Page 32 of Omar

He checked the screen and his whole face changed. The easy warmth drained out of it and something colder slid into place.

"I gotta take this," he said, already standing.

"Of course."

He walked to the far side of the room near the window and answered. "Yeah." A pause. "I said handle it, not ask me about it again."

His voice was low but every word carried through the apartment. It wasn't that big.

"Nah, I don't give a fuck what he say now. He had his chance to come correct." Supreme turned to look out the window, one hand in his pocket. "Get his girl first. The one who work in that fancy office downtown. Make sure he watch what happen to her. Then you finish him."

My stomach went cold but I kept my face neutral, my eyes on the TV.

"Slit his throat but make sure it's slow," Supreme continued, his tone casual like he was discussing the weather. "I want him to feel every second of it. And make sure his crew know why. This what happen when you try to move on my blocks without permission."

He listened for another moment. "Good. Call me when it's done."

He hung up and came back to the couch like nothing had happened. Sat down, pulled me close again, kissed the side of my head.

"Sorry about that, baby. Business."

"It's okay," I said quietly.

"You know I gotta stay on top of things, keep people in line."

"I know."

His hand moved from my shoulder to my neck, fingers stroking the base of my skull. "You're so good to me. So understanding. That's why I love you."

I tilted my head to give him better access. My skin wanted to crawl away from his touch but I kept still, kept soft, kept present.

"I love you too," I said.

We watched the rest of the game. He kept talking about the deal, running through the details again because he liked to relive his wins. I nodded, made commentary when he paused, laughed when he made another joke. The whole time I could hear his voice saying slit his throat but make sure it's slow.

We went to bed just after eleven. He was tired from the meeting and the dinner and the talking. I helped him out of his clothes and hung them up while he got into bed. When I climbed in next to him he pulled me close and kissed me properly for the first time all evening. His mouth tasted like the bourbon he'd been drinking and his hands moved over my body with the easy confidence of someone who believed I belonged to him.

I kissed him back. I made the right sounds. I moved the way he wanted me to move. When he rolled over and went to sleep twenty minutes later I lay there in the dark with his arm heavy across my waist, eyes open, counting the cracks in the plaster above the bed.

My waist still remembered where Omar's hands had been. The weight of them, the way his fingers had pressed into my sides when he pulled me close. I wanted to touch the spot but I didn't. I just lay there and thought about it until Supreme's breathing evened out into sleep. Then I rolled carefully onto my side facing away from him and closed my eyes.

The next morning Supreme left early for a meeting. I heard him moving around the bedroom in the dark, getting dressed, checking his phone. He kissed my forehead before he left and I made a sleepy sound and rolled over like I was going back to sleep. The door closed. I heard his footsteps down the hall, heard the front door open and shut, heard the elevator ding.

I got up and made coffee. Put on a tank top and sweatpants and sat at the kitchen table with my phone. Stared at Nene's contact for a full minute before I called.

She picked up on the second ring. "You okay?"

"I kissed him."

Dead silence. Then: "ASHA."

"Yeah."

"Supreme's... Omar... you kissed..."

"Nene."

"Do you understand what...?"