Page 30 of Certified To Handle You 2

“You want me to talk?” he finally asked, turnin’ back toward me. “You really want me to tell you what the fuck on my mind?”

The aggression in his voice caught me off guard ‘cause this nigga had never talked to me like this. He wasn’t no pushover, but he ain’t never had to raise his voice or come at me sideways to make his point. He was usually calm, and even when he got irritated, he knew how to say what he meant without losin’ himself.

The man standin’ in front of me right now looked like somebody I ain’t know.

I took a step back and watched him reach for his phone on the dresser.

“What you doin’?” I asked, but he ain’t answer.

He tapped around on the screen before pullin’ up his voicemail, and when he pressed play, my whole body went cold.

At first, all I heard was muffled sounds and movement. Then my own voice came through the speaker, and my stomach dropped before I even realized what I was hearin’.

Then Renza’s voice came through…

Every word that came out the phone felt like another knife sinkin’ into both of us. My mouth fell open, but nothin’ came out.

I had no idea how the fuck that voicemail got recorded. Maybe I called Couture by mistake. Maybe my phone got pressed against somethin’ and dialed him without me knowin’. None of that mattered now ‘cause every sound from that hotel room was playin’ right in front of both of us.

I looked at Couture, and the hurt on his face made me feel sick. I literally wanted to throw the fuck up.

“Couture… hold up,” I whispered.

“Hold up?” he repeated, laughin’, but it wasn’t the type of laugh that came from a nigga who thought somethin’ was funny. “Nah… don’t fuckin’ tell me to hold up now.”

He held the phone up between us and shook it. “So this what the fuck you was doin’ last night, bitch?”

I couldn’t do nothin’ but stare ‘cause this nigga had really just called me out my name. Yeah, I was wrong but that ain’t stop the shit from hurtin’ like a muthafucka.

“This why you had me come back to the fuckin’ hotel?” he demanded. “This why you told me you forgot somethin’ when we first got here? You ain’t forget a muthafuckin’ thing, huh?”

“Couture…”

“You had me sittin’ in this room all night like a fuckin’ goofy while you was fuckin’ another nigga like a hoe.”

“It ain’t?—”

“It ain’t what?” he snapped. “Tell me what the fuck I just listened to then.”

I couldn’t even answer… but his eyes never left mine.

“You had me out here meetin’ yo’ people, smilin’ in everybody fuckin’ face, and you been doin’ this shit to me.”

My chest felt tight ‘cause I knew this was it. It was over… me and Couture was over.

Before I could move, his fist hit me right in the middle of my face, and the force of it sent me back against the dresser. My legs almost gave out, but he grabbed me before I could fall. Both his hands closed around my neck, and he shoved me harder against the wall while his face twisted with anger and pain.

“You know how much I love you, hoe?” he asked, his voice breakin’ while his fingers tightened around my throat. “You know how much trust a nigga put in yo’ sorry ass just for you to bring me out here and fuck another nigga?”

I tried to say his name, but nothin’ came out. My hands went to his wrists, and I pulled as hard as I could, but his grip kept gettin’ tighter.

“C… Cou…” I tried to get it out, but I couldn’t.

“I’on play about this shit,” he told me while I struggled against his grip. “I gave you everything, and this how the fuck you do me? This how you embarrass me? This how you repay everything I put into you?”

The room started goin’ dark around the edges. I could still hear him, but his voice sounded further away with every second that passed. My arms got weak, my body started slidin’ down the wall, and the last thing I saw was the look in Couture’s eyes before everything disappeared.

When I opened my eyes again, I shot up so fast that the whole room spun around me.