Page 252 of Not My Type
“Nickoi yuh never cause nutt’n so yuh nuh affi apologize,” she sighs.
“Mi know, but mi sorry you affi go through all a dat.” She stays silent for a while before turning to me, eyes glossy with unshed tears. What’s up with Zara and these mood swings? She was just fine a minute ago.
“If you never tell me yuh love me in Hawaii, today woulda prove it,” she mutters. “Like, you literally wrap me up just fi shield me from the shots and end up gettin’ hit instead.” Tears spill over as she shakes her head. “Mi nah ever forget that,” she chokes out, chest rising hard with every sob. I reach over, thumb brushing away the wet tracks on her face. “I love you,” she whispers, voice breaking.
“I love you too,” soon as I say that, she tries to kiss me but I can’t when my eyes are focused on the road.
“Hold o—” she clicks on the indicator. Watch ya? I chuckle and pull over and she climbs over on me. She nah waste no time. “Zara wah you a do?” she’s acting different. Mi kinda like this Zara...but mi love the good girl Zara more.
She sits on my lap, crashing her lips against mine. I grip her waist and kiss her back, deep and hungry, until Gutta honks passing by. Probably a wonder why mi stop. I blow the horn. Zara pulls away, breathless, flashing that innocent little smile. Jah jah. All wah gwaan, she kno’ wah she a do enuh. She slides into her seat, and buckles up like nothing happened. My jaw tight, grip locked on the wheel, pants straining. I floor the pedal, wishing I could fly home just to finish what she started.
“Why you a act so wild?” I have to ask her. Mi like it, but mi concerned.
“Because I want to,” she shrugs. I chuckle, legs rocking.
“Yuh drink?” Mi know she nuh drunk but a only wen she drunk she have so much mouth.
“No,” she says. “Mi just did feel like kiss you at the moment.”
“Usually you would a wait,” I point out.
“Well I didn’t wait this time,” she retorts and I smile to myself.
When we get home, Zara goes straight to the bathroom and showers while I take the time to eat my food downstairs. My thoughts consuming me. No longer hard. Just cut up. Nah eva drop mi guard so again. After my own shower, I slip into bed, but sleep eludes me. I step out onto the balcony, gazing into the night as my mind spirals. First mi see you a overthink... a Zara thing that.
But too much deh pon mi mind. Mi still nuh deal wid Talia yet—she’s the only loose end in Carlos’ death, and mi nuh wah no loose ends. Mi lawyer situation still need sorting, mi business a get neglected… mi a slack up.
I turn to look at Zara. Asleep, her dark hair spilling over the pillow.
Mi obse—mi love har to the point where mi nuh even have a life dawg—everything is about her. Nah complain, just need fi balance mi priorities. But when mi alone, mi thoughts devour mi. Like everything mi been pushing back a flood mi brain all at once.
And at the top of that list? Adonis. Blood or not. Him affi dead.
I pull a chair in front of the bed and sit, elbows on my knees, studying the way her chest rise and fall, the small twitch of her fingers, my head tilting. One minute. Then two. Then five. What if this was it? What if their plan worked and she never wake up?
My fingers tap against my knee, my breathing slow. Everybody would be dead by now still… all who nuh kno’ bout the shit. Me alone can kill my ooman. She nah dead until I say so.
Seven minutes pass before I finally stand, grab my keys, and walk out.
I step from grave to grave, dirt shifting beneath me. I’m sure the dead don’t mind. My steps drag me forward—slow, heavy—pulling me exactly where I need to be. I crouch by the headstone, a half-empty bottle hanging loose from my fingers. My jaw locks. Eyes dark. I stare at the name carved in the stone. The man himself:
Owayne Omar ‘Outlaw’ Jacobs
Triple O’J
“Yuh drop yuh guard. Look weh it get yuh…” my voice is low, tight. “Mi nearly do di same f…ry today. Nearly join yuh inna the mansion dawg.”
I tilt the bottle of Billionaire Vodka, watching the clear liquid spill over the dirt.
“This shit yuh love, eh?” I chuckle, humorless. “Mi still nuh know how yuh drink dis, but mi pour it same way. Fi yuh.” A beat of silence. Wind cutting through the cemetery. I drag a hand down my face.
“Yuh give mi dis life weh mi cya even love,” I mutter. “From di moment mi slip, a thug mansion fi me? Just so?” I shake my head. “Yuh diss mi, dawg. Yuh shoulda deh yah.”
The bottle swings in my grip. Another pour. Another chuckle. “Von tek yuh points. Yuh best friend.” My teeth clench. “And Adonis try take mine. Mi Uncle. Nuh blood dem say thicka’ dan water?”
A deep inhale. A slow exhale. Then, a tilt of my head.
“Yuh nuh see say mi affi murda smaddy?”my fingers tighten around the bottle. “All if a family?” I scoff. “Cause if mi nuh murda dem, a me dem aguh murda, and put mi right weh you deh. Man like me and you cyaa’ slip up. If we try that… well, you try that, and we see weh yuh deh.”
