Chapter 40 Patrick Swayze
Chapter forty
Patrick Swayze
Nyomi
I grinned. “What happened to the banker?”
“Banker?” Deja combed my hair over to the side.
“You know? Wasn’t it one guy that worked at the bank—”
“Girl, he owned the bank. Are you crazy?” Deja laughed. “She said worked at the bank.”
“My bad. Owned the bank.”
“Get it right.” Deja sucked her teeth. “Yeah. Money CEO stud was cool for a little bit. Flew me out here and there, gave me a couple nice bags, but he got boring real quick, kept asking to come to my house and meet my family like I’m a damn genie that grants wishes.
Boy, stop asking me for shit. I had to go Patrick Swayze. ”
I quirked my brows. “Do what now? Patrick Swayze?”
Nika jumped in. “She ghosted him.”
“Oh.” I chuckled.
“Yeah. He’s constantly sending me texts every other day, having full blown, deep conversations with himself.
” Deja nodded. “You know I have to protect my peace and sacred space. Dude thought that dropping thousands here and there meant something, but I don’t let just anybody meet my family. They’re special.”
“Then, what about the restaurant guy who had that high-end soul food spot in Manhattan. The jazz was always so good there. He would give me the best table just because he knew that I knew you.”
Deja sucked her teeth. “Dude said no too many times for my liking.”
“How many times did he say no?”
Nika held up one finger.
I laughed.
“I’m too expensive to be providing discounts for the Deja experience.” She sprayed my hair and combed some more. “My face card is worth more than an Amex.”
Nika clapped. “I don’t know about that. I would rather have the American Express card.”
“No way. That card has bills. This face? Not one.”
Kaoru spoke from his chair, "What would a man have to do?"
Deja paused. "Huh?"
"To avoid you going. . ." He searched for it. "Patrick Swayze."
Nika snorted.
Deja sighed. "First of all, don't bore me. I can't stand a boring man. I don't care how much money he has. If he can't keep my attention, we're done."
"What else?" Kaoru asked.
"He has to stop asking me what I need and just pay attention. If he’s watching close enough, he’ll already know. And then. . .” She considered something and spoke, “After that it’s not much else. Just don't waste my time, respect me, and don't make me repeat myself."
Kaoru nodded slowly. "Interesting."
Yoichi's eyes shifted to Rin for a half second. Just a quick glance. As if he was checking to see if Rin had heard that.
Rin's bored expression didn't change.
Good. He’s not listening.
I smirked.
I’m winning this bet.
Deja was still braiding my hair.
She’d been at it for hours now, fingers parting, pulling, weaving.
Rin had moved from the wall and was seated off to the side by Kaoru in one of the velvet chairs, legs crossed, watching the screen below.
But I'd noticed something.
Every time Deja shifted behind me—reaching for a clip, adjusting her angle, or leaning close to section a new part—Rin's gaze moved to her quick.
Then back to the movie like nothing happened.
But it kept happening.
I doubted Deja ever noticed.
I need to talk to Kenji about getting Deja a security detail so she actually gets off this island. Rin is being creepy.
Meanwhile, Satoshi was still in the corner, covered in the mixture. He looked like he'd been dipped in oatmeal, but the relief on his face was worth it. He'd stopped scratching and fidgeting.
Instead, he finally relaxed, leaning in so close to Zo their shoulders touched and they whispered and laughed about stuff.
The theater below shifted personalities every two hours.
The war film’s crowd had been mostly elderly couples. Men in pressed slacks. Women in cardigans with brooches shaped like birds. One man held the door for his wife. The light caught the gun tattoos creeping from his collar to just below his ear.
The film had been about two soldiers on opposite sides of a civil war who we later discovered were father and son.
When bombs exploded on screen, the box vibrated and I felt the violence in my spine.
Yet, Deja never paused. She stayed in the zone with her fingers working.
At the end, mud clung to the father’s uniform and blood spilled from his bullet ridden chest, in his pocket was a letter to his son.
When the screen went black, the audience filtered out in soft waves with their hands intertwined.
The horror movie crowd flooded in like a different species.
Teenagers.
Loud ones.
Sneakers squeaking.
Hoodies half-zipped.
This one was about a dead transgender girl who crawled out of mirrors and dragged people back through the glass. Once inside, she wore their skin and lived their lives until someone looked in the mirror too long and saw the wrong face smiling back.
The moment when a bathroom mirror rippled like water and a rotting gray hand pressed outward from the other side of the glass, Nika jumped up from her seat and shook her head. “Naw, man.”
Then, a face followed—smiling wrong, eyes too wide, lips stretched just a little too far.
Nika shook her head. “Shit like this will bring bad spirits to you. We shouldn’t be watching this.”
Thankfully, it was more funny than scary. At the parts meant to be terrifying, a group of girls laughed so hard one of them dropped her slushie.
Other teens talked through the slow scenes, shouted at the screen, and at one point someone launched a fistful of popcorn three rows back like it was a sport.
Yoichi went down there and ended that fast. Two boys slunk out with their heads down like they’d just been expelled from life.
Once over, the teenagers filed out still buzzing.
The theater went quiet for a few minutes while the staff quickly cleaned.
The next crowd came in hushed for the French romance with Japanese and English subtitles.
Tons of women in elegant coats, silk scarves, and expensive shoes.
A group of three near the middle spotted me before the movie started. One nudged the other, pointed up, and gave a friendly wave.
I waved back.
Nika leaned against the railing. "You're popular here. Lots of people have been looking up and watching you."
I shrugged. “You know I’m that bitch.”
Nika snorted. “Naw. Your man must be Him-othy.”
Kaoru eyed her. "Him-othy?"
"Him-othy." Nika held out her hands. "As in, Nyomi’s man is not just Him. He is the Him of all Hims. The Timothy of Him.”
Kaoru smiled. “The Timothy of Him?”
“The greatest of the greats." Nika winked. “Him-othy.”
Deja chuckled. “Ignore her."
“Well. . .” I grinned. “My man is actually Him-othy so. . .we don’t have to ignore her.”
Deja laughed some more. “Look at my girl, Nyomi, so happy to have a man. Last time you were in my chair, talking about how no man could do nothing for you and you were all about your career now.”
“I hadn’t met the right man.”
“Naw.” Nika snapped. “You didn’t get the right dick.”
Kaoru loudly laughed.
I frowned at him. “It wasn’t that funny.”
"It was a little funny," Kaoru muttered.
Yoichi nodded once.
Traitor.
When the French romance started we went quiet. And in the quiet, Kenji crept back into my thoughts and the anxiety rose. I did my best to focus on the story.
I found the film interesting.
It was about a prostitute who fell in love with her top customer’s son. She’d met the son as she stood beneath a street lamp in the rain outside of his parents’ house. Her red lipstick had been smudged from sucking his father off. Her mascara bled slightly at the edges.
The son gave her a ride home, and the next she was fucking him in shitty hotel rooms.
Every scene was drenched in lies, sex, and inevitability. I could feel the collision coming long before the final reveal happened and father and son fought.
Many of the women cried discreetly.
The other half dozed off whenever the dialogue got too philosophical.
But there was one moment when Deja's fingers slowed in my hair, when on screen, the prostitute pressed her forehead against the son's chest and whispered something the subtitles translated as "I'm tired of being chosen for the wrong reasons."
Deja's hands went still.
Just for a second.
Maybe two.
Then she cleared her throat, pulled a new section of hair, and kept going. "This movie is dramatic as hell."
But her voice was quieter than before, and then Deja kept on braiding. “Anyway. . .your man is going to be kitty lips all night when he sees you.”
“Kitty lips?”
Nika pointed to my crotch. “Eating it up all night like it’s a budget Chinese buffet.”
“Wow.” I laughed.
“And for the next time you need your hair done, make sure you go to Amsterdam or Paris, so a bitch can do some shopping.”
“Noted.”
And then my phone rang.
Oh shit. Please let that be Kenji.
I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
Yes. Kenji.
My heart stopped.
"Hold on, Deja." I held up my hand. "I need to take this real quick."
“Okay, girl.” She stepped back.
“Shoot. I’ve been working hard.” Nika got up too and headed away. “Girl, I’m going back to our villa to take a nap.”
Deja rolled her eyes. “Bitch, you haven’t done shit.”
“I’m still tired.” Nika waved and left.
I stood and rushed out of the box.
Kaoru was immediately behind me, along with Yoichi. They followed me into the hallway and had their guns out.
I pressed the phone to my ear. "Kenji? Are you okay?"
His voice came through rough and ragged. "Tora. I'm fine. I'm safe."
My voice cracked. “Oh my God and everybody else? How’s Hiro?”
“He’s fine. Reo's safe too along with the Claws."
“Thank God. Did you find your father?”
"My father wasn't there. It was a trap by my brother, but we have some possible clues.”
“Dear God. Okay.” Relief flooded through me. My knees almost buckled. But then I realized he hadn't said everyone.
My stomach dropped.
I raised my eyebrows. "And Hiroko?"
There was a pause.
My body tensed.
I swallowed. “Kenji. . .is she okay?"
"Tora. . ."
My bottom lip quivered. “W-what?”
"I'm sorry, Tora."
My eyes started to water. "No. What are you. . ? What are you sorry about? What do you mean?"
"She was shot. She died."