Chapter 15
JASMINE MILLER
“Hey, girl, hey!” Monica greeted me, but her bright smile faded as soon as she got a good look at my face.
“Hi,” I muttered, stepping inside.
Her apartment was a reflection of her bold personality. Abstract art and colorful wallpaper covered the walls. My favorite part was the pink neon “Happy Hour” sign glowing over her bar cart. She’d rehabbed most of the secondhand furniture with skills she picked up on YouTube.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, trailing me into the living room.
“I got into it with Cash,” I huffed as I collapsed into her oversized bean bag.
“Girl,” she drawled. “Let me get the wine.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two glasses and a bottle tucked under her arm.
“Alright, what happened?” she said, pouring us both a glass.
I took a huge sip and gave her the rundown of the lunch disaster.
Monica’s mouth was hanging open by the time I finished. “You didn’t say that to him!”
I grabbed the bottle and topped off my glass. “I absolutely did. Like—how’s he acting like my man off one date and a little taste of pussy?”
“He did buy you a Versace dress, though…” she pointed out.
“And? Nobody told him to do all that,” I scoffed.
“You’re not wrong, but calling that man your friend in front of your ex is wild,” she laughed.
I threw my hands up. “I was flustered—what was I supposed to say? And honestly… Marcus looked real good.”
“I mean… Marcus did play in his face, Jas,” she said, her voice dropping a little.
“What? How?” I frowned.
“Now you know damn well what it means when a man does that lil’ hug-and-lift combo. You said he tried to touch your booty, too? Girl….”
I winced.
“Exactly,” she said, tipping her glass toward me. “So, even if you were flustered, you came off real giggly. Add insult to injury—he basically asked Cash if he was ‘bout that life. Jasmine, please. You cannot be this dense.”
I screwed up my face. “Not you defending this man,” I grumbled, taking another sip of wine.
Monica snickered as her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at the screen, rolled her eyes, and silenced it.
“Anyway,” I continued, “Marcus texted me while Cash dropped me off. Pretty sure he saw it.”
“Bitch, you’re messy!” she laughed right as her phone went off again. She groaned and snatched it up.
“What, Jelani?” she snapped.
I raised my eyebrows, watching her face screw up as she listened to whatever he was saying on the other end.
“I have company. I can’t talk right now.” She closed her eyes, jaw clenched. “What does it matter who’s here? Don’t you have other bitches to entertain? Get the fuck off my phone.”
She hung up and tossed her phone across the couch.
“Trouble in paradise?” I asked.
She snorted and grabbed her wine glass. “Jelani’s toxic, and I’m not trying to deal with his shit right now.”
“Toxic how?”
She gulped down her wine. “I told him I was cool with keeping things casual, but I made it real clear that if he was seeing other women, just be honest about it. That’s it.”
I nodded, fully locked in.
“He swears up and down he’s not, and to prove it, the nigga starts planning a Miami trip for us. Cool—who says no to a free vacation?”
“So what’s the issue?” I asked.
“The issue is,” she said, refilling her glass. “While he was here the other night, I heard him in the bathroom whispering sweet nothings to the next bitch.”
“Wait—in your house?”
“In my goddamn house,” she said, shaking her head. “Talkin ‘bout how he misses her and can’t wait to see her. Couldn’t even wait until he left.”
Her voice was laced with disgust, but underneath that, I heard the disappointment and hurt she wouldn’t admit to. I didn’t know what to say—just a few days ago, she had hearts in her eyes talking about him. Now, she looked like she was two seconds from swinging on him.
She leaned back on the couch and rolled her eyes. “But it’s cool. Jelani must’ve forgot who the fuck I am. Like niggas not in my inbox still pressing me.”
“I know that’s right.”
A hard knock at the door made us both jump.
“Damn, is that the takeout?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t get a notification on my phone,” Monica said as she stood and headed to the door. She peeked through the peephole and groaned.
“Open the door, Baby Doll.” Jelani’s voice came through the other side.
“Why are you even here?” she asked.
He banged again. “Monica!”
I rolled my eyes. “Just open it before one of your neighbors calls the cops.” Clearly, causing a scene was a Banks family trait.
With a heavy sigh, she unlocked the door. Jelani wasted no time pulling her into a tight hug, peppering her neck and face with kisses like she hadn’t given him her ass to kiss a few minutes ago.
“Ew, Jelani. Get off me,” she whined, half-heartedly pushing him away. He whispered something in her ear that made her bite her lip and stifle a giggle.
He kissed her on the mouth, gave her ass a squeeze, then breezed past me without so much as a nod. He disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door behind him.
I gave Monica a look.
She gave me a half shoulder shrug and flopped back onto the couch. “He’s drunk. I don’t know what he’s on tonight.”
“But I thought—”
“I’ll let him sleep it off tonight and block him tomorrow. I’m over it,” she said, waving her hand. She wasn’t fooling anybody.
And clearly, this wasn’t the first time they’d done this dance.
“Okay… let me get out of your hair then.” I stood.
“No, stay!” she insisted. “He’ll probably pass out after he showers. He won’t even come back out.”
I side-eyed her hard. “A shower? He got clothes here? Bye, Monica. Handle your man, and I’ll see you later.”
“He’s not my man!” she protested, standing.
“Uh huh. Okay, baby doll.”
* * *
It’d been two weeks since my fallout with Cash, and he still hadn’t reached out—no calls, no texts—not even a damn carrier pigeon.
Meanwhile, Marcus had been applying pressure, hitting me up every day to check in, but mostly asking when we could meet up.
I kept brushing him off, blaming my work schedule, but I knew that I couldn’t keep using that excuse.
Marcus: Why you avoiding me, Juicy?
I swear I’m not. I’ve got a few weeks left on this contract and I’m trying to stack my bread.
Marcus: Yeah aight. This got something to do with the nigga I saw you with at the soul food spot?
No, he’s not my man.
Marcus: So what’s the real issue then? Why you can’t make time to catch up with an old friend?
Old friend my ass.
I left him on read and swiped to my thread with Cash.
His last message was from the day he picked me up for lunch. I stared at it for a second, lips pursed, debating whether to say something.
I could just say “hi.”
No. Fuck him.
I blew out a frustrated breath and tossed the phone into my bag.
It’d been a long ass day at the hospital—there’d been another wave of ODs with back-to-back codes, and the only thing I’d had for lunch was a warm protein shake.
I was starving, and my head was pounding.
All I wanted was to lie on the couch, bra off, after a hot shower with my phone on Do Not Disturb.
The parking garage was still muggy from the rain earlier. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead as I twirled my keys in my hand.
“What the fuck?” I stopped short.
My tires were flat. All of them were slashed to shreds. The back window was shattered. Glass was everywhere—on the pavement, in the backseat.
This had to be a sick joke.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I walked around to look at the damage. Peachtree wasn’t in the greatest area, but nobody’d ever said anything about break-ins. Plus, I wasn’t stupid—I didn’t keep anything in my car worth stealing.
This felt intentional.
I dug through my bag for my phone and called Monica.
“Hey, boo!” she answered cheerfully.
I sniffled. “You at Southside today?”
“Yeah, why? What’s up?”
“Somebody slashed my tires,” I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “And they broke my back window too.”
“Jesus. Where you at?”
“I literally just got off. I’m in the garage.”
“You want me to call Jelani? He could come up there and—”
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t need Cash finding out.”
“You sure?” she asked. “You know he’d pull up.”
“I know,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But I’m not tryna deal with him right now.”
“Okay… You got AAA?”
“I let it lapse,” I muttered. “Forgot to update it after my card expired.”
She sucked her teeth. “Want me to see if I can get out of here early?”
“Nah,” I sighed. “It’s fine—you’re all the way on the other side of the city. I’ll figure something out.”
We hung up, and I leaned against one of the concrete columns, breathing hard, trying not to cry. But I could already hear my daddy’s disappointed voice in my head.
This is why I told you to make sure your AAA was updated before you left.
I tried Rochelle, but her phone went straight to voicemail.
Calling Cash felt pointless—he probably wouldn’t pick up. But on the off chance that he did, I knew he’d be here in a heartbeat, ready to go to war.
But then at some point we’d have to have that conversation, and I wasn’t in the headspace to do all that.
I looked around the empty garage.
“Ugh!” I let out a frustrated scream and stomped my foot.
I scrolled through my contacts and hit send.
“‘Sup, Juicy,” Marcus answered on the first ring. I heard the TV on in the background.
“Hey… you busy?”
“Not really. Why you sound like that? You good?”
The first tear fell as I stared at my ruined car.
“Jasmine… talk to me. What happened?” I could hear him mute the TV.
“ I-I just got off work and….” I choked back a sob. “All my tires are slashed. The back window is busted. I forgot to renew my AAA, and I’m stuck.”
“Where you at?”
“Peachtree Memorial—on the second floor of the parking garage.
“I’m on my way.”
* * *