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My eyes landed on her in the living room. She was rocking, staring straight ahead. I looked down at her hand as Enjell put Neosporin on her cut, swollen knuckles. Usually, a woman fighting turned me on… but Malaysia being that woman instantly put me in protector mode. I didn’t want her fighting anyone or anything.
I wanted to be her protector.
“You know what happened?” I asked Dejvi. He’d stood and met me at the doorframe.
“Some shit about her fighting some girl at a restaurant. When she got here, she cried. Enjell said she always cries and feels bad after a fight. Seeing as she ain’t got a scratch on her and her hand looks like that, it’s safe to say she won.”
“Aight, thanks.”
I walked over and kneeled in front of Malay. When she didn’t look at me, I gently set my hand on her knee. Her eyes lowered and landed on me. Blinking back her tears, she clenched her jaw.
“Did you handle it?” I asked. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
I stood to my full height and extended my hand for her. With no hesitation, she put her hand inside. As we left, Enjell said, “Take care of my sister, Aspen.”
I was in the Mustang today, so I helped her get inside before going to the driver’s seat. Not pulling off right away, I looked over at her. She looked sad but more like she was in a state of shock. Since I didn’t know if it was best for her to talk or remain silent, I decided we would do what I would do when I was emotionally conflicted.
A twenty-minute drive led us downtown to my shop. I led her inside through the back door to my lounge area. She stood at the door, taking in her surroundings. The lounge was modestly designed. I wanted the focus on the art on the walls. Art I’d been painting since I opened the shop. There was one empty wall left, and I was taking my time with that.
She sat on the red leather sofa that was on the left of the room. There was a smaller couch in front of the TV. Since she didn’t sit there, I figured she wanted to talk. I set the mood lighting to red, cut on some music, and grabbed my weed stash to roll and light up.
As I sat next to her, I asked, “You smoke?”
“Yeah.”
“Tequila?”
“Yes, please.”
After rolling the blunt, I went to the front where the small reception area was. We didn’t have a kitchen, but I had a contract with the café across the street. Daily, they provided pastries and sandwiches. A lot of people didn’t understand the importance of eating before getting tatted, so I always wanted to have food here for those that forgot or didn’t think about it before their appointment.
There was alcohol in the back for my artists who often used the lounge after hours to chill. I grabbed a bottle of Hennessy for me and tequila for Malay.
“Aye, can you do an Uber Eats order for me?” I asked the shop manager, Heather.
“Yeah. What you want?”
“Is it a seafood place around here?”
“Hmm… You mean like fried fish or a boil?”
“Either.” I didn’t know much about Malay, but she told me she loved seafood while we were having lunch. I figured that would make her feel a little better.
“If you want fried fish, I’d get it from Blue’s City Café. If you want a boil, I think there’s one that’s like six miles away.”
“Aight, do we have any clients coming in soon?”
“We have about an hour before the next appointment, and it’s for Ivan.”
“Perfect. I need you to go to the store and get a couple of packs of Ramen. Get the boils. Two of them with crab legs and shrimp. Add extra corn and potatoes and broccoli if they have it. And some wings. She likes all flats.”
“She?” Heather immediately grinned as she stood.
Ignoring her, I continued. “When you get back, can you boil the noodles? No seasoning. Just the plain noodles. Call me when you’re done. Get yourself whatever you want.”
“You got it, boss.”
By the time I made it back to the lounge, Malay had already lit the blunt. I rolled another one, then we started the rotation. We remained quiet as we smoked and took shots. It wasn’t until Heather called and I went to get the food that Malaysia spoke. Her eyes watered as she looked at the small bowl of noodles I had for her.
