Chapter 16 Bars
Bars
After ten minutes of back-and-forth, Nickoi finally hands me my license, his eyes locked on mine with that familiar mix of stubbornness and care.
Letting me drive isn’t easy for him, he’s worried like only someone who loved you fiercely could.
But today, I see something different in his gaze, trust. Trust that I could handle the wheel, trust that I’d be safe.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, feeling the weight of that trust settle heavy on my shoulders.
It isn’t just a piece of plastic in my hand, it’s a promise.
As I slide behind the wheel, my heart race, adrenaline buzzing from both nerves and excitement.
I start the car slowly, stealing one last glance at Nickoi before pulling out onto the road.
Every beat of my chest whispers, Don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up.
I’m on my way to Wendy’s to get my nails done.
She’d texted me the day before telling me to come early since she has plans later and I’m determined to keep that appointment, to prove to myself and Nickoi that I can do this.
The engine hums beneath me, my hands steady on the wheel.
But then my phone rings and a horn blares aggressively behind me.
My whole body jumps and my foot slams the brake hard.
“Jesus Christ!” I hiss, heart pounding, fingers gripping the wheel tighter.
I’m not even buckled up. If Nickoi finds out, I’d never hear the end of it. I pull over, take a deep breath, and reach for my phone. Clova is calling. I dial Clova’s number and she answers on the second ring. I exhale hard, trying to slow down my heartbeat. I’m still shaken.
What if mi did mash the brakes too hard and end up inna somebody bumper?
Yuh nuh listen, Zara.
“Hey Zara baby, mi know mi tell yuh 10:00 but yuh can come fi 12:00 instead please,” she says, voice light but rushed. “Mi just memba mi have one more client.”
“Clova, that alright man,” I tell her, trying to sound calm even though my nerves are still jumpy.
“Alright… how yuh a dweet again?” she asks.
“Mi want it short,” I say, already picturing the style in my head. “We’ll decide the rest when mi come.”
“Alright baby tomorrow den,” she says sweetly before hanging up.
I watch the road ahead for a moment, then slowly ease off the brake. This time, I’m more than focused, eyes locked, back straight, both hands firm on the wheel.
Yuh nah mash up yuhself and Nick Pitney fi foolishness. Keep yuh eyes pon the road.
I pull into Wendy’s driveway a few minutes later, still feeling a little tight in the chest. Mi still frighten enuh. Hush now, I whisper to myself. Stop dwell pan it. As if on cue, Wendy steps outside with a bright smile, her face lighting up the yard.
“Watch the top gyal!” she calls, stepping aside so I can come in.
I let out a soft chuckle and walk up the stairs. “Good morning, Wendy,” I greet her, and she swings the grill door open with a grin.
Inside, the scent of fried plantain hits me like a blessing.
Lawd. Love yuh belly so?
“Mi a mek breakfast fi me and yuh,” she says, already turning toward the kitchen.
Dat a wah mi love fi hear! “Yes!” I beam, kicking off my slides and stepping in behind her. What’s with me and plantain these days?
Pregnancy, girl.
I settle into the living room, right where she set up her nail station. The TV’s on some old Disney movie playing: How to Build a Better Boy. Classic.
“Mi love this,” I laugh.
Wendy peeks out the kitchen. “Mi used to watch it every day,” she says, and I laugh again.
We chatter ‘bout the movie until she pauses. “Yuh want egg and plantain?”
“Thanks, but no eggs,” I reply, feeling my belly already gearing up.
My phone vibrates on the table. It’s Nickoi. I swipe it up and answer. “Yuh reach?” he asks, voice calm but smoky, probably lighting up a spliff.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him.
“Arite, Mami. Do yuh thing,” he says.
“I love you… by—later.” I say, remembering that he hated ‘bye.’
“I love you too,” he says before I hang up.
Wendy walks in with a plate and the sight alone makes me smile. Even though Lizzie made pancakes earlier, mi belly still never feel full. Pregnancy strike again.
“Thank youuuu,” I giggle.
“Never know seh yuh was a foodie,” she says, and I laugh mid-bite.
A long time foodie dat, Wendy.
Mi always did love mi food. We sit and eat, the mood light.
Then she glances at me. “How yuh been though, sis?”
I smile as I chew, the sweetness of the plantain settling mi soul a little.
“Mi good enuh. Mi just want graduation fi done now.”
She nods, understanding. “Okay, baby.”
***
After we finish eating, she clears up then returns with her tools. She pauses mid-motion. “Girl… yuh engaged?!” she gasps, eyes widening like she just catch news.
I blush, biting my lip. Nickoi flash in my mind again. “Yes,” I murmur.
“It cute bad, girl. And yuh deserve it! Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Wendy,” I say with a soft grin as she gently holds my hand.
“Weh yuh seh short?”
“Yeah man. Mi tired a the long nails now.”
“Mi get tired a dem too sometimes,” she chuckles, then gets to work.
The silence after that is peaceful. Her focus sharp, hands steady. My body slowly relax again, the earlier fright fading out. I drift off in the chair, belly full, heart full, nails coming together. Peaceful.
Pregnant, engaged, loved.
“Done enuh, Zara,” Wendy says, nudging my shoulder gently.
I blink awake, stretching with a yawn. “Mi did knock right out,” I laugh, eyes still halfway closed.
She laughs along with me. Truth is, I’d dozed off more than once, drifting in and out while she shaped and buffed my nails.
Somewhere between her polishing my left hand and painting my right, she’d passed me a plate with fruits and a small tube of Pringles.
I remembered nibbling on a grape, chewing lazily with my eyes half shut, and muttering something about being ‘awake’ while I sleep and chew.
Next thing mi know, she’s waking me up fi real. She chuckled, wiping her hands. “No man, it’s like you neva’ get fi sleep last night.”
I smile, still groggy. She doesn’t know it’s the pregnancy. That little person inside me kicking my ass daily. I laugh it off, then glance down at my nails and instantly light up. Mi love them.
“One thing with you enuh, you a go understand the assignment,” I grin, holding up my hands in the light. The short white set? Simple, sweet, elegant. Matches my heart-shaped ring perfectly.
“Thanks, Zara,” she says, tucking her tools away.
I pay her fast since she has to leave soon, then grab my things.
On my way home, I stop to buy a veggie pizza for Nickoi and some more plantains for me.
Can’t lie, the obsession is real. I eat whatever Lizzie prepares at home, but the only thing I really crave lately is plantains. Fried, baked, boiled any style.
When I get home and push open the door, I see him.
Nickoi. He’s standing in the living room, phone to his ear, half-turned away from me.
His skin glows golden-brown under the natural light, tattoos sprawled across his chest like inked armor.
His muscles move slow and relaxed, one hand in his shorts pocket, the other holding his phone.
The soft curl of spliff smoke floats up past his jawline.
His chain rests against his chest, catching light.
He glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with me. I swear mi belly flutter.
“Good day, babe,” I say, slipping into the kitchen with the pizza box.
By the time I return, he’s off the call. Just watching me like I’m the only one in the room. I mean, you are.
“Hey, I bought a pizza for you,” I say, placing the box on the counter.
“What kind of pizza?” he asks, already stepping closer.
“Vegetable pizza,” I reply.
“Thanks, Mami,” he says, brushing past me. The scent of cologne and ganja clings to him, mixed with that warm, earthy scent that’s just Nickoi. Makes my knees light. I trail behind him into the kitchen.
“Mi never see yuh eat pizza,” I tease, leaning against the fridge.
He bites into a slice. Chews. Shrugs. “I do.”
“You a practice fi say it,” I laugh, and he breaks into a grin. That boyish one. The rare one.
I walk over, and he holds out another slice. I lean in, take a bite from his hand, eyes never leaving his. He licks sauce off his thumb. Smooth. Intentional. I smile, heart thudding steady. This man? He’s mine, and I’d never trade him for the world.
Earlier at the Police Station
UNKNOWN
Something about a hot cup of coffee in the morning calms me.
Heck, it doesn’t even have to be morning, just give me my coffee, heavy on the milk, and I’m good.
I bring the cup to my lips when suddenly the door swings open.
Rachel storms in, hair a mess, frustration pouring off her as she throws her bag onto a chair and pins her hair up quickly.
She flops into her seat with a sigh, already flipping through a fat stack of files.“Mi cya bother enuh,” she mumbles under her breath, papers rustling all around her.
I place my coffee down on the table, giving her my full attention. “Isn’t it too early to be acting like this?”
She doesn’t even look at me. “You wouldn’t understand, Detective,” she replies, sighing again as she resumes her frantic search.
I know crime in Jamaica is rising especially in St. Catherine but I didn’t fly here to be worried. I flew here to work. To solve. Because nothing is too hard for me to find.
“Tell me what I don’t understand, Rachel aside from the mass shooting in Constant Spring that all the officers are neck-deep in?”