Gianna's Grit | ✓

IX: Scarface Anthem

GIANNA

I made sure to busy myself for the following week. Along with assisting aunt Philly in the funeral plans, I also took on financial responsibility for the bar. Uncle Saul established the bar as a way of meeting more people in the community, which I knew meant the world to him. So, I made sure that everything added up on and off of paper while also using the office to complete a portion of my own work.

I had just sent my client a quick email when commotion rang through the bar and into the office. I opened the door to find two men beginning to fight. I pushed passed the Tag that King had sent for me in order to intervene, but he stopped me.

The man shot an empty beer bottle, the sound of the glass making everyone stop and go silent.

"What's going on here?" I asked angrily. "You can't just come in here and start fucking up this bar!"

The two men broke apart. The man that faced me has a scar running down his face, making him blind in one eye. He looked like someone from an action movie; the evil boss who controlled everything.

"You're King's new bitch, ain't you?" He approached me, but stopped short when the Tag aimed at him.

I scoffed, "I'm not King's anything, for your information."

The man nodded to the Tag, "He doesn't send out little brothers to protect just anybody."

I eyed the man protecting me as well before shrugging, "So?"

The man rose his hands as my Tag began getting agitated with his close proximity, "So, you pregnant yet?"

My words caught in my throat, and my eyes widened in shock. I couldn't believe how crass the man was.

This must've given him some kind of answer, "I'll see you around, sweet cheeks."

I made sure to watch him exit into the dark night before allowing my mind to wander.

Why was that his first question?

How many women has King gotten pregnant? How many children does he even have?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the hold "child out of wedlock" thing; people are different and sometimes everything doesn't go according to plan.

However, I sure wasn't going to be one woman in a a man's sea of baby mamas. That's a completely different story. The last thing I wanted to do was have a child and have to explain to them why they had seventeen half siblings along with an absent father.

The Tag turned to me, "Call King. I'm checking the doors."

I returned to the office, locking the door behind me in an act of sudden paranoia.

The scarred face of the unnamed man flashed into my view, breaking me from my nerves. I called King, and was relieved when he answered, "Zion?"

"What happened?" He immediately asked.

"I was just sitting in Saul's office working out their finances, and came out to see these guys fighting," I couldn't barely think, "so one of your guys shot a bottle to get their attention. They stopped, but this one guy asked me if I was pregnant and he had this nasty ass scar all the way down his face—which creeped the hell out of me, you know how I—"

"Scar?" He pressed.

"Y-yeah," I agreed, realizing that I'd been rambling, "it went from his eye to his chin, but was ragged."

"Close down the bar and go home, ma," he quickly instructed me. "Let the Tag drive, understand?"

I nodded before remembering that he couldn't hear me, "Okay."

"Call me when you're back at home," he said before ending the call.

I grabbed my things and locked the office before making everyone leave. I repeated King's directions to the Tag, handed him my keys, and we left.

The man's questions really didn't sit right with me. Why was it important if I was pregnant or not?

Of course it mattered if I was King's girlfriend or something, because that obviously makes me leverage. A baby would take nine months, though.

I refused to rest my hands anywhere near my stomach, as even the question of pregnancy was off-putting to me.

I turned to the Tag, "Does King have kids?"

He didn't answer, and I assumed the worse.

The ride was silent for the rest of the time, and I repeatedly checked out surroundings the entire drive. The scarred man made me paranoid, and I was suddenly glad that I wasn't driving.

I could barely think straight, much less operate a vehicle. I was thankful for King's demands for once.

How would I take care of a child? I can barely take care of myself.