The Mechanics of The Heart (Unedited)

48

Amara

These was the smallest voice, pesky like a fly in the back of my head that was telling me, Hunter having my old phone was a bad idea. There wasn't a doubt in my mind once he gave the little bastard some power, it would begin its unrelentless ringing and a string of text messages I wasn't sure I was ready for him to read.

"Do you like them?" I blinked, shaking off my thoughts as the stylist smiled at me in the mirror. My wild, curly mane was now smooth and twined into box braids that cascaded down my back. I had only ever had my hair braided once before, when I was nine and it was when my mother was in a kick to dreadlock her and everyone else's hair in the house. She got half way through knotting up Ariya's unruly hair before dad stepped in and coaxed her erratic choices to something more sensible.

Only then, those had fat wooden beads hanging off the end that clacked as I ran and I loved that.

"Its great, thank you." The stylist, Sasha, couldn't be any older than myself with pretty brown curly hair that rested in a plop on top of her hair, caramel skin that made her green eyes pop like a cats. She grinned wider, clapping her hands as she twisted her head sideways.

"Hear that prima, you watch. Soon I'll be running this place and before you know it, we'll be drowning in pesos!" From the chair beside me Marisol snorted, lolling her head to the side lazily and her freshly blown out and trimmed hair cascaded down her shoulder and back as she did so.

"Its so hard to find room in here with your ego, cousin." She shot me a wink as Sasha shot her a nasty glare from what I could see in the mirror.

"I come and do your thick head of hair and you repay me in insults." She cut her eyes to me in the mirror shining with amusement, "At least, Mara is grateful. Gosh, bout time we had someone with some sense in this family. Other than myself." She sighed whimsically as if it was the toughest job there is, patting at her own hair, I sink my teeth in my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"You're a mess." Marisol broke the seam of brief silence with a cut of laughter and the small grip I had on my own laughter comes undone and we're all laughing, my stomach aches with how good it feels.

"Seriously you have to come back, you wont need a touch up for a while if you wrap your hair at night but im always down for drinks." Sasha is wild, a firecracker but she's genuine and kind, I was nodding before I realized it. My cheeks starting to feel funny from smiling so long.

"Of course, here let me-" I scribbled my number over the back of one of her many business cards and then tucked another in my wallet. "How much do I ow-"

"It's my treat and I've already paid." I gaped at Marisol as she pulled her shoes back on, she was far more comfortable here as soon as we arrived and once Sasha started talking I realized how comfortable I had gotten so soon too. They didn't leave me out of any conversations, topics light and breezy. They hadn't mentioned Bullet even thought Marisol knew, I wasn't sure how things worked in the club and the more Sasha talked the more I realized how less she even knew then me.

Then Marisol gave me a subtle look and I gathered enough to know if you weren't claimed by these men, employed or otherwise, there was little to nothing to know about their operations, business and likewise.

I found myself grateful they didn't mention Bullet, despite Sasha being essentially and outsider in club terms, a selfish part of me wanted to keep what we had to myself.

A safe space didn't feel so safe when everyone knew why it was so special in the first place.

"When did you do that?" I shake my thoughts away, putting away the bills I pulled from the stack of money Hunter had slipped in my hands this morning. It was large, probably enough to pay for two semesters worth of textbooks and he just expected me to go out and do what with it?

Now that Marisol had paid for this, let alone the coffee and donuts we had, our nails and for the first time I had my feet done, I was unsure now of what to do with the money I was told to spend.

"On one of your many trips to the bathroom now come on, we definitely want to catch the mall at this time less foot traffic." Marisol grinned, looping her arm with mine, and although I was taller than most woman, she and I were about the same height with me having an inch or two on her.

"I'm paying for something, Marisol, you've spent so much already." Guilt made my stomach twist as she maneuvered us out the salon, her arm looped with mine still as she jerk to a quick stop once we hit the sidewalk.

"Mara, consider it a welcome home gift." Her words were deep and that wrapped around me like a warm hug, I blinked. "Besides, I only paid for our nails, your man booked and paid for your hair and everything else." She glanced at her watch while I was still attempting to process her words. "Which is why we need to get a move on, I wasn't supposed to say anything to begin with but if your late to another appointment my brother may-" Marisol's voice gurgled like someone had shoved a pillow over my head until she muffled out completely.

Mari talked with her hands and animated movements that usually kept me engaged and in hysterics but for the life of me I could not pull my gaze from over her shoulder, could not pull it off that brown coat that seemed so familiar.

Only he would wear dress pants in this scorching weather, a ratty old Irish wool cap that stayed on top of his head no matter the weather conditions. Narrow shoulders that fell into a small torso, he was always tall and lean, like the trees he often sculpted, lingy and narrow.

My eyes stung and I squeezed my eyes shut as he turned, knowing I should've pulled my gaze away long ago. "Amara?" It starts in almost disbelief and I feel myself shudder.

Marisol turns, a scowl coating her face and I tug at her arm, turning away towards the direction of the parking lot off the side of the salon. I shake my head, trying to drown out his marching steps.

No, no, he cant be here.

"Mara wai-" I jerked into a small sprint as Marisol tried to speak, her legs scrambling almost awkwardly to keep up.

"Amara Nova-Lynn Joseph, you better not run from your father!" Like a tank being shot off his voice boomed off the walls, the buildings around the parking lot creating the perfect slingshot as my fathers tone bit out with finality. My eyes squeezed, wanting desperately to shut out this world. To rewind time back to this morning and laying secured from the world tucked away in Hunters arms.