“Surely it’s made sales drop. Once the Karens get a hold of that type of story, the cancel culture starts.”
“All my shows are still sold out. Two songs from the album have gone platinum.”
He whistles. “Damn, Fox. I thought I would be out here doing charity work, giving you a spot on my new single.”
“Well, you thought wrong. I looked over the contract. You’re lowballing me.”
“Your image right now isn’t going to be bringing me new fans. It’s what I think is fair,” he says, cutting up the piece of pizza in front of him. He takes a bite and chews with his mouth open. If my mom were here, she would have told him he needs to eat outside if he is going to chew like a cow.
“You paid Lil Jazzy more. He hasn’t even hit gold with one of his albums.”
“Clearly he’s got a fat fucking mouth too, discussing my business with a fucking Omega, no less.”
“Excuse me?”
“I ain’t gonna say you aren’t talented. But this world wasn’t meant for you. So do as you’re told or get the fuck out.”
“This meeting is over, I’m not doing business with you.”
I go to stand and he grabs my wrist hard, and he uses his Alpha Bark on me. “SIT YOUR FUCKING ASS DOWN.”
As much as I want to resist, I can’t, and I sit back down. His hand is still firmly on my wrist. It’s not a second later that Smith’s hand wraps around Young Memphis’ forearm. His pale skin reddens where Smith is grabbing him.
“You better let her the fuck go before I break every bone in your arm,” Smith says in a cool tone.
“You better get your fuckin hands off me, man,” Memphis replies.
“Let. Go. Of. Her.”
Young Memphis releases my wrist with disgust and Smith releases his forearm only to grab him by the throat.
“Touch her again and I’ll squeeze your windpipe so fucking hard you’ll never be able to rap your mediocre trash music again. We all know you need features because you can’t make a hit song to save your fucking life. Come near Deja Fox again and I’ll fuck your shit up.”
“Is that a threat?” Memphis hisses while trying to remove Smith’s hand.
“No, it’s a promise.” He shoves his throat back and grabs my hand as we walk out of the restaurant.
Smith has now had a visceral effect on my panties twice today, and I have no idea how to handle this information.
Smith looks back to make sure that Young Memphis isn’t following us. He holds up my arm to inspect it.
“Is your wrist okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?
“Yeah, Smith, you didn’t have to do that. He could press charges.” He furrows his eyebrows. He’s wearing his baseball cap backward, and his black t-shirt clings to his broad chest like a second skin.
“Like fuck I didn’t. He used his Alpha voice on you and touched you. Guys like that only care about not looking weak; he won’t do shit.”
“It’s fine.”
“No Cami, it’s not fine. No one touches you,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s called me Cami. My stupid little heart flutters. “Come on, we gotta get ready for tonight. I really wanted some pizza, too.” We walk away, and then he spins. “Are you sure you don’t want me to beat him up?”
I grip his forearm, and we walk to the car. “You won’t do me any good if you’re in jail,” I tell him.
“Fine, I’m ordering take out, though. That pizza looked good and you’ve barely been keeping me alive with all this rabbit food.”
