Southern Gentleman's Club

Trouble, trouble

Previously on Southern Gentlemen's Club

Two days later, Freya sat in the makeup chair in total exhaustion. Her mind continued to play the scene over and over, especially when she fell asleep. Her hands continued shaking.

"You look...uh uh...baby no." her new makeup artist frowned. "I can't work with this."

Her phone buzzed. "Don't forget that interview with Essence magazine." Demetri appeared on the screen. Her anxiety increased. "I expect you to not fuck it up. Knowing you, you might anyway."

"I won't fuck it up." her voice is still weak and defeated.

"Hmph...we gon see." The phone beeps off.

"Girl fuck that nigga..." her makeup artist blurted. "He shouldn't be talking to you like that." she frowned.

"What do I do? He controls everything..."

"Control?! Like what?"

"My phone. Scheduling. Who can see me. My bodyguards are just spies to report about me. My sisters can't get in touch with me if I even want them too."

"Ain't he filming a new movie? He got time for this shit?"

"You underestimate him." Freya sighed.

"Baby...you don't need his ass! You were Flame before him and you gon be Flame after!" she slaps the phone out of Freya's hand with a hard eyeroll. "Call yo fuckin sisters." The makeup artist slaps her own cell phone in Freya's hand.

"I just can't...what about the interview? What would they say?"

"Fuck them folks!" the woman whispered. "Go home baby."

Freya's fingers shook, her eyes brimming with tears.

Meanwhile, Luna and Meadow sat in the mansion tucked away in the mountains, twiddling their thumbs in nervous energy. Marcus' glasses hung low on his eyes, going over reports.

Meadow's attention was on the view...and a smile danced on her lips.

Suddenly Luna's personal phone starts ringing. Her sleepy eyes furrowed. "Nobody has my personal number like that..." she blurted. "Hello?" she answered anyway, putting the phone on speaker.

"Luna! Come get me, Lulu...please..." Freya begged on the other line. Everybody looked up in shock.

"Where are you? Where are you, Freya!" Luna yelled back.

"Freya! Freya!" Meadow yelled.

"Shit...here he come." The line goes dead. Luna tried to call the number back, but the phone is off...

The door opens with a bang. The makeup artist has her phone in her hand just in the right second. Demetri surveyed the room with a critical eye.

"Why you ain't dressed yet?" his voice groveled over the words.

"My stylist changed my outfit, so my makeup has to match." Freya lied without even thinking. The makeup artist blinked a bit before picking up the brush and going over her tear-stained face.

"How long would that take?" he asked.

"About two hours." The makeup artist spoke up. In a shocking turn of events, Freya breathed. She expected him to berate her as much as he could. Demetri left without another word...leaving the door open.