Chapter 41 His First Bad Bitch
Chapter forty-one
His First Bad Bitch
Nyomi
Kaoru and Yoichi had comforted me enough to go back in the theater box and feign joy.
I was too much of a coward to tell Zo that Hiroko had passed. He was enjoying himself too much with Satoshi.
I'll tell him later.
My hands didn't know where to go. They started in my lap, moved to the armrest, then came back to my lap like they were looking for a place that didn't feel like grief.
My throat kept doing this tight, dry thing as if my body were holding something my mouth refused to release.
I swallowed.
Then swallowed again.
Deja returned to my hair.
Her fingers pressed into my scalp and parted a new row.
My shoulders dropped an inch.
Then another.
She pulled a section taut and my breathing slowed.
The low hum of Zo and Satoshi’s playful conversation wrapped around me and gave my soul much needed warmth.
I closed my eyes and let the grief sit where it was—heavy but quieter now.
After a while, Zo left with Satoshi to help him get the mixture off his skin.
Time passed, and they never came back.
Maybe they were just talking. Maybe they were doing more than that.
Either way, I wasn't going to interrupt. Zo deserved to enjoy his evening. I'd tell him about Hiroko later. Tomorrow, maybe. When he was ready to hear it.
Hours later, my goddess braids were finally done.
Deja placed the mirror in front of me.
When I stood, the braids shifted against my back with a quiet swish. I checked out my reflection.
Wow.
Deja had truly created a masterpiece.
The goddess braids framed my face. Thick at the roots with clean parts and then loose spirals of curly hair wove through the structure.
Deja had threaded copper highlights through every third braid like veins of fire running through dark earth. They caught the light when I turned my head.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder and checked out the side. Those spiraling curls really changed everything about the braids as they cascaded down my back in dark, shiny streams laced with copper, some stopping at my collarbone, others brushing my waist.
My cheekbones looked sharper. My eyes looked bigger. The copper caught the light near my face and made my skin glow warm, like I'd been kissed by the last hour of sun.
I touched one of the braids near my temple. The silky texture shifted under my fingertip. “Oh this is beautiful.”
“I know right.” Deja held her hand up and tapped two fingers together. “I ate.”
“You sure did.”
And due to the copper addition, my dark brown skin looked like I'd walked out of fire and the fire asked to come with me.
“Yeah.” I did a little turn and the curls and braids moved and swayed. I shook my head and they framed my breasts, brushed my waist, and curved around my hips like they knew my body and liked it. “Girl. . .the only problem with this is that. . .you’ll be back in a few weeks doing my hair again.”
“What?” Deja blinked. “You don’t like it?”
“No. I like it, but my man is going to see this, love it, and spend these next days trying to mess it all up.”
She laughed.
“I can already tell.” I sighed. "In fact, I give it five days, before I call you."
Kaoru shook his head. "Two."
I stared at him. "Not two."
Kaoru shrugged.
Deja laughed some more. “I know dude is Japanese, but doesn’t he know he’s not supposed to put his hands on a Black woman’s head?”
“It’s not much you can tell that man.”
“Aww. That’s what’s up. A boss is a hard one to wrangle.” Deja snapped. “Call me if you need tips.”
“I will.”
Deja was already moving before the compliments finished and cleaning stuff up, capping spray bottles and gathering combs.
She rolled her neck, stretched her fingers wide, and then curled them back. "Can someone get me a broom?"
Kaoru straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "You don't have to clean up. We have people who—"
"Naw." Deja stretched her hands. "I have to make sure the hair is disposed of properly. I'm not about to have people blaming me because someone put roots on them."
Kaoru's mouth parted like the words what the fuck does that mean had started forming and then got lost somewhere between his brain and his tongue.
Meanwhile Rin snapped his fingers once.
Two guards rushed out of the room.
Minutes later they returned with a broom and dustpan.
Deja looked up organizing the bags of hair. "Thanks."
But the men didn't walk to her.
They walked to Rin and handed him the broom and dustpan like they were presenting weapons.
Kaoru looked at them. “Are you two crazy? Why would you hand Rin those?”
For real, you think Mr. Royal Guy even knows how to sweep?
I chuckled.
The men remained silent.
Rin took the broom and dustpan, walked over to where Deja had been working, and started sweeping.
Say what?
Like me, Kaoru's mouth was fully open now.
On my side, Yoichi actually blinked three times.
Deja shrugged and finished getting her items together.
And I don't know why I'd never really looked at Rin before—maybe because he was always against a wall appearing high and mighty—but watching him cross the room with a broom in his hand forced me to actually see him.
Okay. You’ve got some muscle on you.
He wasn’t bulky, but he damn sure was built like a weapon.
His shoulders were wide enough to block a doorway and his forearms—now visible because he'd rolled his sleeves back to sweep—were corded with muscle and laced with veins that moved under his skin when his hands shifted on the broom handle.
That single long braid swung between his shoulder blades.
I could honestly see why some women would say, “Fuck it. You can put a bag over my face when we have sex.”
Still. . .Deja wasn’t one of them.
We all continued to watch Rin sweep and as he got closer to Deja, he towered over her.
Deja wasn’t as tall as Nika, but she was close to five-seven in bare feet.
Rin still had a solid eleven inches on her easy.
When he swept past her to reach a stray curl near the counter, his shadow fell across her whole body.
Deja didn't look up, but she shifted.
Just barely.
The smallest adjustment of weight from one foot to the other, like her body had registered his proximity before her brain approved the memo.
Then, Rin finished collecting strands and curls.
I frowned.
And where did he even learn how to sweep?
This man was actual royalty. His bloodline probably had a family crest, a Wikipedia page, and tons of portraits in museums. Men like Rin didn't sweep. They had people who swept, and those people had people who supervised the sweeping, and those people had people who quality-checked the supervision.
Yet here Rin was.
Broom in hand.
While he continued to work, I tilted my head and looked at his face.
Rin's face was the kind of face that had never known struggle.
There were no bumps, blemishes, not even a single line that suggested he'd ever frowned hard enough to leave a mark.
In fact. . .there was absolutely no way this man washed his own face.
Someone did it for him.
Some poor woman—or even a team of women—probably stood over him every damn night with a hot towel and a seven-step routine involving serums I couldn't pronounce and creams that cost more than my rent.
And his skin said that it had been maintained by professionals since birth.
I sighed.
Alright. I’m just jealous that he’s so well-kept. I’m going to leave him alone.
That still didn’t stop me from monitoring his movements around Deja.
Once everything was in the dustpan, he looked at Deja. “Where do you want me to put the hair?"
And I had to admit that Rin’s voice was pretty damn sexy.
But there was this pondering on my end where I wondered if his voice was actually that sexy or was it because he barely spoke.
It could have been that when a man rationed his words, anytime one heard him speak. . .it felt like a reward. Like you'd earned it. Like he'd looked around the room and decided you were the one worth spending a sentence on.
Deja must have felt it too, because she smirked before she answered and pointed to a plastic bag she'd set off to the side. "Put the hair over there. I have to burn it."
"My men will take care of that part."
More words from Rin. This is some sort of record.
I looked at Deja already knowing what she was going to say.
"Naw. Your men can’t do it." She held up a hand. "I do it myself."
Rin didn't argue. He placed the hair in the bag carefully and snapped his fingers.
The men rushed to him.
He handed it to them.
They took it and headed for the door.
Deja blinked and placed her hand on her hip. "Now I just said I’ve got it."
He stared at her. "It's taken care of."
"It has to be burned down to ashes."
"We're good at burning things here." The corner of his mouth didn't quite move, but something behind his eyes did. "Don't worry."
"Someone should say a prayer over the ashes as they ride in the wind."
Rin set the broom down, pulled out his phone, and typed something with his thumb. "It’s taken care of. Anything else?"
Deja stared at him. "Well . . . no. That’s it."
What?
I knew Deja and she was fire cracker who didn’t give one fuck about cursing a man or woman out.
She must be exhausted. That’s what it is.
Deja turned back to putting away her supplies.
Rin walked over, stood beside her, and started mirroring her movements.
Alright, Rin. You’re pushing it.
Meanwhile, some movie played out in the theater, but Kaoru, Yoichi, and I were only watching them like they were a summer blockbuster thriller.
Deja capped a bottle.
Rin picked up the next one and capped it.
Kaoru snorted.
Deja zipped one section of her kit. He picked up another kit on the side and zipped it too.
Yoichi scratched his head and blinked for the hundredth time that day.
She reached for her comb set and Rin was already sliding it across the counter toward her.
Deja's hands slowed and she glanced at him sideways. “I’ve got it. Thank you.”
Thank you?
I tensed.
Deja said thank you? To a man?
If Nika had been here, she might have fallen out her chair.
Meanwhile, Rin didn’t move away. Instead, he put the comb in the last kit and zipped it.
This time, Deja blinked.
I pressed my lips together.
Damn it. Zo might win this bet. . .and he is going to be insufferable if he does win.
Because Rin—stone-faced, monosyllabic, wouldn't-blink-if-the-building-was-on-fire Rin—was over there organizing hair products like he'd been a secret hairstylist his whole life.
And Deja—who didn't let anybody touch her tools—was letting him.
Deja reached for the bottles of batana oil.
Rin grabbed them before her and placed them in the kit.
And her hand paused in the air mid-reach.
Oh shit. . .
Rin leaned forward to grab something else and his long braid swung over his shoulder and hung there.
Deja's eyes dropped to it.
And even I had to admit the braid was immaculate. Whoever maintained it knew what they were doing. The plait was tight and uniform from root to tip, the hair glossy and black as ink, and the whole thing was thick enough that Deja's hand wouldn't have been able to close around it.
Her fingers twitched and she dropped her hand and looked away.
Rin straightened up.
The braid swung back behind him.
Once everything was in her kits, Rin snapped his fingers.
The men rushed over and picked up all the bags.
"Alright. Hold up." She held out her hands. "I'm taking my bags back. I brought them in here and—"
The men walked out with her stuff like she hadn't spoken. Like she was a television someone had muted.
Deja's hand was still extended toward a door that was already closed. She held the pose for a solid three seconds — arm out, fingers spread, mouth half open — like a woman waiting for the universe to apologize.
It did not.
She dropped her hand and turned to me. “This island is absolutely crazy.”
“It is.” I widened my eyes. “I apologize.”
“Girl, it’s all good.” She checked her watch. “Anyway. I’m glad you like your hair. Come on over here and give me a hug goodbye. We leave in the morning.”
Kaoru snorted.
Yoichi chuckled.
I looked at the both of them. “Excuse me? What’s so funny?”
Yoichi cleared his throat. “Nothing. Sorry. I was looking at the movie.”
“Yeah.” Kaoru bobbed his head. “This movie is so funny.”
Deja and I glanced at the screen.
A man was pushing a little girl in a hospital chair as she blew a dandelion and the petals drifted through the air.
“Yeah. So funny.” I rolled my eyes and hugged Deja. “Have a safe trip back to New York and let me know when you get there.”
“I sure will.”
“Oh. I have to pay you. Let me—”
“Girl, they gave me a briefcase of money. Did you forget? You won’t have to pay for a few years now.”
“Well. . .good. I’m glad you’re taken care of.” I chuckled and looked at Kaoru. “Can you walk Deja back for me?”
Rin watched Deja and remained silent.
Of course I was trying to cock block to win that bet.
Kaoru touched his chest. “Me?”
“Yes. You.” I nodded. “Can you walk her to her villa or get some men to—”
“I actually am supposed to be at your side the whole time. Dragon’s orders.”
I turned around to tell Yoichi to take Deja and that motherfucker had disappeared. I didn’t even hear the door open or close. “Where the hell did Yoichi go?”
Kaoru chuckled.
I looked at him.
He went silent and shrugged.
Rin crossed his arms over his chest.
I frowned at him.
What exactly is your endgame here, sir? You are not getting a bag over Deja’s face. She would put a bag over your face first.
Right as I was about to speak, Deja did.
“Don’t worry, Nyomi. I’ve got it. I’m going to walk this little doggy.” She pointed at Rin. “He’s been inside all day and needs some fresh air.”
I blinked.
Kaoru widened his eyes.
Rin maintained that bored expression.
Deja shrugged. “He wants a spot in my stable. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t let him audition.”
Rin leaned his head to the side.
“That’s alright. I’m his first bad bitch. He’ll figure it out.” She walked off.
Rin lowered his gaze to her ass. That bored expression completely cracked. In its place was the look of a predator who had caught the scent of prey and had already decided how he was going to devour it.
Then, he stalked off.
I tensed.
The door closed behind them.
I looked back at Kaoru. “He better not try anything with Deja.”
Kaoru shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yoichi laughed from the side.
I stiffened. “When did you get back?”
"Back from where?"
"You left. You were gone. I turned around and you weren't—"
"I've been here the whole time." Yoichi gave me the most rehearsed innocent expression I’ve ever seen on a grown man.
“Wasn’t he gone?” I looked at Kaoru.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nyomi.” Kaoru put his view on the movie.
“But. . .”
Wasn’t he gone?