12. Asha
Asha
Supreme was in a good mood when I got home.
He'd closed some deal with a supplier upstate and the money was clean and the numbers worked and he was riding the high of it all the way through dinner.
I sat across from him at the table, smiled, asked the right questions, laughed when he made a joke about the other guy's negotiating strategy.
"Baby, you should've seen his face when I walked in with the counteroffer," Supreme said, cutting into his steak. "Man thought he had me locked in at fifteen percent and I came back with eight."
"Eight?" I widened my eyes just enough. "How'd you get him down that far?"
"Leverage, baby. Always about leverage." He grinned and reached across the table to take my hand. "That's what I been teaching you, right? You gotta know what the other person needs more than they know it themselves."
"You're good at that," I said, and I meant it. He was. That was the problem.
He squeezed my hand and went back to his steak. The cook had made it with roasted potatoes and vegetables. I ate slowly, keeping pace with Supreme so I wouldn't finish too early or too late. Three years had taught me the rhythm of his dinners.
"You know what I love about you?" Supreme asked, fork paused halfway to his mouth.
"What's that?"
"You listen. You really listen." He pointed at me with his fork. "Most women, they just waiting for they turn to talk. But you? You hear what I'm saying. You understand the game."
"I'm learning from you," I said.
"Damn right you are." He grinned. "You're my smart girl. My baby. Ain't nobody else got what we got."
I smiled and told him he was right.
After we ate he wanted to watch a game. I followed him to the couch and settled in next to him with my legs tucked under me. His arm went around my shoulders and I leaned into his side the way he liked. The game was barely ten minutes in when his phone rang.
He checked the screen and his whole face changed. The easy warmth drained out of it and something colder slid into place.
"I gotta take this," he said, already standing.
"Of course."
He walked to the far side of the room near the window and answered. "Yeah." A pause. "I said handle it, not ask me about it again."
His voice was low but every word carried through the apartment. It wasn't that big.
"Nah, I don't give a fuck what he say now. He had his chance to come correct." Supreme turned to look out the window, one hand in his pocket. "Get his girl first. The one who work in that fancy office downtown. Make sure he watch what happen to her. Then you finish him."
My stomach went cold but I kept my face neutral, my eyes on the TV.
"Slit his throat but make sure it's slow," Supreme continued, his tone casual like he was discussing the weather. "I want him to feel every second of it. And make sure his crew know why. This what happen when you try to move on my blocks without permission."
He listened for another moment. "Good. Call me when it's done."
He hung up and came back to the couch like nothing had happened. Sat down, pulled me close again, kissed the side of my head.
"Sorry about that, baby. Business."
"It's okay," I said quietly.
"You know I gotta stay on top of things, keep people in line."
"I know."
His hand moved from my shoulder to my neck, fingers stroking the base of my skull. "You're so good to me. So understanding. That's why I love you."
I tilted my head to give him better access. My skin wanted to crawl away from his touch but I kept still, kept soft, kept present.
"I love you too," I said.
We watched the rest of the game. He kept talking about the deal, running through the details again because he liked to relive his wins. I nodded, made commentary when he paused, laughed when he made another joke. The whole time I could hear his voice saying slit his throat but make sure it's slow.
We went to bed just after eleven. He was tired from the meeting and the dinner and the talking.
I helped him out of his clothes and hung them up while he got into bed.
When I climbed in next to him he pulled me close and kissed me properly for the first time all evening.
His mouth tasted like the bourbon he'd been drinking and his hands moved over my body with the easy confidence of someone who believed I belonged to him.
I kissed him back. I made the right sounds. I moved the way he wanted me to move. When he rolled over and went to sleep twenty minutes later I lay there in the dark with his arm heavy across my waist, eyes open, counting the cracks in the plaster above the bed.
My waist still remembered where Omar's hands had been.
The weight of them, the way his fingers had pressed into my sides when he pulled me close.
I wanted to touch the spot but I didn't. I just lay there and thought about it until Supreme's breathing evened out into sleep.
Then I rolled carefully onto my side facing away from him and closed my eyes.
The next morning Supreme left early for a meeting.
I heard him moving around the bedroom in the dark, getting dressed, checking his phone.
He kissed my forehead before he left and I made a sleepy sound and rolled over like I was going back to sleep.
The door closed. I heard his footsteps down the hall, heard the front door open and shut, heard the elevator ding.
I got up and made coffee. Put on a tank top and sweatpants and sat at the kitchen table with my phone. Stared at Nene's contact for a full minute before I called.
She picked up on the second ring. "You okay?"
"I kissed him."
Dead silence. Then: "ASHA."
"Yeah."
"Supreme's... Omar... you kissed..."
"Nene."
"Do you understand what...?"
"Yeah." I was smiling. I couldn't stop. "I know and I genuinely don't care right now."
She was quiet for a second. Then her voice went softer. "Is it like it was? When you were young?"
I thought about his hand catching my face. About the way he'd looked at me in that park like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. About the sound he'd made when I kissed him back.
"No," I said. "It's better. So much better."
Nene was quiet again. "Asha."
"Yeah?"
"No, listen to me. I love you, and I need you to be careful."
"I am."
"Not Omar careful, I mean Supreme careful. You understand?"
The smile faded a little but didn't go all the way. "Yeah. I understand."
"Because if he finds out..."
"He won't."
"You don't know that."
"I'm being smart about it."
"Are you? Because kissing Omar in public don't sound smart to me."
"It was hidden and we were careful."
"Asha, there ain't no such thing as careful when you're Supreme's girl. You know that."
I did know that. I'd known it when I let Omar pull me to that park. I'd known it when I kissed him. I'd known it when I walked away and got in Cee's car and came back home, then having to fucking perform like an Oscar contender the whole evening as though nothing had changed.
"I'm handling it," I said.
"You got feelings for him."
It wasn't a question. I didn't answer.
"Shit," Nene breathed. "You got feelings for him and you're still in Supreme's house. This is gonna go bad so fast."
"I have a plan."
"What plan?"
I opened my mouth to tell her about the savings account, about how I was only three thousand away from potentially cutting it and running.
But the words stuck. Because the plan had always been solo.
Get the money, figure out the logistics, disappear clean.
No Omar. No complications. Just me and a new city and a chance to breathe.
The plan didn't account for a man whose hand on my waist was enough to make me forget every smart decision I'd ever made.
"I'm working on it," I said instead.
Nene sighed. "Asha, baby, I love you but you need to get out. Like yesterday. Before this gets worse."
"I know."
"Do you? Because I don't think you're hearing me. Supreme ain't a man who shares. You know what he did to the last girl who tried to leave him?"
I did. Everyone knew. She'd made it three states away before his people found her. She was still in a hospital somewhere upstate learning how to walk again.
"I'm not her," I said quietly.
"You're right. You're worse. Because she didn't have Omar waiting for her on the other side."
I closed my eyes.
"Just promise me you'll be smart," Nene continued. "Please."
"I promise."
"I mean it."
"So do I."
We talked for a few more minutes about nothing important. She told me about a client at the salon who'd come in asking for box braids and left with a pixie cut because Nene had talked her into it. I laughed and it felt good to laugh about something normal.
When we hung up I sat at the kitchen table for a while with my coffee getting cold. Then I opened my banking app.
The savings account I'd been building for two years sat there with its quiet numbers. I was three thousand away from the target I'd set myself. A month at the salon rate, maybe five weeks if I had a quiet patch. Three thousand.
I knew the number represented a door and I still hadn't figured out exactly what was on the other side of it. Where I'd go, how I'd make it clean, how I'd get out in a way that didn't give Supreme a reason to find me. I didn't have all of that yet.
But I had three thousand to go.
I looked at the number for a while. Thought about Omar's mouth on mine. Thought about Supreme's arm around my shoulders at dinner. Thought about Nene's voice saying you need to get out like yesterday.
I closed the app and finished my coffee.
The plan was still the plan. Get to the number. Figure out the exit. Disappear.
The plan just had more variables now.
I got dressed and texted Cee that I was ready. He pulled up twenty minutes later and I got in the back seat. We drove to the salon in silence. I had three clients booked and a color correction that was going to take most of the afternoon.
I sat in my chair between appointments and checked my phone more times than I should have. No messages, no missed calls. Omar wasn't going to reach out and it was too dangerous anyway. We both knew it.
But I checked anyway.
At the end of the day Cee drove me home. I went upstairs and Supreme was already there, waiting. He was in a good mood again. Some other deal, some other win. I smiled, kissed him, asked him about his day and did my usual winning performance.
But when I lay in the dark afterward, Supreme's arm heavy across my body, I touched my waist one more time where Omar's hands had been.
Then I moved my hand away.
And promised myself I wouldn't do it ever again.