Page 232 of The Wright Man

All I asked for was my freedom and this.

This place.

My peace. My joy. My therapy and my rebellion. The one thing that belonged to me. The one thing he never gave a fuck about until now.

He laughed at me when I told him I wanted to open a salon. Called it a "hobby," said it was childish. Said I should be focused on "being a wife." That no one in their right mind would pay that much for a silk press when they could go to the Dominicans for half.

Now suddenly it was worth fighting for? Now it was his?

Tears pricked the back of my eyes but didn't fall. My stomach burned. My teeth ached from how hard I was clenching my jaw. I grabbed my phone with a shaky hand and opened my messages, my thread with Maleek.

I needed my man.

Me:

Are you with a client right now? Can I call you?

Just seeing Maleek's name on my phone softened something. Or maybe it reminded me I didn't have to carry this kind of rage alone anymore.

I stared at the blinking cursor. My thumb hovered over Send.

I sat there for a moment, just holding it. The papers. The silence. The size of what he was trying to take.

Then a knock rattled the door.

"Angie," Alicia said from the other side, her voice low but tight. "You need to come out front. Right now."

I closed my eyes. Swallowed. Hit Send before I forgot.

Migraine. Full bloom. Pressure building behind my eyes like a coming storm.

Another knock. Louder this time. And then Tina's voice, sharp and slicing through the air like a thrown blade:

"Nah, fuck that. You think you just gon' walk up in here like we don't have security cameras and hands? Say something else, bitch. Say one more goddamn thing!"

Oh shit.

I wasn't in the mood for this. Not now, not after everything. The last thing I needed was Tina causing a scene—especially when the scene inside my own head was already enough.

I stood up on legs made of wet clay, heart thudding like a warning drum, and walked towards my office door and into the beginning of a wildfire.

The second I stepped out of my office, I knew my day had gone from bad to full-blown shitstorm.

Because there she was. Standing dead center in my salon like she belonged. Jasmine. Pregnant. Smug. And smelling like she had rolled around in Gavin's cologne before walking her little stank ass in here.

She had that same entitled-ass energy I remembered when I saw her in that hotel room with Gavin. Except now, her mouth was running, and she had the audacity to show up here like she hadn't made herself comfortable in the same house Gavin tried to trap me in.

Tina was already in full attack mode, arms crossed and looking two seconds from dragging her out by that cheap-looking wig.

"You seriously thought this was the place to come ask about some damn box braids?" she was saying, loud and clear. "You out your rabid-ass mind."

Alicia didn't miss a beat. "Lord, why does drama always come dressed in polyester and bad lace?"

Jasmine's eyes landed on me like she'd been waiting for the cue. Her smirk spread across her face slow, syrupy, and full of fake sweetness. "Oh, hey, Angelica," she purred. "I wanted to see about getting some box braids for my baby shower. Vinnie recommended this place. It's cute."

"He told me you weren't handling things too well," she said, rubbing her stomach in slow circles, feigning concern. "Said you've been real emotional. Crying, lashing out, moving in with the first man who looked your way."

I bristled at her mentioning Maleek.