Retribution (29 page)

I glance over toward the door. It's Mel standing in the doorway. Seven minutes too damn late. “You good, Pasha? I thought I heard yelling.” He cuts his eye over at Stax. “We cool in here?”

Stax doesn't acknowledge him. He keeps his eyes trained on me. I tell Mel everything's fine. Assure him I'm okay. Then tell him he can leave for the night. He tells me he's good. That he leaves when I leave. I smile, knowingly, then ask him to shut the door and make sure no one else
ever
gets back here to see me without him clearing it with me,
first
. He picks up on my stern warning, ensuring it won't happen again. I wait for him to shut the door, then bring my attention back to Stax.

“So you're telling me that Jasper didn't send you here to play gofer?”

“C'mon, Pash. I don't have to stand here ‘n' bullshit you.”

“Then why are
you
really here? To finish what them niggas tried to do to me yesterday?
Kill
me? Is that it? Were you one of the niggas in the truck that shot at me yesterday, huh,
Monty?”
I ease open my top drawer, the glint of my gun catches my gaze for a moment and I rest my hand on it. “Maybe it was
you
who pulled the trigger.”

His eyes widen. His jaw drops. A look of—what appears to be genuine—shock etches his face. He actually looks worried. But I can't be too sure with any of these niggas. Maybe it's all an act. “Say,
whaaat? Kill
you? Niggas shot at you, when?”

I glare at him. “Yesterday, early in the motherfucking morning! Right outside here, in front of my salon. The very next day after Jasper
threatened
to have a bullet put in my goddamn head!” I'm now shaking with anger. “The motherfucker pretty much said it was a warning. That the next time, they won't miss. Well, guess what,
Monty?
Jasper and his goons had better go back to the lab and try again because I got something for his ass! So my advice to
you
is, if you don't want to go down with him, stay the fuck out of the crossfire!”

The omninous threat lingers between us. We stare at each other. He's looking at me as if he's pondering the implications of my threat, wondering what exactly I'm threatening. I'm eyeing him, considering his role in all of this shit. A part of me thinks, wants, to warn him to stay away from those stash houses, but I quickly dismiss the notion. Besides, he and Jasper never go to any of the drug spots. There's someone else responsible for that.

I don't break my stare from his serious eyes.

After several moments, Stax holds his head, then slowly runs his thick hands along the ripples of his deep, spinning waves. He mutters, mostly to himself, “This nigga. What the fuck is wrong wit' him?”

I snort, finally removing my hand out of my drawer, away from the gun. I shut it. “The nigga's crazy, that's
what
the fuck's wrong with him. You know it. And I know it. So don't try to act surprised. I don't need your fake-ass concern,
Monty.
So save it. I'm not looking for a Superhero to come save the goddamn day, or to save
me
because when I needed a nigga in a cape to come for me, he was too goddamn busy somewhere plotting on me.”

Stax bristles at the harshness of my words. He shifts his probing eyes and exhales a slow, pained breath. “I wasn't a part of any of that. This shit between you and Jasp is gettin' fuckin' crazy.”

I lean slightly, opening my bottom desk drawer and pulling out my handbag. I close and lock the drawer, removing the key from its lock. I look up at him, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really?
Getting crazy?
You
think?
How about shit's been crazy between us since the day we fucking met. And it's gotten crazier ever since the nigga came home from prison and had me fucking kidnapped, then beat the shit out of me
after
letting a string of niggas ram their fucking dicks down in my throat…”

He winces, seemingly uncomfortable hearing this. I narrow my eyes at him. “And you want to know the
craziest
part of this sick, twisted saga,
Monty?
I
still
married his crazy ass! Then crazy-ass me let the nigga disrespect and put his hands on me whenever he got into one of his jealous fits, taking it as my just due because silly me
thought
I fucking deserved it for sucking a bunch of niggas' dicks behind his back.
After
all the goddamn cheating he's done on me, I really thought I deserved what the fuck he did to me. But guess what? The last straw was Tuesday when the nigga came up in
here,
in
my
goddamn salon, and put his motherfucking hands on me, then tried to bum-rush him some pussy. But
you
already know all of this, don't
you?
Like you
know
everything else.”

He frowns. “What's that s'posed to mean?”

I suck my teeth, rolling my eyes. “Don't stand here and play stupid with me.” I feel my blood starting to boil. This is the first time that I've had a chance to confront him—by himself. Alone.

I defiantly fold my arms across my chest. There's an awkward silence building between us. Booty's voice flits through my head.
“…You're gonna have'ta fish the nigga…Miss Pasha, girl, do what you gotta do to get these niggas who tried to do you got. Throat that nigga, sugah-boo. And trust me. If you swallow his nut real good, you'll have that nigga in the palm of ya messy-ass hands.”

“Answer me this,
Monty
: Where the fuck were
you
when Jasper and his goons had me down in that basement tied up like a fucking animal? Was making sure I ate, and used the bathroom, and showered so them savage motherfuckers could face-fuck and disrespect me a part of your show of concern for me? Was it
you
who fucking stood by and let them niggas force me to suck their dicks? You stood there and watched them humiliate me. And
you
did nothing to stop them.….” I feel myself getting choked up.

He flinches. Gives me a pained look. “Yo, Pash, I'm bein' dead-ass. I had nothin' to do with that shit.”

My lips tremble. Either Stax's a good fucking liar. Or what he's saying is true. “Fuck you! I was there,
Monty
. I know what I saw. You were there.” Truth is, like I already stated, I really don't know if he was there or not. I need to know. So I pretend, like I've done with so many other things. A part of me is hoping he really wasn't there.

“You don't have to lie. Admit it. You were there, Monty.” I fight back tears.
“You
were the
Calm One.
The one who came down to check on me, the one who fed me, and cleaned up my piss and shit; you were the only nigga there who didn't force me to suck his dick.”

He shifts his weight. “Real shit, Pash. I don't know nothin' 'bout no
Calm One.
I'm tellin' you, I wasn't there.”

The tears start falling.

I feel myself becoming undone.

Then who was he?

His saddened gaze on me is unsettling. “Yo, c'mon, Pash…don't.” He steps toward me and reaches out to me. I step back. Tell him to stay the fuck where he is. “On my life, Pash. I wasn't there.”

I want to believe him.

“You want me to believe you weren't there. Well, I
don't
believe you, Stax! Wherever Jasper is, you are. So don't fucking lie to me.”

He holds his hands up, palms out. “On e'erything I love, Pash. I wasn't there when that shit went down. I didn't want any part of that foul shit. I tried to talk Jasp outta that shit, but he wasn't hearin' it. He was on some other type shit. And I wasn't down wit' it. I tol' him point blank I wasn't gettin' caught up in none'a that crazy shit. On e'erything, Pash, I wanted to tell you to watch ya
steps, but…” He shakes his head, his voice trailing off. “I couldn't. I gave Jasp my word.”

“Fish this nigga, sugah-boo.”

“Them no-good dirty niggas gotta get got, Miss Pasha, girl…”

I swallow. “I get it,
Monty
. Blood over Bitches, right? Your loyalty is to Jasper. And we both know how that nigga is all about loyalty. Well, fuck
him
and his motherfucking loyalty.” I remind him of something he said to me once when he showed up here a few days after that nigga smashed out the salon's window with the pipe. “You told me if I
ever
needed you that you got me. You remember that shit?”

He nods. “I—”

I cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “I'm not fucking done. You
fucking
stood right here”—I jab a finger at the spot where he was that day—“and looked me in the eyes and told me
I
was your peoples so if someone was fucking with
me
, then they were fucking with
you
. Do you remember that shit,
Monty?
Or was that a bunch of bullshit you felt like feeding me that day?”

He shakes his head, giving me an agonizing stare. “Nah, I meant that shit, Pash. I never wanted to see anything happen to you, ma. When I heard what really went down, that shit fucked me up.” He walks toward me again, reaches out to touch me. But I push him away.

My lips curl into a contemptuous sneer. “Yeah, right! Get the fuck away from me!”

He steps back. It takes everything in me not to take my six-inch heel off and stab him in his throat, his eyes, his motherfucking head. I glare at him, nostrils flaring, chest heaving. I want to hurt him the way Jasper hurt me. Want him to feel a sliver of what that nigga put me through.

“You knew all along that Jasper suspected me of cheating on him and
you
didn't say shit to me. You could have warned me! But didn't! You smiled in my fucking face all the while knowing what Jasper had planned for me!” I hear myself, sounding like the wounded soul, playing victim, when I'm the one who put myself in that situation in the first place.

He steps toward me again. “Pash, I wanted to, yo; real shit. I was torn.” He pauses, letting out a sigh. “I mean, fuck. Jasp and I are blood, period, feel me? But I got mad love for you, too, Pash; real shit. Not bein' able to say shit fucked me up. It still fucks me up, yo. I don't know how to take it all back. Why you think I only come around you when I'm with Jasp, huh? I do that shit because e'ery time I see you, it fuckin' reminds me of how I fucked up, Pash. Jasp's my fam, yo. But, you…” He averts his eyes from glare.

“What about
me,
Monty?”

“C'mon, Pash. Don't act like you don't know.”

I stare at him, my eyes filled with hurt and confusion. “Don't
act
like I don't know what,
Montgomery?”

“That I care about you. You've always had a special place in my—”

I gnash my teeth, giving him an incredulous look. “Fuck you, Monty! You don't get to come up in here and
now
wanna have a Hallmark moment. No, nigga!
Motherfuck
you! If I was
sooo
fucking special to you,
where
the fuck were you when I was being kidnapped, huh?”

I feel the tears swelling, pushing past the rims of my eyes, but I fight to keep them in check. I feel my anger pushing up against the pit of my stomach. My chest tightens.

He tries to apologize. But I'm not having it.

“Save your goddamn apology for some other bitch!” I snap, advancing on him. I'm on him, fast, reaching up and slapping his face. But it's not his
face I see. It's Jasper's. It's not his voice I hear. It's Jasper's. And, in that very second, I lose it. The dam breaks, and my emotions come flooding out of me. Everything I've held in, everything I've pretended didn't exist, explodes out of me.

“I fucking hate you!” I slap and punch him. He stands there, taking blow for blow without flinching. My fists hit against hard flesh. I bang my fists into his chest, crying. “Fuck you, nigga! You let that nigga lure me into a trap! And
you
did
nothing!
I hate you!”

I bang and bang and bang, and slap and punch him until I am exhausted. He lets me have my moment, my breakdown. Lets me get it all out. And then he does the unthinkable: he grabs me in his muscular arms and holds me tight. And I fall into his strong embrace.

“I know that shit got you all fucked up. I fucked up, aiight. Shit got outta hand, ma.” He rubs my back. “I swear to you, Pash. I'm sorry that shit happened to you. You didn't deserve that shit. If I could take that shit back, I would.”

I cry into his chest. He tightens his arms around me. I am emotionally out of control. He lets me rant, cursing and screaming. Lets me have my meltdown, rubbing my back. He lowers his voice to almost a whisper. Tells me, again, how sorry he is. Apologizes over and over. His voice and big hands are gentle and calming.

After awhile, I am no longer sobbing. I am whimpering. Hiccupping. Trying to steady my breathing. Moments pass. There's nothing but my hiccups and choppy breathing between us. He lifts my chin with his finger, takes all of my emotions in. My eyes a drowing pool of pain and humiliation, my face streaked with tears. He kisses me on the forehead.

I look him dead in the eyes and see something in them I've never seen before. Or maybe it was always there, but I was too
wrapped up in Jasper and my own mess to really see it. I thought lust was what I always saw in this nigga's eyes. I thought the tension was sexually charged. But no…the desire I see in his eyes goes much deeper than him wanting to fuck me.

Booty's voice pops into my head.
“Miss Pasha, girl, fish that nigga. Do what you gotta do to get what you gotta get to get them niggas, good.”