Page 93 of Own It

“Nigga, it’s one a.m. Daylin’s ass was gone by six p.m. Why do you think you were able to pick me up?”

She had a point, but for some reason, I had a bad ass feeling. Between my girl being standoffish and that nigga Rakim being in my business, I didn’t feel comfortable stopping by Delicacies again.

One time was risky enough, and I felt like us being seen together in the daytime could be explained. But after hours, wasn’t shit going on but drug deals and fucking. I’d tried to convince Morgin to just meet me at the hotel but she went on about how I wouldn’t make Daylin drive herself if it was her and some mo’ shit. I just wanted to fuck so I said what I needed to for her to shut the fuck up.

“I don’t know.”

“I need my car. You don’t think Daylin will find it odd that my car is in her lot still come morning?”

She was right, so I had no fucking choice but to take her ass back to the warehouse.

The whole way there, I was anxious as fuck, while Morgin didn’t have a care in the fucking world, making phone calls to homegirls just as ghetto as her and controlling my fucking radio as if she had permission. She came with a lot of headache inducing qualities, but as long as I wasn’t getting pussy from my girl, I would have to deal.

Finally, I pulled up to Delicacies but stopped a little ways down from the opening of the parking lot. It wasn’t a public shop, so the parking lot was quite small, only enough spaces for the people that worked for Daylin’s e-commerce company.

“Get out.”

“Pull in. It’s cold.” She dug through her purse. “Daylin is probably getting folded up by Rakim anyway.” She laughed heartily.

Shaking my head, I did as she said only because I saw the lot appeared to be abandoned at the moment. Not to mention, it was very possible Daylin was laid up with old boy.

Pulling in, I hit the brake and unlocked the car so Morgin could get out and grab her bag from my back seat while I busied myself on my phone, looking to see if Daylin posted a story or something. She had, but it was about an upcoming collection.

The door to the warehouse scraped the gravelly parking lot, making me look up, and when I locked eyes with Daylin, my heart sank into my ass.

“What the fuck is going on?” she barked, making Morgin pull her head out of my back seat while carrying her bag.

“No, no!” Morgin screamed when Daylin charged her and immediately started pounding her head in with her fists.

Morgin’s bag fell, and she went right with that muthafucka as Daylin wore her ass out, unfazed by the few punk ass swings Morgin threw her way.

“You’re next, bitch!” Daylin shouted to me as she picked Morgin up by her hair and kicked that bitch in the stomach like she’d been scoring field goals for a decade straight.

Her words registered, so I threw my shit in reverse and floored the accelerator out of the lot, my door closing on its own due to the velocity, and then I sped the fuck off, leaving Morgin to fend for herself.

The entire route to my house, I kept checking over my shoulder as if Daylin would pop up in my fucking back seat at any minute. I didn’t know if I was more fucking afraid of the repercussions of being caught cheating or our relationship ending altogether.

“Fuck!” I bellowed, pulling into my apartment complex parking lot. “Fuuuuuck!” I shouted in anguish again.

Daylin was for sure done with me now, Rakim in the picture or not. My only saving grace would be to pretend I thought we were on a break like she’d asked for.

I climbed out and hurried onto the elevator before internally telling myself to calm the fuck down. It was just Daylin’s little ass, not the muthafuckin’ boogeyman.

I tread down the hall and then entered my apartment, locking up before going to turn the shower on. I felt disgusting, for some reason, and maybe it was because Daylin had caught me in some bullshit.

I checked my phone to see if Morgin had called or texted me, but she hadn’t, so now a nigga was worried if maybe Daylin had killed her ass or something. I kept getting flashbacks of the way she dogged that girl all over that lot and how poorly Morgin was fighting back. It was almost as if she couldn’t come up out of her shock enough to really hit Daylin hard enough.

I showered, but as soon as I stepped out, I heard rustling. Remembering my gun was in my bedroom, I froze to listen a bit closer, and sure enough, someone was in my damn apartment.

“Come out the bathroom!” Daylin’s fist thundered against the door, almost making me jump high enough to hit the fucking ceiling.

“Aight!” I shouted back, trying to remain as collected as possible, but I wasn’t gon’ front; I was spooked.

Realizing I had nothing to cover up with other than my towel, I dried off my chest and neck, then tied it around my waist before measuredly opening the bathroom door.

I heard Daylin in my living room, seemingly pacing, so I made my way in there and halted at the sight of her. She had a few facial scratches from Morgin, and her hair was disheveled, letting me know Morgin had also pulled it.

“How long?” Her face was balled up. When I took too long to answer, she picked up my remote and hocked it at me, so I ducked. The shit shattered against the wall.