Naomi
Copyright© 2026 by SilkStories
Chapter 6
Narrative: Ian McGregor
I checked the time, anxiety gnawing at me as I realized how late it had grown. Marcus should have brought Aisha back by now, so I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It rang without answer. I redialed several times, each attempt deepening my worry until finally I called real world Aisha. She answered quickly, her voice steady as she said hello. “Aisha?” I asked hesitantly, then clarified, “It’s Ian— is my Aisha still with you? I assumed she would be there.” When she revealed that Marcus had taken Aisha home over an hour ago and thought she’d be with me, dread washed over me. “No,” I blurted out in a panic, “she never arrived.” The journey should have taken no more than thirty minutes; something was terribly wrong. “I’ll try calling Marcus immediately,” she responded with urgent concern.
“What happened?” Naomi asked, her brow furrowed with worry. “Your mother should have been here by now—Marcus was bringing her. Something’s wrong,” I said.
Narrative: Naomi McGregor
As soon as Dad spoke those words, every nerve in my body cried out that something had gone horribly wrong. I dove for our supplies, frantically digging until my fingers closed around the tool belt we’d bought earlier. My hands shook as I buckled it around my waist and slipped a hammer into one of its loops. Dad’s gaze fixed on me as he asked, “What are you doing?” I spun to face him, desperation sharpening my voice. “Something’s happened—Mom needs us!” Dad didn’t hesitate; he gave a resolute nod of agreement.
I secured a length of rope to the tool belt and slipped on my light shoes before ushering Dad out of the building. As we rushed forward, I turned to him and asked, “If those men in blue uniforms stopped them, where do you think they would have done it?” Dad glanced at me and questioned, “You believe they got detained by police?” I nodded firmly. “Yes—I’m certain of it.” He acknowledged my reasoning with a quick nod as we pressed on along what seemed like the most probable route they might have taken.
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
Marcus and I were cuffed with our arms behind our backs when that vile officer roughly dragged me toward the squad car. “You nearly cost me my job, you bitch,” he snarled. “Now I’m going to make you pay.” Rage boiling inside me, I spat back, “Fuck you! You fat, racist pig!” He seized my hair, yanking my head backward until his face loomed inches from mine. “Oh, you’ll really enjoy this ride,” he hissed before shoving me into the back seat beside Marcus. Tremors wracked my body as Marcus leaned close asking softly, “You okay, Aisha?” His eyes held a deep concern; though he’d been pulled over many times before, this situation felt dangerously different. I explained in a shaky voice, “That cop assaulted me once before—we filed a complaint. Now he’s getting his revenge.” Fear tightened its grip on me as realization sank in.
The second officer slid into the driver’s seat, my door still hanging open as that vile cop—the one who had assaulted me before—leaned in with a sneer. “Buckle up!” he mocked, well aware that our handcuffed wrists left us helpless to fasten the belts. Marcus shifted closer, murmuring urgently, “They’re setting us up for a brutal ride—we need to stay alert and together.” Meanwhile, that fat racist bastard glared at me with a smug smirk. Suddenly, a dull thud echoed as something slammed into his head. He crumpled onto the asphalt like a sack of bricks, leaving me bewildered. Leaning out to see, I spotted a makeshift bolas lying beside his unconscious body.
“Come on Frank, let’s go!” the officer in the driver’s seat shouted abruptly. I turned to Marcus, whose brow furrowed with confusion as we both recognized the name—”Frank”—belonging to the racist cop now slumped unconscious on the pavement. The officer in the driver’s seat flung open his door and rushed to Frank’s side. “Frank!” he yelled, panic rising in his voice as he crouched down. “What the fuck?” he muttered, then whipped out his gun and scanned wildly around us, searching for some unseen threat.
As the officer gripped his gun with both hands, another whistling cut through the air. A second bolas ensnared his arms, coiling tight until his fingers lost their hold on the weapon. He choked out a strangled cry from the ropes’ bite. In that instant Naomi burst from the shadows behind him, looping an arm around his neck in a chokehold just as she had done to Marcus earlier. Marcus and I watched in stunned silence as she subdued him yet again, rendering him unconscious with practiced precision.
Ian’s head suddenly appeared. “Aisha?” My chest tightened with relief the instant I saw him. He reached in and pulled me into a tight hug as I sat handcuffed in the back seat. “Are you okay?” he asked urgently, his voice thick with worry. I nodded quickly, then he kissed me passionately. “I got so scared,” he murmured against my mouth before pulling away. Meanwhile, Marcus shifted uncomfortably beside me on the seat, feeling like an intruder on such an intimate moment. “Yo Ian,” he interjected awkwardly, “you mind getting the keys for these handcuffs from that cop?” Ian gave a quick nod. “Of course,” he said as he leaned over to rummage through the pockets of the unconscious officer sprawled on the floor, finally retrieving the keys and turning back to free me from my restraints.
I took the keys and freed Marcus. The moment I stepped out of the police car, Naomi flung herself into my arms, nearly knocking me off balance. “Oh, Naomi!” I breathed, stroking her wild curls as they tumbled against my cheek. Tears pricked at my eyes; she had been so brave. “You’re just amazing,” I whispered hoarsely. Pulling back slightly, I brushed a stray hair from her face as she said, “Let’s go home, Mom!” Her words struck me like a lifeline in chaos. I nodded vigorously through blurred vision. “Yes!” Before I could gather myself further, Marcus chimed in urgently, “Come on, we need to get out of here!”
“Marcus!” Ian called out, “Let’s secure them to that lamppost.” His voice was steady despite the tension. Marcus nodded briskly and together they moved the unconscious policemen. Using the cops’ own handcuffs, they bound the men to the metal post. Once finished, we all hurried to Marcus’s car. In the back seat, I pulled Naomi close, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame as we sped away from danger.
Narrative: Naomi McGregor
Clutching my mother tightly during the drive, I listened as Marcus spoke up, “I can’t believe what just happened back there. That was quite the experience.” Then Dad turned to me from the front seat, “Well done, my little wildflower. You were perfect.” I grinned back at him, “Thanks, Dad!” After that, she snapped at my father, “Ian! How could you let your daughter put herself in such danger?” He responded calmly, “Trust me dear, I did try to take charge. But Naomi simply wouldn’t let me—she just wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I couldn’t lose you again,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as she held me firmly.
My father addressed Marcus, “Let’s pick up your family Marcus, if those cops took your license plate, I have a feeling you won’t see the last of them.” Marcus glanced at my father with furrowed brows. “Mothafucka! That’s true,” he said as I echoed, “Mothafucka?” My mother clamped her hand over my mouth. “Marcus! Watch your language!” she snapped. Ian chuckled softly. “Our daughter is impressionable.”
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
As Naomi, real world Aisha, Dominic, and I settled into Marcus’s crowded back seat heading toward our apartment, Aisha remarked, “Why do the men have to sit at the front?” Dominic piped up from beside me, “Well I’m not at the front,” prompting Marcus to shoot back, “You’re not a man yet until I say so!” Dominic folded his arms with a defiant smirk. “According to you dad! I’ll never become one,” he declared. Seeing that familiar stubborn look on his face warmed my heart—I reached over and gave his cheek an affectionate pinch, grateful to see my son again.
Naomi noticed my affectionate gesture toward Dominic. “You never pinch my cheek, mom!” she complained. Then the other Aisha leaned over and playfully pinched Naomi’s cheek, causing her to blush. “Don’t worry Naomi, I’ve got your back,” she reassured her.
“Well, this is quite a turn of events,” Ian mused, then added, “A kind of mesh of reality.” Naomi chuckled softly at his engineering metaphor, the only one among us who grasped its meaning while everyone else exchanged puzzled glances.
“So! This is your man, huh, Aisha?” real world Aisha teased with a knowing grin. I glanced her way and replied evenly, “Yes, Aisha.” I paused before adding, “You have a problem with that?” Our playful banter had become routine—lighthearted jabs we traded like old friends. The other Aisha continued, “Just saying, you could have picked a black stud to be stranded on that island.” At this Ian interjected with a startled “Woah!” while Marcus chuckled heartily. “Sister speaks the truth,” he remarked as I rolled my eyes dismissively. Forcing a calm tone, Ian declared firmly, “For your information, Aisha—she fell right into my lap.”
“That’s one way to catch a sister, huh Ian?” Marcus said with a wry smile. “Leave him alone, Marcus!” I said. Marcus grinned and added, “You have your woman fighting your battles now!” Though his remark was meant as playful banter, it was clear he enjoyed provoking reactions by flaunting his machismo. Ian looked back at me as he smiled. “Someone you love, fighting for you is the best thing anyone could wish for!” Ian said with pride. I smiled back, that’s my Ian right there, he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone.
“Stop teasing Marcus!” the other Aisha insisted sharply, her tone cutting through the laughter. Dominic, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye, turned to Naomi and asked, “So Naomi, you finished school yet?” Naomi stared back at him, bewildered by the odd question. I felt my own brow furrow in disbelief—really Dominic? “She’s practically your sister,” I reminded him dryly.
Real world Aisha sighed, exasperated. “Dominic, have you not been listening to a word I’ve told you about Naomi being born and raised on that deserted island?” she demanded as the realization finally struck him. Shaking her head in disbelief, she added, “I’ve got to stop you from spending so much time with your dad.”
As we stepped into our apartment and settled in, real world Aisha turned to us with a pointed look. “So what exactly are we planning to do? Keep running from the police indefinitely?” Ian met her gaze evenly. “It’s merely a temporary measure. Those crooked officers likely won’t pursue this further since they were clearly in the wrong themselves.” The other Aisha crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you? We can’t afford to trust them—not if they already have our address.” With a heavy sigh, Marcus sank into a chair nearby. “I honestly don’t know, Aisha. Perhaps giving it some time is all we can do for now.”
I looked toward her, “I’m so sorry about this,” I offered quietly. Aisha glanced my way but the apology barely registered on her strained face. Marcus spoke up next, “It’s not your fault, but that same cop who assaulted you may have been watching you.” Ian then interjected, his voice laced with disbelief, “What? The one in the interrogation room?” He seemed genuinely shocked. I nodded firmly, “Yes, Ian! He hadn’t been fired.”
My memory flashed back to that awful moment—the racist pig’s hands creeping up my leg, groping my ass. Ian noticed my expression darken as he walked over, cupping my face in his hands. “Did he do anything?” I met his gaze straight on. “It’s nothing!” I lied, hoping to brush it off. Marcus jumped in, trying to defuse the situation. “Drop it Ian, it’s not worth the hassle,” he insisted. But Ian held my stare, his eyes searching mine intensely. “He touched you?” His voice was low, insistent. I couldn’t hide the truth from him; the tension thickened as I gave a slow nod, confirming what he already suspected.
Narrative: Ian McGregor
I still reeled from the revelation, that same vengeful cop had violated my wife. Her eyes glistened with tears as I pulled her into my arms, murmuring, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you!” I struggled to find words adequate to express my remorse and outrage. That bastard should have faced consequences for his actions long ago, yet somehow the system had failed us all.
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
Aisha approached me and wrapped her arms around me tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered softly. I managed a nod, replying in a hushed tone, “It could have easily been you.” My voice grew urgent as I added, “They also hurt Marcus!” At those words Aisha turned toward Marcus, concern etched on her face. “Are you alright baby?” Marcus gave a firm nod. “I’m good baby,” he reassured her before adding bitterly, “They’re just fucking cowards.”
Marcus then said with joy, “Let’s not forget who saved us! Big it up to our girl Naomi! She fucked them up good and proper!”
Narrative: Naomi McGregor
Fucked them up? What does that mean? Everyone was cheering for me and Dominic kept staring at me with this weird look in his eyes. My brow furrowed as I demanded, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He glanced away, embarrassed by my directness.
Dad draped an arm over my shoulder. “My little wildflower was incredible,” he said with a proud smile. “By the time I arrived, she’d already taken care of everything.”
The next morning Dad was on the phone with Mike, the helicopter pilot, trying to figure out when we could head back to the island. Mom, Dominic and Marcus had all crashed at our place overnight since they figured those cops might come snooping around their house. While my parents were fixing breakfast, I slipped into my room and got to work. Using some tools we’d picked up yesterday, I started crafting these little sharp sticks with bits of metal attached to the ends—inspired by something I’d seen on TV about throwing weapons.
They seemed simple enough, but when I tested them out by hurling one at my wall, it just bounced right off instead of sticking like I’d hoped. After a few more tries with no luck, I knew something wasn’t quite right. I got to work on trying to solve this problem.
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
As we made breakfast, I called for Naomi but she didn’t answer—that girl never listens—as I walked down the hall opening the door. I stopped in my tracks when something whizzed past my face and stuck to the wall. “Yesss!” Naomi exclaimed, then quickly added, “Oh! Sorry mom!” as I stared at the twig-like dart wondering what the hell?
I had to stop walking in on Naomi; goodness knows my next stop would be the hospital. “What are you doing?” I asked questionably. “I’m making weapons!” she said. “Darling, you could get into serious trouble—we’re trying to avoid any complications until we can get back to the island,” I said, thinking if anyone caught Naomi with weapons, we would definitely be in a whole heap of crap.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Naomi assured me as she carefully tucked each weapon into hidden compartments in her shoes. “They’re nearly impossible to detect.” I had to concede that her clever design addressed every concern. “Alright,” I replied, eager to shift focus away from the dangerous contraptions. “Breakfast is ready—come join us.” Naomi gave a quick nod. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Ian finished his call, still rooted in place as his fingers absently stroked his beard. “Come eat something, baby,” I urged, but he seemed lost in thought, murmuring quietly to himself. “What happened?” I pressed. He finally turned to me and explained, “We need to meet Mike and his crew in Hawaii.” I nodded slowly. “Well that should be fine, right? We can take a flight.” But Ian sighed heavily and added, “The issue is we still don’t have proper documentation ... and frankly, I fear far too much could go terribly wrong.”
Narrative: Ian McGregor
As I settled in for breakfast, Naomi emerged from her room. Something felt off; she wore her jacket even though it was morning, and I spotted a suspicious bulge hidden beneath it at her back. “Naomi?” I called out. She glanced my way, guilt flashing across her face. “Yes, Dad?” she replied hesitantly. I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that behind your back under your jacket?” Her shoulders dropped in defeat and she muttered, “Damn ... you noticed, huh?”
With a reluctant sigh, Naomi shrugged out of her jacket, revealing a strap secured across her back. Curiosity rippled through the room as she reached behind her and produced the concealed item. “It’s just two sticks attached with a chain,” she offered sheepishly before handing it over. I examined the object—a pair of nunchucks—and recognized Naomi’s handiwork immediately.
Real world Aisha interjected sharply, “Those are illegal, Naomi! You’ll be in serious trouble if they catch you with that.” Naomi let out a weary sigh. “I’m know. That’s exactly why I’m trying to conceal it,” she replied, her voice edged with resolve. Although misgivings tugged at me, I understood that Naomi was driven by a desire to protect our family.
“Pretty cool, Naomi,” Dominic remarked, eyeing the nunchucks with interest. “Can you make me one too?” Before I could reply, Aisha shot back firmly, “Absolutely not, Dominic!” Meanwhile, Marcus chimed in curiously, asking Naomi, “Where’d you get the idea for those?” Naomi explained, “Me and Dad watched a movie—something about a dragon.” I added with a chuckle, “Enter The Dragon. Bruce Lee.” Aisha rolled her eyes and said with a hint of exasperation, “Trust Ian to put ideas like that into her head.”
After breakfast, I contacted real world Ian to strategize our travel plans to Hawaii. “The issue is our documents,” I pointed out. “Flying might be problematic.” He paused briefly before proposing a solution: “Here’s what you do—shave off that beard. Take my passport and driver’s license; with those, you’ll move about freely.” It was a clever workaround since this would allow the other Aisha to use authentic identification. Still, Naomi’s papers remained unresolved.
After our call, I returned to the living room where everyone had gathered. “Ian suggested a plan—he’ll give me his passport and driver’s license,” I announced, glancing at real world Aisha. “Perhaps Aisha could borrow yours?” She nodded in silent agreement. My Aisha then voiced her concern: “And Naomi?” Her brow furrowed as she considered the dilemma. “I’m still working on that.” At this point, Naomi interjected hesitantly, “What about that lady mom? Tashsa? Could she help us out?”
I didn’t know who Tasha was, but when Naomi mentioned her name, Aisha’s face lit up with recognition. “That’s brilliant,” she exclaimed, already turning away. “I’ll call her right now.” She hurried into the bedroom as I frowned in confusion.
While the conversation buzzed on in the living room, I slipped away to the bathroom. With a heavy heart, I faced the mirror and prepared to part with my beard—a companion of many years. Carefully trimming with scissors first, I then began methodically shaving it all away.
I finished shaving away the final traces of my beard and rinsed my face, peering into the mirror. The reflection startled me—I appeared considerably younger than my sixty-one years. “Not bad Ian,” I murmured to myself with satisfaction as the bathroom door swung open unexpectedly. Real world Aisha entered without knocking, freezing mid-step upon seeing me. “Oh! sorry—shouldn’t have barged in like that,” she said hastily, preparing to retreat but lingering as her gaze settled on my newly smooth face.
“It’s alright,” I replied. After a moment of uneasy quiet, she studied my face intently. Then, in a soft tone, she offered, “It suits you.” Surprised by her rare compliment, I met her gaze with gratitude before adding, “The bathroom’s all yours.” I squeezed past her in the narrow doorway; our eyes lingered on each other as we passed.
“I remember you now,” she said, her voice low. “On the plane, I knew it was you—but now I can truly see your face, just as I did when we sat side by side.” Then I added, “Did we talk during the flight?” I asked. “A little,” she admitted, a hint of irony in her tone. “Despite my attitude toward you, you remained polite to me.”
As I stepped out of the bathroom, a strange mix of emotions swirled inside me. This was Aisha – but somehow, something about her felt different. In that brief, unexpected encounter, she had stirred memories of our early days together after the crash. I paused in the hallway, replaying those fleeting moments in my mind, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from our shared history on that forsaken island.
Then my Aisha spotted me down the hall and froze in her tracks. “What the—” she exclaimed, her expression shifting as I flashed a grin. “You like?” I teased. Without hesitation, she approached and lightly brushed her fingertips across my freshly shaved skin. “Nice,” she murmured appreciatively before leaning in to press a tender kiss upon my lips.
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
Oh, the absence of that beard transformed everything—my lips pressed directly against warm skin, heightening every sensation. “I have my Ian back,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck with a playful smile. “Don’t grow it so long next time.” He grinned softly and murmured, “Anything for you, my love.”
“Dad?” Naomi called out from behind us, her voice laced with disbelief. “What did you do to yourself?” Ian chuckled and asked, “How does it look?” Naomi stepped closer, gently brushing her fingers along his smooth jawline before declaring, “It looks weird!” Ian and I both laughed at her candid reaction.
“I just spoke with Tasha Reynolds, the civil rights lawyer who assisted Naomi after her run-in with the police,” I informed Ian. “What did she say?” he asked. “She recommended an immigration attorney specializing in humanitarian cases and offered guidance on documentation for Naomi.” Ian nodded approvingly, “Brilliant!” he exclaimed.
Narrative: Ian McGregor
Real world Aisha emerged from the bathroom and caught sight of us locked in an embrace. She offered an awkward smile as she hurried past, her gaze darting away. I noticed Aisha’s eyes lingering on her for a moment before shifting back to me with a questioning glance.
“That was weird,” she remarked as I gave a curt nod, unable to conceal the flicker of guilt that crossed my face despite knowing nothing improper had occurred. “Did something happen?” she pressed, her tone sharpened by suspicion as a flush crept up my cheeks—a betrayal made all the more obvious without the beard I’d grown accustomed to hiding behind.
I shook my head. “We just bumped into each other on my way out of the bathroom after I shaved,” I explained. “And?” she pressed, her tone edged with suspicion. Feeling compelled to elaborate, I added, “She just mentioned that she remembered me from the plane now that my beard was gone—that’s all.” She regarded me with an unyielding stare, the silence stretching on for what seemed like forever.
“I just had a thought,” she said, pausing deliberately before continuing. “That Aisha—the one from the island crash—it was me throughout those days. She isn’t some separate person; she’s who you fell in love with.” My jaw slackened as I struggled to form words. “I saw the resemblance in her but she’s not you anymore, you are the one I’m completely in love with.” I finally managed, hoping my clarification might dispel the tension thickening between us.
“I think we should start sorting out Naomi’s documentation,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from the lingering tension. Aisha tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady on mine, and murmured only “hmm”—her thoughts drifting elsewhere as she considered the implications of my words.
“I need to meet up with this immigration lawyer, they’re just downtown, I’m going to ask Marcus to take me,” my brows furrowed, “don’t you think we should go together?” she shook her head, “just me and Naomi! We’ll take the quiet streets. You need to sort out how we’re going to get to Hawaii.”
Was there a double meaning in what she just said? Going to ask Marcus to take her? “You know I just had a thought,” I said now, “Although we’ve been together for fifteen years, before then, you’ve had sex with Marcus.” Her eyes narrowed when I said that as a wry smile came across her face. “You’re right,” she said as she turned away.
I observed as Aisha moved away, the subtle swing of her hips an unmistakable attempt to provoke a reaction. Though my trust in her remained unwavering, we had never faced such circumstances before. Real world Aisha and Dominic were planning to stay behind.
Narrative: Aisha Johnson
I settled into the passenger seat of Marcus’s car, Naomi tucked quietly in the back. I’d insisted she leave every weapon behind—no room for further trouble as Marcus navigated us down the less-traveled side streets.
“It’s been good with everyone together,” Marcus remarked. I nodded slowly, shifting in my seat. “I got to see more of Dominic,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “You must have missed him like crazy,” he added. My eyes welled up at the mention of Dominic, and I whispered, “Everyday.” Then, turning to face me with a hint of longing, he asked quietly, “What about me?” I turned to look at him directly; even though he still had his Aisha, there was a pang of betrayal in his tone—a silent question lingering beneath his words: Did I ever think about him?
“Of course I had, Marcus. You were my husband,” I told him, my voice barely above a whisper as I added, “I missed you.” His smile held a knowing quality as he considered my words. Shifting the subject, he asked carefully, “Do you think it was wise leaving my Aisha with Ian?” My thoughts lingered on that decision for a moment—I had trusted Ian implicitly—but an unspoken reservation flickered in my mind before I answered firmly, “I trust them both.”
Narrative: Ian McGregor
I sat in the bedroom as Aisha stayed with Dominic in the living room. Focused on finding a way to get us all to Hawaii, I browsed options using a refurbished laptop—cheap yet functional. I discovered a promising solution: a cruise ship departing from the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. That location was perfect, only about forty minutes away by car. The trip would take four to five days, giving us some much-needed relaxation time. Best of all, no passports would be required; Naomi could join with just certain documents, provided Aisha managed to secure them.
I dialed Aisha immediately and proposed the cruise plan. “How does five days of leisure sound to you? Imagine sipping wine and champagne on deck.” Her tone shifted as she considered the idea. “Is this feasible?” she questioned, I added thoughtfully, “I’ll need to check if the other Ian can arrange it—he’s already handled so much for us.”
I had called Ian for that last favor, fully aware I lacked proper access to our bank account. To my relief, he agreed without hesitation. I relayed all our personal information to him—mine, Aisha’s, and Naomi’s—and he secured the cruise reservations in a couple of days. It worked out perfectly. Meanwhile, I planned to visit my former workplace where Ian was set to retrieve the passport and driver’s license.
Ending the call, a wave of gratitude washed over me. I felt a deep desire to repay his kindness somehow, yet a nagging doubt crept in—perhaps I’d never find the opportunity.
Just then there was a knock at the bedroom door. “Ian?” real world Aisha called. I rose and opened it to see her standing there with an expression reservation—a stark contrast to fierce determination she’d shown when confronting my Aisha earlier. “I’m brewing some coffee,” she offered quietly. “Care for some?” I was taken aback by her unexpected gesture, though I couldn’t quite place why it surprised me. “I was planning to head out to meet myself, but coffee sounds perfect—thanks,” I replied. She gave a simple nod before turning toward the kitchen while I made my way into the living room.
“I scanned the empty living room. “Where’s Dominic?” I asked, puzzled. “He was restless, apparently he dashed off to see a friend,” she explained with a hint of disdain. “I think he’s seeing that girlfriend of his.” I raised an eyebrow. “You mean the one who works with him? The white girl?” Her eyes widened slightly. “How did you know?” she demanded. “I saw her when we went there—when Aisha first encountered Dominic,” I clarified casually.
As we settled onto the couch, Aisha handed me my coffee. “I booked a cruise for us to Hawaii, we leave in a couple of days” I said. “That’s where we’ll meet up with the people who can help take us to the island.” She took a sip of her own drink. “So soon!” she remarked. “I think we’ve been a pain in everyone’s ass since we got here.” I grinned in agreement.
“I’m heading into work soon myself,” Aisha mentioned, adding, “I told them I had a family emergency. Everything should be okay now though.” I laughed and remarked, “Well at least you didn’t have to make that part up.” She joined in with a light-hearted chuckle.
Narrative: Naomi McGregor
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