She's made no secret of her dislike for me and my "lifestyle". The whole world knows about it. What the whole world doesn't know, however, is what goes on when the cameras stop rolling, and when we're alone together...
Being hated never felt so good...
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Intrigued by my mystery visitor, I eagerly went to answer the door. And as soon as I opened it, I immediately tried to close it again.
Beyonce squeezed her foot in before I could slam the door in her face. "Nicki, wait. Please, I wanna talk." She shoved the door open. Why did she have to be so strong?
"I don't wanna talk to you."
"Nicki, come on--"
"It's Onika to you!" I screamed. "We're not friends. You've been calling me that for two years. Why stop now?"
She was now standing in the lobby of my condo, her long hair tousled. She smelled like leather and weed and beer. Beer... had she started drinking again?
"You have every right to want me gone. And I know I have no right to ask you to hear me out."
"I thought I told you to stay away from me outside of work?" I could only see red when I looked at her. I wanted to hurt her in every way possible.
"Please, just give me five minutes, and if you still want me to leave after that, I'll go."
"You have three."
She took a long, deep breath. I watched her, my curiosity getting the better of me. Should I have been this intrigued to hear what she had to say? From the way she avoided my gaze, from the way she hung her head, whatever it was would take her out of her comfort zone.
"I've been working on this apology for three weeks, believe it or not. And I still don't know what to say to you."
I wanted to tell her that her three minutes were running out, that she should hurry the fuck up, but something stopped me. I wanted to hear her out. She didn't deserve that, but I did. I deserved an apology. If it took more than three minutes to get it out of her, the notorious Beyonce Knowles, who was never sorry for anything she did, then I would let her have it.
