Mama's Little Girls

eight

Onika Maraj
9 May 2019
Maraj & Cooper LLP

My eyes were trained on my phone as I arranged some things. My handbag slightly weighed my arm down but I pushed through as I headed up to my office.

I had a busy day ahead and didn't need to lose any time.

When I reached my floor, Maya was there, ready to recap me on things.

"Your 8 o'clock appointment is all set." Maya detailed.

"Ok." My face was still buried in my phone as she guided me towards my office.

"Mr Farnberg called." I could hear her struggle to remember something. "Oh, and I was able to reschedule your hair appointment for next Tuesday."

"Perfect."

"Also..." Maya trailed off and when I looked away from my phone, I saw Beyoncé sitting in my office.

"What? Hey!" I stopped walking, in front of my desk. "What are you doing here?!"

"I-I need to talk to you." There was a rasp in her voice as she spoke.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Ms. Maraj." Maya gestured. "Ms. Knowles is h—"

"Yeah, obviously." I cut her off. "Did you just let her in my office without checking with me?"

"Well, she said she's here to drive you home."

I blinked a few times, looking between the both of them. I just got here. I didn't need to go home.

"No, call security." I requested.

Beyoncé stood up and dusted her pants off. "No, you ain't gotta call security. I don't know what I was thinking coming here, talking to you." She rambled, preparing to walk out. "I'll just leave. I'm sorry."

As she approached the door, I placed my belongings on my desk and leaned my hand on it, with a hand on my hip.

"What do y—what do you want from me?" I asked.

She stopped and looked my way, sighing.

"I gotta talk to you about my girls."

That made my ears perk.

I licked over my lips, making eye contact with Maya. "Can you give us a second, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Maya placed my coffee on my desk and left us alone.

I walked around my desk before sitting down.

I looked up and Beyoncé was still standing. "I gotta get my girls back."

"Ok, what you need is a family law attorney, ok." I said as she got seated. "And if you can't afford one, the court will appoint one."

"I can't walk in there with a public lawyer." She shook her head. "My ex-wife is spending a lot of money on a lawyer, and I need a bulldog like you—no offence."

I just gave a tight-lipped smile at the last comment.

"Look, our firm charges $500 an hour. Can you afford that?" I inquired.

Beyoncé clicked her tongue, looking at me. "I got $1200 to my name."

"Look, Ms.—"

"No, no. Just call me Bey." She stopped me from using a professional pronoun. "Look, sister, I'm tryna get—"

I scoffed at that because it was clear which approach she was using. She thought because we were both black, I could hook her up for some sort of discount.