Page 73 of Body Language
Then I hit her again right in the gut. She folded like fresh laundry.
“You been running your mouth for YEARS,” I said, shaking her by her collar like a ragdoll. “Talking down on your own kids like you wasn’t the first failure they ever met.”
“Stop—” she gasped, holding her stomach.
“Nah, bitch. Don’t say stop now.” I kneed her in the thigh. “You wasn’t saying stop when you had Zejah cleaning this dusty-ass apartment and taking care of kids while you was at the casino spreading your legs for free drinks.”
She tried crawling toward the couch, but I yanked her back by her ankle. “Get your ass back here! You gon’ take this ass whooping standing like a woman.”
“Niv, please—” she started crying, mascara streaking down her face like a Lifetime movie extra.
“Please what?” I mocked, hitting her with another quick jab to the ribs. “Please stop telling the truth?”
She covered her face, whining, “I can’t take no more!”
I leaned down, my voice low and mean in her ear. “Aww. Poor baby! Well, you gone take it because you earned it.”
Then I popped her again in the same spot.
Her bad wig had slid halfway off, her shirt was twisted around like a damn pretzel, and she was begging.
“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! Please, Niv, stop!” she cried, crawling back against the wall.
I stood over her, chest rising, knuckles stinging, and smirked. “See how easy that was? Coulda just kept my family’s name out your mouth and saved yourself this ass whooping.”
I wiped my fist on her shirt and pointed down at her. “Say one more thing about Hux or that baby, and I’ll beat yo ass every Tuesday like clockwork.”
She nodded quick, eyes wide, lip bleeding.
Behind me, I heard Kendrix mutter, low and proud, “God damn…” like he just witnessed history.
I stood tall, adjusting my bra strap like nothing happened. Then looked down at her again and said, “Matter fact, thank me. Because this ass whooping is the first real love you’ve had in years.”
I looked down at her and for the first time in years, she was shut the fuck up.
I bent down, grabbed her chin so she had no choice but to look at me, and said slow and clear, “Zejah is moving in with me.”
Her eyes widened. “W-what?”
“You heard me. And don’t eventhinkabout running your mouth or I’ll call DHS right now and have your Section 8, food stamps, and every little child support dollar snatched up so quick you won’t even have bus fare to take your dirty ass to the damn clinic.”
She tried to jerk her face back, but I gripped tighter.
“And don’t test me. I’ll do it tonight. The only reason I won’t is because I refuse to make those other kids pay for the mess you created. But you got 60 days.” I let her go and stood tall.
“Sixty. Days. To get your shit together. Or I will personally come back in here and beat your ass every single day until you do.”
Her lip trembled. She opened her mouth, and I snapped, “Say something. I dare you.”
She shut it. Just like I knew she would.
I turned, pointing toward the door where Kendrix was watching.
“And let’s get one thing straight,” I added, looking back down at her. “Zejah is not your concern anymore. She’s mine. If she decides one day she wants to rebuild a relationship with you, I won’t stand in the way. But until then, fix yourself up for the rest of your kids.”
Her tears fell silent, and for once, she didn’t have shit slick to say.
I smirked and looked at Kendrix. “I’m done, handsome.”
