Chapter Four
NAOMI
“You know what I love most about you?” Mac asks, sitting on her desk, her legs swinging back and forth.
“That I know over two hundred ways to kill a man.”
“Only two hundred? Nomi, don’t disappoint me.” She still calls me by the same nickname as she did when we were little kids. I both love and hate it.
“I’m sure I could come up with a strange one, like putting someone’s head in a box with hungry rats.” Mac blinks at me a few times. I don’t even understand why I seem to think differently than other people. The word “strange” is always hanging over my head.
“How do you come up with this shit?”
“I think of what would freak me out.”
“Then why didn’t you say a box of?—”
“Don’t.” I cringe. I don’t even care for the S word. I have the biggest irrational fear of spiders. It is a phobia I cannot overcome. “I don’t care for where this conversation has gone.”
“You made it weird first.” I just keep shaking my head no. “Okay, I was going to say that I love how predictable you can often be with things, but just as predictable as you can be, youwill sideline me with the most unpredictable things. Like right now.”
“I’m a young, single girl. I am not sure why you find this off.” This is what most females my age would be doing.
“I didn’t say it was off. The rat comment is a little out there, but I expect nothing less. So?” she asks, wanting to know why I want to do this at all.
“Well, for one, I haven’t gone out dressed up yet.” A while back, I thought I should up my skill sets. Getting in and out of places is often easier when a woman is all dolled up. Men think with their dicks, while I think of ways to use that against them.
I see the way men look at Bonte. She’s not the classic pretty that society sells you. I’d call her more seductive. Now Mac, Aunt Cosima, and her daughter Nix are what I’d call gorgeous in that classic sense.
“You have gotten good in heels.” Bonte taught me. I didn’t tell anyone, but when I put them on, I did get this sense of power, and for once, I felt feminine and pretty. “But there is more; hit me with it.”
“The wink.”
“I say we just cut those eyes out, and we’ll be done with all this.” Mac leans back on her hands to support her, still swinging her legs back and forth.
“I don’t want to cut his eyes out or kill him.” Mac’s brows rise. “Yet.” She smirks.
“He’s piqued your interest.” She nods and still smirks. “See, that math works in my head. When you get interested or caught up in something, it can consume you.”
“I can be obsessive. I’ll admit that.” I glance down, not wanting to admit the next part. “I want to see if I get hit on.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, I’m going to go and smile at people. Dance.” I nod adamantly, making me think I might be trying to convincemyself too that this is a good idea. “I might even wink.” I have no clue what I’m getting myself into, but I know I have to do this. I need to see and pay attention to how men react to me when I’m not glaring at them.
“You are a beautiful dancer.” I took ballet for many years. It teaches you to control every part of your body. You use muscles that you may not even realize exist until they start to ache the next morning. “With the dress you brought and heels, I can promise you that you will be.” Mac hops down. “But I know you, and you’ve got ideas floating around in that interesting head of yours. I can talk to you till I’m blue in the face, but you’ll want to see it for yourself.” I both love and hate that Mac knows me so well.
“So we’re going out?”
“Yes, we’re going out.” A thrill courses through me. “Let’s get ready.” Mac pulls me to her room at the warehouse. All of us that are adults have them here. I don’t crash here often, if ever.
I know people think I’m not a social person, but I find comfort in knowing people are around. Even if it’s my annoying brothers running up and down the hallways at home.
The first thing she does is free my hair from the tie I had it pulled back in. She grabs a water bottle and starts spraying my curls to bring them back to life. It doesn’t take much.
I let Mac do her thing. Nix loves to play with my hair and put makeup on me, but I swear when she’s done, I look like one of those beauty pageant girls. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just not my thing. Mac is more sensible with my makeup. I would never admit that to Nix because it would devastate her. See, I have empathy and compassion.
“Will you do those wing things on my eyes?”
