The Plug's Daughter

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The Plug's Daughter
Chapter 26: Paradise
Bali, Indonesia

Alazhá's POV:

"First class just do it for me," Mariah sighed dramatically, stretching out in the oversized leather seat as we descended toward Bali.

Sipping the last of my champagne. "I feel like Beyoncé right now. Did y'all try the hot towels? They was giving spa vibes."

The flight attendants had been on point, catering to us like royalty. Warm meals with real silverware, complimentary champagne, and enough legroom to do the splits not that I'd tried, but the option was there. Even the layover in Doha felt more like a vacation pit stop than a hassle. We had lounged in the airport's luxury lounge, feasting on hors d'oeuvres and taking aesthetic selfies of some big sculpture that looked expensive.

By the time we boarded the second flight, we were refreshed, relaxed, and ready. The 18+ hours of travel had flown by—literally—and now, looking out the window at the lush green island below, it all felt worth it.

"Touchdown in Bali," I said, pulling my phone out to record for my Instagram story. "Y'all see it. Big vacay energy."

Mariah popped into the frame, flashing a peace sign. "Period. The girls have arrived."

Once we got off the plane, the air hit us a warm, tropical breeze that smelled like flowers and ocean.

Immigration was quick, the lines moving smoothly, and before we knew it, we were walking through the terminal toward baggage claim.

"I ain't even mad about my edges right now. They frizzy, but they luxury frizzy."

"Not 'luxury frizzy,'" I laughed, shaking my head.

As we stepped out of the terminal, the chauffeur was waiting for us, holding a sign with Mariah's name in fancy calligraphy.

"Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome to Bali," he greeted us with a slight bow, his English crisp but accented.

"Yesss," Mariah whispered, elbowing me. "Look at this A1 treatment. We did that."

The chauffeur and his assistant handled our bags with care, loading them into a sleek black SUV. The car was cool and smelled faintly of jasmine, making it feel like we were stepping into another level of luxury.

As we pulled onto the main road, the scenery outside the windows was straight out of a travel vlog—palm trees, blue skies, and streets bustling with scooters.

"Alright, lemme check in real quick," I said, pulling out my phone to FaceTime Romani.

He picked up immediately, his face filling the screen. "You made it, baby?"

"Yup," I said, smiling. "Landed and everything. It's beautiful out here."

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Bet. I was just about to blow your phone up. You know I gotta make sure my girl's good."

Before I could respond, Khoson's loud voice came through the speaker. "Aye, who dat? Oh, it's 'Zhà! What's good, shawty?"

"Hey, Khoson," I said, trying not to laugh.

He leaned closer to the camera, squinting. "Hold up—who dat in the backkkkk?

Mariah looked up from her phone, confused. "Huh?"

"Girl, don't 'huh' me," Khoson said, grinning. "You fine asf. What's up wit you?"

Mariah blinked, then smirked. "What's up wit you?"

"Man, stop playin'. I'm tryna make you my wife," he said, his tone dripping with flirtation. "Aye, 'Zhà, go ahead and slide me her number. Quit gatekeepin'."

"Boy, get outta my phone," I said, laughing as I hung up.

The villa was something out of a dream. Marble floors, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in natural light. The air smelled faintly of lemongrass, and every corner was clean and perfectly styled.

"Y'all, I'm about to cry," Keisha said, stepping into the foyer. "This is so beautiful."

Mariah was already running up the stairs, squealing. "I call the room with the balcony!"

"You can have it since it's your birthday queen," I called after her, chasing her up.

Each bedroom was more stunning than the last—plush beds, spacious bathrooms, and views of either the ocean or the lush greenery surrounding the villa. We finally settled on our rooms, each of us claiming our space like we were staking out our personal kingdoms.

But the real magic was outside.

The pool was covered in pink rose petals, with "Happy Birthday Mariah" spelled out in big white letters floating in the water.

"Oh my God!" Mariah screamed, covering her mouth. "Y'all did this for me?"

"Of course," I said, smiling. "You only turn 21 once. We had to do it big."

Mariah was already snapping pictures. "This is so cute! Hold up—'Bali birthday vibes 🌴🩷 #LuxuryLiving.' How that sound?"

"Corny," Keisha said, laughing. "But it's cute. Do you."

Mariah ignored her, running off to change into her swimsuit. When she came back, she was ready, posing by the pool like she was in a photoshoot.

Later, we hopped in the SUV and connected the Bluetooth. Boston Richey's "The Type" came on, and we turned up immediately, rapping every word.

"Mariah really the type to make a dude pay for her whole trip," Keisha teased.

"And I don't see the problem," Mariah said, smirking.

We made a quick stop at a grocery store to grab snacks—chips, cookies, fruit, and drinks—then headed back to the villa. The sun was setting as we arrived, painting the sky shades of orange and pink.

"Y'all," Keisha said, stepping out of the car. "This is the life. Bali ain't ready for us."

"Or we ain't ready for Bali," I said, grinning.

Mariah clapped her hands, her excitement contagious. "Let's unpack, then hit the pool again. This trip is already top tier."

And just like that, we were off, soaking in every second of paradise.