Lover's Island, page 11
“Damn, baby,” he panted, looking down at the view. His dick glistened with each thrust. “This shit so good. You know that?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Nyimah groaned in response. She loved how Cree talked to her during sex. It turned her on even more. She gripped his back and drew him farther into her. “Fuck. I love you!” she exclaimed as she felt another orgasm build. She clenched the sheets and closed her eyes.
“I love you too.” Cree lowered his body and kissed Nyimah’s lips. “Look at me,” he commanded and ground his hips into hers. “I’m right here. I see you,” he whispered, staring into her eyes. He planted kisses on her chest before turning Nyimah and stroking her from the side. “This shit so wet,” Cree exclaimed in disbelief.
A tear slipped from Nyimah’s eye. The dick had her shedding tears. I’m never giving this shit up, she thought to herself. Like the girl from the viral live video, Nyimah was ready to go to war behind it. She wanted all the smoke.
Hours and six orgasms later, Nyimah lay naked on top of Cree. She ran her finger along his chest, tracing the outline of his tattoos. He held her with one arm. Dawn peeked through the windows, and they hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep.
“Let’s shower, love,” Cree said. “We got a few hours to rest before your spa appointment.”
“Okay,” Nyimah replied and shot up. She knew showering meant another round of lovemaking, and she was ready.
* * *
“Reservation for Baptiste,” Nyimah said confidently to the hostess.
Cree stood behind her with his hand on the small of her back, scoping out the steak house. For years, he hadn’t lived a lifestyle where he had to constantly look over his shoulder, but he liked to stay vigilant wherever he went nonetheless. Men of his stature were expected to be cognizant of the movements of those around them. One could never know when there was an envious spirit lurking in the shadows, ready to try one’s luck.
“Of course. Follow me,” the female hostess said, gazing at Cree a second longer than Nyimah was comfortable with.
Nyimah looked at Cree and pointed to the hostess, who walked in front of them. Cree chuckled, having picked up on the hostess’s flirtatious energy. She stopped in front of a table conveniently located in the middle of the restaurant.
Cree pulled Nyimah’s chair out for her and kissed her cheek before taking a seat of his own. “Good?” he asked her.
“Yes. Thank you,” Nyimah answered.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” the hostess asked, poking her hip out as she placed her hand on it.
Some privacy, bitch, Nyimah thought, but she waited for Cree to respond.
“My lady and I are good for now,” Cree answered simply, barely acknowledging the woman’s presence.
Nyimah’s heart swelled at the answer. She smirked, crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. “That’ll be all. Thank you.”
The thick hostess rolled her eyes at Nyimah before retreating to the front of the restaurant.
“I hate that friendly shit,” Nyimah commented. Some women had no decorum about themselves. Some were even low enough to throw themselves at a man with a woman on his arm. Nyimah recalled a time when she had slapped bitches for less.
“I love that feisty shit,” Cree replied with an amused look. “Even though you getting worked up wasn’t even required. I got it.”
Nyimah leaned across the table and pecked Cree’s full lips. She loved when he pulled his divine masculine card. Cree understood how to let Nyimah lead but also how to affirm his position as the protector and provider. When she imagined a life with Cree, she imagined herself to be living a soft, feminine life. Sort of like the life she had lived with Asun, but on a larger scale.
“Keep talking like that and we won’t make it to the second course,” she said, loud enough for only Cree to hear. She kicked her feet out of her Chanel slides and reached under the table to play with him.
Cree chuckled and shook his head. He was creating a monster. “Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.” He grabbed one of Nyimah’s feet and massaged it in his hand.
“I always finish,” she said, challenging him.
The waiter interrupted them before Cree could reply. He sat a bottle of champagne and a basket of rolls down on the table. They recited their orders, and the waiter left as quickly as he had appeared.
“If you could be anywhere with me right now, where would it be?” Nyimah asked randomly. It was the same question he had asked her on the night they met. Now it was Nyimah’s turn.
Cree chuckled before answering. “Lover’s Island,” he replied.
“Lover’s Island?” Nyimah repeated.
“It’s an island my father bought for my mother. It’s a small island in the Caribbean. We call it Lover’s Island. I’d love to take you there one day,” he answered.
Damn, these people got island money! She reminded herself that Cree came from a level of living that she wasn’t used to, but she was definitely sure she could get accustomed to it. “I would love to go to Lover’s Island. I’ll remember that.” She smiled as she bit into a roll.
“One day I’m going to take you there.” He took a roll from the basket on the table. “So, your dad, he passed?” Cree asked, changing the subject. He was interested in knowing more about Nyimah. It seemed as if he knew almost everything about her except that.
“Both of my parents, actually.” Nyimah sipped some water and grimaced slightly. She hated talking about her parents. It brought up too many painful memories that she fought to keep buried. “My mom overdosed when I was about eight, and my father died in a car accident when I was fifteen.”
Damn, Cree thought. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did you have any other family to take you in?”
Nyimah smiled tightly and shook her head. “Nope. I went into the system,” she said nonchalantly. “I do have a younger half sister, but we lost touch before my mom died. I stayed in foster care about two years, until I met Asun.”
Cree observed Nyimah as she spoke. She wore a poker face, but he recognized the sadness below the surface. Having grown up in a family as big as his was, he viewed children going into foster care as a foreign concept. He’d heard, however, about the darker side of the system and how foster families exploited the kids. He hoped Nyimah hadn’t seen that side of it.
“And he died too,” Cree commented. He now understood why Nyimah feared what was happening between the two of them. She had lost anyone she had ever cared about. “You fear the people you love leaving you?” he asked gently.
Nyimah nodded, tears brimming in her eyes.
“You won’t lose me,” he assured her.
“I know,” she replied quietly.
“If you stick with me, you’ll be inheriting hella family.” Cree changed the subject. “Besides Pierre, I have three younger sisters.”
“No shit? Tell me about them.”
“Where to start?” Cree sighed. “Elissia’s a year younger than me is but older than Pierre by two years. She’s twenty-nine, and she’s a criminal defense attorney. After Pierre, there’s Scarlett. The wild one. Scarlett’s twenty-five, and I honestly don’t know what sis is doing with her life. She’s the jack-of-all-trades type. Then we got the baby girl, Angel. She is twenty-one and is finishing up her last year at Spelman.” He briefly explained his family tree.
Nyimah mouthed a wow before taking a sip of her water. “I would’ve loved to grow up with all those siblings. But that means I have three sisters to make like me.”
“They’ll love you,” he stated. Randomly glancing across the room, Cree locked gazes with a gruffy-looking guy who was overweight and had a diamond chain dangling from his neck. The man squinted his eyes in Nyimah’s direction. Cree’s eyes lingered on the man for a few more seconds, until the man broke the gaze.
Their waiter returned with their meals a few minutes later. They dug into their steaks and chatted. Nyimah’s stomach knotted, and her palms grew moist. This was her chance to inform Cree about the pregnancy, but she was at a loss for words. Her throat was dry now, and so she gulped down her half-filled glass of water. Just spit it out, Nyimah, she scolded herself.
“Cree, there’s something I have to tell you,” she blurted out while clenching her fork tightly.
Cree frowned at the words and stopped eating. In his experience, nothing good ever followed that sentence. The last person he recalled speaking those words to him had then admitted to sleeping with his cousin. He hoped Nyimah wasn’t about to share bad news. “I’m listening.” His ears perked up.
Nyimah closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She slowly opened her eyes and bit the bottom of her lip. “I didn’t know how to tell you until now, but . . . I’m pregnant. I found out a few days before coming here.” She cringed and waited for Cree’s response.
Cree leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t the bad news he had expected, but Nyimah’s words were still unexpected nonetheless. He swiped his hand over his mouth as he thought back to that day on the beach in Malibu. He hadn’t strapped up. They’d fucked all weekend with no protection. He knew the baby belonged to him by the timeline. It explained Nyimah’s weird behavior around alcohol all weekend. “You sure?” he asked.
Nyimah nodded nervously. She couldn’t read Cree. “My doctor’s appointment isn’t until next week, but my cycle hasn’t come. I took two tests.” She slid her phone across the table to show Cree a picture of the two pregnancy tests. “I’m not trying to trap you or anything. I haven’t even decided what I want to do,” she said, rambling.
“You mean what we want to do,” Cree stated.
Before Nyimah could respond, the gruffy, overweight man Cree had observed earlier approached the table. With his dark skin and thick beard, he could’ve almost been mistaken for Rick Ross. “Yo, you Nyimah, right?” he asked, holding a to-go bag that, Nyimah was sure, had a plate of food in it.
“Excuse me?” She rolled her eyes at the man. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place his face.
“Your name Nyimah? You look just like my nigga Jabari’s girl,” he said.
Nyimah’s heart dropped, and she realized where she recognized the man from. He was one of Jabari’s associates. Nyimah kicked herself for not remembering how distinctive her face was. She was widely known in North Carolina, first, for being Asun’s fiancée, and second, for being a bomb-ass hairstylist. Finally, some knew her as Jabari’s girlfriend. She had underestimated Jabari’s reach in Charlotte.
“Nah, wrong person,” she replied. She looked at Cree, who pushed his plate away and was removing the diamond cuff links from his wrists and slipping them into his pocket.
“Damn! I swear to God you look just like Nyimah,” the man continued, shaking his head.
“My man, she said her name ain’t Nyimah. Do we have a problem?” Cree looked down at his watch, barely acknowledging the man.
The fat man sized Cree up. He knew by his demeanor that Cree was running short on patience. Huffing, the man said, “Nah, we good. I just thought I recognized her. My bad.” He flicked his nostril before walking off.
Nyimah looked at Cree and smiled uncomfortably. The moment couldn’t have been more awkward. Cree’s ringing phone interrupted the silence.
He looked down and saw Nova’s name flash across his screen. He hated to answer in front of Nyimah, but he knew it had to be important. Nova called him only for emergencies when he was out of town. “What’s up?” he answered.
Nyimah watched Cree’s face twist into a frown and his eyes turn dark. She leaned across the table to grab his hand, and he waved her hand away, then raised a finger for her to hold up.
“Everything okay?” she asked nervously after he had ended the call.
Cree pulled his wallet out and threw three hundred dollars on the table. “Nah, I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I gotta go.” Cree stood and placed his hand out for Nyimah.
She asked in disbelief, “You have to go?”
Cree looked over at Nyimah and remembered the news she had just dropped on him. He hated to leave her without finishing their conversation, but the news he had just received compelled him to. “It’s my daughter. She’s been in an accident with her friends,” he explained as he whisked Nyimah out of the restaurant.
“Oh my God. Is she okay?” Nyimah empathized with Cree. She knew how much his daughter meant to him.
“I hope so.”
He shot his driver a text, and a minute later the town car was pulling up. Cree opened the door for Nyimah and climbed in behind her. He instructed the driver to drop Nyimah off at the hotel and then drive him directly to the private airport.
Finally, he turned to Nyimah. “I’m sorry. We can finish our conversation tomorrow? The hotel is paid up through Monday so you can stay. Clear your mind. Whatever. It’s on me.”
Nyimah nodded. It did sound like a good plan. “Okay. You just make sure your daughter is good. I’ll be fine.”
Five
Jabari sat on the couch with his PlayStation controller in one hand and a blunt in the other. A bottle of Advil and a plastic bottle of water rested on the coffee table in front of him. He was still recovering from the weekend’s festivities. He had been taking advantage of the time he had without Nyimah around. He’d hung out late with his homeboys and barhopped both nights so far. Temptation had crept up on him numerous times over the weekend, but he had suppressed his urges. Jabari wanted to try to make things work with Nyimah.
For some reason, he could feel her pulling away. Things between them hadn’t been the same since she returned from Las Vegas. Though their relationship hadn’t been on the best of terms prior to her Vegas trip, Nyimah had never been so withdrawn. The last time they had sex, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Jabari knew he played a role in the change in Nyimah’s disposition.
His phone vibrated on the end table beside him. Jabari glanced down and saw an unsaved number calling. He recognized the Charlotte area code and answered out of curiosity. “Yo,” he called into the phone.
“Wassup, nigga?” Rozai’s voice greeted.
“Rozai?” Jabari asked after he pulled on the blunt. “How you get this number?” This was his personal line, and very few had access to it. He kept a separate phone for all drug-related business. The balance between the two helped him maintain his sanity. Without the separate line, feens and his foot soldiers would be calling him nonstop, interrupting his peace.
“My fault. I got it from Peanut, bruh. I was calling you to ask you about your girl,” he stated.
Jabari sat up and placed the blunt in the ashtray. He didn’t bother putting it out. “Nyimah? Why?” His eyebrows furrowed as he scratched the back of his head.
“Facts! Nyimah,” Rozai said, repeating her name. “No funny shit, but I thought I saw her.”
“Nah, must have been someone else. She out of town,” Jabari stated and picked the blunt back up and took a pull of it.
“Right. I ain’t down that way no more. I’m back in Charlotte. I thought I just saw Nyimah up here at Steak Forty-Eight, eating out with a nigga.” Rozai blew out a confused sigh. “My bad, bruh. I just wanted to tap in with you ’cause the Nyimah I know is your girl. Must’ve had the wrong person.”
Jabari dropped the blunt into the ashtray and crushed it this time. The wheels in his mind turned. Nyimah was in Charlotte, but for a hair show. “You think you saw my girl out with a nigga?” he asked, hoping to get clarification from Rozai.
“Yeah, but when I asked shorty, she said her name wasn’t Nyimah. Shit crazy, though. Shorty must got a twin out here or some,” Rozai replied. “Nigga with her was flexing too. I almost popped his top,” he said, exaggerating his actions.
Jabari clenched his jaws together tightly. Either she really had a doppelgänger out there or Nyimah had lied to him to go see a nigga. As long as he had known Rozai, he’d never known him to mistake a person for someone else. His memory was sharp. If he had to guess, Nyimah was out with the nigga who’d been sending her gifts all month long. “The nigga looked like he having?”
Rozai sighed as he thought back to the encounter. “I ain’t gon’ cap. The nigga having his way. He had on the AP. I ’on’t know too many that can afford that.”
“True,” Jabari said as he twisted his hair around his finger. “Nah, though, Nyimah went to Atlanta. Must’ve been someone else, fam.”
“No doubt, no doubt. Just wanted to make sure, my nigga. You know these hoes be for everybody.”
Jabari huffed in agreement. He couldn’t believe Nyimah’s audacity. He had never worried about her moving like this before, because she had been content with him. Even though he had stepped out from time to time, Jabari had thought Nyimah stayed with him out of love. She looked past his infidelity because she loved him so much, or so he’d thought. Jabari didn’t realize Nyimah had stayed out of her desire for a routine and familiarity. He couldn’t fathom another man with way bigger pockets coming to sweep her off her feet. “Good looks, though, nigga. Be easy.”
“No doubt. Lock me in.” Rozai said.
“I got you,” Jabari said before disconnecting the call. He stood and kicked the faux potted plant beside the couch, sending it flying across the living room. He attempted to call Nyimah but was met with her voicemail. It was the same response he had got when she was in Vegas. He chuckled and nodded his head. If games were what Nyimah wanted to play, he would be the coach. Smirking, Jabari grabbed his phone and shot a quick text to one of his contacts. The iPhone dinged with a message notification about a minute later. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
Twenty minutes later, Jabari pulled into the DoubleTree’s parking lot. He parked close to the back of the hotel and threw his Essentials hoodie over his head as he stepped out of the car. He entered the hotel through the rear door and made his way to the elevator. He stepped on and pressed the button for the fourth floor. Jabari brushed his hand down the back of his head when he stepped off the elevator and turned to find room 432. The angel on his right shoulder urged him to turn around and head back home. The devil on his left, however, encouraged him to keep going. Nyimah out with a nigga right now. She don’t give a fuck, he thought and shook his apprehensions away.
