Page 41 of Not My Type
“Oh, hi Martin,” she smiles and I watch her while rocking my legs. One look at him and I can tell he’s brittle. He looks like he’d shit his pants anytime soon. Why though? I’m on my best behavior. “I want D’usse,” she orders and I smile to myself. She loves D’usse.
“W-what about you sir?” I lean my head looking at him. My eyes narrow then I notice that he steps away. He’s too nervous, giving off weird vibe. A who him?
“Hennessy,” I decide to let it go.
Talia gives me a vibe but it’s nothing compared to how I feel when Zara is around. Mi nuh know a wah she a do different but she a win and she have me a think fi do things weh mi never imagine mi would a do. She’s like a drug and she d’evu know it.
“¡Cariño, no estás escuchando!” Talia scowls with her brows pull together.
(Baby you are not listening!)
“What’s up?” I ask and she hands me the Hennessy. When did he even get back with it?
I take it from her. “Thanks.”
“I’m asking if you’re coming?” I’m bewildered.
Wah she a talk bout? I look at her confused and she rolls her eyes at me.
“What are you thinking about, huh!?” her voice raises, eyebrows furrow as her eyes pierce through me.
I rub my head as if I’m having a headache. “Mi a have a headache mon, is like mi deh ya and mi nuh deh ya,” I lie. Her expression shifting from anger to concern. I smirk slightly, still rubbing my temple. She did on to me a while a go, man did affi use up the chappa skills.
She takes the Hennessy from me. “Then don’t drink baby, I’m gonna get some water for you,” she gets up then she enters the bar.
I take a gulp from the Hennessy quickly before she comes back. She returns with a bottle of water and a pill. “What do you normally take when you’re having headache babe?”
“Just water,” I lie.
She gives me the water bottle and I gulp it. She sits on the chair beside me. Staring in concern, “What else would you like baby?” she questions and I shrug.
“I’m feeling a little better now,” I say, trying to wrap up this act.
“Give me a kiss,” she leans in and pecks my lips.
“Wah yaw seh now b?” I have no clue.
“Quiero saber si vienes a Tulum conmigo,” her voice gentle. Jah kno’ youth. Like mi affi go lie again.
(I want to know if you’re coming to Tulum with me.)
“To my abuela,” she adds.
“Mi have some business fi deal with so mi nuh think mi can mek it,” I tell her. She continues to beg me.
“Mi cya go mek it babes... believe me,” I tell her and she finally gives up.
“Okay,” she says defeated. “Guess I’m gonna miss you for three days.”
“FaceTime mi babes, I’m always here for you enuh,” I feed her lies.
“Awww. I love you,” she coos, then her father walks up to us.
My hands are grasping her ass cheeks. He looks down at my hands for a second or two. I don’t move them. He then meets my stare not so pleased.
“Hi daddy,” she beams and stands to her feet. That’s when my hand moves. If she never move it would remain there. Nah move it fi please him.
“Nickoi,” he says sternly but he doesn’t faze me. Actually, no one does.
