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I narrow my eyes and glare at the wicked woman that has me feeling like smashing some shit, namely her face. “You know,if you want Eddie, he’s a single man. You should make your move on him and see if you have what it takes to get him back. It’s not that hard to claim a man if he’s yours, right?”
Moey lets out an irritated chuckle. “I could have him if I wanted him.”
“Then, I really don't know what your problem is, and I don't care. But I’m telling you right now, on everything I know and love, messing with me and my sister will only get you fucked up,” I warn, my hand instinctively gripping the brass knuckles in my jacket pocket. I’m talking to her as if we can come to an amicable conclusion, but this is useless. I came into this bathroom for one reason: to put my hands on her.
Moey smirks, returning her attention to the mirror to run her fingers through her hair, primping her flowing black tendrils. "You're such a protective little sister. It’s actually kind of cute that you think you could just come in here and threaten me, and everything will be dandy. When the entire time, you should be grateful for all the attention I bring to both of your lives. It’s increasing all of our profiles, so what’s the big deal? You seem to enjoy drama just as much as I do, seeing as how you’re dating two very high-profile men."
“Actually, I don’t have a problem with attention because I’m about to get a lot of it.” I ease my fingers into the brass knuckles and take my hands out of my pocket. The cold metal against my skin sends a rush through me, fueling my anger. “I know you’re a little snitch, so I’m going to enjoy all the media attention I get for beating your ass in this bathroom.”
Moey finally turns to face me and laughs when her eyes land on my balled brass-clad fist. “Brass knuckles? You can’t be serious. I tried to warn Monica that you two didn’t have the emotional intelligence to be in our circle. Look at you, coming here with brass knuckles. Seriously?”
“Oh, I’m as serious as a heartbeat! What a dumb name for a group anyway!”
"You think you can intimidate me with some brass knuckles? You and your sister are funny. Besides, who walks around with brass knuckles in 2023?" She returns her attention to the mirror and starts fixing her hair as if I’m not standing there talking to her.
“Oh, I see. You think I’m playing with you right now?” I take steps closer to her until I'm in her personal space. "You are going to stop playing in my face, Moey.”
She spins around, frowning. “Bitch, no one’s—”
That’s the last thing she utters before I haul off and hit her so hard that I knock the silence she should have had earlier into her spirit. Blood spatters from her mouth as she screams, “You hit me! I can’t believe you fucking hit me.”
“And I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to think you wouldn’t get your ass kicked, talking all that shit. What was that you said?”
“Ouch!” She wipes her hand over her mouth and looks at the red liquid oozing from it in shock.
“No, no, no. It wasn’t ouch. That’s not what you said. Repeat all that shit you’ve been talking about tonight.”
“I’m bleeding!” She wails. “You hit me in my mouth and made me bleed!” She lunges at me and grabs my hair.
“Yeah, I thought you had something to say, bitch.” I drop the brass from my hand and start punching her in her face, chest, and arms until she releases my hair. One of my punches sends her to the floor, where she lies and whimpers. Her cries upset me further. I hate when a mean girl starts crying and acting like the victim. “The next time you think about coming for me or my sister. Don’t!” I bark at her.
The bathroom door bursts open, and Leslie rushes inside with Monica and Caitlyn, all wearing shocked expressions.
Leslie looks alarmed as she stares at Moey’s bloodied face. “Jas, what have you done?”
It’s a rhetorical question because anyone with eyes can see that I have just whooped Moey’s ass. And I’m mad because she didn’t even have it in her cowardly spirit to fight back. All she did was pull my hair and take blows like a weak bitch.
Monica walks over to the towel dispenser and pulls off two napkins. She and Caitlyn help Moey to her feet, and Monica hands her the napkins. “Here, put this on your mouth to stop the bleeding.” Monica then looks at me disappointedly. She huffs as if trying to decide if she wants to be upset with me or side with me. “What did you do to her?” she questions.
At this point, anyone I consider a threat can get the same thing I gave Moey. I train my gaze on Monica and say, “A better question is do you let her disrespect your invited guests like she has to me and my sister tonight?”
Monica gasps and says indignantly, “This has never happened before. None of this. We don’t condone this kind of behavior from anyone, including you.”
“And it won’t happen again because we’re not coming back to any of your events,” I retort. I turn to leave, but Moey screaming at me forces me to face her again.
“You busted my lips. You won't get away with this, Jasmine!" she says, touching her mouth and crying. “Neither of you will.”
“We should all talk about this when we have cooler heads,” Caitlyn suggests.
My head will never be cooler where Moey is concerned. I lunge toward her again, only to be grabbed by Leslie and tussled to the other side of the restroom.
“Stop it, Jas.”
Ignoring Leslie, I yell at Moey, "I never said I would get away with it. This isn’t a hit-and-run, bitch. I’m right here!”
Moey yells, “I’m going to get you back. You just wait and see.”
The part of me that doesn’t care about consequences, my freedom, or anything else wants to attack her again. “Let’s do it now!” I urge.
