Page 44 of Session 33

Chapter Thirty four

"Is that fucking Angel?" The words slipped out of my mouth as I drove down Central Avenue in Downtown St. Pete. I could hardly believe my eyes. It was just after noon, and my day had already been full of fucking stress. I'd just left my lawyer's office after finding out another one of my so-called family members, fresh out of prison, was trying to sue me. He claimed he had proof he'd lent my parents money and was demanding repayment. The loan was supposedly for 50k, which I would have been fine paying, but he was trying to get me for a quarter of a million. The whole thing had me pissed off and on edge.

And now this. Angel sitting outside a restaurant, laughing with some guy. But not just any motherfucker—the dude from Ybor. Solomon, she had said his name was, claiming she had met him that night. Then why the fuck was she with him now? My jaw clenched. All women are the same, I thought bitterly. My mind flashed back to my mother, who'd cheated on my father more times than I could count. I loved her, but she’d fucked up our family. Maybe Angel was just the same, smiling in my face while fucking me over.

Without thinking, I whipped the car around, cutting off a couple of drivers who honked their horns angrily. I didn’t give a fuck.My eyes were locked on Angel and Solomon. I parked the car in the middle of the street and jumped out, leaving it right where it was, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Everybody sitting outside was already watching me, their eyes following as I stormed up to the table. They were waiting for a show, and I was about to give them one. I walked right up to the table Angel was occupying.

"What the hell is this? Not a fucking job interview?" I demanded. Angel and Solomon both looked up, shock written all over their faces. Angel's eyes widened in surprise.

"Cassius, what are you—" she started, her voice calm.

I wasn’t in the mood for explanations or excuses. My chest tightened, and my hands moved before I could stop them. I grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over, the crash of breaking dishes and shattering glasses cutting through the patio. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Heads turned toward me. Eyes widened. People froze, while others leaned in to whisper.

"Is he crazy?"

"What's his problem?"

"Poor girl."

Solomon stood up immediately, stepping in front of Angel, shielding her from me. "Are you insane?" he shouted, his voice filled with disbelief. "You don't do shit like this. You don’t come at her like that."

My fists clenched at my sides, my body tense, muscles coiled. "If you don't like how I treat her, do something about it," I snarled, stepping closer to him. I could feel the eyes of the restaurant patrons on us, and it fueled my anger. How could she do this to me? How could she be like my mother? I should’ve treated her ass like Keisha.

Solomon's eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I thought he might actually swing on me. I could see he was ready for a fight, and I was going to beat his ass.

Angel, standing behind him, looked terrified. She stepped forward, her hand protectively on her pregnant belly. She bent down carefully, picking up a folder from the ground, then straightened up, her eyes blazing with too many emotions to name. She shoved the folder into my chest, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"I can't believe you embarrassed me instead of simply walking up and asking me a simple question," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I never lied to you. You have no reason to treat me like this."

I looked down at the folder in my hands, my heart sinking as I opened it. Inside was a contract. My stomach dropped. She had been telling the truth. I had let my anger, insecurities, and paranoia get the best of me.

The crowd around us seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next move. Solomon's arm was protectively around Angel, and I hated it. But more than that, I hated myself for causing this scene, for letting my emotions fuck with my head.

Solomon looked at me, his voice firm. "I'm taking Angel home. You need to give her some time."

I wanted to swing on him, to tell him to fuck off, but the words wouldn’t come. I stood there looking dumb as fuck as he guided Angel away. She didn’t look back, and I couldn’t blame her.

I felt like a fucking idiot, standing in the middle of a mess I had created, with strangers judging me.

I’d fucked up yet again.

Chapter Thirty five

"I'm fine, Solomon," I lied, plastering a fake smile on my face to get him away from my door. My hands trembled with anger, and I felt like a volcano about to erupt. Solomon was about to become the target of my wrath if he didn’t get the hell out of my face. I couldn't let him see me like this, on the verge of breaking down. He hesitated, concern etched on his face, but eventually nodded and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the fake smile crumbled, replaced by a scowl. I kicked off the shoes I’d shoved my swollen feet into when Solomon called me and told me I had lost my job, but he had a better one for me. I wasn’t going to burn any bridges, so I met up with him despite having no intention of taking any jobs right now. Then here comes Cassius with his stupid ass, being a stupid ass.

I felt like a ticking time bomb, seconds away from exploding. I stormed around the house, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the walls. "Alexa, play me some music," I ordered. Ironically,"Emotional Rollercoaster"started playing softly in the background, each note pulling at the tangled mess of emotions inside me. "Alexa, turn that shit up." The volume rose.

I went to our—no, my—bedroom and yanked open the closet door. My hands shook as I grabbed Cassius's clothes, yankingthem off the hangers and tossing them into a pile on the floor. Every item I threw felt like a piece of my heart breaking off because I didn’t want to put him out, but I couldn’t deal with his dysfunction. His scent wafted off the fabric—a mix of cologne and something uniquely him. It was a cruel reminder of what we had and what was falling apart. The drawers were next, and I emptied them, dropping his cologne and lotions on top of the pile. I needed garbage bags.

I was dragging out a full thirty gallon bag of Cassius's shit when the front door creaked open, causing me to pause. I looked up, and there Cassius was, standing in the doorway, his eyes darkening as he took in the scene. My anger got the best of me, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed the keys for the new house from the sofa table and hurled them at him. He dodged them easily, his face contorting with irritation.

"I'm sorr—" he started, but I cut him off.

"Get the fuck away from me," I spat, my voice low. I was seething. Instead of doing what my good mind told me to do—walking away, going in my room, and locking the door until he left—I stepped toward him, jabbing my finger in his face. "You don't know how hard I've worked to keep my daddy's temper from becoming a part of who I am, but you bring him out in me, and that makes me want to shoot you in the face. And I bring out the worst in you, obviously. I can't see you flipping tables for Keisha or any of those other bitches."

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