“So, what I’m supposed to do for the light bill? I’m already a month behind.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he lied.
“Are you for real?”
“Yes!” he shouted. “Now leave me the fuck alone with your worrisome ass. How the fuck were you going to pay it if I wasn’t here?”
Placing her hand on her hip, Ariana riposted, “It would’ve been paid because guess what? I wouldn’t have had a grown-ass nigga here while I’m working using up all myelectricity. I don't know if you realized that you need me, so you need to watch your mouth.”
Braye jumped up, stalking toward where she stood. She looked up at him, wearing faux confidence with labored breathing.
“Say that shit to me again,” he dared her.
“… I didn’t say anything wrong.”
He pointed his index finger at her. “You better watch how you talk to me. It wouldn’t be shit for your son to come home from school and find your ass stankin’. Now get the fuck outta my face.”
Ariana glowered at him for a second before she disappeared down the hall. Braye plopped back on the couch, counting down the time until her ass went to work. After forty-five minutes, Ariana was dressed in her uniform with her purse hanging off her forearm.
“I’m leaving,” she announced.
Thank God…
Braye didn’t reply as she walked through the kitchen and left out of the back door. Not having anything to do, he turned on Netflix and searched for a show that he hadn’t watched yet. Braye had searched every streaming site, watching anything he could to get his mind off his terrible situation. Settling on a crime show, he laid back and watched until he dozed off.
Hours had passed by before Braye heard the back door open. Slowly, he sat up, glancing at his watch.
“She must've got off early,” he grumbled, standing. Braye headed toward the kitchen only to be bombarded by three men. Right away, he was knocked down to the ground. His head hit the floor as a barrage of boots crashed against his body. Kicksto the face, chest, and groin caused pain to radiate through his form.
“Bitch-ass nigga, you thought you wasn’t gon’ be caught!”
There was no way this was law enforcement. They would’ve announced themselves before taking him down. This had to be Rio’s people.
“Knock that nigga out!” one of them ordered.
Braye put his hands up, trying to brace himself but the kick that crashed into his face, knocked him into another dimension.
Irish cringed as she entered the underground casino with Emanuel tightly holding her hand. Daisy had helped her get dressed for the occasion, and she was clad in a denim skirt, a white crop top, and heels that she could barely walk in. Her mother put some mascara on her lashes and lined her lips with a brown liner, topping it off with clear gloss.
“You look so beautiful,” Emanuel kept complimenting her.
Irish was too livid to appreciate his comment, so she never replied. Waving smoke from her face, Emanuel found the same table as last time. This time there was a man who didn’t look so old. He was boyishly handsome with jewelry that dazzled under the lights. He eyed her briefly before shooting his dice along the table.
“Twan, what’s going on, cuh?” Emanuel greeted him with a handshake.
“I can’t call it.” He peered at Irish this time with a little more curiosity in his orbs. “Who dis?”
“Oh, this is my little lady. Say hi to Twan, Baby Girl.”
Shyly, she waved her hand and avoided his eye contact. Again, Emanuel’s big hand rested on her waist before traveling toward the top of her butt. She looked up, piercing him with eyes that could kill.
“Follow my lead. Your mama don't need to know about this,” he whispered.
Irish clammed up, hating how her voice had vanished. She wished to protest and remind her of the warning Daisy had given him, but her words didn’t form.
“Let’s see if my good luck charm can work out in my favor.” Emanuel grinned, grabbing the dice. Before he rolled, he placed them in front of Irish’s lips. Begrudgingly, she blew on them, causing him to chuckle.
“You gon’ give me bad luck with that attitude. Blow gently like I taught you to, Baby Girl.”
