Chapter Eleven
1306 Words
Chapter Eleven
Adalia walked backward until she hit the counter, then leaned against it and breathed through her nose. Sunlight had only just begun to shine through the front windows, and the warm scent of baked bread filtered through to her soul; a form of comfort at its finest that took her back to times past.
But none of it made any difference to Trent and DeShawn.
Her drunk ex-boyfriend – could she really call him that when she’d been on date with him recently? – clambered out of the chair, knocked it over, then shoved it back with the heel of his sneaker.
“He giving you trouble?” Trent asked, gesturing lazily. He had on a stylish suit, but without a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His hair was styled to perfection, and his muscles strained against the tailored jacket.
DeShawn was the opposite.
“No, everything is under control, thanks,” she said, dusting her hands off. There was too much tension in this room, and she wanted out. More importantly, she wanted DeShawn out before there was a problem.
“You think you better than me or somethin’?” DeShawn cracked his knuckles. His white wife-beater was stained with sweat under the arms.
“Adalia says you’re leaving,” Trent answered, then unbuttoned his jacket and stripped it off. He tossed it onto the counter and it slid off the other side of the glass surface. “So leave.”
DeShawn raised his chin. “You leave.”
“This is my shop, I’m not going anywhere.” Trent interlocked his fingers and stretched them outward, as if limbering up for a fight.
“I’m so tired of telling you two not to fight. I don’t have time for this insanity.” Adalia snatched up Trent’s jacket and tossed it at his chest, but it hit and flopped to the floor in a heap.
Trent stepped over it, oblivious to her anger. Maybe he didn’t care how she felt anymore.
“I’ll call the cops if you don’t get out of here.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a smartphone, then tapped on the screen. He still seemed at his leisure, like he was calm as could be.
“You ain’t gonna scare me off this time,” Deshawn said, shambling forward on unsteady feet. The temperature in the front end of the bakery was moderate, not hot enough to bake cookies or anything, and it wasn’t as if there was a heater on, but sweat poured down DeShawn’s arms, his biceps were pulled taut. He lifted his fist and examined it, smiling. His front tooth was chipped – that was new – and he reminded Adalia of a chipmunk for a second. Funny enough as it was, she didn’t find the comparison amusing.
“That’s enough, both of you.” Adalia strode between them and put her palms up to separate the men. “I don’t care what you do outside of the bakery, but we’re going to have customers streaming in soon.”
Trent and DeShawn moved as one, Trent left and her ex-boyfriend right. They stayed in sync and inched toward each other, acting as if she didn’t exist. This whole issue was because of her, but they pretended her opinion didn’t matter when it came to their little ‘man feud’.
“This won’t end well for you. I don’t even have to call the cops to get rid of you. Do you know that?” Trent’s smile was forced, his teeth were clenched.
“Bring it on.” DeShawn pounded his left palm with his fist.
The men collided with each other, chests touching, nose-to-nose. DeShawn’s sneakers squeaked on the tiles, shifting under the pressure they exerted on each other.
The golden bell above the door tinkled, and a young woman with two children strolled in, one about ten and the other, who had to be four, clutched a Hello Kitty doll to her chest. The mother held their hands and tossed her braids over her shoulder, yellow, green and red beads clattering at the ends. She walked a few steps, then stopped dead in her tracks and glared at DeShawn and Trent.
“Uh,” she murmured. She hesitated for a moment and the little girl’s eyes widened. The mother tugged her kids toward the exit.
“Wait, please, take a seat,” Adalia said, but the woman didn’t pause. She gave the men a backward glance then disappeared through the door, which clanged closed behind her.
That was it.
“Hey!” Adalia yelled. The two guys hadn’t popped apart at the sight of a customer. Instead, they circled slowly, bumping chests every now and again and muttering curses at each other. “Hey, we just lost a customer because of this damn shit.” Adalia slapped the nearest table and it wobbled.
“Get the f**k out of my shop,” Trent growled, rolling up his sleeves.
“I ain’t leavin’ ‘til Adalia leaves wit’ me.” DeShawn shoved Trent in the chest and the billionaire stumbled back a pace. DeShawn took the momentary weakness as his drunken chance.
He rushed at Trent, trailing whiskey fumes, and tackled him around the middle. Trent exhaled an ‘oof’ and flew backward. He hit the front window of the shop and it shattered.
The men fell over the rim and into the street.
Adalia slapped her hands to her ears. She was frozen in utter shock. A gaping hole had replaced the window where their frosted cupcake sign had been painted. She swallowed back a wave of tears, but the fury that went with them stayed. In fact, it got worse.
She charged out of the front door, crunching glass beneath her pumps. The men rolled in the street, and Trent was on top of DeShawn. A cut trickled blood down his forehead, and it dropped onto her ex-boyfriend’s bare shoulder, mingling with the rancid sweat.
“Get off him,” Adalia shrieked. And she wasn’t sure who she meant.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Trent grunted, then pulled his fist back to knock DeShawn on the jaw.
“Stop it,” Adalia yelled and he glanced up at her. There was so much anger in his eyes, but it faded quickly. He shook his head as if waking from a deep sleep, or a nightmare for that matter.
“Adalia, I’m so –”
Crack!
Trent’s head snapped back and he keeled over, fumbling at his jaw. DeShawn’s fist was in the air – he’d punched up when the billionaire hadn’t been looking. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding, but his expression was pure delight.
“What have you done!?” She gasped and hurried to Trent’s side. She knelt next to him, ignoring the gathering of folk on the pavement, and the glass stabbing at her knees. “Talk to me, Trent. Are you okay?”
His eyes rolled, but they stayed open and dazed. DeShawn scuffled to his feet, glanced left and right. Police sirens rang out in the distance. He turned and took off down the street, then disappeared around the corner.
“Stay with me, Trent. Everything will be fine.” It was a knock to the jaw. He couldn’t have a concussion, surely. “Trent?”
“Get away from me,” he murmured, clarity reappearing in his gaze.
“It’s me, it’s Adalia.”
“I know. I told you to get away from me. Now.” He placed his palms on the concrete then pushed himself into the sitting position. He stared directly ahead, at a spot on the wall of a brick building opposite, at the candy-striped barber’s pole attached to it.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he would come here.” Adalia grimaced at herself. He’d picked a fight with her ex so why was she sorry? Why was she the one who always had to compromise?
“Is nothing sacred?” he asked quietly then brushed his fingertips over his jaw, probing the injury.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s in your home, he’s at your dad’s place, he comes to our bakery. Nothing is sacred from that guy, and it’s because you allow it.” Trent knuckled his forehead.
“I didn’t invite him into my life,” she answered, then rose to look down on the top of his head.
He continued staring into space, not meeting her gaze. Apparently, there was nothing more to say.
- Writer
