Secret Infidelity

Chapter 2.)

"Oh, my God- noooo, what are you doing! I just called you guys this morning about my extension," Nimue griped as the man disconnected her electricity. It had not even been a full twenty-four hours and life was still kicking her ass.

"You haven't made a payment since last year... I'm just doing my job, lady" he replied flatly as he coolly walked away.

"Come on man... I just graduated! I barely have a dime to my freaking name, I'm ta- taking care of thi- this house by myself, give me something... please!" She stammered while trailing him down the driveway.

"No can do, I just started the job two days ago," he muttered.

"Ok, and I just got back home yes- yesterday morning... I'm trying. Lord have mercy... have a heart! You gotta give me something... please... just do this one favor for me,"

Staring at the pretty, brown-eyed woman, he smirked letting his eyes travel down her bare-toned legs. "We can work something out," he raised his bushy brow.

Nimue knitted her brows together in wonderment while looking at him before chortling bitterly. "I am not fucki-"

"Fine with me, you're the one sleeping without lights," a devious snicker escaped his lips as he opened the door to his company vehicle, and placed one foot inside ready to get going but she grabbed hold of the handle.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she sighed backing up, "Shit... fine."

Fuck my life, she shook her head before turning away and headed back towards the front door with him following close behind, grinning as if he had just won the lottery.

Twenty disturbing minutes later, Nimue was leaning against her side door watching the guy cut her power back on with a smirk on his face.

"I'll just mark you down as paid," he winked.

Nimue gave a tight-lipped smile before closing the shades and blowing out a frustrated breath. "Never again," she scoffed, stomping upstairs to shower for her interview at the hospital.

Four interviews later, Nimue was sitting in her father's 1990 Cadillac with her face in her hands as she tried her best not to cry. She's been turned down from each job and just wanted to let herself drown in a river or burn in a fire. She was starting to regret slacking off during her studies and labs when she knew the nurses were observing her. She was sure she may not have been the best but that's what clinical was for. To her knowledge, she was doing good but could have done better, and it was starting to show.

Shaking her head, she inhaled then exhaled before lifting her head and staring ahead noticing a few corner boys making deals; she assumed. It was crazy how most drug dealers made a two weeks paycheck in only a few days, she had plenty of thoughts of trying to be a 'Queenpin' per se when she was younger, but knew she wasn't cut for that lifestyle or the consequences that came with it.

She knew without a doubt that she was not built for that life nor cut from the same cloth as those in that line of work. They would consider her the prissy, uptight black girl that had no recollection that she was even black. She would be sniffed out quicker than a German shepherd could sniff a gram out on you and that was quite embarrassing.

She knew how to pick her poison and dealing drugs while scary was not her memo. She would continue to live out her fantasies in the comfort of her own home as she binged-watch the same gangster movies that made her feel like Tupac and Jemeker Thompson.

She would be a gangsta in the comfort of her own home, but out in the real world? Absolutely not, the first opportunity of prison being presented to her, she knew without a second thought that she would sing like a canary and send everyone and their momma to the big house if it meant saving herself.