Page 16 of Know Your Place

“Beretta!” I screeched. “This is my place of business. Get the fuck out!”

“Nah, Juicy. Go ’head ’bout ya business. I’m tryna see exactly what it is you do every day.”

I shook my head. I knew his ass wouldn’t leave, and since I couldn’t go upside his head like I wanted to right now, I needed to go ahead and get this service done as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry, Carl. Do you mind?” I muttered. Rage filled me. The audacity of Beretta to come to my place of work after allowing Stephanie to fawn all over him while I was right there. I was the one who should be pissed!

“Nah, that nigga don’t mind, Juicy. Go ’head,” Beretta encouraged.

Sorry, I mouthed to Carl, who slightly shook his head as if to say it was okay. He was way too nice. If it was me, I would have knocked all this shit over and demanded a refund for this visit and all my past visits.

With a sigh, I dipped a new wax applicator into the pot before I turned back to Carl and tried to tune Beretta’s stupid ass out. I moved the spa bed paper off Carl and went to work. That didn’t last long at all. My gloved hand grazed the side of Carl’s dick as I laid down another wax strip.

“Nope! Nah. Cut the shit. Get the fuck up, Cody,” Beretta bellowed before I could pull the wax off.

“It’s Carl—” my poor client said after he jumped slightly from the bass in Beretta’s tone.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s Debbie, nigga. Get up, put ya pants on, and get the fuck up out of here, and don’t ever come back,” Beretta snapped.

Carl hopped off the table and snatched his pants up from the side table where my clients put their clothes, phone, and anything else they brought with them.

I watched in bewilderment as Carl quickly got dressed and left the room with the wax strip still on the side of his damn dick.

Once he was gone, I reared on Beretta. “How fucking dare you! Have you lost your mind?”

“Have you lost ya mind? You over here touchin’ on another nigga’s dick while I’m standing right here. Is you coo?”

My head snapped back like he had hit me. “I’m working, and let’s not forget that stunt you pulled with Stephanie.”

“I ain’t pull no damn stunt with that girl. She came up to me, remember?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

He pointed at me. “Nah, you got me real fucked up. And to think I came here because I missed yo’ ass.”

He turned to walk out of the room. “I know like hell you ain’t come up in here, fuck up my client’s service, and now you ’bout to leave. I just know that ain’t what’s about to happen. You just made me lose out on money, Beretta. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He looked back at me with a frown as my chest heaved. I didn’t know if I was pissed or wanted to cry. I knew I was frustrated as hell. That much I could gather. This man drove me insane, and I genuinely didn’t know what to do anymore. I felt stuck, and when I felt stuck, I tended to fuck shit up.

“Ain’t shit wrong wit’ me but knowin’ you. Ever since I met you, you got me actin’ crazy as hell, but that’s on me. Bet this shit won’t happen again.” He shook his head as he turned again.

His words stung. Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched him walk out of the room like he hadn’t just put a bruise on my damn heart.

If I didn’t have to stop by the shop to meet with this chick about some graphic designs, I would have taken my ass home. It was dangerous for me to be out in the public right now. I was pissed off, and the smallest thing was sure to set me all the way off. The way I felt took me back to the days when me and Keegan ran the streets. We were menaces to society back then and known to fuck shit, and people, up for no real reason.

“I know that look. Fuck wrong wit’ you?” Keegan asked as he eyed me from behind the glass counter containing rows of handguns. I glanced up at him from the mockup flyers and business cards Trina, the graphic designer, was showing me. All I gave him was a grunt in response, and he laughed like something was funny. “Aw, hell. What Icelynn do this time?”

I frowned. “How you know somethin’ even wrong, Reem? And how you figure it’s Icelynn’s water-head ass?”

“You forget you my closest cousin, nigga? Practically my brother. Don’t insult my intelligence like that.”

I glanced at Trina, who pretended to mind her business as she scrolled on her phone. She was a lil mixed girl I would have definitely cracked back before I met Icelynn, but nothing about her seemed appealing as I peered at her right now. Her skin wasn’t the right shade of melanin. Her curls were too . . . bouncy and girly. I’d become more of a protective styles type of man over the past six months. Give me some braids or locs, and my dick might get hard.

I shook my head and focused back on Keegan. Even when I was pissed at her, I still found ways to give her flowers and compliment her.

I leaned over the glass and whispered, “She was playin’ wit’ a nigga’s dick.”

Keegan’s brows dipped. “Huh? Say that again.”