“Listen, I think you’ve got everything that you need. The meal was great. Like I said, I’ve got the tab covered, so stay, enjoy yourself, and have some dessert on me. Have a good night, Ms. Dubois.”
I stood and tossed my napkin on the table. One thing I never played about was my fucking family. I always had and always would protect them with my last breath. It didn’t matter if Muffin and I were divorcing; she was still under my protection.
I turned to walk away, but Chanel said something that made me stop in my tracks.
“I respect your right to privacy, and I can even commiserate with the fact that when someone you’ve spent your life with and planned to live out the rest of your years, betrays you when you need them most, but there is only so long you can hide, especially when she’s flaunting it.”
“What the fuck you say to me?” I growled, spun around, and took two long strides to her.
Chanel waved an envelope at me, and my jaws clenched, and my stomach tightened.
“Sit down, and don’t you dare show out,” she hissed.
“Who the fuck you think you’re talking to?”
“Ashton, I’m only going to say this one time . . . Sit your ass down because I’ve got something to tell you. I’m not trying to harm you. But I have some information you should know.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaned forward until our noses damn near touched, bared my teeth at her, and released a low rumble.
“Chanel, I’ma tell you this one time and you’d better listen. I don’t fucking play when it comes to my family.” I pulled my hand from my pocket and snatched the envelope from her hand. Chanel reared back in disbelief, but then she reached for the envelope again. I stood back out of reach. “Ya little ass had better hope that whatever is in this envelope don’t make me tear this fucking restaurant up.”
The pictures I removed from the envelope made my chest tighten, and my teeth ached from clenching my jaw tightly. Muffin was kissing Alex Curry on a yacht in some of them,and in others, she was grinding in his lap. The last two were more explicit. Although I filed for divorce, and she was living in my apartment in Chicago, I kept tabs on her. She told me she was heading out of town to Miami for the weekend with her girlfriends. I guess she wasn’t lying, because she was clearly laid up with a bitch. As soon as that bitch nigga returned to town, I was beating his ass.
“Where did you get these?”
“I won’t reveal my source.”
“Where the fuck did you get these?”
“I told you?—”
I slammed my palms on the table so hard that glasses fell, and a dish clattered to the floor.
“Ashton,” she hissed.
I shoved the pictures in her face. “Where the fuck did you get these?” I asked, ignoring the rising concern in patrons around us.
“I told you. I can’t say.”
I shoved them back into the envelope and stuffed them in my coat pocket.
“Who has seen these?”
“I don’t know.”
I swiped the rest of the items off the table with my arm and got in her face again.
“Lady, you ’bout to make me show the fuck out in here.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. Someone sent them to me anonymously through email. I swear. I don’t know who all has seen them, but I haven’t shared them, and I have copies. They were delivered to me this morning.”
“Don’t show a muthafuckin’ soul.”
I stormed out of the restaurant. I knew Muffin’s ass was cheating, but I had no idea she was cheating with my fucking teammate.
I tossedmy keys on the foyer table and slipped out of my coat. Hanging it in the coat closet, I removed my heels and slipped my feet into the slippers that were for inside before I walked upstairs to my bedroom.
Cleanliness was a priority for me, especially living in a luxury apartment building’s two-story penthouse that was completely white, champagne, and gold in its décor, furniture, and fixtures. I was obsessive about keeping a clean home, probably because our house was always so junky during my childhood.
