Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
We turned a corner, and two more staff members were arranging fresh flowers in a massive vase.
Both stopped what they were doing the moment they saw me.
"Tiger-sama," one of them said softly, bowing.
The other followed suit. "Good morning."
My steps slowed. "Um. Good morning."
They rose with matching smiles, returning to their flowers but stealing glances at me as I passed.
Al-righty.
I swallowed hard, trying to process the fact that they weren't just being polite. They were treating me like I mattered.
We passed another hallway where three guards stood at attention.
All three straightened as I approached.
They nodded in unison, hands clasped behind their backs, expressions respectful but not cold.
I nodded. “Good morning.”
One of them—the oldest, with gray at his temples—gave me a small smile. "It's an honor to serve you, Tiger-sama."
My throat tightened.
Honor.
To serve me.
I kept walking, pulling up Deja's voicemails because I needed something normal right now. Something that wasn't guards bowing and staff treating me like royalty.
On the first message, Deja's voice exploded through the phone, loud and absolutely panicked.
Oh FUCK!! What happened?!
Chapter eleven
Laughter Before the Blade
Nyomi
My stylist’s voicemail played.
"NYOMI! Girl!” Deja sounded frightened. “I’ve got a whole SQUADRON of Japanese men here at my house! WITH GUNS! Big tall men in suits with GUNS on their hips like this is some mob movie! What is GOING ON?! Did I tell you that they got GUNS?!"
Oh my God.
I could picture it perfectly.
Deja's brownstone in Bed-Stuy. Her living room where she did hair—the folding chair by the window, The Young and the Restless playing on the TV, her cousin Nika probably mid-gossip about somebody from the neighborhood.
And then the door opens and in walks a squad of yakuza soldiers.
In suits.
Tattooed necks and wrists.
Scarred faces.
Colorful hair.
Armed.
Probably bowing politely while Deja's client is sitting there with half a head of goddess locs and the other half of her hair standing straight up in a mess.
Shit. I should have warned her.
Deja continued, "They talking about I need to pack my things so I can come do your hair! PACK MY THINGS, NYOMI?! Are they crazy?!”
I heard a man’s voice speaking in the background.
It must have been one of Kenji’s men explaining to her that this was urgent.
“I’m not doing no shit like that! I got clients scheduled! I got Keisha coming in at three for feed-ins! I got Mrs. Brewster's touch-up tomorrow! And these men. . .what the hell is that?!”
Noise sounded.
Women gasped.
I squinted as if that could help me figure out what was going on.
“Oh shit, Nyomi. These men got briefcases full of money! Now what type of illegal shit have you brought to my house?!”
The message shut off.
I had to stop walking because my shoulders shook with laughter.
The guards glanced at each other but said nothing.
In the next message, Deja's voice went up another octave. "They said they need me to come to Japan! TO JAPAN, NYOMI! Girl, I don't even got a passport that's current! And they said don't worry, they'll handle it! HANDLE IT HOW?! Who ARE these people?! Why they got so much CASH?! Girl, you better call me back and explain this before I call the PO-LEECE! Not the fucking police, but the PO! LEECE! I’m not going to jail for nobody else’s shit. You got me all types of fucked up. Call me back!"
The message ended.
Laughing some more, I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself.
Behind me, I heard the younger guard clear his throat. "Nyomi? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah." I waved my hand, still grinning. "Just. . .my hair stylist met your colleagues."
The scarred guard's mouth twitched. "Ah. I understand."
I burst out laughing and headed off.
We passed a group of cleaners pushing carts of fresh linens. All three of them stopped, turned, and bowed deeply. "Tiger-sama. Good morning. It's an honor."
“Thank you. Good morning to you too.” I nodded back, still smiling from Deja's message, and kept walking.
The third voicemail started, and this time Deja's voice was completely different.
Calm.
Almost dreamy.
"Hey, girl. . .so. . .I'm on a private plane right now."
I grinned wider.
"Nyomi, I don't know what type of journalist work you got going on over there, but baby, you need to PUT ME ON. These men came back with a PASSPORT—a real passport, expedited, everything official—and they said the plane was leaving in two hours."
I could hear the smile in her voice.
"My cousin, Nika is with me. You know we go together. We're wearing fur coats they GAVE us. Girl, GAVE. Didn't ask for them back. Just handed us FUR COATS and said, 'for the journey.' Who DOES that?!"
I heard Nika on the side, “And they’re not getting these coats back either. I’m taking these champagne glasses too.”
“Girl, you don’t need to take the glasses. It’s the plane’s glasses.”
“Shit. These are nice.”
I chuckled.
A staff member was coming down the hallway toward us carrying a tray of fresh fruit.