Page 22 of Not My Type (Not My Type #1)

Nickoi

I sit up in my bed, with my half-lidded eyes fixed on her. She smiles — hiding her face in a subtle way. Why do pretty girls do this? Show only half their face on FaceTime, while the ugly ones flaunt everything?

“Why you a smile?” She asks, her voice soft.

“Why you nah show me yuh face?” I get the perfect opportunity to ask. She giggles.

“I’m brushing my teeth,” she tells me.

“So? Me wan’ see everything. Me wan’ see and know the real you,” I say honestly.

My words caught her by surprise. For a second, she’s tongue tied. She smiles. I don’t say anything. Then I see her adjust the camera to herself. Now showing everything uncut. “Like this?” her eyes glint with something indescribable.

“Perfect,” I rasp.

She averts her attention to the mirror, brushing her teeth. I just stare — in admiration. How she one so pretty? Jah j— a knock on my door grabs my attention but not for long. The moment I see it’s the maid that Talia hired, my eyes turn to Zara.

“Amora?” I say without looking.

“Good morning. I’m here with breakfast in bed and the kush, along with Hennessy to get you started,” she tells me.

“Respect,” I retort and she enters, place them in front of me and leaves.

“I called earlier, yuh just wake?” Zara questions. She’s now splashing her face with water.

“Nosah, mi just never hear the phone,” I admit.

“Okay,” she looks down. “You said that you were coming to get me, what are you planning?”

“Surprise,” a smirk forms on my lips.

“Okay then,” she breathes and brings me into her bedroom. She slumps down on her bed. There’s a lot on her mind. Her brows knitting.

“Wah a bother yuh?” I ask, curiously.

“Nothing,” she lies.

Hmm. “You eat yet?” I ask instead, respecting her privacy though I’m eager to know what’s going on with her.

“Mi soon go make something,” she tells me.

“So, me nuh wan’ suhm too?” I ask playfully, even though I have a breakfast burrito and homemade coleslaw.

She’s blushing. “Zara?” I add.

“How would you get it?” her eyes are filled with lust. Ms. Innocent.

“That’s why you fi deh yer wid eh killa,” I flirt. “So things like dat can gwaan yuh zi mi?” She laughs but I’m serious — I want her here with me. Mi rate har like dat.

ZARA I can’t help smiling. He knows the right words to say and the right way to say them, to make my stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Okay, I’ll make breakfast just make sure you come for it,” I joke.

“Ah,” he chuckles and take a forkful of coleslaw in his mouth.

“Watch him,” I laugh.

“Mi have breakfast mon but a you mi want get suh’m yah now. Yuh zi mi?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna make breakfast now,” I promise him.

“Make sure,” he rasps.

The lady have boyfriend weh a check up on her enuh, my subconscious starts.

When I’m off the phone, I amble to the kitchen. Only to see my father standing around the stove frying eggs.

Fi a likkle while mi neva’ member seh him live here.

I open the cupboard and take out a box of Tetley. My dad glances at me before he walks over to the dining table.

So let me guess... Mama told him too.

“Good morning,” I simply say, bend down and open the cupboard with the pots.

“Morning mi daughter,” he greets and I turn on the faucet, catching water in the kettle. “How are you?” He asks, his tone sarcastic. I look at him, astonished.

Mi cya’ catch a break enuh mon!

“I’m fine,” I retort with my eyes on the pot of boiling water.

“You sure everything good wid yuh?” is his follow up question.

If you know how much this man ignores my existence, you’ll understand how weird this is. My eyes turn to his mischievous ones.

“Wow daddy, yuh never once ask me that. You always busy drinking you never really care if I’m dying or not so what now?” I ask.

What is wrong with these people? Dem not even a support me like how a family should.

First, Mama was so nonchalant about this situation last night, yet she finds the time to complain to my mother.

My best friend who should be there for me, is positive Nick is gonna hurt me and wants nothing to do with me.

Now my father who ignores me 95% of the time is trying to have a father daughter conversation with me! ? Bullshit!

Di’ only time this man talk to mi a when him a ask fi sup’m enuh or if him drunk, him might act like a stupid ‘father.’

“A must joke dis,” I snarl and Mama quickly enters, alarmed. His eyes are protruding.

“So mi cya talk to mi own daughter!?” he growls, getting closer to me. He’s like a monster, intimidating me.

This reminds me of the times when he would abuse my mother and I when I was younger. Am I still afraid of him? Yes.

I step back and my back hits the counter. “Wah this bout Henry? Nuh talk to har so!” Mama steps in. He looks at her with a steely stare.

“Simple thing mi seh to har and the likkle girl a gwaan like seh true she have man now mi cya deal with har!” his voice echoes.

True she have man now...

“Hear yah now,” I smile sardonically. “Mi a nuh big woman?”

“Yuh grow har and not even you can manage har yuh affi a call har Ma!” he shouts, eyes burning through mine.

How dem a talk to yuh like seh yuh bad so? Kiss me tooth!

“Step away from her Henry,” Mama says in deadpan. Now this is the grandma I know. I stare at my father whose eyes are getting bloodshot red.

“Yuh fi respect me!” he shouts in my face and slams his hand in his chest. “Mi a yuh father yuh nuh affi like me but respect me!” His saliva hits my face. Jesus take the wheel.

“Wah she do Henry?” she questions and he meets her stare.

“She a look pon me with hatred in her eyes and a raise her voice afta me,” he says and I wipe my face.

“Excuse me,” I say as I walk pass him. He steps in my way and my anger flares.

“Mi nuh wah fi have a conversation with you!” I shout at him and he starts cursing profanities at me. His specialty.

“Say what you want but you are nothing to me,” I tell him. Simple as that. His expression changes. Whop! He slaps me across my face and it stings making my head turn.

No mannn! A wah healthy box that enuh Zara! I hold my face as tears well up in my eyes.

“Nuh put yuh hand pon her!” Mama says furiously and he looks at her with a firm hold on my arm.

“You hear wah she just seh to me!?” he asks her.

“You deserve it!” Mama snaps and he tightens his grip around my arm. I try to pull away but it’s making it worse.

“Let her go Henry!” Mama is fuming.

I finally get out of his grip and storm off. My father grabs me and slaps me across my face again.

“Doh walk weh from me!”

Wah do deh man yah!?

Mama grabs a machete. “Come out a me house right now dawggg shit and nuh put yuh hand pon Michelle pitney! You was never there fi this girl and she have every right fi walk weh from yuh because yuh nuh do a thing fi har and nothing weh she a seh a nuh lie but because yuh know seh a true that’s why it bun’ yuh so! ” Mama snaps and he lets go of me.

I wipe my tears and walk away closing my door behind me. “How yuh fi a slap the girl in her face drancro?!” Mama is still arguing. “It nuh right!”

“A my daughter that enuh. Yuh figet?!”

A sigh leaves my lips as I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes and lips are swollen I sigh to myself before I step under the shower and allow the water to caress my body. I needed this.

After showering I got into a pair of blue boyfriend jeans, a white tank top and my favorite chrome Bridgets. It’s now 8:30 AM. A little early, but I’m not staying another minute in this house. I quickly add edge control to my baby hairs and grab my Dior saddle bag.

Mama is sitting on the sofa, watching Smile Jamaica when I walk out. She looks at me. “Where you going?” her dark brown eyes scan me.

“I’m going to do my pedicure, I’ll be back later,” I walk out.

“Okay, get something to eat,” she says since I didn’t bother to eat anything. Because of dirty Henry. I’m no longer calling him my father, mi done wid him.

“Michelle send the money, you can pick it up tomorrow,” Mama reminds me.

“Yea,” I say as I close the grill. “Bye Mama.”

I got in a Probox after waiting ten minutes. It didn’t take me long to finally reach Wendy’s house, since she lives fifteen minutes away from me. I stop the taxi and get out, paying the driver before I walk towards the house.

“But watch early!” she blurts out.

“Mi did affi leave the house,” I say vaguely then her attention turns to my body.

“Yuh gain weight man,” she grins when I walk in her yard. “Gyal yuh have a piece a batty deh!”

The laugh that escapes me makes me slap my hand to my lips.

The first time I’ve laughed in hours.

Wendy is my nail tech; we are not as close as Clova and I are, but we definitely have a good relationship too.

Nick mek yuh smile this morning. Dat nuh count!? the girl in my head asks and I mentally smile.

“Guess I’m eating too much,” I say walking in.

After catching up with Wendy she starts doing my manicure. Our conversation flows naturally as she works on my nails. Once she’s done, she reaches for my feet to do my pedicure.

“Look pan cute,” she compliments the moment she’s done.

“Mi loveeeeee them,” my smile growing wide. My nails catch the light.

Almond-shaped tips, French white, edged with a thin gold line. Wendy grins, capturing the perfect boomerang. My toes are ‘Milky frenchies.’ They’re normally white... but I like these too!

She’s proud of herself. She should be.

“Cyaa’ guh wrong with some nice Frenchies or white nails babes, a dem a the thing now enuh,” Wendy beams and I nod in agreement.

“True,” I say then my phone rings. Nick.

“Hey,” I smile sweetly.

“Which part yuh deh? Mi a fawud now,” his voice raspy. I tell him the address.

“Zara why yuh deh, deh so?” I blush at his question. Why does this man sounds annoyed? What is he thinking?

“It’s maintenance day, this is where my nail tech lives,” the fact that I know what he’s thinking. Heat fans my cheek.

“Ah, mi a fawud.”