“Yes, ma’am?” he asks.
“Before I settle in, I’d like to run a few things past our staff. Could you please give me the room…or suite,” I include suite in case A.D. rolls that way with his contracted staff. That possibility is thought of begrudgingly. “…of Dawn Taylor or Bacote & Taylor’s Planning and Public Relations Corp?”
My mind honestly goes blank, I only recollect several things after that. The next patch of consciousness I have is knocking at the door of a room. With my left hand, I hold onto my luggage handle, and with my right, I give unyielding, modest knocks.
I hear movement from beyond the door, and my heart speeds up in beats. I even sense someone looking through the peephole seconds before opening the door.
Lord, forgive me for the next twenty minutes or so. Please!
“Mr. Jacobs, is that you?” I recognize as Dawn’s playful voice. I’m not falling for that!
My body goes cold. When the click of the knob sounds, I brace myself. And when the door swings open and I see dark brown, bouncy curls and long, coffee bean shaded legs that runs a mile long under a black lace slip that ends just below the pelvic line, and all of this is covered by a white, plush housecoat, my brain goes haywire. Dawn looks very sensual, holding a petite porcelain teacup to her face, barely hiding that crafty smile. I want to break it, so I do—the smile and the cup.
“Wrong Jacobs, bitch,” I calmly inform, using the palm of my hand to smash the tea mug into her face.
I hear her shriek in pain, and get excited by the sound of alarm in her cry. Dawn stumbles backwards, away from the door and I move fluidly towards her after slamming it behind me.
“I tried to be so nice to you, Dawn. I tried with every inch of me, but you don’t know how to let me breathe,” I barely register the sound and feel of porcelain breaking beneath the soles of my sneakers. “But I can show you better than I can tell you.”
Before she can process what’s about to go down, Dawn examines the blood from her fingers and wipes that from which is pooling into her mouth, down to her trembling chin. She looks at me in disbelief, and I nod my head before punching her square in the nose.
Dawn screams, “Uhh!” and I go in for another jab.
By this time, she’s backed up on the bed and falls backwards onto it. And from there I go wrathful with punches in perfect sequences everywhere on her that I can land them. I hold her by the roots of her perfect bouncy curls and anchor her face for my pounding. And when I’m done with that, I pull her from the bed, unresponsive to her screams and the banging at the door—those are extraneous sounds behind my deafening rage.
Dawn begins to fight back, flailing her arms in defense. She even lands a few slaps. I pull her from the bed and haul her to the foot of it where I have more space to stand her. When I land my first uppercut into her face as her upper torso is bowed before me, I fade to black. In other words, I beat the living hell out of Dawn Taylor with no consideration of consequence.
You can take a girl out of the hood…
You can even let her marry a multi-millionaire, but…
~~~~~~~~~~
Azmir
“You good?” I ask. My tone is low, indistinct.
Rayna’s neck jerks up from the water. She’s slouched chin deep in the Jacuzzi, soaking her muscles. She appears slightly alarmed, but quickly she composes herself, stubbornly submerging back in the water until only her head is out.
“Perfect,” she replies after a few beats.
“You must be ready to eat something.”
She shakes her head softly, still being ornery.
“No.”
I observe her for a few more moments before muttering, “Come see me when you’re done.”
I then leave the bathroom, deciding to give her more time. I have no choice; she’s been cleared medically by a physician—one I used to fuck no less, but someone competent and who could provide discretion—and is still a free woman considering her stupid actions.
She’s fine, Divine, I tell myself.
I’m still baffled at how Rayna spazzed the way that she did. I’m just happy that I was there from the moment it popped off to offset any legal liability, or further physical harm. I was coming from running with Tyler, who’s traveling with me this leg of the Mauve promo, when we noticed her in the lobby. I split up with him to attempt a playful sneak attack on my wife who had arrived earlier than I was expecting her. I even thought it was cute that she’d gotten off on the wrong floor; I assumed she was that delusional from clearly having caught a red eye to surprise me.