Page 51 of The Millionaire Mortician
I stood to my feet. “Let me ask you this. What the fuck were you doing going to my girl’s salon?” I came right out and asked.
He turned back around. “Who the fuck is yo’ girl, nigga?”
That’s when I knew it was literally all a coincidence, and I was wrong for acting the way I did toward Daija.
“Daija.”
“What Daija, the celebrity barber?” he asked, scrunching up his face.
I nodded. “Mmmhmm.”
He started to chuckle. “That can’t be yo’ bitch.”
“It is, though,” I assured him.
He went into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and started browsing through it. My patience started to run thin until he turned the screen to me. My whole heart dropped when I saw Daija dressed pretty ass fuck sitting across from him at a dinner table. Then he swiped again and showed a picture of her lying down, undressed, on his chest.
“Well, get a new one. I been fuckin’ that,” he taunted, then turned to leave.
In one swift motion, I grabbed my gun and sent a single bullet his way. It hit the wall right by his head as he was trying to leave, but it halted his steps. I wasn’t going to kill him, not yet, at least. I just wanted to send a message to never turn his back on me ever again.
He turned and looked at me with fire in his eyes.
“Get the fuck out,” I gritted as I clenched my jaw.
My guard guided him out of my sight, closing my door behind them. Once I was alone, I had to regain control of my breathing. Frost didn’t put an ounce of fear in my heart, but he definitely got to me with the revelation of him and Daija.
I’m gon’ kill that bitch.
I disregardedthe rest of my evening schedule and sped home. When I got there, Nadia was still there, almost finished with her day’s work.
“Nadia, I need you to go and pack all of Daija’s shit. Everything has to go. Use her suitcases or use trash bags, I don’t give a fuck. Just pack it all,” I demanded in a loud tone.
Nadia looked confused and frightened at the same time, but she didn’t ask questions. She just did what she was told. While she started packing, I helped her. All I knew was that when Daija pulled up, I wanted those fucking keys for the Benz truck. I wasn’t no pussy ass nigga. I didn’t know what the fuck possessed her to do some wild shit like that. Cheat on a nigga like me? Yeah, the bitch had to be mentally insane.
In the midst of the chaos, Maverick called my phone. At first, I wasn’t going to answer because I wanted to hurry and get Daija’s shit out, but then I had to make sure he was good.
“Yo, bro,” I answered quickly.
“Fuck you doing? Why you sound like that?” he questioned.
“I’m packing all Daija’s shit. That smut’s gotta go.”
“Wait, what? I’m coming, man.” He hung up.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I continued throwing shit into black garbage bags. I probably looked like a madman, but I didn’t give no fucks.
“Pack this too?” Nadia asked, holding up Daija’s Rolex collection that I bought her.
“Yeah, everything she can take. I don’t care. I just want her the fuck out and the keys to that truck.”
I heard the bell ring, and I knew it was Mav since he only lived two blocks down. Grabbing as many bags as I could, I took them downstairs and rested them by the door as I opened it for him.
Maverick walked in, looking lost as a muthafucker. “Fuck happened that quick?” he inquired.
I went and leaned up on the couch arm, taking deep breaths in and letting them out. Finally, when I settled, I told Mav everything that had happened. His jaw was on the fucking ground in disbelief.
“You positive, bro?” he asked.
