Don't Fall For The Plug

CHAPTER ONE: You Don't Know Who That Is?

If there was one thing I hated more than a last-minute lash appointment, it was somebody telling me I needed to "get out the house."

I got out the house every damn day.

To go to work.

That counted.

"You cannot keep saying coming to the boutique is going outside," Simmy yelled from the front of the store.

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me.

"I leave my apartment, don't I?"

"That is called commuting, Navi."

"Still outside."

"Girl, shut up."

I smiled to myself as I reached for another lash fan.

My client, Jada, had been lying on my table for almost two hours listening to me and Simmy argue through the thin wall separating my lash room from the rest of the boutique.

She cracked one eye open.

"Can I say something?"

"No," I told her.

"Damn."

"Your eye is supposed to be closed anyway."

She closed it again.

Two seconds later—

"You really do need to go out though."

I stopped mid-dip.

"Jada."

"I'm just saying."

"Do you want lashes or blindness?"

She started laughing and immediately squeezed both eyes shut.

"Okay, okay."

Everybody had jokes.

Meanwhile, I was perfectly content with my life.

I woke up.

Went to work.

Did lashes.

Made money.

Went home.

Ordered food.

Watched TV.

Got on TikTok until my eyes started burning.

Repeated.

Peaceful.

Simple.

And most importantly?

Man-free.

Which was probably why everybody around me had suddenly decided I was living like somebody's seventy-eight-year-old grandmother.

Simmy appeared in my doorway wearing a hot pink two-piece set from the boutique and a facial expression I didn't trust.

"No."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You didn't have to."

She leaned against the doorframe.

"You're coming tonight."

"No."

"Navi."

"Simmy."

"Bitch."

"Hoe."

Jada started laughing again.

Simmy pointed at her.

"See? Even your client knows you need to come."