Page 32 of Not My Type
I give her a firm nod before I walk out of the house, through the gate then towards my Benz. “Yuh see wah mi a talk bout?” Lorie asks. Her voice laced with frustration as she follows behind me.
I open the door and get in. I sit in the car irritated before I look back ather. She looks at me with teary eyes. Lorie is a nice girl but I just don’t see her more than a– I don’t even want to think about it. “Why you nuh bill, none a this new to you?” I ask her.
“How long you a go hurt me?” She asks and I shake my head.
“Mi tell yuh from the jump say no strings attached so if you feel hurt that’s on you, you need fi deal with that, no feelings no fi in a this,” I tell her.
“Mi hate you essi,” she rolls her eyes so hard I wonder how they don’t fall out.
Then she storms back into the house, causing me to heave a heavy sigh. Wah wrong with Lorie? How she fi a catch feelings? I pull off after gathering myself and head towards my house.
13. MMM MM
Nickoi
I puff the smoke, and watch as it envelops me as I glide the Benz up the smooth, yet hilly environs. The roof of my mansion comes into view. In seconds, I’m turning in. The black double gate opens on cue and I drive in. As soon as I’m in, I decelerate to hear what Joe—my senior security has to say.
“Wah gwaan?” I ask curiously. He moves closer, repeating himself.
“Skwash came by earlier but he left because you weren’t here,” he tells me.
I immediately glance at my phone. There’s no missed call from him. Member you lef the hot phone a Spain.
“Ah, mi o’ shout him,” I tell him and park my car before I could get the
chance to fully get out and close the door, I hear her voice. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. She nuh lef yet?
“¿Cuando es?” her voice resonates through the living room as I pull the door. She doesn’t seem to notice my entry. Her back is facing me as she sits around the island, on FaceTime, I’m assuming. She does that like her life depends on it.
“Talia?” I simply say. She turns with a smile on her face.
“You’re home already Papi? I told you stop drivingggg like a maniac,” her
tone a little above my liking as she stresses the G’s.
“Wasn’t driving hard. Maybe the call a the reason yuh still here.”
“I was nauseous, so I made peppermint tea,” I only heard nauseous.
Wah she mean bredda?
She notices my face expression and giggle. “It’s nothing like, that. I just needed fresh air and I waited too late to get something to eat,” she explains. I finally place the paper bag on the island.
“Oh...”
As she eats her Chilaquiles, I take out my Grilled Tomato and mozzarella sandwich.
“Do you want me to heat it up for you?” she gets off the stool and take it before I could answer. I smirk and take a seat.
“Estás dominando el inglés, Nieta,” a familiar soft-spoken woman says from the phone.
(You’re fluent in English, granddaughter)
Talia smiles at me. “It’s my abuela,” she tells me before responding to her.
“Nickoi me enseñó”
(Nickoi taught me.)
