Talk To Me | •Slow Down Sequel•

Chapter 47- Pop Goes Weasels

Ayona

I pulled into a parking spot; grabbing my handbag and purse, I headed for my apartment.

It'd been fairly late as my heels clicked against the pavement.

Click, click.
Click, click.

Daystar's guards, as instructed had been told to keep their distance from me, which I'd been glad about. Last thing I needed was to show up to work with bodyguards flanking me.

Since Daystar and I had decided to stay at my apartment, I hadn't once caught them in action. I was glad they weren't overbearing.

And as usual, sometimes I wondered if maybe I looked hard enough I'd be able to catch then surveilling me—it was more entertaining to think of the situation as a "where's Waldo" type thing.

Eyes focused to my immediate front, I continued across the lot; only a few more hundred feet until I reached the building.

Click, click.

I froze, eyes darting at my surroundings. I'd heard a scuffle. Even and quiet breaths were taken as I listened.

Nothing.

I shrugged, must've been the paranoia of being alone for the night. I continued forth.

Click, click.
Click, click.
Click—, I froze mid-step. That same scuffle had sounded closer. That's when the scraping started.

Sounded like metal scrapping against pavement and the teeth rattling sound came from somewhere behind me.

A mechanical cackle disrupted the quiet night. The peaceful setting had been interrupted.

"So.., you're the bitch that won't leave my man?"

A female appeared in between to cars. This'll be good, I thought sarcastically. She took a few more steps toward my direction, away from the dancing shadows.

She was gorgeous, but her makeup looked overly done. She had a very light complexion, body looked like a perfect ten, although, I was positive her breast were fake.

Her slanted eyes were framed with false eyelashes and eyeliner, making her exotic eye color seem more seductive/ mysterious. If I'd guessed, she would've been either from the Phippines or Blasian maybe.

Her ink black hair was thrown in a high bun with tendrils hanging loosely by her forehead framing her more rounded-ish face. Lips full.

Her attire had been "comfortable", though she looked anything but. She seemed to be the type that wore tight dresses or club outfits.

She had some beat up Jordan's, sweatpants, and a tightly fitted tank top on.

As I made my judgements of her, she seemed to also be making her own of me. I shrugged uninterested. "I don't even know you."

I turned to walk away. "Aye, bitch we got beef and we boutta get this shit popping right now."

She was about to waken a whole new beast she knew nothing about. "And, whooo," I clapped my hands together, "are you talking to? There in no beef when I don't fucking know you, now take ya little fake ass titties back to where you came from before I pop them off your chest."

Her mouth hung open until she recovered. "All I want is for you to know the Tory loves me. So you gone either give him up or I'll just have to take him from you."

My eyes rolled, "Loves you?" I chuckled. "What, you got to bounce on his dick a few times, whoopy doo. Don't mean he gives a fuck about you."

Furiously, she growled something under her breath, she reached behind herself, pulling something out.

It gleamed as she lurched at me.

This bitch.