Page 1 of Certified To Handle You 2

Royal Grove Pavillion

The whole time I moved through the crowd, I kept my eyes on Sha’Nelle ass, and it ain’t matter who stepped in front of me or what the fuck was goin’ on around me, ‘cause once I saw her standin’ there holdin’ that nigga hand, everything else stopped matterin’ to me.

I saw the second she noticed me too.

Her face changed just enough for me to catch it, and before I could even get close, she turned to that nigga and leaned up into him like she had somethin’ to say that couldn’t wait. I couldn’t hear shit from where I was at, but I saw him nod, then kiss her cheek like he was comfortable doin’ that shit in front of everybody, and that shit sat wrong with me in a way I wasn’t even tryna hide.

Then he walked off, and I watched him go, really tryna figure out who the fuck he thought he was. The second he stepped away from her, she turned back around, and when she did, her eyes landed right on me.

I kept walkin’, and she met me halfway like she was ready to go to war with a nigga.

Before I could even open my mouth, her hand came up and balled my damn lips up, squeezin’ my face hard enough to shut me up mid-breath. That shit caught me off guard for half a second, ‘cause of how fast she did it and how sure she was when she did it. The shit hurt like a muthafucka but I was too mad to give a fuck.

“Come on,” she said low, but it wasn’t no softness in her voice.

She let my face go, grabbed my arm, and started pullin’ me with her like she already knew I was on bullshit and she was tryna get ahead of it before I turned this whole fuckin’ party upside down.

The way she just handled me though, like she could check me like this and I was supposed to fall in line behind it, ain’t do shit but add fuel to what was already buildin’ inside me.

By the time we hit the back door, I was already gone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Renza?” She snapped, pushin’ at me.

That shit ain’t move me, though.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I shot back, stepin’ into her space and grabbin’ her by her throat, tryna squeeze the life out that muthafucka. “Why the fuck you walk in here with that nigga like that? Is you crazy?”

She hit me hard as hell, her palm crackin’ across my face, but I ain’t let go of her.

“Renza, get off me!” She snapped, her hands comin’ up to my wrist as she tried to pull my fingers from around her, but all thatshit did was make me tighten my grip around her neck instead of loosen it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go!” She went on, slappin’ the fuck out my face again, and when I ain’t move, she slapped me again, this time harder. Her nails scraped against my skin as she tried to force space between us.

I felt every bit of that shit, but it ain’t do nothin’ to calm me down. If anything, it made shit worse.

“Why the fuck you bring that nigga around my family?” I shot back, my voice low but full of hurt and anger I wasn’t even tryna hide no more as I held her against the wall.

She kept fightin’ me, her hands movin’ between my wrist and my chest, pushin’, scratchin’ and doin’ whatever she could to get me off her, but I wasn’t budgin’, and the more she resisted me, the more the pressure built up in me in a way I couldn’t even control at this point.

“I said get off me!” She snapped again, her voice sharper now, but it ain’t carry no fear in it.

“Man, shut yo’ ass up! You bring that nigga around my family, and you thought I was just gon’ be cool with it?”

“Nigga, that’s my family too!” She shot back. “They was my family before you!”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I told her, squeezin’ her crazy ass harder. “You knew what the fuck you was doin’.”

She grabbed at my wrist, tryna pull me off her, her fingers diggin’ into my skin while she fought against me, but I ain’t let up. I kept my hand around her neck, holdin’ her in place while I looked down at her, and the more she struggled, the tighter my grip got without me even thinkin’ about it.

“Renza…” she said, but it ain’t come out the way it did before.

When I really looked at her, her eyes was glossy with tears sittin’ in ‘em, and it wasn’t fear lookin’ back at me. It was hurt. It was that same type of shit that had been sittin’ in me since I sawher walk in with that nigga, and seein’ it on her face like this did somethin’ to me I ain’t expect.

For a second, everything slowed down…

My hand was still on her neck, but the pressure wasn’t the same no more, and I felt my fingers loosen.

Sha’Nelle was hurt too…