His expression of equanimity triggers something deep within me. Something inside me abruptly explodes. Every ounce of decorum, every attempt at class, each morsel of good judgment and grace recedes, giving way to a violent on rush of fury. Azmir’s customary placid veneer now appears arrogant to me, and I fly into an emotional frenzy.
“Oh, so the goddamn joke’s on me? Everybody knows a secret about my life instead of fucking me? Who the fuck do you take me for? You think I’m one of those fucking birds who patron your spot in Compton? You put my livelihood and reputation on the line as if it’s your choice and not mine? And then…and then you lie to me like I’m some fucking child or subservient woman you can manipulate as if it’s fucking okay! Who the fuck do you take me for, Azmir, hunh? What the fuck do you take me for?” I rant at the top of my lungs, so much that they burn, as I lunge toward him.
I hear Petey yell, “Hold!” And he grabs me from behind.
“Get the fuck off me! Who the fuck do y’all think I am?” I scream as I try to yank my arm from his grip. He’s about to get it, too.
Azmir stretches from the chair and reaches out for me. His long body grows taller by the second as he rises. Within seconds, it seems as though I’m engulfed in his black shirt from of the bear hug he draws me into.
“I got her…I got her!” Azmir informs, urging Petey not to touch me. In the moment, I don’t realize that Petey is simply protecting his leader.
As his arms encloses around me, I become submerged in his miscellany of fragrances; his natural body oils, cologne, body wash, and moisturizer. His proximity, the armor of his arms, the vibrations in his chest as he speaks over me; all of the things that deludes me into the quandary that brings me here. Instinctively, my knees grow weak and I’m stammered by his virile countenance. No! No! I have to fight for lucidity; this all-consuming attraction to him is how I’ve arrived here in the first place. I wonder am I the weakest target for him, because he has many. If Azmir is saturated with anything, it’s willing dames wanting to drink from the Divine fountain. I could be a number of women; Tara, Dawn, Spin, the intern I had to fire just a few weeks ago for obtaining his contact information and soliciting him. But no, it’s me who’s taken the total plunge with Azmir, apparently turning off all sound judgment.
Not anymore!
“No! Get the fuck off me! I’m no piece of property that you have control over!” I scream while aimlessly throwing punches and slaps that don’t travel very far because of the bear hug he’s holding me in even tighter to avoid them. I yell even louder.
Azmir howls to Petey, “Is the car ready?”
I assume he answers yes because the next thing I know, Azmir’s carrying me out of the office and into the elevator in this bear grip.
I scream, “Let me go! We’re over! This marriage…over! Your lies…over! The games…over! The manipulation…over! Rayna being a fool…over!”
Azmir effortlessly lifts me into his Range Rover that’s waiting in the back of the building. As I continue to demand him to let me down. I notice the muscle in his jaw flexing as if he’s extremely agitated. I don’t know what’s going on. Am I being abducted? I certainly don’t want to be anywhere with him. I now feel like I’ve opened up a can of worms by confronting him. For the first time, I’m surprisingly fearful of him.
What type of person takes someone against their will? Suddenly the FBI’s admonition of: “There are some things you need to know about him…for your safety,” pops into mind. I almost piss my pants. Out of nowhere, I think of the kid, Mikey, and his disappearance. Did Azmir have him murdered? Oh, my god! Please…no!
“Azmir, let me go! I swear…you won’t hear from me again! Please, just let me go. I will never bother you!” I plead as he forces me into the truck.
Once we’re inside he orders, “To the spot, Ray,” urging him to pull off.
I then hear Petey yell, “Yo, you want me to follow you, Duke?”
“Nah, I’m good. Handle that issue. I’ll hit you later,” Azmir calls out as the truck peels off.
Once we’re off, I begin to sob uncontrollably against the door of the truck, folded into a fetal position. I am terrified. Azmir reclines in his seat, brushes his hand over his face as if he’s exasperated.
I continue with my pleas, “Please, just let me go! I don’t know anything that could hurt you! I swear, I will leave and you will never hear from me again.”
“Rayna, man, I am not going hurt you! You’re my fucking wife!” His Brooklyn tongue is fierce, stirring more fear in me. “Why the hell are you wildin’ like I’m some fucking animal…like you don’t fucking know me?”
“I don’t!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I don’t know you!”
I cry for the duration of the trip. After what seems like hours of driving, we pull up to an empty beach. Azmir jumps out of the truck. I stay put. If he’s going to kill me, I won’t go willingly. In this moment, I’m thinking how difficult it is to believe this man that I love so much would ever deceive or bring harm to me. His touch is so gentle. His words are so sweet. How could I totally be off in my judgment of him?