Chapter 3 #2
The first thing I noticed was his height; he stood tall enough that I had to tilt my head back just to meet his eyes.
His skin was a deep, smooth brown, catching the low cabana light in a way that made him look carved rather than human.
He was clearly in his late forties, if I had to guess from the slight sprinkle of grey in his beard, but he wore his age like a weapon rather than a weakness.
Not a wrinkle on his face, no softness in his build, and he was big just as you would expect a Vegas security guard to be.
“You don’t have to explain shit to me, baby girl. I saw the entire thing.” He looked over at Brandon so coldly that I saw Brandon swallow the lump in his throat.
“Why the fuck did you do that to her?” he asked, his voice so low it seemed to rumble up from the ground.
Brandon’s voice cracked immediately. “I, I tripped! I fell!”
“Yeah, fuckin right.” The man stepped closer, and his shadow swallowed the Brandon dude whole.
“Who do you think you are lying to? One of them dumb asses you came to the party with? I know you spilled that drink on her on purpose. She rejected you, and your little pussy ass couldn’t take it, could you?”
“Nah, that’s not it. I’m telling you I fell. I wasn’t sweating her.”
“Shut the fuck up. Your voice is just making me madder.”
The guard didn’t let him finish.
He reached over to the bamboo table behind him and picked up a cold champagne bottle that was filled to the top, still sweating from the ice bucket. This cabana looked to be set up for its next guest already, that wasn’t supposed to be me, a security guard, and a dumb ass man that I want to kill.
“Alright nigga. Get down on your fuckin knees now.”
“What, why?” Brandon asked, and the guard spread his lips thin.
“Get on your fuckin knees before I do something worse than what my plans already are for you.
Brandon dropped down on his knees so fast that you would think he was about to suck dick.
“What’s going on, man?” he panicked, breathing fast.
“Look, I can apologize to her. I’m sure she’ll be dry in no time if she gets back in the sun.”
The guard didn’t give his suggestion a single inch of attention.
“Open this bottle for me, nigga.”
Brandon’s hands shook as he twisted the cork free, barely keeping his grip on the neck. The second the top popped, he held it out to the guard like an offering, and then the guard handed it to me.
“Now,” he said, slow and cold.
“Pour this shit over his bum ass face.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“No, that’s okay. I don’t have to do that. It’s not that serious. I’ll just go back out to the club, but you can kick his fuck ass out, and I’ll be happy with that.” I bucked at Brandon.
“Oh, I am kicking his ass out regardless, but I need you to get your get back first. Pour it over his face like he did to you. I saw how you were handling him before I stepped in. I know you got it in you.”
A few seconds went by, and I didn’t move, so he steadily pressed me.
“Come on, don’t let no niggas play with you, baby. You way too fine for that. Show this nigga what it’s like to fuck with a bitch like you.”
A slow smirk slid onto my lips, and Brandon’s face drained of color as he stared up at me, trembling, eyes jumping between the man and me.
“Okay, you are right.”
I lifted the bottle, ready to pour the champagne, but the guard's massive hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me mid-motion.
“Nah. Hold up.” His voice dropped deeper, enough to vibrate into my bones. He turned his glare onto Brandon.
“Before she pours this, open your fucking eyes, nigga.”
“Hell no!” Brandon snapped.
“If I open my eyes, that shit is going to burn, man!”
Proctor leaned down a little, his height making Brandon look like a child. “I don’t give a fuck. I said open your fucking eyes. You think I’m playing with you?”
There was something in his tone that was old, experienced, lethal, and that broke Brandon down even more.
His eyes snapped open, wide and glossy, already tearing up from fear.
“Alright, now pour it, beautiful,” he told me, his voice smoother now, even while commanding violence.
And because I was lowkey terrified and high key curious, I did.
Brandon’s body jerked instantly, his face twisting in pain as the liquor hit his eyes. He grabbed at his face, crying out.
“Hold your fucking head up,” the guard barked. “You ain’t give a fuck about her eyes when you poured that shit all over her, did you? Now open them beady mutha fuckas up and stay still!”
I kept pouring. And the longer I poured, the more vindicated I felt, because he was right. Brandon didn’t give a damn where that liquor landed on me. It could’ve ruined my phone, my makeup, and it did fuck with my whole damn mood.
I continued to pour disregarding Brandon's agony,
“That’s it, baby girl. Don’t stop until that bottle is empty,” he said calmly.
I did exactly what he told me, even though the whole situation was insane. When the last drop fell, Brandon was still clawing at his eyes, screaming from the burn.
“All right,” I said, catching my breath.
“I’m done now.”
Brandon tried to stand, but the guard shoved him back down with one heavy hand to his shoulder, pinning him like he weighed nothing.
“Yeah, you can go now. It’s my turn now.”
He reached for the bottle.
“There’s nothing left in there. I poured it all.”
“I know,” he said with a small shrug. “But we still have the bottle.”
Before I could process what he meant, he swung and cracked the bottle across Brandon’s face, the glass shattering and embedding into his skin. Brandon’s scream echoed against the cabana walls.
“Whoa! What the fuck?” I muttered, but I was almost humored by it because he did it like it was absolutely nothing.
“Now get the fuck away from this club, or I’m going to crack your chest wide open next time, you understand?”
He warned him through gritted teeth, and Brandon scurried out of the curtains.
“Alright, now go back out there and enjoy yourself, shorty. It’s your birthday, right?”
“Yeah, it’s something like that.” I chose to hold back the truth for a reason I don’t know.
“How old are you turning?”
“35.”
He chuckled.
“A fuckin baby.”
I don’t know why I didn’t tell him I was here for my bachelorette trip. I’m getting married, for God’s sake, and here I am hiding it from this man.
Maybe it was because he was just so fine, and so tall, and so damn commanding that I felt like I was kind of scared to tell him I had a man.
This, unfortunately, was a feeling I got whenever I was around a man I found the least bit attractive.
I hated to feel this way, I truly do. I’m about to get married, for God’s sake.
Let me get back out here to my girls and remember why I came here.
I can’t wait to tell them about this shit.
“Thanks for protecting me today. If that’s what we're going to call it.”
“Of course, it’s kind of my job here.” He pointed at the ear peace in his ear. He turned to walk out of the cabana and then turned back to me.
“If you and your home girls want to come into this cabana, you can.”
“How, we didn’t pay for it, nor do we have the money to. I saw the prices online.”
“The prices don’t mean shit to y’all. I can move the people set to come in here somewhere else.
Tell whoever you with to come in here with you and I’ll send a bottle girl to come replace that bottle you wasted all over the floor.
” He winked his eyes and then disappeared on the other side of the curtain.
I wanted to stop him and ask him his name, but that shit shouldn’t even matter to me.
I’m getting married in three days. I’ll take this free section, though.
Let’s just hope it’s not too good to be true.