Cleo stepped on the sidewalk, and turned to watch the Chevy as it backed out of the parking space. When the car angled around and drove toward the front gate of Messalina projects, she wiped drool from her bottom lip and chin, and silently cursed the Novocaine the dentist used to numb her mouth. For forty-five minutes she reclined in a chair, while an old white man with gray nose hairs, damn near touching his top lip, drilled into her back teeth.
The memory of the screeching metal as it hit enamel, still made her skin crawl. It was almost enough to make her forget about Ant practically mouth raping her. Almost. What the hell was wrong with him any way? Putting his mouth on her like he'd lost his damn mind. Just because C's and she was a wrap didn't mean she'd be setting it out for him. She'd sew her good girl up and go hang out with a gang of nuns, before she let Ant put one, freak nasty, finger on her.
Tired of brain wrestling over Ant and his, Evel Knievel, stunts, Cleo spun on her heel to climb the steps to her apartment. The day had been too long for her to be worried over bullshit. Especially when she already had more curve balls flying at her face than a prostitute putting in work on her knees.
Her foot stumbled on the cement step as her rattled mental sounded the alarm and damn near blew out her eardrums. What if C's found out? Cleo's head swung from side to side in denial. She refused to skip her happy ass down that broke down path. Refused! All she wanted was to call Tech so he'd come over and distract her from the pressing weight of her guilt. A break from the load was long overdue.
When Cleo reached the top of the stairs she shuffled over to the door and let herself into her apartment. Inside, Pep sat on the sofa watching the Jefferson's, while eating a bowl of cereal. The living room was dark, save the glow coming off the television screen that flickered on his face. Her breath caught in her throat as she blinked once, and then twice to test her vision. She knew better than to believe a part of the Circle was in her raggedy ass living room. Besides Ant and Angela, everyone from Latin Paradise had forgotten her the same time C's did. Their silence and distance spoke loud as hell, all day every day, on a twenty-four hour loop.
"Pep?" Cleo asked her eyes stretched wide. "What...how..."
She watched as Pep sat the bowl down on the cushion next to him and climb to his feet. He looked a little bonier than she remembered. Like a few meals had missed him over the last few months since she'd seen him last, but aside from all of that, he appeared steady enough.
Bounding over, Pep yanked her off her feet in a, bone crushing, hug. "Chica! You look like a dream, and feel even better." When she tried to pull away, his grip tightened as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "No don't. I've been waitin' forever to do this."
"How'd you get in here?" She demanded.
"Your madre let me in-,"
"Let you in?" Shoving her way free of his embrace, she twisted her face into a unit, while ignoring the surge of happiness gushing through her bloodstream like an uncut heroine shot. "You gotta be lyin. Liberty ain't friendly. If you were on fire she'd piss on herself rather than put you out."
"Not when it comes to me." His chest puffed, pride swirling off of him in waves as he wore a stupid grin, that split his face from ear to ear. "When she came to the door, she looked me up and down, and then snatched up my sweater."
"For what?" She knew like hell Liberty's freaky behind better had not tried Pep. He was too damn young for her. Besides, he didn't have two nickels to rub together, and her moms charged by the minute for her time or whatever else she chose to put a price on.
"To look at the scar on my chest," he answered. "She touched it too, and then asked me if I was the jit who took a bullet for you."
Cleo rolled her eyes as she pressed her palm against his chest, covering the area where the hollow point entered his body four months ago. How the hell did Liberty know about that? "What she say when she found out it was you?"
"Let me in." He lifted his hand to flick one of the charms on the bracelet he'd given her as a birthday gift. "Told me I can come chill any time I wanted."
Cleo's gaze swept the apartment. "So where is she now?"
"I 'on't know," he said, hunching his shoulders. "She left a few minutes after I got here. Since Taz dropped me off I had no choice but to wait for you to come back. And Mom's had no problems with lettin' me kick back and hold down the spot until you came home, either. But why would she? She knows I can protect you better than Kevlar can."
Vision snatching flashes of him throwing her to the ground, while a rain of bullets pelted vatos, women, and children alike, rammed her brain. Her gaze narrowed as a question danced on the tip of her tongue. Swaying and gyrating back and forth, harder than a stripper trying to seduce a dollar out of a military man, all in the attempts to entice her lips to split. She'd never asked before, but she needed to know. "Why? You never told me, but...I have to know. Why did you take that hit for me?"
"Because I ride for you," he said giving her an, are you crazy, look. "Told you I would the first time I came over here. I'm not none of C's. If I say it I mean it, Chica. I'll never throw you away like trash. Not the way he did."
Cleo allowed his fingers to tangle with hers, while his words snugly wrapped around her mind, snatching away her ability to evaluate and distinguish truth from fiction. "So where you been?" She asked raising her chin, doing everything she could to keep him emotionally at arms length, friend or not. "If you ride for me so hard, then where the hell have you been, huh? It's been four months, Pep. A rider doesn't leave their people twistin' and turnin' in the wind."
"Chica," he said, frowning when she snatched her hand from his and backed away to put space between them. "I took one to the chest for you. This ain't TV, it takes time to come back from something like that. And truth be sold the doctor said it'll be a least six months before I'm back to fifty percent. Not a hundred. Fifty!"
"Then what you come over here for?" Cleo mumbled, a little unsure now about her anger.
"Because I missed-," He stepped forward, but she placed the flat of her hand against his chest, forcing him to respect the customary five feet of her personal space. Aggravation furrowed his brows. "It's been a minute since we chilled and the hood is bullshit without you. It makes me thirty-eight to see C's flossin' up and down the street with a different bitch every two days. Like shit's all gravy-,"
"Forget C's," Cleo snapped.
"I'm just sayin'-"
"And I don't care." She shook her head. "Me and C's done. We been that way for a while now. So what I look like talkin' about him? Probably look as dumb as you do right now."
"Yeah aw 'ight," Pep said, throwing himself back on the sofa. "Thought you'd be happy to see me."
Cleo's shoulders sagged as all of the anger and hot air drained away as if her body had been pierced by a pitch fork, while guilt climbed on her shoulders and tightly wrapped itself around her neck. To proud to apologize, she stared at the floor as she ran the toe of her shoe across a snare in the stained carpet. "You hungry?"
"Than Tony Montana when he first jumped from Cuba," he said.
Just like that, they were back on track. It was like that with Pep. It didn't take much to turn the tide of his emotions. He was always willing to over look her fuck-ups regardless of how far over the line she crept. His understanding had no limits. Yeah, she knew she was wrong for tossing him out and pulling him back like a yo-yo, but his propensity for clemency when it came to her somewhat selfish actions made it so easy to take advantage of him.
For the next couple of hours, they ate and watched reruns of the Jefferson's. By the time the last episode went off it was fully dark out and the clock on the microwave read 7:57. Cleo couldn't believe how time had tip-toed by. While chilling with Pep, her mind had switched to neutral. A nice change from the usual twists and spins, which kept her nerves crawling like ants beneath her skin. She'd missed him. His craziness reminded her of the Circle and how things used to be before C's had cut her out. They'd spend the entire afternoon watching cartoons and playing the dozens. Saying stupid things just to laugh at how it sounded when said out loud.
"Your mouth still feel numb?" Pep asked, leaning forward for a closer look.
She shook her head. "No. The feeling came back a while ago. 'Bout what time is Taz coming to pick you up?"
"He was supposed to be here at seven." He shrugged and cut an eye at her, while serving up one of his creep nasty grins. "Knowing him though, he probably stuck diggin' in one of his brizzas. He'll come get me when he finishes."
"Humph. Least some thangs never flip, dude cuts more meat than a butcher," she mumbled to herself, ignoring the tinge of jealousy tugging at a tucked away memory in her head.
"Hell yeah." He laughed as hopes of wet dreams come true glittered bright in his eyes. "That's gonna be me one day, chica. Watch what I say. I'ma have more hoes than C's and Taz put together."
"Then your thang gonna fall off, burst into flames and burn to a crisp right before your eyes. And guess who you better not call?"
"Exxon," he said with a tongue in cheek grin.
"Alright." Her head bobbed. "Go ahead and laugh now why you still can, but when you're walking around here with nothing in your boxers but air, let's see how funny it's gonna be then."
"Aw," Pep cooed, reaching for her. She slapped his hand away. "Don't worry, chica. I'ma always come back to you. You're gonna be my main."
She sucked her teeth, while folding her arms across her chest. "The hell ever. I already gotta man dummy, so you might as well stumble your slow ass back."
"Yeah right. Who?" He asked, tooting his lips and raising his chin as he drilled her with a, I don't believe that shit, stare. "And Run from Krush Groove don't count."
"You don't know what the future holds!"
"I know it don't hold him." Pep laughed. "Don't care how fine you is. That dude probably got hella hoes. Shoot, look at all the chickens he had flockin' in the movie. He jugglin' too many to drop 'em all for one. That's a law of pimpin'."
"How the hell would-," Before she could finish, knuckles slammed against the screen door, cutting her off mid-sentence. Clenching her fists, she rose from the sofa, and then crossed the room to the door. "Better be happy your ride here. Your stupid tail was about to get read."
Cleo snatched open the door, expecting to see a smirking Taz, but found a concerned Tech instead. Aw damn! Without being invited in, he stepped through the door and came chest to breast with her. When she didn't back away to allow him further entrance, his hand found her hip as his eyebrows drew together in question. Her heart hammered her chest cavity as drops of sweat formed at the nape of her neck.
"Thought I told ya ta page me when ya got back?" He asked, gently nudging her backwards, and closing the door behind him.
"Yeah you did, but I had company when I came home," she said, waving a hand over her shoulder where she knew Pep still sat.
Tech's gaze left her face to glance in the direction of the couch. When his eyes found Pep his face grew rigid and unmoving. Corrupted by tension and barely concealed rage.
"Da fuck he doin' here, Lil Mama?" Tech stepped around her just as Pep bounded from his seat.
"Me?! What the fuck you doin' at my girl's spot, refugee?" Pep spit through gritted teeth, not realizing he was only seconds from getting his ass folded like a stack.
Cleo shook her head, while stepping in front Pep as she gave him her back to face an advancing Tech. "Don't mind him, he's a little off. This my friend Pep from the Circle."
"Da Circle? And he's chillin' in my bricks?" Tech's slim muscular chest appeared to double in size. "Out of order!"
"Naw," Pep said. "Shit workin' like a motherfucka around here. Ain't that right, chica." He snaked his arm around her waist, placing his palm on her stomach.
Arms stretched out with fingers curled into claws, Tech stepped forward looking like he was about ready to take out Pep's throat with his bare hands.
"Oh hell no," Knocking Pep's hand away, Cleo planted a fist in the center of Tech's chest. "Whatever y'all tryin' to do, it won't be goin' down up in here. So both of your behinds need to take step back and let little air in to breathe."
"You heard her homey. Make that knob twist and that screen door-," Pep started.
"Shut up," she yelled, too thirty-eight to listen to the bull popping off the top of his head.
For the first time since day one, things finally went her way. The walls of her apartment began to vibrate against the onslaught of bass from a car that had just pulled into the parking lot downstairs. Cleo prayed her luck would hold and that the knock belonged to a candy apple red Supra. The potential appearance of Taz's pussy mobile, had her snatching Pep by the wrist and dragging him to the door. Danger lived and breathed in that moment to rip him apart. Too bad he was too damn simple to figure out just how tilted his position really was.
Shoving him out the screen, Cleo followed, closing the door after her. When they stood on the porch, her gaze swept the parking lot until Taz's Supra collided with her line of vision. Relieved, she released his wrist to give him a little push towards the stairs. The last thing she wanted was Pep to try and come out hard for her again. Last time he did a hollow point had taken him of of his feet and damn near stopped his heart. And now his dumb ass wanted to go ten with Tech? Was he crazy? Tech may have been good to her during all of the C's drama, but even through all his kindness she never for a second got it twisted. He was a beast who devoured dudes three times the size of Pep.
"What I do wrong?" Pep asked, standing his ground, refusing to be pushed down the stairs. "Why're you not making him leave? You and him messin' around now?"
Cleo's hand clenched in response to the overwhelming urge to knock fire from his ass. "Fall the hell back, Pep. On last check my business was not yours, so stop questioning me about what I do."
"Don't you mean who you do?"
"Pep," she hissed as the last of her patience shredded to nothing.
He opened his mouth and a car horn honked from below. His lips smacked together, while frustration tainted his normal, happy go lucky, expression. It was almost as if he wanted to say something, but didn't because he was convinced he'd be damned no matter what he decided to do. The first smart decision he'd exercised all day.
He bounded down the stairs, stopped halfway to the bottom, and then spun on his heel to glare up at her. "See that's what I don't get. You always dismissing me like I'm the one fuckin' up. Like I'm the one doin' you dirty. You did the same thing with C's and now you doin' it with this vato," he said throwing his hand up to wave toward the door behind her. "And on everything I love, I don't get it. What do they do for you that you think I won't? Let me know now so I can set the record straight. 'Cause there's nothing you can't get from me. I'll stop breathin' for you, chica! Think they'd do the same?"
"It don't matter what they say or do, because I don't hold them to the same level as you." Without further thought, she descended the stairs until she stood on the step above, Pep's. The sun had gone down about a hour ago and the raggedy street light in the parking lot had yet to come on, so her eyes strained to pierce the veil of darkness that shadowed his face. "They wear their mouths out telling me what they're gonna do, but instead of frontin' like them, you take every chance you get to show me. For that...you have a friend for life."
"I don't want just your friendship," he said attempting to turn away from her.
She grabbed his shoulder to stop him from leaving. "Too damn bad, 'cause you have it," she snapped. "I don't have much, but what I do have I'm willing to go without half just so I can slide fifty to you. And you know why?" When he turned to glance away, she captured his pointy chin between her thumb and index fingers. "Do you no know why?"
"Why?!"
"Because 'tween your indifferent aunt and Liberty's invisible ass, we're all we got." She placed her hand on his chest. Five inches right of his heart. In the very same spot he'd taken a bullet for her. "Remember that before you charge us to the game, by deciding not to come back."
"Why would I not come back?" He asked grabbing her arms with a panicked expression.
Cleo shrugged, while dropping her head to stare at her sneakers. "Because you're mad with me. You think I'm choosin' Tech over you and I'm not."
"You are," he said.
"Pep!" She countered, shaking her head so hard she put herself at risk for a concussion.
He raised a hand. "But I'm used to it. It's not enough to keep me away. Truth is, I don't think anything can." The whites of his eyes gradually disappeared as his lids slowly lowered. "If you only knew what it's been like for me the past four months without you. Stuck in the house with that evil bitch, and her bad ass kids. You know she still forced me to sleep on the floor after I came home from the hospital. Refused to even let me lie on the sofa. Can't wait 'til we old enough to be gone."
"She still treats you like that?" Her hand left his chest to tangle with the one at his side. Giving his fingers a little squeeze, her imagination ran wild and reckless over all of the ways she'd like to end his aunt. "Even after you almost died?"
"What, you thought it would change? She probably prayed for me to die."
"Don't say that. Your aunt was a mess when you got shot," Cleo said, lying through the slits in her teeth. She could count on a one finger hand, how many times his aunt came to visit him in the hospital.
"Whatever you say, chica," he said shrugging her off.
Before she could respond, the front door of her apartment opened and Tech stepped to the screen at the same time Taz laid on the horn. Her next words were DOA'ed on her tongue by the shattering of their privacy. Letting go of all she wanted to say, she spun on her heel to raise a finger to Tech, and then turned back to him.
"Pep," she began.
He shook his head. "Don't say it. I already know." Dropping her hand he turned and descended a couple of steps.
"Will you come back tomorrow?" She asked, watching as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Not tomorrow."
"Pep," she snapped. Panic raised her voice and snatched his attention.
"What?" He whirled around to face her once more. "I have a game tomorrow. I'll come the day after. Good?"
"The doctor let you go back to playin' basketball this soon?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Gotta do what I have to do to keep movin'," he replied, before turning to climb in the passenger side of Taz's Supra.
Once the door closed the tint on the window concealed him from her, but the connection they shared refused to be lost. Because even though they no longer communed in the same space, the pain he suffered daily owned her too and it linked them together like two separate sides of the same coin. She didn't love him the way she loved C's, but she did love him as if he were family. Blood couldn't make their bond tighter. He was her friend. Her brother.
When the car backed out of the lot and disappeared around the corner, she turned and climbed the stairs to her apartment. Tech still remained in the screen unmoving and quiet, searing holes in her face from the fiery heat of his searching gaze. A million and ten questions flickered like neon bright lights in his eyes.
They were the same questions C's had asked time and time again when it came to Pep, but she had no ready answers and she really didn't feel the need to explain herself. If Tech wanted them to remain cool and moving forward, he'd have to learn to accept her relationship with Pep. There was no other way around it.
When Cleo made no move to open the screen door, he pushed it open, and then stepped back, allowing her only just enough space to squeeze by him into the house. Before she could escape to the kitchen, he grabbed her wrist, bringing her to a staggering stop. After regaining her footing her glare captured and cut his with the ease of a hot blade slicing through a bar of butter. Who the hell did he think he was snatching on her? Her daddy?
"Ay, don't be grabbing-," She began.
"How many?" He asked cutting her off, with a voice calmer than an untouched puddle.
"What?" Irritation scrunched her brows together and pushed her lips out a little passed their limits. Why the hell couldn't he let this afternoon go? Control was a bitch who flirted with everyone, but in the end actually belonged to no one.
Not fazed by the unit on her face, he drilled her with one of his own. "How many of dees brown boys do ya 'spect me ta put up wit? One...two...five?!"
"Don't holler at me and what the hell do you mean by 'dees brown boys'?" she said, snatching her wrist from his grasp, pissed off and offended. He responded, by folding his arms across his chest and not saying a damn thing. With a full grown attitude, she wagged a finger at him. "Know what, don't even worry about it. You got me wrong if you think I'ma let you step down on me like I'm one of your round the way rats. In fact..." Stalking around him, she grabbed the doorknob of the still open door, waving her hand at the closed screen. "You can two step your ass right on up outta here with all that, Bishop Don Juan mess."
Out the corner of her eye, she watched Tech spin on his heel and stomp toward the door. Her stomach dropped to her left ankle. So he was just going to leave? Instead of slipping through the space between the door and the frame though, he slapped his palm against the cheap aluminum surface, effectively slamming the door closed.
"Answer ma damn question, gurl and stop tryna beat me gettin' mad," he said in a low hissing tone as he placed his other hand on the door, purposely caging her in. "How many?!" His hand curled into a fist, and then slammed it against the door beside her head.
The violent outburst, should have rattled her nerves and drenched her panties in piss, but the dubious intent of his knuckles close to her face only produced a rage so sensual she was having trouble keeping her knees together and her nails out of his face. The diverse emotions made no sense. How could she want to split his shit and wrap her legs around his waist at the same time. This was crazy! How much crack did Liberty blow while she was pregnant with her?
Cleo rested the back of her head against the door, while dropping her gaze to his mouth. "How many bitches besides Coco do you have?" She asked in a low raspy tone that confused her even more. "One..two...twelve? Exactly where do you lay your head at night, Tech? It's not like you have any family in P'cola."
"Not as many as Gianni," he answered, gently pressing his forehead against hers. The proximity of his mouth so near to hers jacked up the heat in the room by ten degrees. Damn, if he wasn't fucking with the buttons and switches in her head. When something that looked suspiciously close to satisfaction glinted in his hazel eyes, he continued. "But definitely more dan lil' homey who just ducked out. Na watta 'bout you?"
"What about me?" She asked, unable to resist rubbing her nose back and forth with his. The sensation provoked chills to prick her skin and fog her mind.
He pulled away a little, withdrawing his nose out of her reach and putting way too much distance between their mouths. An unwanted groan slipped passed her lips. The corner of his mouth hitched in response. She exhaled slow as she tried with every inch of her endangered strength to follow his line of questioning. Despite the fact that her train of thought had jumped the track around the same time he'd pinned her to the door.
"Gianni," he said.
The mention of C's doused her mental in ice cold awareness. Pissed she broke their connection and looked away. "What about him?"
"Is he still 'tween us? Does he still have ya mind?" He asked.
"I don't want him to," she whispered, her eyes trained on the foiled wrapped antennas posted on the television. "Knowin' that he doesn't want me anymore, that he's moved on...it hurts. The pain makes me wanna move on too. I'm tired of being the only one in mourning over a relationship that has long since been laid to rest in pieces."
"So why ya still leanin on him? His mama stay runnin' over here, spendin' duckets. Jus' taday dey she came and took ya ta get ya teeth fixed. Shit like dat makes ma chest burn. Gianni's grimey ass tryna have it both ways. Either he wants you or he don't," he finished the last sentence through clenched teeth.
It was cracked how much C's and Tech disliked each other, but couldn't go a day without mentioning the others name. "Wants it both ways? Humph! He doesn't want me in no way. Didn't you just hear what I said. C's broke up with me and is on to the next. Angela comes because she wants to, not because C's tells her to. If it was up to him, he'd probably kicked me out of his mom's life too. We over and I finally realized today that I'm okay with that."
Slipping his finger under her chin, he forced her to look at him. Doubtful eyes took a moment to search her face. Thorough and precise in their assessment. She squirmed under the scrutiny, but refused to break eye contact. What she had told him was a polluted truth of sorts, yet still true. She had finally accepted C's wasn't coming back for her. And she was okay with that. Not because her love for him was gone, but because she had no choice. She couldn't make him feel what she did. Trying and failing would be met by her end.
"Ya not okay with anyting," he said, gliding the pad of his thumb over her chin. "But ya will be. In time, I can make ya forget him."
"You think so?" She asked, silently hoping he was right.
He brought his forehead back down on hers. "Know I can. Ya just gotta let me. Stop holdin' on ta what's in dat Circle. Let da past fade ta black. For da last four months ya trusted me ta hold ya down as a friend, na trust me ta hold you down as someting more." The tip of his nose found hers and began to rub against it in a true Eskimo kiss fashion. "Ya don't need nobody else in ya corner but me."
"Tech, I can't just wash out everyone from the Circle, because you want me to," she said in a voice far weaker than she'd intended. "Regardless of where me and C's stand, I still care about his moms like she's mine. Plus Pep stays out there and he's my only friend in the world. He even took a slug for me."
"Thought I was ya friend," his emotion drenched tone, flowed over her.
"Be real." She reached up to cup his face in her hands. "We both know me and you ain't never been friends. I'm prey, and for the last six months you've stalked me like you've got my blood up your nose."
He laughed. "Maybe if ya stop runnin' from me all da damn time I can shift outta beast mode."
"I 'on't know," she said, narrowing her eyes a fraction, while shaking her head. "If I let you catch me, you'd probably be sniffin' out the next chick by the end of the week."
"Da next chick holds no interest fa me. Ya da one, gurl." Pushing her out of the bounds of her comfort, he nipped her bottom lip and held the flesh between his teeth, giving it a little tug before allowing it to snap back in place. "Da only one."
The last reason to not give in to him, wrenched itself free from her mental and hitched a ride on the wind to parts unknown. "So what you sayin'?"
"Come on na. Can't believe ya gotta ask," he said, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her body to his. "Ya my queen and ya place is at my side. All ya gotta do is get in position and erryting else will fall in ta place. Tell me, are ya finally ready ta be my erryting?"
Cleo nodded, even though a piece of her, buried deep in the chunk of ice in her chest, objected. "Long as you keep it real with me and always tell me the truth."
"Done," he said, leaning forward. His gaze focused on the area beneath her nose.
She grabbed his face to prevent his mouth from capturing hers. "I'm serious, Tech. No matter how bad you fuck up or how much you think it will hurt me, promise you'll tell me the truth anyway."
Pushing her hands out of the way, soft warm lips collided with unsuspecting ones and declared war. Teeth clashed and tongues dueled as they lay claim to every inch of the others mouth. Both ready to give up on air rather than lose ground by being first to break free in surrender. Reddish-orange color exploded behind her lids as the soaring heat flowing between them put both at risk for spontaneous combustion. Cleo had sunk so deep in need, she thought she might have passed Hoffa on her way down.
If she didn't let the white flag fly soon, her clothes and virginity would become the collateral damage of her reckless hormones. Wrestling back some of the control and strength he'd snatched earlier, she managed to manifest just enough will to sever the kiss.
"Ya...you have to promise, Tech," she rasped, staring up at him through half-closed lids.
"Promise," he growled, through pants and gulps. "There'll be nothin' but real 'tween me and you from here on out."
Reality penetrated and laid waste to ignorant bliss. Where the hell had she'd heard that before? A premonition, so clear in its warning that it could've been polished with Windex, snatched her by the throat. Shaken to the gristle, Cleo exhaled as she brawled against the compulsion to buck and run. What if Tech turned out to be worse than C's? When she thought about it, there really was little difference between the two. Fear compromised her air supply. She'd be damned. The frying pan had finally evicted her and left her ass to the blazing flames.