Chapter 22
There is something so strange about being perceived in a way that you didn’t design.
In a way, that is not planned. It’s scary.
It’s too vulnerable.
For our meetings, I do what I normally do. Prepare to wait it out until the end.
Vert didn’t allow that.
He made sure that I wasn’t able to sit there and zone out.
I didn’t know that it could be so intense.
The meetings that I’d been somewhat paying attention to had been between Blue and Racquelle.
They were pretty standard with not very much going on between the two of them.
Contention was low and they didn’t argue over much.
There was no need to when at the end of the day they are mostly on the same side.
The events of this meeting though, I’m glad I was listening to. Vert was there behind me, the heat from his body, a comforting presence at my back along with the spicy scent of his cologne making me feel less like I want to come out of my own skin.
I’m not ambitious. There is no desire to move up besides gaining a little more respect.
It felt good to add to the conversation and have it be heard and be met head on by my Queen.
I was perceived as more than an accessory and I liked it. I think it was because of Vert.
When everyone dispersed after Liezel took the weight of everything onto her shoulders.
She left first, with Lidia after her. It had gotten too congested to get over to her and I’d have no hope of finding her if she doesn’t want to be found.
Lidia is really the only person that I would trust could find her.
“Stay with Vert, hon. I’m going to talk to this—” Racquelle scoffs and then asserts, “Find Vert and wait for my call, okay?”
I tell her that I will look for the man who is likely talking to his own family about what went down in the meeting.
This building is not new to me but I often got to sit out the meetings in Atlanta as Racquelle was still doing much in secret and under wraps while she was based here. I came only when a target of mine was involved. Actual bait used to entice and then take out if she so desired.
I spot where the men from Dupont are talking but I don’t see him there. Down and around another hallway I finally see him but he has his phone up to his ear.
“Yea, I know," he says onto the phone. "I can't wait to get out of this fuckin’ place."
Who's he talking to?
"I know. I miss her too.”
Her?
“Is she around? Can you put her on the phone?"
His daughter. He must be talking about his daughter.
"Gracie, honey.” There’s a long pause. “Oh, that's cool. Listen, I have some good news."
There's a pause, and it's filled with what I imagine to be the excited chatter of his daughter. I've heard her talking to him on speakerphone before, and I know that she is very excited to talk to her dad, always.
"Yea, Daddy's finally comin’ home,” he says in a tone I’ve never heard him use with me. Obviously, it’s his daughter, but I’ve never heard him happy… not like this.
“… and that's gonna be great. Yea, I don't have anythin’ else to do here. I have no reason to stay, so I'm gonna come back and see you as soon as I can.”
He has no reason to stay.
“Okay, won't be tomorrow, but it'll be really soon.” He shifts and now I can see his face but I’m hidden from his view. He’s smiling.
He has a dimple? Fucking hell, how is that fair?
“I’m not gonna be able to fly for a little bit, but as soon as I get home, you won't have to worry about missing me anymore. "
He chuckles with what she must be saying, and I can't listen to another second of his excited explanation to his daughter about how quickly he wants to get away from Atlanta—to get away from me.
Jesus, and what did I do?
I had helped him blow this case wide open.
Without me, he would have never found this guy.
But now that he got what he wanted, he's ready to leave.
He did his job, and that was the only thing that he had to do.
He said he was gonna find a way to help me.
To fix me. That was all bullshit. I was just some bitch who got in the way of him getting home.
He only wanted to stop my plans so I could do what he wanted faster. And he got a good fuck out of it too.
Crazy Nina, whose violent tendencies ended up being the very thing that helped him get back to his precious Louisiana…
His real family.
I just don't understand why he gave up on me.
He said he would be by my side, that he would help me, that we would work together, that I was his doll, and I was dumb enough to believe him.
A man.
I believed a man.
What is wrong with me?
And now I look like a fucking dumbass.
I look dumb as hell, and as stupid as I should look, because he was just getting what he needed so that he could get back, so he could get away from me.
But that's where he's wrong.
He won't be getting away from me.
Matter of fact, I will be the last thing that he ever sees on this planet, and he sealed it right here.
I shouldn't even be here to hear this, and I know that the conversation is meant to be private because he excused himself to have it. He didn't think that I would ever find out that he was going to use me—he was going to abandon me.
He was going to leave me here like I meant nothing to him.
It's as much as I deserve because, again, I believed that some man could fulfill me, could fix me, could make me want to be better, to want more for myself, to not be only what my appearance says I am.
But what he forgot is that I am Racquelle's most prized asset for a reason.
Not only am I worth it, but I'm worth everything, and he just lost it.
And it won't be the only thing he'll lose.
But first, I've got to get out of here.
Fleeing from the building, there are already cars waiting outside to take the family where they need to go.
It looks like Racquelle is still inside but I can’t chance her seeing me and having to explain why I look like this.
My makeup is already fucked up from stupid emotional tears and I’m not even home yet.
I can't look like this—be seen like this.
The last thing he has to see has to be beautiful.
I am his doll, am I not?
And his doll will be the last thing he sees, not this fragile, broken girl who still hasn't learned her lesson—that men will always want something else, someone else, and never you.
Never me.
I rush the driver off to my place and make no extra steps before going home.
It'll only take me a second.
I'll get it together. I just need to cry about it long and hard first.
That's exactly what I do.
I get home, and I cry and cry and cry on my couch until I realize I'm getting dehydrated. My throat hurts and stomach hurts, but the pain of the rejection stings so deep inside me. I need to take some sort of pills for the splitting migraine that I'm having from how hard I just cried.
Swallowing these pills would be a fucking nightmare, so I have to get some water but that hurts too. Because I’m only hydrating to keep crying for myself and my stupidity.
And then I take a super long shower, a shower long enough to where my fingers and toes and legs start to get wrinkly.
But the tears never stop coming.
And though it feels a little bit better to not be sticky from the salt my body is eliminating at a profuse rate from my eyes, I don't even bother drying off when I get out of the shower, because my clothes will be just as wet and sticky with my tears when I get out.
But I had to get the makeup off, had to get all of the product out of my hair, so I could at least cry comfortably.
As comfortable as it could be to find out that you are the very same hollow-eyed, fractured girl that was never good enough before.
No matter how high your kill count is, no matter how many men you've shown you're better than, there's always one.
There's always one.
And that one...
I hope he has life insurance.