Savior. A Beynika Story

Chapter 2

Beyonce's POV

I am ready to go. "Beyonce," the lady across from me spoke.

'Girl, what,' I thought, instead of saying anything I just stared at her.

"I need you to answer me," she said.

"What was the question again," I asked.

"How are you coping with going undercover with your addiction issues," she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"The case that I asked the agency not to put me on," I said.

"Look Beyonce," she started.

"Megan, you are the FBI's therapist, not my friend. I don't need your pity. I'm fine," I said, cutting her off. She leaned back in her chair and sat quietly. If she's waiting for me to respond we will go through these next twenty minutes in silence. I looked around her office, and admired the rose gold and champagne colors she chose to decorate her office with. Megan moved to Atlanta from Texas around the same time I did, although it seems she is adjusting a lot better than I am.

"We were friends," Megan said.

"Is this a part of the addiction therapy, or your personal issues," I asked.

"I had to report you B. You were ruining your life," she defended.

"Anything else Megan," I asked, uncrossing my legs to get up.

"We are not done. Please remain seated. Ermias says that you guys visit the club often. How is being in the environment?"

"I'm an addict. I will always be an addict. Right now I'm in recovery. I understand that if I touch a drop of alcohol, I would not be starting from the beginning of my addiction, rather I would be worse than when I started. I go to the club. I see alcohol. I want it. I don't touch it. I drink coke. I drink water. I suck on a lemon. I don't plan on ruining my life for this job. You can tell the higher ups I'm fine," I said.

"Are you dealing with the emotional turmoil that caused you to drink in the first place," she asked after jotting down a few notes.

"I-," I started before feeling my phone vibrate. "I gotta go," I said.

"We still have ten minutes," she argued.

"Tell on me then," I said, getting up.

"Beyonce, I'm sorry. I had to. You have to let it go," she said.

"Advice as a therapist or ex-friend," I asked, reaching the door.

"As a friend," she said, moving closer.

"Therapists and clients can't be friends. Isn't that why you got moved up here to work? To watch over me. Make sure I don't fuck up this case. We aren't friends Megan and we won't ever be. Have a great day," I said, opening the door much more aggressively than I should have. I worked not to slam the door behind me. "Hello," I said into the phone.

"Mom, what's wrong," my daughter asked.

"Nothing baby. What's going on with you," I responded.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong because I want to ask you for things and if you're in a mood I don't want to," she said.

"Zendaya, what do you want," I asked as I walked towards my desk.

"Okay mom, listen to the whole story before you say no."

"I don't want to know the whole story. I asked a specific question and I want a specific answer," I reiterated.

"Nevermind because you're in a mood and I don't have time. Bye mom," she said, hanging up on me. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the black screen. Oh, I know she got that from her white father, because I would never. To Tina? Tuh! I decided not to call her back. She's right I am irritated and I'm liable to take it out on her if she gets disrespectful again. I sat down and started writing notes on the case.

"Aye," Ermias said, slapping my back.

"Ouch, nigga," I said grabbing my shoulder to massage out the sting.

"What you writing," he asked, bending over my shoulder. "Nerd," he teased as he used my mouse to scroll the notes.

"Are you not writing notes? You know when this case is over the amount of paperwork we'll have is going to be crazy. Might as well start now," I said.

"We have to do hand written notes first. You know to show that we're not making shit up," he said.

"I've already done a lot of mine," I said.

"Okay we see who graduated number one in Quantico," he laughed, still scrolling through the notes. He stopped at a name: Onika Maraj. "Oh speaking of your girl, she got robbed last night."

"What," I asked.

"You sprung over a suspect," he laughed.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed looking around the floor. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to us. "I'm just chilling with her for the case."

"Ummhmm," he answered, not believing me and going into my bottom drawer for snacks. "Where are my granola bars," he yelled gathering the attention of those nearby. We ignored the eyes and collectively gathered a few eye rolls and some confused looks. 

"You ate the last one and I haven't been to the grocery store. What happened with Nicki," I asked when people went back to doing there own thing.

"Some little thug ran off on her and stuck with a 500 dollar bill. You know them girls don't make that much. I felt bad for her. Lauren called me and said the security didn't help and she felt unsafe. So I had to walk her to the car," he said as he ruffled through the snacks. He seemed to find something to his taste and closed the drawer. "Anyway I'm going up there tonight. You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."