Page 2 of Forbidden Letters

Avryl holds the sharp object clutched in her hand, and a small smile forms on her face. It would have been fun watching Yasmin wildly stab at the black card with a letter opener, she imagines.

But Avryl wouldn’t have risked it.

Not with this letter opener.

Nayomi leads the way through the club corridor and down the back stairs. The back corridors and hallways are a surprising contrast to the club’s dark interior. The place where members wait and wait to enter is dark wooden floors and tufted seating in black silk. But the stairs are honeyed hardwood, the walls cream with a gold damask print. Light surrounding the darkness.

They enter the club through a door beside the bar, and there’s a slight hush. The owner never shows up, especially not on a Thursday night. Even if you don’t know what Nayomi looks like, you know she’s the owner from the length of her stride and the focus of her gaze. Her slender, toned ballerina body in solid black jeans and a long-sleeved black turtleneck. The only thing that sparkles is the rock sitting on her ring finger the size of a marble, comfortably beside a wedding band encircled with smaller diamonds. She looks at no one except the target. A waiter behind the bar looks over. Nayomi stands back while Yasmin whispers something that sends him toward the senator’s party.

Nayomi would be friendly to the men and women behind the bar who glance in her direction, but she’s not in the mood for kindness. She hasn’t been in that mood for two years.

The waiter comes back with the senator behind him, a confused, nervous smile on his face.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks Nayomi and Yasmin as they follow behind him. Neither of them making eye contact or responding, which only makes him more nervous. “Did I make some mistake? What’s happening?”

They get to a cold room that stores alcohol and has a large wooden desk that Nayomi leans against. The waiter wordlessly brings in a very non-glamorous folding chair and places it beside the senator.

“Sit,” Yasmin orders.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in for some fun.” He laughs again, nervously, and sits, looking from one sister to the next. Nayomi’s mass of curly hair falls just below her shoulders. Yasmin’s honey-blond hair waves and cascades down to a tiny waist. The resemblance between the two is faint, but it’s there. It’s in their eyes; Yasmin’s are blue and Nayomi’s green, but they sparkle in the same way.

“I must be dreaming…” the senator mutters, but not quietly enough.

“We’re sisters,” Yasmin spits at him, but his eyes widen, and a small smile crosses his face.

“Disgusting.” She looks away, repulsed, and walks toward the back of the room to close a small window.

“Your card declined,” Nayomi says to the man.

“That’s what this is about?” He chuckles and goes for a back pocket. “Well, you could’ve just said; I’m sure we can work this out. So what do you take? I have another Amex. Do you want to do Venmo? PayPal?”

Nayomi and Yasmin look down at him fumbling around with his wallet in one hand and phone in the other. Yasmin is at his back, and Nayomi is in front of him. Neither of them responds.

“Well, how do we get this resolved?” His nerves turn to slight frustration. Nayomi looks up and makes eye contact with her sister.

“Why did it decline in the first place?” Yasmin demands.

His head goes back, and he turns around. She looked dangerous under the dark shadow at the back of the room. Her clear blue eyes are like icicles.

“I don’t know.” His frustration rises, and he shrugs. “Maybe it was my kid, probably playing video games.” He looks back and forth to try to get an answer. “Is all this really necessary? You run a business; this kind of thing doesn’t happen all the time?”

Nayomi raises an eyebrow. It’s an innocent question, but she hears a hint of an insult. To her, he’s asking if she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Every move he makes reads disrespectful.

“Do you know where you are?” Yaz mutters loudly.

“Are your dues going to decline too?” Nayomi asks.

“Jesus Chri—” Before he can finish taking the Lord’s name in vain, a smack lands across the back of his head, hard enough to make his neck snap forward.

“Fuck!” His hand goes to the back of his head, and he turns around with a start, but Yasmin’s glare puts him in check. “Was that really necessary?“

“Watch your language,” she says to him.

“Cards don’t decline ‘all the time’, Senator Blanche. Not here.” Nayomi watches his body language closely. Any other man would have gotten up, got the police on the phone, and threatened to sue. “Maybe you didn’t know. This is the first time it’s happened to you.”

He puts his hands up in apology.

“Now you’re getting it,” Yasmin whispers in a low voice behind him. All she needs is a cigarette to complete the look, if smoking was allowed. Instead, he turns around to glance angrily at her, but he cuts his eyes away.

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