His eyes flicked over me like he was measuring me up. “I just…I mean, I’m a little surprised. You know, considering everything.”
I didn’t flinch. Even though I had no clue what the fuck he was talking about. “Not sure what she told you, but she crossed the line and I can’t have that.”
The arrogance in his smile didn’t fade. “Really? You feel likeshe’sthe one that crossed the line?”
“That’s what the fuck I said.”
I was getting irritated. He was talking in code, and I didn’t like that shit.
“Hmm, interesting. You fired her because she didn’t want to play along with you, and you’re trying to sell it to me like she was the problem. Classic.”
I narrowed my eyes.
My hands were itching to smash the ball into his fucking skull, but I didn’t.
“Sounds like she told you some bullshit.”
Shade and Trace stepped in, ready to snap if things escalated.
“I suggest you go find you something safe to do,” Shade said, shoving his hands into his basketball shorts. “Because this ain’t it.”
Waylon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t make a move.
I studied him carefully, knowing exactly why my skin crawled around him.
This was the man that chose a woman and his pathetic gambling habit over his own flesh and blood.
My mind drifted back to the stories Ol’ School had told me about trying to save his son from himself. How he’d warned him about going out and doing wild shit that could cost him his life. How he’d paid off his gambling debts more times than he could count, and begged him to stop. But his wife, Melina, didn’t want him to stop. She liked the thrill. The money.
Every time Ol’ School tried to cut him off, Melina played on his emotions, reminding him how important family was and how he shouldn’t turn his back on his son. So he didn’t. He continued trying to help Waylon until he couldn’t help him anymore because bills were past due, and the money he had in his savings had been depleted. Eventually, Ol’ School loss his home, and Waylon was nowhere to be found when he did.
So, my decision to use Melina to get back at Waylon was an easy one. But now? That shit was dead.
“You should leave,” I said simply.
No threats. Just cold, calm reality.
Waylon’s smirk faltered, and I could see the gears turning in his head. He’d thought this would be a confrontation. Thought he could intimidate me. But he had no idea what he was up against.
He backed off, mumbling something under his breath, but I didn’t care enough to try and make out what it was.
My eyes flicked back to Shade and Trace. “Fuck that nigga. Let’s play.”
36
SKYE
The rest of the day was going pretty smooth.
I’d spent the afternoon running errands and picking out a few things for my soon to be godson or goddaughter. I’d also found a cute little outfit for my movie date with Ocean later.
I strolled inside the hotel where my agent, Samantha, had just wrapped up a meeting.
The lobby smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant. It was professional but warm in its own way.
Smiling, I waved at Samantha as she sat at the bar, and she gestured for me to head that way.
But before I could make it into the restaurant, I saw two familiar faces stepping off the elevator. Kory and Enzo.
