As I walk out and get into the car, I smile. In a world that can be cold and selfish, it feels good to know I have people who love me so deeply.
Hey mi love yuh too,my subconscious pipes up.
As you should. Self-love stays mandatory.
“Mi soon come back,” I say to Mama before calling Suzanne.
“Zara, you lef out yet?” she shouts over loud music.
“You reach already?”
“Yes! Mi call you couple times—”
“Eeeh? Mi never hear the calls.”
Muss when you a bathe.
“Mi send you the location,” she says. I nod and hang up.
It only takes about fifteen minutes to get there. Once I park, I call her and she meets me outside, grinning. “Yes, the nice gyal reach,” she teases.
I step out of the car. I’m wearing a white strapless ruched mini-dress that hugs every curve. My bump is subtle, but myglow? Unmatched. I pair it with my bridgets, a blush-pink mini bag, and light makeup. Hair in a center part, soft natural curls down my back. My skin’s dewy, lips glossed.
We head upstairs, and I can already tell the vibe is different. The men near the entrance move like they’re not just here to party. Their posture, the way they scan the space, yeah. Bad man. Reminds me of Nickoi’s crew from the underground. When we reach the rooftop, people are already floating even though the event just started and it’s not quite dark yet. I glance at my wrist, checking the time on my Patek Philippe. That’s when I notice a man watching me, eyes wide with surprise. I look away immediately.
“It’s just 6:30,” I mutter, brushing it off. But something tells me… this night about to unfold in ways I didn’t expect.
The party is in full swing, blue and violet hues bathing the marble, basslines rolling underfoot, and the air thick with smoke and sweat. I’m perched on the edge of a cream lounge seat beside Suzanne and her friend Cas, trying to stay invisible. The ice in my cranberry juice melts slow, glass sweating in my hand. My Patek Philippe catches the light making me regret wearing it. Suzanne and Cas clink glasses again, Henny and wine. Me? No thanks. Cranberry is all fine for me. This baby already mek mi sleepy.
Then Suzanne stills. “Wait… A Lennox that?” she mutters.
Cas leans forward. “The one dem seh always a pree the block. Golf man dem.”
Suzanne nudges my side, whispering . “Zara, nuh mek him know say yuh deh wid Nickoi. Please.”
I don’t even get to ask why before I feel it. Heat on my skin. Eyes on my body.
So a this a the reason why she look weh? Why she scare me and just expect me fi know how fi behave?
“Muma.” I look up.
He’s standing three feet away. Hoodie shadowing his face. Grey True Religion, jeans low, Clarks clean like dem fresh outta box. He doesn’t smile. Just stares, long and lazy, like I’m already his. Ew.
“Mi can talk to you, muma?” he says and my heart dips. Mi nuh wah talk to you sir.
“Why?” I ask flatly. He smirks and puts a liquor on my Cabanna. Fi come kill off mi baby?
“So mi cya talk to yuh?”
“Talk to me right here so,” I say, tone even.
He sighs like I’m difficult, steps closer, and leans down to my ear. I don’t move. Don’t flinch. But my skin crawls. “Mi aguh want you,” he murmurs.
It don’t sound like desire. He whispers and I don’t know why but it isn’t pleasing to the ears like it is when Nickoi says it.Cause Nickoi a just the man!
“I… have someone.”
His breath brushes my neck. “Mi nuh care. Call him. Tell him Lennox want yuh.” I sit perfectly still. “Muma?” I roll my eyes. Reflex. He sees it. His face hardens.
