the hills by demself? No neighbors? No noise? Not even a dog inna the road?” I mumble, peering out the window.
Nickoi says nothing. Just eases off the gas and rolls the Benz up to a large wrought-iron gate. It opens before we even reach it, like we were expected. The car glides up a stone-paved driveway, curving around a circular fountain lit from beneath.The mansion is massive, regal but understated. Like old money. Nickoi pulls to a smooth stop, and my mouth parts slightly as a stout older man steps out onto the veranda like he owns the entire estate.
He’s in a crisp, short-sleeved button-down, brown linen shorts, and leather slides. His Cuban links rest heavy around his neck like they were poured in gold. On his wrist sits a Richard Mille watch, gleaming beneath the dusk light like it’s doing more than just telling time.
This man isn’t trying to look rich. He is rich. This is what they mean when they say ‘Rich as Gates.’
He looks around Mama’s age, seventies maybe but moves with a certain confidence. Like he’s still in charge of whatever operation he used to run. Two men trail behind him in silence. He’s puffing on a thick cigar, the smoke curling above him like incense. Before he gets too close, he dabs the cigar out on a stone ashtray by the pillar.
When he gets to the car, Nickoi winds the window down, and the old man grins wide, gold grills flashing. “Ol’ drug dealer,” Nickoi mutters under his breath with a smirk.
“Wah gwan, mi son?” the man greets, voice raspy but rich, as he claps Nickoi on the shoulder.
Then his eyes shift to me. “Good evening to you, Zara,” he says smoothly, holding out his hand.
I blink, surprised, before slipping my hand into his. He shakes it gently, like a gentleman, not a gangster. I smile.
So Nickoi out here talking about me? How cute.
“Hello, sir,” I greet, unsure who he is or what his connection to Nickoi is.
He grins, eyes still sharp despite his age. “I’m Nature. Nick look up to me like mi a him old man ‘cause his real father woulda look up to me as his old man. Him fadda was into the business, yuh must know, but Long Live Owayne. Real killer. Real legend,”he trails off, his voice dropping low with respect as he unscrews a bottle of Belaire and starts splashing it on the asphalt.
Raaatid! Isn’t this what you call wealth? Pouring champagne like it’s water?
I glance at Nickoi, and for a split second, I catch a flicker of something, grief maybe. But just as quick, it’s gone. The mask slips back on.
“Him a gwaan wul off the thug mansion mi fadda,” Nickoi says quietly to Nature, his voice dipped in respect.
“Word, word,” Nature nods, then looks past us.
A brown-skinned girl walks out of the mansion like she stepped straight out of a music video, waist snatched, hips swinging, skin gleaming in the sunlight, and only a bikini on.Woiie. She smiles sweetly at Nature, then hands him a small suede box with both hands like it’s fragile.
“Thanks, princess.” He turns and looks directly at me before placing the box in my hands. It’s heavier than it looks.
Then he starts again, eyes still on me but speaking like I’m not even standing there.
“Yuh see this bwoy?” He gestures to Nickoi. “Him neva love a soul yet. Not a soul. But him come to mi, bold as ever, talkin’ ‘bout this girl name Zara. Seh him finally find somebody weh mek himfeelagain.”
My heart lurches. Nickoi shifts beside me, smiling a little, bashful in a way I don’t often get to see.
Nature continues, still pacing, voice soaked in conviction. “Mi never even wait fi him done explain, yuh sih. Cause from him open him mouth and start describe how yuh mek him feel… mi know. Mi know seh yuh done mash up the brick weh round him heart and tek it fi yuhself.”
I press my lips together, trying not to smile too wide. But damn it… I’m blushing.
“And mi seh to him,” Nature laughs, “Mi seh youth, yuh find har enuh cause a so mi and him chat and mi ask him seh yuh love har and him tek forever fi answer enuh until him seh yes.” He pauses dramatically, then nods. “But when him seh yes… mi seh to him, nutt’n nuh wrong wid dat. Cause every thug need love too.”
He chuckles deep in his chest. “And from di minute him seh him ready fi do di tradition, mi know right den and there seh a you a go be him wife.”
My breath stills. Did he just say wife?
