Lover's Island, page 1
Lover’s Island
Wjuanae
www.urbanbooks.net
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
About the Author
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, N.Y.-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Lover’s Island
Copyright © 2024 Wjuanae
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6590-1
ISBN 13: 978-1-64556-590-1
EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-64556-591-8
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Dedication
To those still full of love after heartbreak. To those who find the courage to find love again after a loss. You are the bravest souls.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I’d like to thank my readers, from the ones who have read my novels since the beginning to all the new readers. I love y’all! Thank you to Carl Weber, Martha, Jasmine, and the entire Urban Books team for this opportunity to present my stories to the world. I am forever grateful! This one was a slower burn, but we pushed it out! LOL. To my best friend, Taquashe, thank you for the countless hours you spent on the phone, listening to me vent about these characters and living vicariously in this world with me. Big shout-out to my friends and family: my sister Shae, my mom, and my aunts, my cousin Diamond, for always supporting me and my dreams. I can’t count how many times my baby girl, Aria, got tired of me sitting at my laptop! One day, she will understand. Finally, I want to thank my readers again. You give me the inspiration to keep pushing my pen. As long as y’all rocking, I always will. So, I hope y’all in it for the long run, because we just getting started!
Prologue
“Let me out!” Nyimah wailed as she beat her raw fists against the steel door. She let out an exasperated scream. “Argh!”
Water dripped from the ceiling and rolled down her cheek. Nyimah wiped her face, dropped to her knees, and kneeled on the small, stained cot. The basement enclosed her, imprisoning her in the near darkness. A miniscule window offered little light. The bars on the outside of it offered no chance of escape.
She had no idea where she was or who had brought her here. Nyimah had woken up on the cot an hour ago. The rancid smell of mold and piss made her sick to her stomach. Her bladder threatened to explode, and Nyimah clenched her legs closed. Her mind churned as she pondered who her capturer was. I have to get out of here, she thought. A rumble from her stomach echoed in the enclosed space. It’d been hours since she last ate. Nyimah held her protruding belly. She didn’t fear death. She feared leaving the people she loved most. Holding on to thoughts of that love provided her with the determination to remain strong. At least long enough for her loved ones to come to her rescue.
They’ll find me, she repeated to herself, rocking back and forth.
Heavy footsteps descended the stairs, indicating someone’s presence. Nyimah scurried across the floor, searching for anything she could protect herself with. She settled for a lone, long rusted nail. Nyimah gripped the nail in her dominant hand and balled her fists. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
The slot on the door slid open, and familiar eyes stared back at Nyimah. Chills ran down her spine when her mind registered the crazed look. “Long time no see.” A sinister laugh followed the words.
Nyimah shuddered. “You’ve made a mistake. You can let me go, and I won’t say a word. I promise.” Nyimah held her hands up in surrender.
“You ain’t going nowhere, bitch. No one is looking for you. Even if they are, they’ll never find you,” he spat.
“What do you want from me?” Nyimah exclaimed as her chest heaved. She didn’t put anything past the person on the other side of the door.
The man scoffed and slid a wrapped sandwich and a flask filled with water through the slot in the door. “You know why.”
Nyimah picked the sandwich up and flung it at the door. She refused to eat or drink anything for fear of being poisoned. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”
She was answered by snickers. “Get comfortable, love.” The slot closed, and Nyimah rushed the door.
“No! No! Let me go! You don’t have to do this!” she pleaded, banging against the door.
No response followed except the echo of footsteps going up the stairs.
“Help me!” she screamed until her voice went hoarse.
Defeated, Nyimah crawled over to the cot, lay down on it, and brought her knees to her chest. A warm liquid squirted between her legs, and Nyimah hyperventilated as she wiggled her pants down to her knees. After reaching into her panties, Nyimah pulled back her fingers, now wet, and held her hand up to the light from the setting sun that came through the tiny window.
“No,” she gasped, realizing the wetness was blood. “God, please,” she begged as tears slipped from her eyes. She prayed to be rescued before she lost everything....
One
Nyimah maneuvered around her salon suite, stocking the shelves with her homemade hair products. In a little under a year, she had been able to build her small hair hustle into a full-blown business. With the help of her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Jabari, she’d been able to secure a three-room suite in her city, which she had then turned into a beauty bar. Here she employed hairstylists, lash and nail techs, and a professional esthetician. To some, her efforts might have appeared small, but to a girl who came from nothing, with no support, it was a huge feat.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked around at her accomplishments. There was one person she wished was here to celebrate in this success with her: the late love of her life. “You would be so proud of me,” she whispered to herself as she swiped away her tears.
“Good morning, boss lady,” Aida, her assistant and friend, greeted as she walked through the door with Starbucks in her hand. “Your ten a.m. appointment should be arriving soon. It’s a new client, and she’s getting a frontal wig install,” she commented as she handed Nyimah her Frappuccino.
“Morning, Aida. Thank you. Did you kiss my babies for me this morning?”
“Your babies gave me hell this morning. I started to drop both of their asses off to you and Jabari. Mommy needs a break.” She sighed as she took a seat at her desk in the lobby. Aida had two toddlers, who ran her crazy, but she loved them dearly. Being that Nyimah had no children of her own, she had offered to keep Aida’s kids on many occasions.
Nyimah chuckled and pulled a blunt from her YSL purse. “We got a little while before the client gets here. You hitting this with me?”
“I’m in,” Aida answered.
Nyimah nodded her head toward the front door for Aida to follow her. Once they got outside, Nyimah pulled her jacket shut as the crisp February air greeted her. The girls headed for the back exit, which led to the alley behind their building.
Nyimah lit the blunt. “Girl, I need this as much as you.” She blew out an exasperated breath.
“Jabari?” Aida asked as she rolled her eyes to Nyimah.
Nyimah nodded.
“You know you can do so much better than that nigga anyway. You don’t need him anymore. Never needed him in the first place,” Aida told her.
Nyimah took a long drag from the blunt. She opened her mouth, and a cloud of smoke slowly escaped. “I don’t know why I put up with his shit. We fight so much, and I’m at the point where I’m tired, Aida. I really am.” She passed the blunt to Aida. “He blames his cheating on the fact that I’m still in love with my former boyfriend. This nigga is jealous over a dead man.”
“That’s just his way of trying to manipulate the situation and justify his infidelity. I really can’t stand niggas. They will gaslight the fuck out of you. He knows he wouldn’t be in the picture if Ace was still alive.”
The sobs Nyimah fought to conceal escaped at the sound of his name. Nearly five years after his murder and she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact. A man who had loved her unapologetically and with his entire soul and being was gone from her life forever. It had taken five bullets to put him down. He had held on for an entire hour, while Nyimah had rushed to leave her cosmetology class at the college she attended at the time. Ace, otherwise known as Asun, her soldier, had defied death long enough to profess his love to her one last time. A piece of her had died with him that day as well. “I miss him so much ,” she sobbed.
Guilt rushed over Aida. She regretted mentioning Ace’s name in front of Nyimah. She hadn’t been friends with Nyimah long enough to personally know Ace, but she had witnessed the devastation Nyimah felt from his absence. His death had nearly killed her too. “I’m sorry, Ny. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Nyimah gripped Aida’s arms as she sobbed, shaking her head vigorously. “It’s not . . . your fault.”
Aida put out the blunt, then steered Nyimah back into the salon. She led Nyimah to her salon chair and glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine thirty, and the client would be arriving any minute. She knew she needed to console her friend quickly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want me to call Paige?” Aida asked, referring to her friend and Nyimah’s best friend.
Nyimah nodded as she reached for a roll of paper towels and ripped off three. She hated that she put up with a nigga like Jabari after losing a man like Asun. “No, I’m okay. I got to get to this money. Stick to the plan we made. One foot forward, always. He always said that,” she stated as she wiped her nose.
“What’s the plan?” Aida asked curiously.
Nyimah stood and checked her appearance in the mirror. “Get back and get up,” she replied vaguely. “Can you thread five needles for me?” She opened a playlist on her iPad, pushed a button, and music began to play from the surround-sound speakers throughout the salon. Thinking of the plans she had promised Ace she would fulfill lifted her spirits. She pushed her sad thoughts of him to the back of her mind and plastered a smile on her face.
Aida nodded her head as she gave Nyimah a skeptical look. If she hadn’t been standing here a few minutes earlier, she never would have guessed Nyimah had just finished a gut-wrenching cry. It took a special type of strength to be able to bounce back like that, and Aida admired that quality. She knew that resilience would be what helped Nyimah break free of Jabari’s suffocating shackles.
“You popping out this weekend? I know the club ain’t too much of your scene, but there’s this event at this lounge in Durham. The lounge I been telling you about.” Aida said as she handed Nyimah the threaded needles.
“I’ll think about it. I can use a night out,” Nyimah replied as she set up her station in preparation for her first appointment.
“Your nigga trying to keep your fine ass in the house. No more! We popping out,” Aida said. “I’m making my baby daddy keep the kids, and we out!” She laughed.
Nyimah smiled and nodded. “I’m game.”
Just them the doorbell rang, announcing the client’s arrival. “Good morning, love,” Nyimah said, greeting her first client of the day when she came through the door.
The client sat in Nyimah’s chair and removed her bonnet from her head. “I’m so embarrassed to show up with my head like this, and on my first appointment with you. My li’l sneaky link had me out late last night,” the girl stated as she ran her hands through the natural curls of her wild Afro.
Nyimah motioned for the client to follow her to the shampoo area of the salon. “No worries. I’m going to get you right.” She smiled as she sanitized the shampoo bowl before leaning the client back. “So, what’s your name?” Nyimah squeezed a palm-sized amount of shampoo in her hand and massaged it into the girl’s scalp.
“I’m Brielle. My homegirl Asia referred me to you. I live in Greensboro, but my woot de woot, my li’l sneaky link, lives here in Rocky Mount. So I get slayed twice on this trip.” Brielle chuckled. “You really like that with the installs too. Nobody in Greensboro fucking with you,” she added.
“Thanks, girl.” Nyimah finished on the second wash and moved to conditioning Brielle’s hair. “That dick must be supreme to make two-hour trips for it,” she commented. One part she loved about her job was that her clients kept her up to date on all the latest tea and drama. Nyimah wasn’t a nosey person, but she was used to her clients overindulging her when it came to their business. She thought of herself as a hood therapist. Her clients could vent and trust that their conversations would never leave Nyimah’s shop.
Brielle nodded her head and closed her eyes as Nyimah rang the water out of her hair. “Elite, bitch. And I leave with racks after every link. He so friendly with the money that I would make him my man if he didn’t have a girl already.”
“Follow me,” Nyimah said, and then she headed back to her salon chair.
Aida looked up from her phone. “How you know he got a girl?” she inquired when she caught Brielle’s eye.
Brielle waited until Nyimah had finished blow-drying her hair to respond. “I know he has a girl because he told me. I don’t give a fuck about none of that, though. I’m just here for a good time, not a long time. The fucks and funds. Get the head, get the bread, and then leave. She can put up with his dog ass. I don’t need those types of problems. You feel me?” She shook her head, thinking that she would never want to be in the position of girlfriend to a cheating-ass nigga.
Nyimah nodded her head in agreement as she braided Brielle’s hair back in single cornrows for her frontal wig installation. “These girls be thinking they winning because a man comes home to them every night. The side bitches think they got an up because they get the man with no strings attached. But they’re both losing. I feel your logic, though, boo. No shade.” She moved through the braid down quickly. After reaching for her hair oil, Nyimah applied droplets between each braid. “At least you getting something out of the situation. Most of these girls don’t even be getting a meal out of these niggas.”
Aida chuckled in agreement. “That part. You sound like you fucking with a breadwinner, though, and ain’t too many of them out here.” She put her hands on her hips. “It ain’t my baby daddy, is it?” she asked, only half joking.
The girls laughed in unison.
“Shit, I hope not. Now you got me scared to show you a picture of the nigga.” Brielle laughed harder and pretended to wipe beads of sweat from her forehead. Then she unlocked her phone and passed it to Aida as Nyimah began gluing down the frontal.
“Ooh, shit,” Aida whispered as she looked at the man next to Brielle in the picture. The two of them were lying in what appeared to be a hotel room bed. “This is the nigga?”
Brielle nodded. “That ain’t your baby daddy, is it?”
Aida shook her head and handed the phone back to Brielle. “Naw, he don’t have any kids.” But her tone of voice had changed in a matter of seconds. Seeing the familiar face in the picture had ruined her mood.
“Oh, so you do know him?” Brielle asked, reading the signs in Aida’s demeanor.
Aida cleared her throat, trying to get her friend’s attention. “Nah, not really. But my homegirl right here knows him real well.”
Nyimah stopped working and glanced at Aida in confusion. “Let me see him, girl,” she told Brielle. Brielle held the phone up, and Nyimah’s stomach dropped when she saw Jabari lying next to Brielle. To add insult to injury, the nigga cheesed for the camera. He made no attempt to hide his face, which was typical side-nigga behavior. “That motherfucker,” she spat, laying her comb down on the vanity. “Did you know I’m the bitch that dog-ass nigga belongs to? What type of time are you on? Because you real bold to come in here and sit in my chair like you wasn’t just fucking on my man.”
Brielle eyes widened, and she held her hands up in surrender. She kicked herself for running her mouth to these two complete strangers. She understood if Nyimah believed she had booked her to be petty, but Brielle had honestly had no clue.
“Girl, I swear to God I didn’t know. He never spoke of his girlfriend much, and I never cared enough to ask,” Brielle said. “You think I would come and sit in your chair if I did? For you to tape my eyelids down and whup my ass? Hell no! I’m not built like that. I promise I’m not like that.” One thing she was never ashamed to admit was that she was no fighter. She got money and sat pretty. Confrontation turned her off. “Please don’t make me walk around with my frontal half glued down and shit,” Brielle nearly begged.
Nyimah’s foot tapped the floor repeatedly as she sighed heavily. It seemed like Jabari embarrassed her with a new side bitch every year. She knew she could only blame herself for putting up with his infidelity. “I’ma be honest with you. Jabari ain’t shit, and I know this. If you say you didn’t know who I was, I’m not about to let that interfere with my bag. However, had the fact been known that you are fucking my man, I never would have accepted your appointment,” she stated. Nyimah recalled how many appointments she had turned down previously because Jabari had had relations with those women in the past. The nigga was a constant disappointment.
