Chapter Sixteen
One month later.
A month later, life had settled into a familiar rhythm for Nivéa.
Mariah The Scientist's music played softly through the speakers in her shop as she slid a receipt across the counter to a dance coach who had just paid a deposit for a custom order.
Nivéa had been putting in overtime with her grind.
The coach had discovered her designs through several posts she had made on the local neighborhood app, prompting her to rush to the shop at the first opportunity.
“You're all set to go. I’ll email the mockups tomorrow morning. Once you approve them, I’ll proceed with printing.” Nivéa said, returning the woman’s debit card.
“Perfect. Thank you for squeezing us in so close to competition, Nivéa. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem at all. I’m happy to help, and I’m grateful you’re trusting my business with your vision.”
The woman nodded, tucked her wallet into her purse, and headed for the door. The bell chimed softly as the security guard let her out.
Next in line were two teenagers who had seen the flyers Nivéa and Caresha had distributed around the area earlier that week.
Nivéa was running a sale on her designs to attract more customers, and the two best friends had eagerly snatched up nearly every graphic tee in the shop.
She overheard their chatter as they browsed.
“Hi, ladies. Did you find everything okay today?”
“Yes!” they replied in unison, and Nivéa found it adorable.
They reminded her of herself and Caresha in their younger days…when life felt easy and carefree. From the window, she noticed one of their mothers had driven them, but stayed behind to give them some independence.
“Great. You both have excellent taste. These are some of my favorites.”
“Thanks. We don’t have to wear uniforms at our school, so this is perfect for our jeans and stuff. And like my mama always says, you can’t beat a good sale.” The shorter girl snapped her fingers. “I’m Ashley.”
“And I’m Jasmine.” The other chimed in, sticking her hand out.
Nivéa laughed and shook it. “I hear that. Mama taught you well.” She nodded in approval as she rang them up. “I’m Nivéa. How old are you both?”
“17,” they answered simultaneously again.
“Well, technically I’m 16, but my birthday is next month, so...” Ashley corrected.
“Okay. Well, tell your mama to bring you by again if you’re thinking about throwing a birthday party. I do custom shirts, too.”
“Okay, cool,” Ashley smiled, taking a business card and stuffing it inside the pocket of her hoodie.
Once the transaction was complete and they headed out the door, Nivéa exhaled and leaned back against the counter, letting the song’s lyrics wash over her.
She took a moment to check her phone, missing her man like crazy.
She wondered if he had texted or called, but to her dismay, he hadn’t.
She hadn't heard from Crown since early that morning, before they both headed into work. If it were up to her, she’d text him every hour on the hour.
Nivéa was clingy, but she was trying to be reasonable, knowing Crown’s life wasn’t simple. His schedule was unpredictable, and she respected that. Still, she scrolled to his name and sent a message anyway.
Heyyy, it’s 1:20, sir.
She kept it short and playful, enough to convey her feelings without being too direct. Shortly after hitting send, she slipped her iPhone back into her pocket and glanced up at her guard.
“Hey, Mike. You can take your break since things have slowed down.”
“Alright, will do, boss lady.” Mike replied, heading to the back where she’d created a cozy break room for him and the other officer.
Crown hadn’t lied. Once she opened her doors again, he hired a security firm, and two-armed guards were now securing her shop on rotating shifts.
Mike worked the day shift while Joe watched the building overnight.
Both men had military backgrounds. Plus, all four Knights’ prospects took turns passing through throughout the day.
Nivéa loved this setup; it made her feel safe, especially after the incident with Boe.
After wiping down her counter, Nivéa headed to her workstation, where Caresha sat perched on a stool.
“Was that a big order I heard?” She asked, tossing some popcorn in her mouth.
“Yes, ma’am. A dance team with a coach who knows what she wants and parents who pay on time. My favorite kind of people.” Nivéa said, tying her apron.
Caresha laughed. “Aye, I know that’s right. Make that money, sis.”
Nivéa picked up one of the tees she’d been working on and smoothed it out on the table. The new collection was laid out around her. They were simple graphics with soft colors that conveyed everything she felt. She held one up.
Still Standing.
Another read in elegant cursive,
Soft Doesn’t Mean Weak.
Then there was,
My healing is personal, intentional.
Each design featured a portrait of a beautiful Black woman, posed differently to bring the message to life.
Though the expressions, stances, hairstyles, and skin tones varied, the consistent color palette tied the collection together.
She’d taken her time with this idea, and Crown had executed the sketches perfectly for her.
Her short time spent locked away at his place and not being able to work in her shop hadn’t been wasted after all. She’d brought back some fire with her.
“I really love this collection, sis.” Caresha said, leaning in to study the shirts again. “And you know I always love what you drop, but this? This feels different. It’s the vibe for me. You and Crown did y’all thing.”
Nivéa nodded. “Thank you, girl. I love it too. It reflects how I’m feeling these days after everything I’ve been through.”
Caresha’s gaze shifted from the shirts to her best friend, a proud smile spreading across her face.
“You glowing, hoe. And Ny’s got those breasts sittin’ right. Dangggg, maybe it’s time for ya girl to find a good man and push out a kid.” She joked, looking down at her small breasts and jiggling them with her hands before rolling her eyes. “Chile, pathetic.”
“Reesh, please.”
They shared a laugh as Nivéa reached for another tee, adjusting its alignment before pressing it and sealing the ink into the fabric.
Meanwhile, Caresha sat quietly, watching her show on the mounted flatscreen TV.
This was their usual. They could sit for hours together without speaking, both lost in their own worlds.
Boredom from not interacting wasn’t even a thought for them.
As long as they had each other’s presence, they were good.
Nivéa worked hard for about an hour before the bell over the door chimed again. Snapping out of her zone, she stood and walked to the front, hoping to secure another order. To her surprise, it was Crown, standing with a large gift bag in one hand and roses in the other.
“Hey, baby.” She said, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree as she rushed over to him. Lately, she looked at him as if he were her Superman, and he proudly embraced the role.
“Sup, ma.” Crown spoke.
As Nivéa wrapped her arms around his waist, she looked up at him, poking her bottom lip out. “Why haven’t you texted me back?”
“‘Cause I’d rather show up. It’s clear in the text you missed a nigga.”
Nivéa giggled; she hadn’t seen him in person in a while felt like. “Baby, it’s been a whole two days. My lil heart hurts.”
“You the one tryna be independent and shit, moving back to your crib. Told you your home is with me.”
Smitten, she shook her head as she batted her lashes at him. “Hush. I’m just trying to be cautious, that’s all. All this for me?”
“Yep, daddy comes bearing gifts.” Crown leaned down and kissed her lips as he handed her the bouquet of roses.
“I miss you.”
“I miss the shit out of you, too.”
“The roses are beautiful. Can’t wait to see what’s in the bag.”
Clearing her throat, Caresha walked from the back, interrupting the moment. “Oh, please. You two get a room. This is a professional business. Y’all niggas getting on my nerves.”
“Girl, hush. Don’t be hatin’ ‘cause your ass lonely.” Nivéa teased, sticking her tongue out.
“And is. I want some damn flowers.” Caresha playfully rolled her eyes as Crown chuckled.
“Sup, Reesh.” He spoke.
“Hey, Crown. Good to see you. Now you can cheer this hoe up. She’s been trying to hold it together for customers, but I could tell she was sad as hell because she misses you. Checkin’ her phone every five minutes.”
“Bitch, shut up.”
“Mmhm, I’m leaving. Gonna give you and your man some time. Call me later.” Caresha laughed as they hugged goodbye.
Once she was gone, Crown’s hand slid to Nivéa’s ass and squeezed, sending a jolt of electricity through her.
She quickly glanced out the window, hoping no customers were approaching, and stole a passionate kiss from him.
He looked so good in his button-up, and she loved his fresh cut.
The waves in his hair were enough to make her seasick.
“Where the fuck is Mike?” Crown asked, scanning the room as he pulled away from her lips.
“I sent him on break. He should be back soon. Calm down, baby.”
Just then, Mike walked from the back and spoke as he passed. Crown didn’t respond, just chunked up his head, watching him until he stepped outside to stand in front of the door.
Nivéa shook her head, laughing, aware that Crown had a way of intimidating folks with just one look.
She noticed her guards only stepped outside when he was around.
If they did venture out, it was merely to perform the hourly perimeter check Crown required.
Pulling away from his arms, she dumped the marbles out of a decorative vase, filled it with water, and added the roses.
“Be nice, baby. Mike is a sweetheart.” She said.
“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga is. They here to do a job, and I want ‘em to know that’s the only thing they need to focus on.”