Page 34 of The Millionaire Mortician
I laughed and spun lightly in my chair like a little girl, tugging the blinds to peek out into the floor. The salon was in its midday mode, with everyone busy attending to clients.
“Boy, shut up,” I replied. “I’m on break between clients.”
“So you miss me yet?” He leaned closer like he could climb through the screen. I noticed his pupils were dark and playful.
“Miss you?” I cocked my head to the side. “Mmm, I might miss my food from the lunch you paid for. That shrimp Alfredo hit the spot.”
He pretended to clutch his chest. “Cold-blooded. You flirt with a man, eat his shrimp, and then act like this? That’s crazy work.”
“Flirt? Who’s flirting?” I twisted my mouth even though he couldn’t feel the heat I felt. “I just got friendly customer service etiquette.”
“Mhmm. Friendly. You gon’ keep playin’ in my face or you gon’ let me take you somewhere with cloth napkins and a valet?”
“Valet?” I mocked, then stifled a grin. “Fabian, my life’s already got valet.”
He laughed again, dimples deepening. “Yeah, but does your life have me?”
Heat prickled through my throat, then softened to a giggle that I tried to swallow. “You’re really somethin’ else.” I shook my head in a playful manner.
“Just say when,” he stated. “I like talkin’ to you, Daija. And you smile like you know it, too.”
I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t smiled that openly in a minute. It felt dangerous as fuck, though. It felt like sneaking out of the house in high school and knowing your mom’s car was in the driveway.
“Let me think on it.” I lowered my voice more. “And stop calling me while you’re driving. I ain’t about to be responsible for you wrapping that car around a pole or some shit.”
“Say less, I’m pullin’ into the lot?—”
My office door swung open so hard it smacked the stopper with a clap. Maverick breezed in without knocking or anything, like he was the damn owner of the place.
“Yo, Dai,” he stated, voice smooth. “I need a cut.”
My thumb hit the end button like my hand had its own brain. The call ended before I even had a chance to think about it. Guilt jumped up, then quickly sat back down, smoothing her skirt, as if to say,‘Mind your business.’
“Aight,” I replied, slipping my phone face down in the drawer. “I got you. You want my chair or you want the floor?” I joked, trying to ease the tension within myself.
“Your chair. What the fuck?” he retorted, like it wasn’t a question. “I ain’t got time today, Dai.” He turned to leave.
We stepped out of my office, and the salon clocked Maverick in a wave. Conversations dipped for a moment, then returned as if nothing had happened. Talina caught my eye across the room and winked. Ashley straightened herself like a ruler, chin lifted, giving a heavy stare.
Maverick had all eyes on him. He wore a white tee that looked expensive, his sweats hung just right, and his Cartier frames sat low, as if he didn’t need them to see you. The girls always pretended they weren’t looking when he walked back out, which only made it more obvious.
“Come on,” I instructed as I flung the cape over his body. “You and your last-minute ass.”
“Nah, I’m always on time,” he muttered, but with a smirk. He sank into my chair, leaned back, and exhaled like the day loosened around him just for a second.
I clicked on my clippers and got in the zone. My hands knew Mav’s head like a map. Ever since I met him and moved to New York, I have been his and Milan’s barber. That was the only time I got to use my clippers.
“You ready for the trip?” I pried.
I knew a little of Milan and Maverick’s history. When I said a little, it was just that. Milan would always stiffen up or get in a mood when I asked questions about his family or their past. All Iknew was that they were born in Trinidad and Tobago, and their parents had passed away when they were younger.
He took a minute to answer the question. “Yeah, I am. It’s long overdue,” he responded.
“I understand.”
While I handled him, he just fixated his eyes on an object and didn’t move them. He didn’t look around. He didn’t speak to anyone except me.
I was almost through with his taper when Ashley slid to the mirror, looking desperate. She had beaten her face nicely that day with cinnamon lids and glossy brown lips, but the thirst on her was heavy as hell.
