Nairobia took another deep breath. Ik zal niet versloeg. No, she would not be defeated. At some point, she knew she’d need someone to manage her club’s responsibilities. Someone almost as freaky as her, someone she could trust. Someone educated, and business savvy.
But who?
Nairobia wasn’t the most trusting. And she definitely wasn’t about to let anyone come up in here and tear her good name down, or ruin her club’s success. No, no. She knew all too well about silent haters. The ones who wished you well to your face, but then slithered behind your back to try to do you in.
She would have none of that around her.
No negativity.
No hating.
No jealousy.
No one trying to sabotage her.
So she’d have to ride it out until she was able to come up with a better solution.
Her cell rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, before answering. “Pasha, my darling,” she purred. “You’ve received my text, no?” She’d sent her a text late last night indicating she was in need of a few good men to protect and serve her.
Pasha was her hairstylist back in California, whom she had fallen in love with the moment she’d stepped foot into her posh Beverly Hills salon over a year ago. Since then, Nairobia allowed no one else to lay fingers through her hair, except for Pasha.
“Yes. I got your text. And I think I have someone for you.”
“And how well do you know him, my darling?”
“We’re close,” Pasha said in an almost cryptic tone. She paused, then added, “I trust him with my life.”
Nairobia pursed her lips. “Hm. Old lover, no?”
Surprised, Pasha blinked on the other end of the line. “Very close friends. He stood by me during one of the most difficult times of my life. He’s trustworthy.”
Nairobia had sent her a text early this morning wanting leads on hiring a security firm that could handle her security needs, particularly having a bodyguard. She already had security for the club. But she didn’t feel they were adequate enough.
After what’d happened back in Vegas, Nairobia felt it best if she had protection of her own. Sure she’d spent time down at the range and packed a little heat in her purse from time to time. But, now being here in the States, she felt she needed more.
“I like the men around me sexy, my darling. Security or not, I need to be surrounded by mouthwatering men. He is, no?”
Pasha smiled. “Yes. Very.”
“He has all his teeth, no?”
Her stylist laughed. “Yes. All thirty-two.”
“Is he uptight?”
“No, not at all. He’s very laid-back. And very open-minded.”
“Hmm. So far I like. Is he cross-eyed?”
“Nairobia! Ohmygod! You’re hysterical. No, of course not. He doesn’t have a lazy or wandering eye. He’s a very normal-looking guy, and extremely sexy, I might add. I think you’ll be quite pleased.”
Nairobia purred. “If he’s all you say, my love. Then I already am. Where is he?”
“He’s here in L.A. He actually has several clients out here that his firm provides security services to. In fact, I believe you’ve met his partner, Mel. He was here the last time you came to the salon.”
Mel was from New Jersey as well, but had moved out to the West Coast around the same time Pasha’s salon Nappy No More II opened. She’d had her choice of either him or Lamar continuing to work with her, but Pasha had chosen Mel instead, and he’d been more than willing to hold it down for her.
Nairobia thought for a moment. Then realization came in full, vibrant color. She remembered. Oh how she remembered him. The six-foot-seven mountain of muscle with the thick neck, bulging biceps, and golden-brown skin was not someone easily to be forgotten. Nairobia had found the two-hundred-and-seventy-five-pound giant gorgeous to look at. He bore a striking resemblance to her dear friend The Rock—with his deliciously fine self.
“It’s my understanding he’ll be catching the red-eye tonight back to the East Coast,” Pasha said, pulling Nairobia back to the conversation. “I’ll give him your number and have him call you so the two of you can work out all the specifics.”
Nairobia clapped. “Perfect, my darling. I’m looking for someone who can start as soon as possible.”
“Then he’ll be your guy. Hopefully, it’ll all work out.”
Nairobia smiled. “Hopefully, it shall.”
The two women spoke a moment longer, then the call ended.
A sense of relief flowed over Nairobia. She hoped this referral was a good fit for her, and her club. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was someone squeamish or prudish working for her. She’d have to fire them on the spot.