Page 36 of Kisses Behind the Spotlight

“I told yo ass there was a world where that shit wasn’t what it seemed like. Look at my silly ass. Salena still swears I fucked Khaleesi in that hotel room, and all I got was my ass beat in there,” Xain tossed out there.

“I’mma kill that nigga,” I cracked my knuckles.

“You can’t kill him, Q.”

“Shit, why not?” Xain questioned.

“Tech palmed his forehead out of frustration. That’s exactly why I wouldn’t give him the information and let y’all run off with it. If D3 come up dead, the first motha fucka they are going to look at is Q!” He lectured. “I should’ve known what type of time you were on when you came with no ski mask.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped when I heard the light beeps from someone fumbling with the smart lock on the door. Tech closed his laptop and pulled the ski mask over his head as the front door opened. The door clicked shut as D3 rapped a line from his weak-ass diss song. After a week, D3 was out of the blogs, and the song wasn’t making any noise. My refusal to respond extinguished whatever clout he thought playing with my name would get him. Being too emotionally fucked up to respond played in my favor slightly. I would have only given that nigga more buzz, which was clearly his objective.

The lights flicked on, and D3’s phone slipped from his hand, tumbling to the floor.

“Q, let me explain. I⁠—”

D3’s words were silenced when I darted across the small distance between us and knocked him in the jaw.

CRACK!

His head snapped to the side, and he reached for his jaw, blood dripping on the beige carpet. I followed up with my other fist. The sound of my knuckles meeting bone only fueled the rage roaring inside of me. D3 stumbled back, holding his jaw with one hand, and the other hand raised like a white flag.

“Naw! Fuck that, jit!” I swatted his hand and grabbed him up by his shirt, our feet shuffling across the carpet until I slammed him up against the door.

Blood soaked his cream Gucci shirt. His jaw looked like it was hanging on by a thread, sagging at an unnatural angle. “Q, I—” He murmured due to his fucked up jaw.

I didn’t give two fucks. His words ceased when I drove my fist into his stomach, knocking the breath from him. He knelt over, and I held onto his back, repeatedly driving my knee into his ribs.

“Fuck nigga, don’t ever put me or Jameera’s names in your fucking mouth again!” I raged.

“Alright, stop! I told you we can’t kill him,” Tech chastised, pulling me away from D3.

“Weak ass nigga didn’t even put up a fight but got my name in your dick suckers. Putting your fucking grimy hands on my woman! Next time I’mma kill you bitch. How that Silver Spoon ass whooping feel, fuck nigga?”

D3 coughed up blood, and Tech turned around to grab his laptop off the couch. We were stepping over his battered body on the way out of the door within a matter of seconds. Our shoes clacked against the pavement as we ran to the rental car that was parked at the end of the block. As soon as we were safely inside, I placed a call to Jameera, but she didn’t answer.

“You better get ready to grovel nigga,” Tech suggested.

I leaned my head back against the seat, knowing I had a long fight out of the doghouse.

When we got back to Florida, Tech dropped me off at my building. I went straight to Amill’s apartment because that’s where Tech said Jameera was last. Knocking lightly, I waited patiently, remembering how I showed my ass the last time I was there.

“What do you want, Q? Jameera isn’t in a good mental space to have you berating her for some shit she didn’t do,” Amill spat, folding her arms across her chest.

“I know, Amill. I apologize. My head was fucked up. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I reacted before thinking.”

“You can let him in,” Jameera called over Amill’s shoulder.

“You sure you want him in here?” Amill spun around to face Jameera.

“Yeah.”

Amill stepped aside, and I laid eyes on Jameera for the first time in a week. Jameera’s eyes were puffy, and there were slight bags underneath them. Her hair was pulled up into a matted bun that looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. With her hair texture, that was a cardinal sin if it wasn’t in a protective style. She was wearing a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt, and I took a deep breath. Knowing that I fucked up and made both of us miserable for the past week.

“You’re only here because your brother felt like he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t cheat on you. He told Jury he got his hands on the security footage that showed everything I told you,” Jameera started. “After all of these years and everything that we’ve been through, you don’t trust me!”

“I trust you. I just had a moment of bad judgment, and I apologize—” I started.

Jameera cut me off, storming over to me, raising her hand and pointing her finger in my face.