Wait… Sash was friends with Anna? No sah.
“Mi get wah yuh a say, but still… him nuh think bout har when Sash a come on to him? Would you do the same thing?”
“Mi woulda never,” he says firmly.
“Okay. Mi just feel some typa way.”
He explains. “Zara, believe it or not… sometimes man a mess ‘round, but it nuh mean him nuh love him woman. A just the way we grow. Mi used to deh inna mi player phase. Gutta still inna fi him… but me? Since mi get you, mi nuh want nobody else. Even when we leff, mi still neva find nobody interesting. A just you mi pree, but a nuh any woman can get we out of the phase.” That makes me smile.
“So Anna a him girlfriend?”
He pulls into the shop’s plaza and my mind drifts back to the fight. “A yasso Talia and har friend dem gang mi,” I say, watching his jaw clench.
“Babe… don’t get upset.” I have to say. He’s silent, focused. I reach out again. “And I trust you, okay? Mi just fass. Mi shouldn’t have gone inna yuh phone. I’m sorry.”
“That good, mami,” he says, softening. I peck his lips once, then twice.
“You have enough money?” he asks.
“Yeah mi good,” I nod.
“So wah yuh a go eat?” I hold up the snacks.
He bursts into laughter. “That a nuh nothing, mami, memba yuh a eat fi two.”
“If mi get hungry mi get patty,” I smile.
He nods. “Take care, and call mi when the hair almost done.” I nod again and hop out the car. He honks and drives away. I make my way up the stairs, only to groan when I hear a familiar voice. Not him again.
“Watch mi wife,” the man slurs, stumbling toward me.Jesus Christ.
“Good day,” I grin politely, stepping past him.
Inside, Clova’s munching on her lunch. “Wah gwaan Zara?” she asks, mouth full of chicken.
“Just a wonder how mi a go get mi hair done,” I smile, settling into the chair.
“You always a gwaan like yuh wah egnore mi,” the drunk man mumbles, still lingering.
Clova and Marie laugh. “Wah the word yuh just use, Piro?” Marie cackles.
He just grins. “Unuh gwaan yaw.” He leans on the door.
“Yuh cya stay deh so, Piro… somebody might open it and lick yuh,” Clova warns.
“Mek dem lick mi den,” he shrugs.
Then eventually, we decide on a curly style. Clova starts on my hair, and as we chat about literally anything, my eyes starts getting heavy.
A few minutes pass. I hear laughter. “Dem feel mi ramp!” Piro shouts from outside, and I stir awake to see a woman now sitting near my bag.
“Hey, you can pass mi cushion please?” I ask. She hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say, curling into the chair and just like that… I’m out again.
***
Thursday
