Page 76 of Omar

"Bag?"

"Bathroom. Give me thirty seconds."

I put down the comb, told Shanay I was going to grab some product samples from the back, and walked to the bathroom. I closed the door, grabbed the bag from behind the bathroom door, put it on under my jacket. The bulk was minimal. If Cee looked closely he'd notice but Cee never looked closely.

I came back to the station and picked up the consultation like nothing had happened.

"You know what," Shanay said after another minute, "I just remembered my friend told me about this amazing product supplier on Fulton. She said they have exactly the tones I'm looking for. Could you come check it out with me? I'd love your professional opinion before I commit."

I pretended to think about it. "I got a gap before my next client. Let me just tell Cee."

I walked over to where he was sitting. "Hey, Cee. I'm gonna walk with my client to a supplier on Fulton real quick. She wants my opinion on some color products. I'll be back in like thirty minutes."

Cee looked up from his phone. "You want me to drive y'all?"

"Nah, it's two blocks. We'll walk."

He shrugged. "Aight. I'll be here."

I grabbed my phone from the counter. Shanay was already at the door holding it open for me like a client waiting on her stylist. We walked out together, turned left, walked past the bodega on the corner, turned right.

Shanay's car was parked halfway down the block. A black sedan with tinted windows. She unlocked it with the fob as we approached.

"Get in," she said, her voice shifting from salon warmth to something quieter, more serious.

I got in the passenger seat. Shanay pulled into traffic heading toward Bed-Stuy.

For a full minute neither of us spoke. The streets passed outside the window. Crown Heights giving way to the border, then Bed-Stuy proper. I kept my eyes on the road and my hands in my lap.

"You okay?" Shanay asked.

"Ask me in an hour."

She glanced at me, then back at the road. "You're safe now. You know that, right?"

"I'll believe it when Cee stops texting me asking where I am."

As if on cue my phone buzzed. Cee: You coming back soon?

Yeah, the supplier had way more stock than I expected. Might be another twenty minutes.

That bought me time. Enough to get to the apartment.

Shanay parked outside the building in Bed-Stuy. I recognized it from the times Omar had brought me here. The same entrance, the same staircase, the same third-floor hallway. But this time I wasn't sneaking. I wasn't watching the street for Supreme's people. I wasn't counting minutes until I had to get back to Cee's car.

Shanay unlocked the apartment door and held it open.

Portia Baptiste was standing in the kitchen. She'd barely aged in the fourteen years since I'd last seen her. Pristine silk press tied up, freshly pressed clothes. Petite, elegant, already making herself at home in Omar's space. She'd been cooking because the counter was covered in containers and the stove had something simmering. She looked at me when I came through the door and her whole face softened.

She crossed the kitchen and pulled me into her arms before I could say a word. Her hug was tight, warm, the same hug my mother used to give me before the cancer took her when I was twelve. I hadn't been held like that in eighteen years. By anyone.

"Oh baby," Portia said against my shoulder. "You're here now. You're safe."

I started crying. I hadn't planned on it but I couldn't stop. The tears came from somewhere deep, old, exhausted. I stood in the kitchen sobbing into her shoulder while she held me, rubbed my back, said nothing except "I know, baby. I know."

When I finally pulled back she held my face in both hands and looked at me properly. "Look at you. Omar told me you were beautiful but I don't think I remembered just how much. You grew up good, sweetheart."

I laughed through the tears. "You remember me?"