SIX
Diamond.
It felt like I’d just closed my eyes when I heard the sound of someone banging on my door. I checked the time and saw that it was late as hell, for me anyways considering I was in bed by eight most nights, before tossing my covers from over my body and walking to the door.
I looked through the peephole, but I couldn’t really make out who it was, so I asked, “Who is it”
“Open the door to see, Diamond.”
My eyes stretched as realization of who the voice belonged to quickly set in. Leaving the chain on, I unlocked the door and pulled it open some. “What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?”
His low eyes slowly made their way to mine, and he smiled. He was clearly high and out of his damn mind.
“I traveled all the fucking way over here, love. You ain’t gon’ let me in?”
“No, I’m not.” I frowned. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I know. I had some moves to make in C.F. before I came out here, then I got caught up with some other shit before I got here.”
Closing my eyes briefly, I took a few seconds to get my thoughts together. On one hand I was a little flattered and elated to see him, but I was also a bit creeped out that he was in front of my door without me giving him my address or permission to be there.
When I opened my eyes again, I found his still trained on me.
“Makhai, I have a banging headacheandI have to work in the morning. You need to go back to wherever you’re staying…”
“Man, open the door, Diamond,” he cut me off. “It ain’t that damn late and I ain’t ‘bout to be talking to you from outside the door.”
“Makhai…”
“If you don’t open it, I’m gon’ open the shit myself. Then you gon’ have to deal with ya leasing office and all that shit,” he warned.
“I’ll call the police,” I replied and he laughed, pissing me off.
“I look like I give a fuck about the mothafuckin’ police?”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I slammed my door closed but slid the chain off before opening it all the way for him. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want to possibly lose my place over his buffoonery.
Without permission, he swaggered his way inside, going to my living room, taking a seat on the couch then sitting his drink on my coffee table. His long legs were spread wide as he opened his bag of chips.
“You gon’ cut the light on?” he asked before he shoved some chips into his mouth.
I scoffed then stomped over to the end table and turned the lamp on then grabbed one of the coasters from the cute holder they were in. Lifting his drink, I slid the coaster under it then slammed it back down. I didn’t want the water to ruin my wooden tables.
“Damn, baby, you got some pent-up aggression. I can help you with that,” he said and smirked.
“Listen, nigga?—”
“Naw, wait,” he cut me off. “My mama ain’t name me no mothafuckin’ nigga. She named meMakhai.” He put emphasis on his name. “If you ain’t calling me that, baby, daddy, or some other endearing shit, then don’t address me.”
“You’re inmyhouse,negro.”
“I don’t give a fuck where we at,” he shrugged. “Run me my respect at all times.”
I chuckled humorlessly then began to laugh.
This shit cannot be real.
This man showed up to my house uninvited, making rude comments, and is now demanding respect?
