Sweet Nothing | Aaliyah x J. Cole

7

Liyah browses through the dress displays at the Bronx and Banco boutique. In her hand she holds a complimentary glass of champagne, and in the other hand, her clutch.

At last, a little R-and-R. The week has been chaotic, her shoulders achy. She can already feel the bubbly taking effect as the saleswoman recommends different looks for her petite build.

"It's all about the silhouette. If you're curvy, it's nice to have a hip hugging contour. But if you're on the lithe side, you really want to draw attention away from that with an A-line or  perhaps have a little more accent up top."

She nods, intrigued. The last time she'd went boutique shopping, it was for her brother's wedding two years ago. She's forgotten how nice it is to have a high end retail experience, from the warm lighting, to the classical music, to the drinks and the exceptional service.

I should treat myself more. This is exactly what I needed.

Her eyes land on a black mini dress with feathers frills around the bottom. It reminds her of a thoroughbred show poodle.

"Ooo, I like!" She runs the back of her hand across the plushy feathers. Then she sees the price tag: $850. She takes a sip of the champagne again, eyes bulging.

"See? I think you get it just fine. This would be a perfect compliment to your frame, and its a little black dress that'll stand out among the rest. Would you like to try it on?" The saleswoman asks, sounding hopeful as she leans forward.

Liyah purses her lips, tilting her head. "Okay, why not."

She remembers then why she doesn't shop that often: the good stuff is so damn high.

The assistant retrieves the same model dress in Liyah's size and then escorts her to a discrete changing room.

When she puts it on, it hugs her in the right places, but is still loose enough to be flattering on her small a-cup bust.

Love at first sight. That woman really knows her stuff. Liyah turns in the full length mirror to see all angles, and all she can wonder is whether Jay will be able to resist talking to her once he sees this.

She grabs her phone and takes some photos of herself, imagining being all dolled up tomorrow night.

Then an email comes through from her payment processor. She opens it and reads.

A customer has disputed a charge for $902.83. Meaning almost a thousand dollars of the month's sales is frozen until it's resolved.

"Fuck!" She groans softly to herself. One thing about selling wigs is that scammers abound. If it's not one thing, it's another. She'll need to investigate this bullshit ASAP.

She looks at herself and sighs. What if I can't resolve the dispute and get my money back? I can't get this dress!

Her heart cracks a little. She takes it off, puts her own clothes back on, and hands the dress to the saleswoman after emerging from the dressing room again.

"I'm sorry, I have a personal matter I need to tend to. I won't be able to purchase this today."

The woman nods in understanding, offers her card, and invites her back once she has it settled. Liyah tells her not to sell her dress, and rushes out of the boutique with her phone in hand, showing the bank notice.

The order number corresponds to an order for two wigs: one Peruvian deep wave bob, and one virgin 30in curly Malaysian.

The customer's name is Regine Banks.

On the busy sidewalk, Liyah stops like she'd hit a brick wall. Regine. Jay's hoe. There's no way I'm letting her get away with two of my bestselling wigs!

She locks her phone and races to her car. This is all on Jay.

—

Jay is sitting in the booth, chatting with Ko Baine as his mix broadcasts on the air. They've done nothing but laugh and discuss the industry: who's hot, who they want to promote, and a little gossip here and there.

It's a much needed distraction from everything.

Then the sound tech in the control room behind the glass window channels in through the intercom speaker. "Ya, somebody's here to see you. Says it's urgent."

Jay nods, and checks his phone, but there's nothing new. If it's urgent, everyone knows to try his phone first. Showing up to the station is unannounced is strictly forbidden unless someone is dying.

The last time he had someone show up unannounced— his ex— executives threatened to put him on unpaid leave.

As he leaves the booth and takes the elevator to the first floor, he thinks someone better be dying.

When he arrives, the stainless steel doors part down the middle, and he instantly recognizes the woman with the side bang standing in front of reception a few yards away, and does she look good.

"Liyah?" He approaches, grabs her arm and pulls her aside, away from any listening ears in the busy lobby. Her heels click on the tile with stuttered each step.

"What the fuck is this?" She holds up her phone, showing an email.

He looks around, certain that his bosses will definitely not see this as urgent.

"Keep your voice down!" He steps closer to her, and takes the phone. "Let me see."

She surrenders it, and he takes a closer look. Someone has requested a chargeback on an order for $900. He doesn't understand what it has to do with him, though.

"I don't understand," he says.

She takes the phone back, tears of rage in her eyes. For a moment, she appears childlike, innocent. He takes an unconscious step towards her, his posture falling.

"It's Regine! She's playing with my money!"

"Okay, calm down," he puts his hands on her biceps to sooth her, but she shakes free.

"No! Don't tell me to calm down. This is your fault!"

Jay smacks his lips. "How the fuck is this my fault?"

Liyah pokes her coffin-shaped acrylic fingernail deep into his temple. "Are you dumb, nigga? You fucked her, you brought her into my life!"

He grabs her hand and squeezes, lowering it away from his face. "You crossing the line right now, Liyah, and you really gone make me do some shit that ain't nice. Can you chill?"

She snatches away, scratching his wrist in the process. "Fuck you!"

He winces, and examines the tiny little scrapes.

"Yo, you wilding, for real," he rubs it to comfort himself, and pulls out his phone. "Look, man. I don't know why she would do some shit like that, but it ain't got nothing to do with me. Here's something to hold you over until you get it resolved, and in the meantime I'll try to talk to her and see what's up."

He Zelle's $1500 to Liyah, then shoves the phone into his jeans pocket again. "I gotta get back to work."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks a lot!" She sarcastically says, glancing at the notification of the money transfer.

"Whatever, man. Don't show up here again," he turns his back to her. How can she be so ungrateful and not even try to understand?

Liyah shoves him, making him stumble forward. "Stupid ass!"

The lobby silences for a moment, eyes turning to them. Jay fights every primal instinct to say and do what he feels is right. If they'd had privacy, he would wipe her tears, pin her down and teach her a lesson since that's what it seems like she's asking for. Or at the least, he would tongue her until she couldn't speak.

That probably won't ever happen again, he thinks, and takes the elevator up again as she leaves.

When he returns to the booth again, holding his wrist, Ko Baine glances at him with a wrinkled forehead.

"Damn, what's good, brody?"

Jay just plops in his chair, still rubbing his wrist. "She fucking scratched me, bro."

It doesn't hurt as much as not being heard by her and seeing her cry, but he keeps that to himself.