𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃

3

HER PREDATOR

"You. Are. A. Slut."

"Thanks...I know," I sighed, putting my head back down on the black counter and blowing into the small, plastic ring I held between my fingers. Small bubbles fluttered across the office space as my two employers arm wrestled outside the door before coming inside.

"No. Like, dead ass, you're a fuckin' slut, Lowen. I mean, the girlfriend, though? That's what we doin' now? My fuckin' classmate, Lowen?"

Andrew shot me a look like 'Shawty at it again?' and I could only give him and Brian a slight nod. Brian looked satisfied, so I could only guess that their little match outside had something to do with betting if Dylandra would show up again today.

The office is well, um, in the making. It's more of an office space with bland brown walls that Brian and Andrew have tried to spice up, a consultation area, and a small area in the back where they actually handled work at, divided between two small desks. Brian was tall and dark skinned, fuzzy twists when we kept telling him to just get locs, and a cheesy ass smile that slipped onto his face every time he saw his boyfriend. Andrew was brown skinned, honest guy with a dirty mouth, and a fade. Yep, he was just...Andrew.

But back to me and shawty: Me and Dylandra been cool...okay, that's a lie. I tolerated her at best, but she used to be friends with Chocolate, and Chocolate was cool so I'd tolerate Dylandra's comments and opinions and every single nitpicking rant that she'd go on before. But now it was getting obnoxious, now, she was getting out of hand. Worse, she was kind of scaring away our customers and I couldn't really appreciate that.

Who wants to go into an up and coming law firm when you see a bitch actin' a plum fool through the windows my cousins hadn't quite gotten around to tinting. Dylandra would have to dip, especially if I wanted to keep my job. That was for sure.

I lifted my head back up, taking in every inch of Dylandra, sizing her up really, for that matter. If I came across the counter, would it really be my fault?
Would anybody really believe me if I claimed self defense? I glanced up around the ceiling. No cameras installed yet, my niggas wouldn't snitch, and Dylandra did come onto this property with the intent to act a fool.

"Dyl, you gotta go." That's my final warning, yup.

"I won't stop this, just so you know," she warned me in a low tone, pressing her little medium, rounded a bit at the edges, charcoal black coffin nail decorated in rhinestones into my plain work shirt. Yes, I know every little detail about this small adornment because I paid for the shits.

Yep. Me and Dylandra Abbey had history. We used to date. And I broke up with her right before her best friend moved away (two losses, I know), and while Chocolate was here, Dyl was all cool and collected about the break up 'cause she had her friend to hold her down, but now that nobody is around to keep Dylandra in check, now...she has to show out for the whole world. Bringing up old shit and coming up to my job like a jealous baby mama.

Okay, I cheated. And?

It's not like the girl I fucked on moved away, she's right here in this city, matter of fact, Dyl and her had a whole class together last school year, so I don't see why she proceeds to be angry with me. Go beat the girl's ass and call it a day. Me and Dylandra are done and that's that. I don't like staying on old shit.

"Fuck you, Lowen," she snapped, holding her black, braided ponytail in her hand, dotted in shimmery diamonds. Five feet and six inches of black beauty. "Not no more," I chuckled, watching her walk out. The way she swayed her thick hips in her black jumpsuit, (she did have that grown woman build to her), and loudly shuffled her Nike slides, I knew that she'd still let me fuck.