“Oh. So, you’re like family, then,” Zoey added.
Najee shook his head. “Yeah, to Saleem.”
Cheyla chuckled and whispered under her breath, “Oop. I heard that.”
Shaking her head, Orielle filled the last spot in the back before Najee closed the door. He didn’t expect her to sit up front with him, but he wouldn’t have minded it. Whatever fruity perfume or body oil she had on smelled edible, and her distance had him hating the space between them.
“Can we have a peaceful ride home?” Orielle asked as Najee rounded the vehicle.
“Peaceful as in?” Cheyla asked, smirking. “That man said he ain’t no kin of yours.”
Zoey snickered. “He is handsome.”
“And he’s not broke like that bum whose name we no longer mention.”
Smirking, Orielle rolled her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. She didn’t know much about Najee, especially the status of his bank account, but what she did know was that he had always been a hustler and a charmer. She vividly remembered him, Saleem, and a bunch of their homeboys making a name for themselves back in the day. The hood they grew up in and the surrounding neighborhoods knew who they were.
It was rare for Orielle to be posted up with them on the block during the school year, considering they were years older than her, but she never missed a summer to kick it with them. Being that she was Saleem’s cousin on his mama’s side, there had been a bit of drama amongst the adults that limited her visitations, but Orielle still kept in touch.
Then, like life always did, it moved on, and people grew apart. Still, there was no love lost. Just time not spent together. In the last few years, Orielle had gotten close with Saleem and his sisters again, but they hadn’t all hung out in a while. Hadthey, Orielle would’ve been somewhat privy to the man driving them through the city.
While Cheyla and Zoey whispered lowly over the music about their plans for the rest of the night, Orielle stared straight ahead. Every so often, she and Najee made eye contact through the rearview, and she saw his right cheek lift. His side profile was just as handsome, and she couldn’t help but spark a conversation just to see the flex of his jaw.
“Would’ve never thought you’d be chauffeuring me around,” Orielle teased.
Smirking, Najee glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Me either, Ms. Superstar.”
“Not nearly.”
“Nah. Not yet, but I can see that for you,” Najee said.
Orielle’s brows dipped. She wanted to ask him what he meant by that but geared the conversation back toward him and his business.
“When did you start your car service?” she asked.
“A few years ago. Bought two cars from an auction, cleaned ‘em up, and went from there. I’m trying to expand more. I have a nice fleet under my belt. Nothin’ too major, but it’s mine.”
Najee was so humble with it, and Orielle wondered if he knew how attractive that was. A man bettering himself, regardless of where he came from, was a plus in her book. She was impressed.
Echelon Express was a small luxury car service for now. Most people, especially those who had only heard of them in passing, had forgotten about them compared to other companies. Not because they weren’t a reputable business, but because they were a small one for now. Still, they had a loyal clientele. Najee just so happened to pick them up tonight because he sent his Uncle Ron, one of his main drivers, home early. Requests had slowed down, and then Zoey’s popped up.
“That’s actually very major and something you should be more than proud of,” Orielle told him.
Appreciating her words, he kept his eyes on her once they came to a red light. “‘Preciate that. I see you still doin’ music.”
“I’m doing a lil’ something. It’s more of a hobby than anything.”
“Still?” Najee questioned as if he expected her to be doing more. He peeped her slight frown and continued. “I ain’t mean it like that, but nothing about your voice, from what I can remember, is hobby-level.”
Orielle smiled, biting the corner of her lip. “Yeah. You used to always tell me that.”
It wasn’t those words verbatim, but they were close enough.
“And ain’t nothing changed. You on a few of that nigga Cash’s projects, right?”
“Mmhmm,” Orielle hummed, just as a classic song from Tamia came through the speakers.
She didn’t know if Najee’s phone was connected or if it was playing from a radio station, but Orielle hadn’t heard the song in years. Though she wasn’t entirely in her feelings about Bobby having a baby on her, she didn’t front like the sting of his actions didn’t hurt. She swayed to the lyrics as she and her girls sang.
