Page 45 of The Millionaire Mortician
While in the check-in line, I shot both my security, Qua, and Don a text reminding them what time we were landing and tograb me some roses. As soon as I got back, I was going to put more energy into my woman, just as I did with everything else.
We landed backat JFK around six-thirty that evening. Since we had ridden first class, we were among the first to exit the plane and proceed through the immigration process, which went smoothly and quickly. We then made our way to baggage claim and customs.
Not long after, Maverick and I were walking out of the airport, inhaling the toxic, warm air of New York City. Qua was already waiting curbside in the truck. We quickly put our luggage in the truck and got in, since he was parked illegally. As soon as I slid into the back, the smell of roses filled the car. A bouquet sat in the passenger seat, just like I’d requested before we even boarded in Trinidad.
“Everything cool, boss?” Qua asked, pulling off into traffic.
I nodded. “We’ll drop him first,” I instructed.
The ride was quiet as both Maverick and I looked out the window at the concrete jungle we called home. It was a totally different world compared to Trinidad, and I almost instantly started missing the island breeze.
About an hour later, Qua pulled up to Mav’s spot, which wasn’t far from mine. We both lived in Brooklyn Heights.
Maverick dapped me up. “Keep it cool, meh G,” he stated, half warning, half blessing. Trinidad clearly rubbed off on him in terms of the terminology.
“Always,” I replied.
As soon as he was out, I told Qua to head over to Daija’s salon. At first, I was just going to wait until she came home to surprise her, since she didn’t know when I was getting back. However, something told me to be a little more spontaneous and pop up at her spot.
We rolled through Brooklyn streets, then over the Brooklyn Bridge until we pulled up in front of her shop. From the window, I saw it was busy with clients in chairs.
Qua handed me the roses as I was stepping out. Looking in the mirror, I smoothed out my shirt and sweats, then walked up to the front door. I was immediately buzzed inside.
Dai was at her station, finishing up with a client. When her eyes caught mine in the mirror, shock spread across her face, followed by a soft smile.
“Babyyy...” she sang with her voice lighter than her body language.
I approached her midway with the roses in hand. “Surprise, shorty. I’m home.”
Her girls and clients in the shop whispered, giggled, and gave me that look women always give when a man walks in with flowers. Daija took them from me and inhaled their scent. She then got on her tiptoes and pecked my lips.
“Thank you.” She smiled, but her eyes weren’t all the way there. I noticed her energy was a little off, but I didn’t press it.
I knew I had a lot of making up to do. Distance changed a lot of things, and I hadn’t been giving her too much of it.
“Wrap it up,” I told her in a steady voice, but leaving no room for debate. “You’re done for the day. We’re going to dinner.”
Daija blinked at me, then glanced at her client, then back at me. She wanted to argue. I could see it in the twitch of her lip, but she didn’t. She just nodded, told one of the other stylists to finish up, and went to her office to grab her things.
We hopped in her truck, with me behind the wheel and her in the passenger seat. As I pulled into traffic, Qua followed right behind as we made our way to the house.
By the timewe left the house, night had already fallen. Qua drove us to the restaurant. I was a little tired from traveling, and I knew she was working all day, so it was best for both of us to just relax as passengers. I booked a nice spot in advance. It was a quiet, upscale restaurant with dim lighting and enough privacy for the kind of talk I knew we needed to have.
When we walked in, the host immediately recognized me and led us straight to a tucked-away table in the corner. Candles flickered while soft music spilled from the speakers.
Daija looked flawless, as always. Her hair was laid with her makeup nicely done. The black dress she wore hugged her in all the right places. The baby girl had a glow that drew eyes without her even trying. While I admired her, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet she was.
Shaking my thoughts, I focused my attention temporarily on the server to place our orders. For the first half hour, it was an uncertain vibe. There were small smiles, little laughs, and me asking about the salon. I could feel the distance between us in the way her eyes slid off mine too quickly, and in the way she stirred her drink like it held answers.
I leaned forward, looking her in her eyes. “Daija,” I called her name in a low voice.
She looked up, blinking like I’d pulled her out of a daydream.
“We need to talk,” I started. My tone wasn’t the one I used with employees, nor was it the one I used on the streets. It was softer, laced with love.
Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but I kept going.
“I know I ain’t been making you a priority. With everything on my plate, I’ve been spreading myself thin, and I left you on the side more than I should have.” I paused, letting the words sink in. “That’s on me, not you.”
