Page 32
After surviving the early morning Milwaukee derby, I’m pulling into my complex’s parking structure. As usual, I park close to the elevator, on the second level. I’m energy-deficient walking through the hall, pep-talking myself through a day that hasn’t even truly started. I have three hours to get some sleep before it’s time to get back up for work. It shouldn’t be too hard after a hot shower. My eyes are barely open as is. I walk inside, being greeted by complete darkness and the smell of Champagne Toast. Those Bath & Body Works candles have more power to them than I remember.
A flash of memories stops me dead at the door. I’m leaning against the wood, eyes closed tight. I reminisce over the hours I’ve already experienced. Morgan’s soft lips tapping the back of my skin with her finger pressed against my asshole. The feeling of Damien touching me like a magician, talking me through an amazing orgasm. The visual of them fucking like sex hungry rabbits. What have they done to me? My heels are barely off before I’m sending a text to Morgan.
Me: Hey, beautiful. Good morning. I’m sorry for slipping out like that. Had to leave to prepare for an early shift. I really enjoyed myself last night. I look forward to our next link. Oh yeah… tell Damien I said thank you. Lol
A proud smile rises slowly. I finally push away from the door, heading to my bedroom. A bad energy suddenly rushes down my spine. Causing me to slow my pace right as I reach the door. The smell of weed hits my nose. Which is weird considering I’m neither smoking nor preparing to smoke. Sure, Damien and Morgan smoked, but my outfit smelt more like perfume if anything else.
I’m not alone. I can feel it. Dread hits the pit of my stomach like a liver shot. My intuition is confirmed after pushing the door open with my right palm, revealing an angry-looking Makai sitting on the edge of my bed. He’s dressed in all black, smoking a blunt, sitting in the dark like a teenager’s father after sneaking out to a party. I’m getting vibes reminiscent of my own dad.
Then again, a lot of Makai’s worst qualities could compare to his. Except my father never snuck into my apartment at the crack of dawn’s ass. Apparently, Makai’s also Spider-Man. He’s about to be sprayed with bug repellent in a millisecond.
“Makai, what the fuck are you doing here?” I fuss like a maniac, throwing my bag down.
Makai shakes his head, “Who’s the nigga?”
The nerve of this mothafucka. He breaks into my apartment trying to interrogate me on some SVU shit.
“Excuse me? I’m asking the questions here, nigga. How the fuck did you even get in here?”
“I know my way around a key card.”
Great. One day in my new place and I already have to get the locks changed. Just fuckin’ great.
“And I know my way around a weapon. Get out.”
Makai chuckles for some reason, pointing to me, “Nah, it really seems like you know your way around town. Shit. Look at you. You got ya’ freakin' dress on and everything.”
I fold my hands in front of me, exhaling a sigh of annoyance, “Makai, I’m going to ask you very politely to get the fuck out of my apartment. Take your ego with you.”
After scoffing, he stands from the bed, blowing clouds of smoke in my direction. It smells just like some shit from his shop. The underhanded nigga must be smoking up his own product.
“You know what, Syren?” He takes another hit, “You’re really starting to piss me off.”
I cross my arms in defiance, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Who were you kicking it with?”
Now I’m grinning, “Hmm. My new friends. Damien and Morgan.”
Jealousy’s written all over his face. The easiest way to attack a nigga’s ego is by revealing that he no longer has private access. He doesn’t like it when I have one friend. Let alone two. The look on my face makes it clear though; these aren’t just friends. Friends that he would like, at least.
“Damien and Morgan who?” he snarls.
“None of your fuckin' business,” I hiss, “I’ve already said enough. And so have you. Now you can find your way out, the same way you found your way in. As a matter of fact, how about you take the window this time? Headfirst.”
Makai charges up to me like he wants an issue. He has his fists tight, snarling like a rabid dog. He’s never been this aggressive with me before. My reflex causes me to rush towards my purse, pulling out my switchblade. I flip the switch, erecting the five-inch blade and aiming it directly at his dick. I’m no Lorena Bobbit, but I can easily be her descendant.
“Oh, you don’t want to do that, sweetie,” I reveal a small crescent-shaped scar on the inside of my hand, taking me back to a distant memory of me standing over someone with a bloodied knife in my hand. “I’m sure you remember what happened to the last nigga who got a little too close to me without consent.”
I can feel myself evolving into psycho mode, slowly dragging the knife from his crotch up towards his midsection. He tries to remain tough, even though his body is starting to tremble. Can’t say I blame him. That thing can damn near cut through iron with how sharp it is. And I have no issue demonstrating it.
“I’m not the last nigga,” he claims, trying to avoid even looking at the knife. “True. But you can be the next nigga. Try me.”
He backs away, realizing there isn’t an inch of me that’s joking around with his ass.
“You know that little story you told me could get you in a lot of trouble if the wrong person found out?”
That immediately raises my eyebrows. Guess that’s what I get for drunkenly confiding in someone I thought at the time could be trusted.
