Page 8 of Mercedees: Forever An Atkins
Nodding, a soft chuckle escaped as I stepped forward. Marli smoothly slid from behind her desk blocking my path. A wicked grin graced my lips as I contemplated on my next move. I mean, it was gon’ always be me hitting shawty in her shit, I just needed to figure out how I wanted to do it. Was I gon’ straight up disregard Marli and knock her lil’ ass over to drop the bitch or kindly step to the side then drop her?Decisions, decisions.
“You’ve gotten very disrespectful. I think it’s in your best interest if you go ahead and leave, please, while things are still cool and calm,” Marli pleaded.
Akira walked right past us and locked the front door. “This bitch ain’t going nowhere but to the fuckin’ hospital. Bestie, drop this hoe.”
That was all the permission I needed. My bitch wasn’t gon’ let a soul touch me, either. I chose the latter when it came to Marli, stepping around her. I threw my first jab on the goofy hoe and dropped her where she stood. Her hand immediately went to her mouth. When she stretched them out, her blood leaked onto my marble floors.
“Bitch did you just hit me?” she yelled.
“And she ‘bout to do it again,” Akira voiced as I stood over shawty.
One person that knew me better than anybody else was her. She knew the drill and when it came to beating a hoe down, I didn’t give a fuck who you was. If I wanted to lay hands, feet, or any other objects on yo’ muthafuckin’ ass, guess what the fuck I was gon’ do…
I gripped shawty by the hair and let my fist rain down in the same spot. Sad to say, my pussy got wet when I tagged a bitch eye repeatedly. Visibly watching it close did something to me. Maybe when that black eye subsided, she’d see more clearly on who the hell she was talking to.
Like I knew she would, Akira jumped in kicking the fuck out that girl. All shawty had to do was visit the shop down the street or wait until next week. The result to her problem was simple. I completely understood her wanting to get a set done by me but every bitch in my shop could sling them brushes something serious. She could’ve been serviced by anyone else and got the same result. I trained these heffas myself. Her rudeness got her the ass whooping she couldn’t wait to receive.
I didn’t get off the bitch until I was satisfied. Then again, it was Royce that felt like I’d done enough. Somehow him and Striker made their way into the shop. I had no idea they wereeven in the area. Neither one of them called to say they were stopping by either.
“Get the fuck off her, Cedees!” Striker yelled scooping me up by the waist. I quickly rested in his arms as Royce snatched up Akira.
Oh well.
“What the hell y’all on?” Royce questioned moving Akira to the back.
Striker followed behind with me still tucked in his grasp. “Aye, chill the fuck out with all that, Ma. You on that ratchet shit knowing you too pretty for that,” he whispered in my ear.
This man was gon’ call me out on my behavior every time he saw me out of character. In his mind, I was supposed to always present myself as a lady. Royce on the other hand didn’t give a fuck and used me as his personal hitter sometimes. Striker ain’t never got down with all that fighting shit and he’d been that way since we were kids.
I was carried to the back office and placed down gently on my feet. I strolled to the bathroom unbothered to clean myself off. Her blood was coating my hands, and I instantly got irritated. I ain’t know what diseases the bitch carried, yet her DNA was all over me. Striker stood at the bathroom door shaking his head. He always wore a look of disappointment with me.
“Don’t say it, Striker. I got it aight,” I stated as my eyes rolled to the ceiling.
“If you had it, I wouldn’t be here. You lucky me and this crazy nigga was in the area. Why you beating on that damn girl like that, Cedees? You don’t give a fuck ‘bout yo’ business, huh?” he questioned.
“Quite the contrary. I put paws on the hoe because I do. I was cool and collected. Any one of those ladies out there can vouch for that. She came in here starting shit, not me. Look, don’t piss me off, Striker. You see I ain’t in the mood,” I warned him.
His reaction to my empty threats was nothing more than a light chuckle. He was amused and felt no fear behind my words. He never did, so I didn’t expect it to start today.
Reaching toward my face, he swept my hair behind my ear. For those that got the rough edges of Striker, the Atkins women got the teddy bear side. He was as sweet as pie and soft as cotton with us. You couldn’t make that man treat us any different.
“It ain’t cute, Cedees. Stop giving these nothingness hoes attention. You got more to lose than they do. Wipe your neck off, Mama. You got blood splatters on it,” he pointed out before walking over to Akira.
I looked in the mirror and got annoyed all over again. It was one thing to have the bitch blood on my hands but for that shit to be on my neck… I released a deep sigh throwing the rag in the sink after wiping it off. I wanted that hoe head on a platter now.
Walking out the bathroom, I casually headed for the office door all to be yanked up once more. However, this time, Royce had me by my shirt. “Sit yo’ bald headed ass down. Goddamn!” he fussed.
“Fuck you, and Striker,” I said glaring at him.
“Cedees, I will put this shop out of commission. Don’t test me right now. Sit the fuck down and relax. Why the fuck you tagging shawty head like that anyway? You know what? Fuck what you got going on. Who the hell gave these hoes in the shop my number? My Baby hit me in the mouth ‘cause a random hoe called my shit like she knew me for real. I’m pissed; you hear me?” It wasn’t funny but hearing Klarity hauled off and two pieced him up kind of made me feel better.
Smirking, my tongue glided around my gums to keep from laughing in his face. He needed his ass whooped. Royce tended to think couldn’t nobody sit him down, but my good sis’ definitely put him in his place several times over.
“Y’all jumping down my throat like I told the bitch to come in here on that bullshit. I hate when y’all do this. I ain’t did shit for that girl to come in here on that type of timing. You and Striker can get the fuck out my face!” I shouted.
“Didn’t I say I ain’t give a fuck ‘bout yo’ problems? Who gave my fuckin’ number out, Cedees?” Royce questioned once more.
Shrugging, I said, “I don’t fuckin’ know, and I truly don’t care.” I was over Royce always making things about him.
