Lover's Island, page 9
“Okay,” Nyimah said and pouted. “I’ll go ahead and get ready. What’s the occasion?”
“I had a few pieces delivered for you,” Cree said as he led Nyimah into the bedroom. “All pieces you looked at while we shopped in LA.”
Nyimah blushed when she saw the packaged clothing items lying on the king-size bed. Cree understood the assignment. Even though he had secured the most sacred parts of her in Vegas, Cree continued to court Nyimah. Most niggas got the pussy and their chivalry disappeared. Men like Cree, however, understood the importance of continuously putting in the work to have a woman feeling as special as she did on the first date.
“I love you.” Nyimah’s eyes widened when she realized she had uttered the words aloud. She didn’t want to be the first to profess love. What if Cree didn’t love her back? Though her feelings would remain the same, Nyimah’s pride would be shattered.
Cree smiled and pulled Nyimah into his arms. It hadn’t taken much time for him to come to terms with his feelings. He loved the fuck out of Nyimah. Now he had confirmed that she felt the same way. “I’m in love with you, Nyimah.”
Nyimah’s heart skipped a beat as she chuckled. “Really?”
“Completely,” he answered.
“I was so scared that you wouldn’t feel the same.” She sighed in relief. A weight had been lifted off her chest. She breathed easier.
Cree kissed Nyimah’s forehead. “You got me. And I got you. You ain’t gotta question that.” This time, he kissed her lips. “I’ma let you get ready, while I finish getting things arranged.”
Nyimah nodded and unzipped each clothing bag, revealing the designer pieces lying within. She opted for a champagne-colored backless dress with a slit in the side. Cree had even taken the liberty of grabbing new pairs of heels for her to choose from. She sat on the bed and retrieved her Naturally Blended by Amoni body butter from her duffel bag. She moisturized every inch of her body before placing the robe back on, then touched up her curls. Nyimah applied her makeup, a natural beat, and slipped into the dress.
Standing in front of the mirror, Nyimah turned her head to the side as she screwed the backs onto her baguette diamond earrings. Her reflection stared back at her, and she smiled. She had never felt more beautiful. She didn’t know if it was the early pregnancy glow or just the high Cree had given her, but she felt as good as she looked. Nyimah grabbed her Chanel clutch and unlocked her phone. There was a text from Cree stating that he was waiting downstairs for her. After giving herself one last look, Nyimah inhaled and exited the suite. She wondered what Cree had planned for the night. She pushed the button for the elevator, and a few seconds later, she stepped on.
The elevator stopped at the atrium level, and Nyimah stepped off, then stood at the top of the double curving staircases, one of the hotel’s nicest features. This area of the hotel looked like it’d been inspired by an English royal mansion. Nyimah imagined herself a princess standing on the top landing as she received nods of approval from other hotel guests. Nyimah descended the stairs one by one. The entire lobby floor below was covered with roses.
“Wow,” Nyimah said and chuckled. She knew Cree was responsible for the grand gesture. When she thought Cree couldn’t get any better, he said bigger.
“Ms. Deveraux,” a bald male butler greeted as he held his right hand out to help Nyimah down the last few stairs. “You look exquisite.”
“Thank you,” she responded and looked around for Cree.
“Mr. Baptiste is preparing the carriage. This way please.” The butler held out his elbow, ready to escort Nyimah through the lobby.
“Carriage?” she asked as she locked arms with the butler.
He waved his hand in front of him. “See for yourself.” Once they crossed the lobby, he held the entrance door open and motioned for Nyimah to step outside.
Treading carefully in the heels, Nyimah crossed the hotel’s threshold, the butler right behind her, to find Cree standing in front of a white princess-style carriage with two white stallions attached to the front by harnesses. The blue suit on his body looked as if it’d been tailored specifically for him. His dark skin peeked from the top of his white shirt, which he had left unbuttoned at the top. His jawline flexed, highlighting the fresh trim given his soft goatee. In his hand was a Tiffany jewelry bag and a bouquet of roses.
Cree stepped toward her and extended his hand. “I got it from here, my man.” The butler bowed slightly before shuffling away.
Nyimah placed one hand on her chest and the other in Cree’s outstretched palm. “All of this for me?” The carriage reminded her of Cinderella’s. Cree had even gone as far as having a red carpet installed for Nyimah to walk on.
“You say it like you don’t believe you deserve it.” Cree hoisted Nyimah into the carriage. “All of this for you because I want you to feel as special as I know you are,” he said before sitting down next to her and shutting the carriage door behind him. “You’re worth it, beloved.”
“I don’t know when I forgot that along the way,” Nyimah muttered.
“Well, let me be your reminder.” Cree offered Nyimah the roses and the Tiffany bag. “For you. You look gorgeous, by the way.”
Nyimah took the items and kissed Cree’s lips. “Thank you.” She palmed his cheek tenderly. The horses began pulling the carriage. “I’m assuming our destination is close.” She’d seen a lot of shit, but she’d never seen a horse and carriage on the highway. Cree must have planned on going directly through town.
“Only a few minutes away,” Cree answered as he popped the top on a bottle of Moët. “Drink?”
Nyimah shook her head. “I want to be sober tonight.” She used the excuse so Cree wouldn’t be alarmed. She would deliver the news tomorrow. The news had the potential to make or break them. Nyimah wanted one last night with Cree without her pregnancy changing their dynamic.
“Noted.” Cree poured some champagne for himself, then wrapped one arm around Nyimah and sipped from the glass. “I told my mom about you.”
Nyimah coughed and gave Cree a puzzled look. “Why?” she asked. “We just met.”
“I think it’s a little deeper than that.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “My mom is a dreamer. A lot of the shit she dreams about comes true,” he explained. “She dreamed about you.”
“Me?” Nyimah pointed to herself in disbelief. Her mind drifted to Peggy and how she had predicted Nyimah would fall in love again. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that both of these gifted women had received these messages. She made a mental note to visit Peggy when she returned home. “What did she say?”
“Her dreams aren’t just dreams. They’re messages. She said it’s fate.”
Nyimah blushed and locked her arm with Cree’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I believe it,” she responded quietly.
* * *
Wearing all black, Jabari stepped out of his Charger and into the parking lot of one of Raleigh’s hottest bars. Stunnaz was the place to be on a Friday night. The parking lot was thick and full of cars. Gravel crushed under his designer sneakers as he made his way to the entrance to the bar. He entered and weaved through the groups of people standing around with drinks in their hands. Peanut and a few of his other homeboys were already stationed in a section.
The diamond Cuban link chain swung against Jabari’s neck. His short beard was freshly cut and lined his dark brown cheeks and chin. He licked his tongue over his full lips, enjoying the seductive looks women were throwing at him. Much of his features couldn’t be deciphered in the dimly lit building, but the glow from the watch on his wrist lit up his arm. Jabari wasn’t too flashy, but he did like to cash out on himself from time to time. Being flashy brought haters, and Jabari didn’t engage in anything besides getting money. He didn’t consider himself much of a street nigga. Instead, he thought of himself as a “get money” nigga. He was a hustler, not a soldier. Jabari knew his lane and navigated it accordingly. His lane didn’t equate to being pussy, however. He would defend himself as much as anyone, but a nigga couldn’t trick him out of his spot.
“What’s good?” he said, slapping hands with Peanut. The two had been partners in crime since grade school. He had smoked his first blunt with Peanut and copped his first pack with him.
“Can’t call it. Enjoying the view.” Peanut nodded at the crowd. He was a skinny guy with light brown skin and short sandy-brown locks. There was a healed burn mark that ran from his right eye down to the middle of his cheek, but it didn’t take away from his cute, boyish features.
“They out here tonight, huh?” Jabari twisted his short coils and observed the women in the building. There was a woman for any man’s flavor present. Beautiful shades of black, from light to dark, mesmerized Jabari. There was something about a black woman that he couldn’t resist.
“Shit, you got one of the baddest at home already,” Peanut commented. He had never understood why Jabari treated Nyimah the way he did, instead of letting her go and being single. Yet he wondered why a woman like Nyimah would put up with Jabari’s antics. Either way, Peanut stayed out of other people’s relationships.
“Everything that glitters ain’t gold,” Jabari replied lowly.
He’d seen the Birkins Nyimah had uploaded to her Instagram story a few days ago. The average dope boy couldn’t afford a bag like that. He wanted to believe the guy Nyimah had met in Vegas was a poser. A nigga blowing racks he could barely spare, all to impress a woman. But with each designer gift Nyimah unboxed, that notion became harder to believe. As a result, Jabari felt the urge to overcompensate. To prove, in his mind, he was still that nigga. Nyimah proved how little she thought of him by posting those gifts on social media, even if the viewers thought Jabari had purchased them. He planned on returning the energy.
“So they say.”
“I take care of home. I deserve a little fun,” Jabari continued.
“If you say so, my nigga,” Peanut said, unconvinced. Niggas would rationalize circumstances in the most absurd ways to justify their fuckups. Peanut knew because he’d been guilty of it before too. He let Jabari have it. “What you drinking?”
Jabari rubbed his short beard and looked toward the bar. He spotted a familiar face and smirked. “You know me. I get down with the brown. I’m finna get mine from the bar, though. Need something?”
Peanut shook his head.
Jabari hopped from the booth and strolled over to the bar. His eyes were glued to a pair of thick thighs, but suddenly his view was blocked.
A heavyset man approached him and greeted, “Jabari, long time no muhfucking see!”
“Oh shit! Rozai, what’s up? When you get to town?” Jabari dapped him up. Rozai was a friend of his who had made it big in the real estate business. He split his time between Charlotte and Atlanta, visiting his hometown in his spare time. Before real estate investing, he had terrorized the streets as a gang leader and drug dealer. People called him Rozai because he liked to pop the champagne bottles in the club. Let the streets tell it, though, and Rozai had never left the dope game, and he was even bigger in it now than he had ever been.
“Heading back to Charlotte tomorrow. Had to show the city a li’l love. Feel me?”
“No doubt. Good to see you, my nigga.” Jabari slapped hands with Rozai and pulled him into a brotherly embrace. “Stay up.”
“You too. I’ma be in touch about that work. Love you, nigga,” Rozai said.
Jabari nodded. “Love you too, boy.” He released Rozai and focused his gaze back on the pretty sight at the bar. When Rozai turned and walked away, Jabari headed over to the bar.
“Drinks on me?” he asked, sliding his body into an open space.
Paige looked up to find Jabari towering over her and grinned. “Shit, if you offering,” she said, placing her hand on her hip. The red minidress barely contained her thick ass. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, putting the light freckles on her nose on display. Her red lips puckered as she waited on a response.
Jabari chuckled and leaned in to whisper in Paige’s ear. “I’m offering. Tonight’s on me.” He smiled, exposing the gold slugs lining his bottom row of teeth.
“Mm-hmm.” Paige nodded and looked around. “Where’s Nyimah?”
“Charlotte . . . for the hair show this weekend,” he replied nonchalantly.
The wheels in Paige’s head turned. “Hair show?” There weren’t any hair events in Charlotte this weekend that she could recall. Paige usually accompanied Nyimah on those types of trips. She hadn’t spoken to Nyimah since she stormed out of Don Juan, however.
“Thought she would’ve told you. Y’all best friends, right? Or did Aida replace you?”
“Ha ha,” Paige said sarcastically. “Of course she told me. The alcohol.” She raised her shot glass and laughed. If Paige had to take a guess, she’d bet her last dollar that Nyimah had snuck off to Charlotte to see Cree. She was impressed by Nyimah’s courage. Guess it ain’t no one-night stand after all. “What you getting into tonight?” she asked, changing the subject.
Jabari waved his hand to the bartender. “Seven 1942 shots,” he said and placed four hundred-dollar bills on the counter. The bartender returned with the shots seconds later, and Jabari threw four back, leaving three. He shifted his attention back to Paige. “I’m trying to get in you. It’s long overdue,” he said candidly.
Paige laughed, choking on her drink. She beat her chest lightly with her balled fist. “You’re drunk.” She shook her head and turned to leave.
Jabari gripped Paige’s arm. “You and these mixed signals. Two weeks ago you were all over a nigga in the gym locker room.” He kissed his teeth. He hated the good-girl front Paige put on.
Paige glanced around the bar and slid out of Jabari’s grip. “That was a mistake.”
Jabari scoffed and peeled off five more hundred-dollar bills from his stack and slipped them into Paige’s exposed cleavage. “More where that came from. You know where to find me.” Jabari pushed away from the bar and left Paige standing there. She’ll call. They always do, he thought.
Jabari nodded at another pretty face in the crowd. The later it got, the more people filed into the spot. Jabari pushed his way through, bumping shoulders, as he headed back to Peanut’s section. “Watch your step, nigga,” he spat at a dark-skinned man passing by.
“Come again?” The man halted in his tracks and sized Jabari up. He squinted his eyes, recognizing the man in front of him. “What’s popping?” he threatened subtly, with a scowl on his face.
Jabari realized this was Onyx, Sunni’s right hand. Sunni was the brother of Nyimah’s deceased ex, Asun. He and Sunni had never cared for each other. “I ain’t on that type of time.” Jabari brushed his nostril with his thumb. He’d rather sacrifice his pride than start a beef he couldn’t finish.
Onyx laughed and pulled at the brim of his fitted cap. His white teeth glistened against his ebony skin. He enjoyed seeing Jabari squirm in his presence. They had caught word of all the fly shit Jabari talked about Asun. Onyx wanted to sleep him right here. It’d take him only one hit, but he didn’t come out for smoke tonight. “Niggas with the most to say never have the time when that pressure applied.” He lifted his shirt, revealing the gun resting at his waistline. “Tell Nyimah that Sunni sends his love. Stay dangerous, playboy,” Onyx said, hinting that he had caught the interaction with Paige. He snickered and stepped forward, deliberately bumping shoulders with Jabari.
Jabari bit the inside of his cheek and walked to the section. He snatched the bottle of Casamigos from the table and took a swig. The tequila burned his throat, and he clenched his teeth tightly. He wouldn’t forget the disrespect and planned on mentioning it to Nyimah.
* * *
After a few minutes, the carriage came to a halt in front of a cozy brick building. It didn’t appear to be fancy on the outside, but the packed parking lot told a story of its own. A neon sign that read LIVE MUSIC glowed on the building. Nyimah surmised that this was some type of jazz bar.
Cree opened the door to the carriage, climbed out, and then held his hand out for Nyimah. She stepped out. “This is CoCo’s. An associate of mine owns the place. Some of the best live performers in the game come through his spots,” Cree explained as they approached the entrance. “I hope you like the vibes.”
Nyimah surveyed their surroundings. The people waiting for tables were all dressed up. No sneakers in sight. “I’m loving it so far.”
He kissed her forehead and then placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward. “Baptiste,” Cree told the hostess at the front door.
“Welcome to CoCo’s. Follow me to your table. Mr. Cole sends his regards,” the hostess said, holding an iPad in her hand. She led the couple into the lounge.
The inside of the lounge impressed Nyimah. The black and gold décor gave the interior a royal touch. There were round tables with black tablecloths placed throughout the area, which led to an open dance floor. The bar was positioned at the back of the building, with a stage at the front. A band performed on the stage, and a few people glided across the floor with their partners to the beat.
“Wow, this is nice,” Nyimah commented, leaning into Cree.
“Here we are,” the hostess announced. She had brought them to a table at the front. On it was a card that read BAPTISTE. “All your provisions have been taken care of for the night. Your meal will be out momentarily. Enjoy your night.” The hostess smiled and walked away.
Cree pulled Nyimah’s chair out and waited for her to sit before taking a seat of his own. “You into jazz and the blues?” he asked.
“You could say that. My dad used to play the blues while he worked on his cars. I’ve never seen a band play live, though.”
Cree nodded and leaned back in his chair slightly. “Pops got good taste.”
Nyimah smiled tightly and took a sip from the glass of water on the table. She tried not to think of her parents or their untimely demise. “He did. He passed away when I was younger.”
