Page 66 of Free Agent

“Only one of you is here by invitation,” she continued. “Tatum, obviously. Monty… I am not your fiancée, or anything else anymore, and there’s seriously nothing more for us to talk about. Doesn’t the mother of your child need you for something?”

The mention of that seemed to stagger him a little. His aggressive stance softened a bit as he turned fully toward her.

“You know she’s trying to be an influencer, right? She wants to use BabyBee,” he said. “But she didn’t know if it would be kinda disres?—”

“Okay fuck you,” Rori snapped to interrupt, laughing maniacally. “She wasn’t concerned that fucking you, talking about fucking you, sending blogs proof she was fucking you, giving the media embarrassing videos of me devastated over you…. none of that was disrespectful? But using the app created for pregnancy and postpartum… that’s where she’s concerned she’d be crossing a line with me? You sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

Monty huffed. “It’s not like that. She admires you! She’s a programming major at?—”

“Please shut up, oh my God,” Rori shrieked, fingers at her temples. “Everything out of your mouth is just worse and worse, dumber and dumber! She doesn’t admire me, she is trying to wear my skin on her skin, are you dumb?” she snapped, then laughed. “Yes, actually. That’s my answer. You are dumb and so is your side bitch, and I cannot believe I felt a little empathy for you about this break up. Because I am dumb too. Clearly!”

“Rori—”

“Shut the fuck up!” she actually screamed this time, fists clenched like it was taking everything in her not to fly at him and go into attack. “Do not say another stupid word to me about your stupid stalker girlfriend, and get your stupid ass out of my home.”

“But—”

“If you say another fucking thing, I am going to let Tatum kick your ass.” She smiled, then looked at me, and I nodded confirmation that I would absolutely do exactly that. I was itching to, actually. “And he won’t even get in trouble for it because you are not supposed to be here. You broke in.”

Monty scoffed. “I didn’t break in; I used my key.”

Rori smirked, stomping around the counter to get to where he was standing. She stuck her hand in his pocket, pulling out his keys. She had the exact one off before anybody else processed what she was doing.

“No, you didn’t,” she said. “Because you don’t have a key to my place. Go.”

“You think I’m scared of his big ass?” he challenged, glaring at me.

“Maybe not,” Rori shrugged. “But maybe he’s going to give special attention to things that tear rotator cuffs and Achilles, and I wonder how many bitches you’ll get when you’re riding the bench and not bringing in all-star endorsement money anymore? Does Yams want to be the baby mama of a sports podcaster? Is that what your next move will be, Monty?”

Monty’s mouth dropped. “That’s foul, and you know it.”

“Fucking choke on it,” she quipped back, shoving him.

He didn’t move from her shove, but he got the point.

“This isn’t finished,” he declared, then finally started making his way to the door.

“Oh, it really is,” I said, trailing behind. “I’m not a fan of these games. She’s over it.”

“You have no idea who she is,” Monty replied, facing me, his words laced with an air of defiance. “And you don’t know me. This ain’t the football field, nigga, no rules about decorum, none of that. What’s keeping me off your ass right now?”

“Common sense, clearly,” I chuckled. “Since you still haven’t done shit to me, like you would’ve already if you were really about that. But I see what you’ve done to her,” I said, gesturing over my shoulder. “The whole world has, and you don’t even have the decency to let her move on.”

“I’m trying to fix it!”

“Too fucking late,” I said, glaring at him.

Daring him to do shit.

For a moment, he matched my gaze, then must’ve thought better of it. “Whatever,” he grumbled, opening the door. “Rori, I’ll—what the fu?—”

He didn’t get to finish his bullshit.

I mushed him over the threshold and closed the door behind him.

“Tatum!” Rori scolded, while Monty was ranting and raving on the other side of the door, knocking like he was the fucking cops.

“Hmm?” I asked, already heading back to the kitchen. “Ignore him, and come on bring your ass on in here for breakfast.”

---