Getting up from the bed, I looked down at my phone, noticing I had a miss call from my best bitch Jessica. I called her back, putting her on speaker as I did my makeup.

"You was sucking dick?" She answered the phone.

"Nah, but you fasho smoking dick." I laughed.

"No, bitch, but anyways," she dragged the word, causing me to shake my head. "You heard from August?"

"No. It's been a good week now. I drove by his house and he had some hoe knocking on his door with her child."

"And I oop. Bitch lemme find out he got three kids."

"Three? Bitch, yo baby ain't even real."

"So what. I had that bitch Sarah shook." She replied.

"Don't even bring her up. She's all he talks about. Sarah this, Sarah that, like damn he still talking about that dead bitch. Do I need to die in order to get that nigga to act right."

"Shit, probably. Anyways, I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out. I was going to the club later on."

"Peter won't get mad?" I queried.

Lord know I didn't want that nigga on my head. He might be nice to others, but if you work for him, you see a whole different side of him. He's almost like the damn devil.

"That man don't run me. I work for that man and that's it."

"You're also giving him white women's coochie on the low." I retorted.

"You're right and he's giving me big black dick on the high, while his bitch watching." She gloated like that's something to be proud of.

"You're a hoe." I shook my head at her disgusting ass.

"Birds of a feather, flock together. Remember how we met, bitch. You was eating my pussy while Peter fucked you."

"I'm a changed hoe." I laughed.

"Yeah bitch. I might need to come through to you and have you tongue fuck again. Peter all up Stacey's ass again and ain't hit my line in four months."

"Hate you, bitch." We laughed. Once I was done with my makeup, I laid back in my chair. "I'll go out tonight, but bitch you better be ready on time."

"I will. 12:30."

"That means we'll only have a hour and a half to act up."

"So what. 12:30, okay?"

"I guess." I agreed. We talked for a few more minutes before saying our goodbyes.

As I was about to exit my room, my phone began to ring. I back tracked to my phone looking down at the name that popped up.

August 💦

I smirked. Picking up my phone, I cleared my throat to put on a fake voice. Answering the phone, I put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing, just got done talking to one of my clients. How you been? It's been at least a month since we've talked."

"Yeah, ma bad. I wasn't tryna purposely ignore you or some shit. I just had some shit ta deal with." He answered making me roll my eyes.

This nigga ain't dealing with shit. Everybody lost someone before. He crying over a bitch for no reason.

"It's fine. I've been busy at the office. One of my clients relapsed some days ago and I've been on a mission to get her back together." I lied.

"Damn," he sighed. "You tryna let a nigga pull up on you?"

I hummed, walking around. "And do what exactly?"

"I'm tryna chill. I need some company. My yungin at his grandma's house with his cousins. I'm lonely as shit right now."

I giggled. "Then yeah. I'll be here."

"Good. Lemme throw on some clothes and I'a be there. Gimme bout 15 minutes."

I licked my lips already knowing what's about to go down. "I'll be waiting."

He chuckled before hanging up. I quickly called Jess to let her know it's been a change in plans.

"What?" She answered.

"Change of plans, August coming over and you know I can't turn down that dick, bitch." I said happily.

"Trust bitch I know. I had his dick before and it's so obsessive."

"Right, but I just wanted to let you know, I gotta get ready for my man."

"You know what you should do? Record it and send it to me."

"Record us fucking?" I thought for a minute before smirking. "Hmm, we'll see. Bye girl."

I hung up before brushing through my unkept hair. I wanted to look pleasant for my man and also pleasant for this damn video. I set up candles all around the living room. I was putting on an image to August that I was this southern belle who was just oh so sweet and innocent. Truth be told, I'm a real dirty bitch.

I'm not who August thinks I am. This therapist ass bitch isn't who I am. I'm not a therapist, I'm not some innocent bitch who loves long walk on the beach and cats and dogs. I'm one of the show girls who strips and fucks Peter and fucks for Peter. The technical term world be in a prostitute for his organization. Only thing is, I'm not on the street.

I'm here because I have a job to do for Peter. I get paid top dollar to throw some ass on Peter and also keep this nigga August mind off that weak bitch Sarah. The more he fucks with me, the more his mind is off Sarah. Don't need August finding out anything about her death.

In mid thought, the doorbell rang. I got on my feet and made my way over to the door. I smiled, opening the door.

"Hi, August."

"What's up, baybeh," he gave me a head nod before I pull him in for a hug. I took in his cologne before pulling away. "Gone let a nigga in?"

"Boy, hush." I stepped to the side to let him in.

I watched as he took a seat on the couch. I smirked closing and locking the door behind me. I slowly walked up to him, sitting down next to him.

"How's your day going?" I asked.

"Aight so far. Whatchu tryna do?" He said licking his lips.

I smirked, sitting down on his lap. "You, but first I want to talk."

"Bout what?" He asked.

"Where we stand and I rode past your house a couple days ago to get to work and I noticed a woman standing on your porch, who was she?" I questioned.

He stroked his chin hairs before smirking. "Why does it matter who she is?"

"It matters because if I'm trying to build a relationship with you, I don't want nothing to get in my way."

"Man, I told you this befo', I'm chillin right na. I ain't lookin fa a relationship within anyone. So who she is, you ain' gotta worry bout." He shrugged, immediately pissing me off.

"So nothing's changed? August, this is so frustrating. I'm giving my all to you, catering to you and becoming vulnerable for you and yet you just wanna chill?"

"I just lost ma fiancée and you sittin hea cryin bout some fuckin relationship. We both agreed on just fuckin with each other, so what's the problem?"

"You lost her going on 6 years ago! Move on! I'm tired of you leading me on thinking we're going to be something when we're not. Then you're playing house with another woman. That's disrespectful to me, August and you know that."

"You lost yo brother over a decade ago right? And you still mourn his death. I lost ma fuckin soon to be wife and damn right I ain' gone move on yet. I'm not fuckin ready to. I never led you on. I told you from jump, a nigga ain't lookin fa a relationship right na and instead of makin complains that day, you got on yo knees and gave a nigga brain. You led yaself on, na you sittin thea lookin goofy." He shook his head, grabbin his keys. "You just fuckin blew me. I'a catch you lata."

"My brother and your bitch are two different people. My brother died from suicide and your bitch died from being a hoe! You can't keep playing with my fucking feelings. The way you fuck me and talked to me, led me on!"

"Bitch get the fuck on!" He yelled, making me flinch. "I ain't play with ya pussy ass feelins! I fucked you the way I fucked other broads, you got ya feelins hurt by misinterpretin what I was doin. You ain't no special person fa me ta fuck you like you ma wife. Fuck wrong witchu?"

"Fuck you August!" I yelled.

He bit his lip, slowly walking toward me. I stood my ground, looking up at him as he looked down. Not going to lie, the hatred in his eyes made me feel nauseous.

"Let me tell you something." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Call ma wife anotha bitch in my presence and I'a shoot ya ass in the middle of ya eyes and make it look like suicide. I'a make yo mama bury you right next ta yo dead brutha. Try me."

"Did you just threaten me?" I asked, shocked at what he just said to me.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'a neva threaten a lady, love. That was a promise. Holla at me when you straighten ya head up." He mushed my head with his index and middle finger.

He clenched his jaw then turned his back on me, walking out of my home. I made sure he was gone completely before pulling out my phone to hit stop on my voice recorder.

I smirk, sending the audio to Ms. Angel.

'I think the public will have a field day with woman beater August Alsina.'

I pressed sent and made my way upstairs. Making my way inside my room, I sat down at my vanity mirror and pulling my hair in a ponytail. I ran my finger over my face and smirked.

Hearing a ding from my phone, I picked it up staring at the message.

'Round two...? Go."

"Then she gone say some fuckin 'your bitch died from bein a hoe', ChaCha I'm tellin you na, ima set that bitch on fire."

"She's crazy. I'a beat ha ass just fa talkin about Sarah like that. She don't even know ha, what's ha problem?" She replied.

I shrugged, runnin ma hand down my face. "I don't know, she keep talkin crazy and ima have Christian lil mean ass kick ha in ha rusty ass knees."

ChaCha laughed, pushin me a lil. "You hell!"

"Nah I'm not." I chuckled.

"Anyways," She said as ha laughter died down. "I forgot to tell you someone from Houston keeps callin me askin fa you."

"Houston?"

"Yes and when I ask who they are, they hang up and they have been doing that fa a least two months now. I can't recognize the person's voice. They don't sound familiar at all."

"What's the number?" I asked.

"It's umm, hold on," she skimmed through ha recent calls. "Okay, got it. It's 713-475-9644."

"That number don't even sound familiar ta me. Ima call them."

"Do it now. I wanna know who it is."

I nodded, dialing that number in ma phone. I waited fa them ta answer and after the third ring, someone finally answered.

"Hello, this is Rose Hamilton speaking, who am I speaking to?"

"This August Alsina. Somebody kept callin my sister askin fa me, so I wanted ta call y'all personally."

I heard shuffling over the phone, makin me anxious about who the hell these people were.

"Hold on just a minute."

I shook ma head. "What the fuck?"

"What?" ChaCha asked.

"They put me on fuckin hold."

"Who is it?"

I shrugged. "Ha name is Rose something, but I still don't know who the fuck that is."

"Hello this is Rose's husband Malcolm Hamilton, this is August Alsina, correct?"

"Yeah, who y'all?"

He cleared his throat, whispering to his background. "I remember seeing on the news that your fiancée had passed away to a drug overdose and the news lied. There was a man by the name of Peter Jones who was in cahoots with the Houston Police Department. They fabricated a story on who truly happened to Sarah Marshall. She didn't die from an overdose. She was shot three times trying to escape the house she was trapped in."

It was ma turn ta clear my throat as I got the news. The drug shit was painful enough, but to hear she died trying to leave from the weird ass nigga, was slowly breakin me. They shot ma baybeh not once but three times.

"Um," My voice cracked as I bit inside my cheek ta keep from cryin. "Who are y'all? You and Rose? Y'all know that nigga?"

"No I don't, but I heard the gunshots and saw Sarah lying face down on the pavement. My wife and I went outside to check on her and saw three bullet wounds. One in her side, stomach, and arm."

"Why y'all callin me? Why tell me this shit after years of ha passin?"

"We couldn't find your contact information. We're not too into social media, but we did try to make one to reach out to you."

"Fuck man!" Throwing the glass bowl that sat perfectly in my table on the floor.

"If you could please come down to Houston." His wife said. "Please."

"Fa what? To see the blood stains on the street from my fiancée?" I yelled.

"Because–"

I cut them off, yellin into the phone. "Because fuckin what?!"

"We think Sarah is still alive!" Malcolm yelled back.

Sorry for the long pause, I think I told you guys I tore a ligament in my wrist months ago and I'm just now starting physical therapy. I'm trying to balance work, therapy, and also my church life, but whew child, I'm struggling. But thanks for the love on this story and on Book 1.