Page 57 of Session 33
“I am,” Silas shot back, leaning forward. “What the fuck you gonna do about it?”
I kept quiet, watching.
“Man, it’s just a game,” Solomon said, but there was a warning in his voice. It sounded like,Chill the fuck out before you find out.
“Fuck that,” Silas snapped, shoving the table. He stood up, eyes locked on Solomon, his face all red. “You think you’re better than us? Talking about it’s just a game. You mature, huh?”
Solomon stood, his calm slipping. “I never said that, motherfucker.”
That’s all it took. Silas lunged, throwing a punch that connected with Solomon’s jaw. Chairs scraped back as Jonas and I jumped up, dragging Silas outside before it got worse.
We pulled Silas around to the front, near the cars. He was grinning. “Tell Angel I’m sorry,” Silas slurred. “I’m drunk. I’ll send them flowers or something.”
Jonas shook his head. “Why the hell did you hit that man, Silas?”
Silas grinned at me. “Because Cassius couldn’t without pissing Angel off, and I knew he really wanted to.”
The way I laughed physically hurt.
Chapter forty seven
I could feel Ciara's eyes on me as we walked through the mall, her fingers twitching at her sides, probably itching to grab my hand. She knew I didn’t do public displays with her, and I wasn’t in the mood to play along. I kept my hands stuffed in my pockets, sunglasses shielding my eyes from her. My head was pounding from last night's hangover, and I just wanted to get this day over with.
Ciara had been talking the entire time, but I couldn’t tell you a single word she said. Her voice was just background noise, something to ignore while I focused on not throwing up. We hit up a few stores, her dragging me along while she picked up shit she didn’t even need. I paid for it all without a second thought. That’s all it took to keep her quiet—a few bags, some new shoes, and she could pretend we were something real. The only reason she was still around was because I couldn’t get rid of her. At first, she was there to keep the loneliness away. But with my son, I didn’t have that problem.
When we finally sat down for lunch, I could tell she was pissed. She was silent for the first time all day, picking at her food like she was trying to find a way to start a fight. I didn’t give a fuck. The silence was a blessing.
“You going to my place or your hotel?” I asked, my voice flat, like I was asking about the weather.
Ciara glared at me, her fork clattering against her plate. “Your place,” she muttered, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t giving her more.
The drive back was silent. She was tense, sucking her teeth, cutting her little beady eyes at me. She had a little attitude and I still didn’t give a fuck.
She left me to get the bags, grabbing my keys and walking into my house like she owned it. I thought about driving off, but I gathered her shit and followed her in. I barely had time to set the bags down before she was on me with her bullshit.
“We’ve been officially together almost a year, Cassius,” she started, her voice rising with each word. “And our relationship hasn’t grown at all. You’re still in love with Angel, aren’t you?”
I leaned against the bar in the living room, crossing my arms over my chest, not even bothering to take off my sunglasses. “I never said I wasn’t.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She stared at me, shocked, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What the fuck, Cassius? And you’re just admitting this like it’s nothing?”
I shrugged. “Look, Ciara, you want my money. I cash you out at the mall, buy you everything you want. Angel? She wanted my love. Y’all each got what you wanted.”
Her face twisted in rage. Before I knew it, she grabbed one of the shopping bags with shoes in it and slung that bitch toward my head. “You’re such a fucking asshole!” she screamed, the words echoing. Then, as if realizing what she’d done, her tone softened, trembling, sounding fake as fuck. “Cassius, I didn’t mean—”
But I was already done. I’d be taking those expensive-ass shoes back to the store. I picked up the bag and set it behind the bar just as my phone buzzed. I answered it without a second glance in her direction, turning my back on her like she wasn’t even there. When I hung up, I informed her I was leaving.
“I’ll be gone until morning. Maybe your ass will have calmed down by then,” I said, my tone casual on purpose. I wanted her mad.
I left without another word, leaving her standing there, looking stupid, probably still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
I ended up at the park, sitting in my car and staring at the empty basketball courts. My hands gripped the wheel tight enough to make my knuckles ache. I wanted a drink—God, I wanted it bad—but I said I was stopping after my son’s birthday party.
Hours later, I headed home. I walked through the door, tossing my keys onto the entry table, and froze mid-step.
Ciara was bare-ass naked, her glossy red nails clawing at Silas’s shoulders as she bounced on his dick like her life depended on it. Silas was slouched back on my sofa, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth open in a stupid grin.
The sound of skin slapping skin stopped when Ciara noticed me standing there. She turned her head, her hair flying, her eyes wide as saucers.