Page 64 of Cillian

“What for?”

“Because I don't want to ruin my surprise.” He sighed deeply.

“I don't know why you're going through all this trouble for. Unless you're gonna pop a tit in my mouth or something,” he jested, but most times he was being serious. I arranged the contents in the best way I could remember, placing a cloche over it to delay the reveal. Placing it in front of him, I instructed him to open his eyes and he repaid me with a confused look.

“Queenie, what are you going through all this trouble for? Fancy plate coverings for something we eat every morning?” He challenged, but when he lifted the lid, his argument went silent.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“I don't know. What do you think it is?” I asked, as he reached for a fork and knife with a sudden quickness. He took a bite of the sausage, his eyes shutting in pleasure at its warmth and familiarity.

“These are like proper sausage. Proper Irish sausage. Nothing against American stuff, but it's like you guys use a different part of the swine or something. It's not better or worse. It just takes time getting used to. Mmm…this is proper good. You're such a sweet heart. I want to do something nice for you, baby.” I rolled my eyes, biting into a piece of the bacon. He was right, Irish cuts of meat did taste different. But it was a good different, not a bad one.

“You do do nice things for me, “I admitted, recalling not just the major things, but the little things he did to make me feel appreciated. Like straightening up after dinner. Helping me wash and style my hair. Giving me massages after a long day. Those were things I couldn't put a price on.

“Yeah, but proper,” he said, excusing himself and returning with his wallet. “Why don't you spend the day getting some more dresses. Get your hair done in a shop. Maybe get your nails done, too. I'd like to take you out when I get home, and I know just the thing.”

“And what's that?” I wondered. He stuffed a piece of black pudding in his mouth, licking his fingers like he had never eaten before.

“I can't tell you that. It's a surprise.” I smiled as he pulled out a few tens and placed them on the table. He rolled his eyes, pulling out his wallet again to add a few more bills to the pile.

“If that's not enough, I'll get Seamus to run you over to the bank when he takes you.”

“Cillian, that should be more than enough. Thank you, but you know you don't always have to spend so much money on me. The thing I love most is when you're here with me.” He cradled my hand bringing my fingers to his lips.

“I know, and I wish I could spend the whole day with you, but I've got to work, darling. Upside is I know you're gonna love my surprise,” he said, as he finished up his entire serving whereas I was packing mine up for later. He spent the rest of the morning getting dressed for work, while I got ready to spend the day running errands. He walked out the bedroom, a bout of disappointment washing over me that he had failed to say goodbye. As I stepped out of my slip, strong arms embraced me, my scream of surprise filling the walk-in closet.

“Only codding you. I would never leave without getting my kiss,” he said, with a kiss to my neck and cheek along with a slap to my ass. “I better see you in something new tonight. Something that makes you feel like a princess. Otherwise when I see you, I'm gonna bring you across my lap and spank you…but I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?” he flirted, his Irish brogue devilish and low, as his hands traveled down my limbs.

“I like it when you do it when you’re behind me,” I giggled, as his rapid kisses tickled the back of my neck.

“Shit! Now you've got me all worked up before work,” he said with another slap to my ass that was interrupted with a loud banging on a door inside the apartment.

“Oi, Cilly. We haven’t got all day, lad. You had all morning to fulfill your marital duties before work.” Paddy and Bellamy right on time.

“Ugh! I've got to go, but be ready around six, alright? I'll ring you around three to check in. Give me a kiss,” he said leaning in one last time before he joined his brothers and the front door of the penthouse slammed shut.

***

This time I decided to hit up the Black side of town. Without Cillian, I’d never feel comfortable in other places anyways, plus it was nice knowing I could breathe without looking over my shoulder. The first place I had Seamus take me to was the hair salon. While I preferred doing my own hair, for our night out I just wanted something more glamorous. Maybe an up do or a roller set with soft waves. One place I often frequented had a stylist that specialized in non-permed hair, so she was my go to since her methods preserved my curls without damage.

Darlene’s.

We pulled up to the corner it stood, as I gathered my purse and advised Seamus to drop me off here.

“Here is fine. Between shopping, getting my hair and nails done, and then having a quick walk around, I'd say give me about four hours. There's no need for you to be sitting out here waiting for me when you might have other things to do.”

“Are you sure, lass? I don't mind waiting. It's literally my job to wait on you.”

“Yeah, but I feel safe here. It's no big deal. I won't tell if you won't,” I added with a wink as he promised he wouldn’t be far. I took a deep breath spinning on my toes to face my old stomping grounds. In a way, places like this had felt smaller now. Or maybe my world had just gotten bigger, so some things of the past had lost that certain it factor. But the second I walked through those doors, one thing would never change, was that nothing topped the gossip in a Black hair salon. Everything from confirming someone's drinking habit, to a whisper about your neighbor's cheating. If it was juicy and worth hearing about, it was going to be shared at a Colored beauty parlor.

“Well, if it isn't a familiar face back from the dead,” a woman said, approaching me. Her name was Miss Mary. She went to my parent’s church and hosted potlucks every Thursday's. She was around my mama’s age and didn't do anything but cook, worship and gossip.

“How's your mama and daddy doing? Last thing they told me was that you went up and got married. And they invite nobody to the wedding.” Ha! It wasn't like that was my fault. I hope my parents told them that, too. I hadn't made the time to check up on them since I became Cillian’s.

I was in my own little bliss being outside of my parents’ house. And it was just nice not having to deal with the invisible labor they expected out of their oldest daughter. Cillian was showing me how I loved being loved on, something I had yet to experience from maternal or paternal affection.

“Ain't nobody seen or heard from you until a few weeks ago. Tilly Armstrong said you went up and married one of those Irish boys. What you having done today, baby?” A stylist asked, easing me down on one of the chairs.

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