29. Four #3
“Like I said in my email, I’m looking to buy-in on a chain of barbershops as well as potentially own one.”
Our waitress came back with our drink order, set it on the table, and walked away. “Your cash outflow is higher than your intake,” I told him.
Tyrell nodded, picked up his glass, held up his finger as a sign for us to give him a moment, then downed his drink.
I looked at Nine to see him shake his head.
If this were any other meeting, we would’ve left already.
The disrespect and then his drinking were two red flags that couldn’t be ignored.
This was a business meeting, not a social call.
“I’m coming into a large sum of money due to a settlement,” he said, then waved over our waitress. When she approached, he smiled at her. “Sweetheart, get me another drink.”
She looked over at us, and I shook my head. “We’re good,” I told her.
“Okay,” she replied, then walked away.
Tyrell watched her walk away, licking his lips and shaking his head as he did so. “She’s fine as fuck,” he finally said, then turned his attention back to us. “The shit I would do to her.”
“She doesn’t look interested,” I said, shrugging.
“She doesn’t have to be to open her legs,” he laughed. “Bitches don’t know what they want until it’s in their face, and even then sometimes, they still don’t know it. She will change her mind when she’s screaming my na-“
Tyrell didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before I picked up the fork on the table and stabbed it through his hand. He screamed, and I made sure I applied as much pressure as I could as I stood.
“I tried,” I told him, shaking my head. “I really did. I said I would come in here, listen to your bullshit, and then decide what I was going to do to you, but I can’t do that.”
“My fucking hand!” Tyrell yelled. He grabbed his wrist but didn’t pull. “You stabbed my fucking hand!”
“I plan to do worse.”
“Four,” Nine said, touching my arm. “Chill the fuck out.”
“Don’t you have a kid? A little girl? How would you feel if a nigga had the same intentions for her as you do for that waitress or for any woman for that matter?” I asked him. My watch beeped, alerting me that my heart rate was rising. “You cool with that?”
“I-“
“I don’t give a fuck what you are about to say,” I said, shaking my head.
I reached across the table, grabbed him by the throat, and squeezed.
“The next time you have a bullshit thought like that, remember this moment right now. And know that I can and will find you and snap your fucking neck.” I pushed him away with so much force that he fell back.
The fork in his hand flew from the table, and he dropped to the ground coughing.
“And they say I’m the short-tempered one,” Nine laughed. He handed me a cloth napkin from the table and shook his head. “You got blood on your hand.”
I took the napkin and looked down at my hands. “I tried,” I said, wiping my hands clean. I looked up to see our waitress watching us closely. “Keep away from that nigga. Let one of the busboys help him up.”
She nodded, then left our area. I watched as she quickly went to the back and came back with two bussers.
She pointed to where Tyrell was on the floor, then back up at me.
They nodded toward me, then went to help Tyrell.
Either nobody cared that I’d just stabbed Tyrell in the hand, or they didn’t notice because no one was looking our way.
“Let’s go,” Nine said.
I dropped the napkin on the table, then dug into my pocket, took out some money, and dropped it on the table as a tip for our waitress.
“We are going to need a new way to get Robert’s attention,” Nine said as we walked out of the building. We walked to my car in the parking lot, and I stopped, but Nine kept walking. “Come on, we're going across the street to eat at Wednesday’s spot. I’m hungry.”
I sighed, then followed him across the street to the bar.
We walked in, and I looked around. Wednesday’s restaurant had a more relaxed vibe, with dark hardwood floors, large circular windows, and blue walls, where large, overgrown potted plants meshed perfectly with blue-mesh booths, gold tables, and large chandeliers.
Even though it was busy, the chatter wasn’t overwhelming or deafening.
And the food smelled so good that my mouth watered.
“I’m going to the bathroom to wash my hands,” I told Nine. Even though I’d wiped them with a napkin, I still wanted to clean them.
“The bathrooms are towards the back; walk past the bar, and you’ll see them in the back. I’ll be over there,” he said, pointing to a booth near the window.
I nodded, then made my way to the bar and eventually found the bathroom. I washed my hands a few times, then dried them and walked out of the bathroom.
My phone rang, and I stopped walking to take it out of my pocket. I had a notification that someone had searched for my name. Chuckling, I flagged it and forwarded it to Nine so he could monitor it. Something told me it was Robert. I shook my head then swiped the screen to clear the notification.