Queen Bitch: Part 4 (Bitch Series) (3 page)

"Yes, Sir, I'm the manager. How may I help you?" a
short cropped, dark haired gentleman asked in a funny
English accent.

"I got a call from one of your salespeople about an item
my wife was supposed to pick up from here earlier today."

Then a snotty, painfully thin bottled blond white chick whispered something in the manager's ear. He simply
nodded his head while Supreme leaned on the glass counter
as if he was about to smash his elbow through it.

"Yes, Mrs. Mills was supposed to be picking up some
items we had costumed made for her. Are you here to
pay the remaining balance?"

"Listen, ain't nobody tripping off your little remaining
balance. I want to know what time my wife was supposed
to pick up the jewelry, who spoke to her last, and what did
she say."

"No need to get upset, sir. We appreciate your business
and would be more than happy to assist you with your
questions, but we do need to be paid for the items your
wife ordered. These are specialty items and cannot be
resold, that is why we were concerned about receiving
the remaining balance."

"Yo, would you please stop beating me in the head
about that fucking remaining balance? I heard you the
first fucking time when you clowns called my crib! What,
because I'ma nigga you think me and my wife can't afford
to pay for the shit?"

The manager's face turned beet red.

"Supreme, calm down," I said putting my hand on
his shoulder.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" Supreme jerked
his shoulder, blowing my hand away. A few other
customers in the store and the security guard up front
were all focusing their attention in our direction.

"That man looks awfully familiar. Is he some sort of actor or
something?" I overheard one middle aged white woman say to
her male counterpart as they browsed the accessories section.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down," the manager
pleaded.

"Or what, you're going to call the police? Go `head,
then you'll neva get that remaining balance."

"Then we would have to take legal action."

"Sue me, you bootleg Mr. Belvedere, `cause I have
big lawyers. So you can either answer my questions and
get your fucking remaining balance, or you can keep
annoying me with that damn fake ass English accent and
get nothing!"

The manager let out a deep sigh. "Carol, who spoke to
Mrs. Mills today?"

"I did," the painfully thin sales clerk answered.

Supreme then put his glare on her. "When?" he asked.

Carol turned her head to her manager as if waiting for
his approval before she answered. He nodded his head
indicating it was okay to speak and she continued. "I
spoke to Mrs. Mills yesterday evening before we closed,
and then this morning around ten o'clock. She said she
was on her way and would be here shortly. That is why
I decided to call her home because I had been waiting
and she never showed up," Carol said, in that same funny
English accent as her boss.

"So what took you so long to call the crib if you spoke
to her around ten? It's about to be six o'clock," Supreme
said, agitated.

"Sir, I had been calling her cell phone and left several
messages, as that was the primary number she gave. I then
realized she also left a secondary number and that is when I
called."

"Damn, you shoulda seen that shit sooner. All this time has passed and I don't know what could've happened to
her. Maybe some foul shit." Supreme said with distress in
his voice.

"Mr. Mills, how were we supposed to know that
something unfortunate could've happened to your
wife?" the manager interjected before Carol could say
another word.

"I understand that, but it still doesn't change the fact that
I haven't heard from my wife since she left this morning to
come to your store." Supreme put his head down staring as
if transfixed on something he could see through the glass
cases. Everyone remained frozen, not knowing what to do
or say next.

"Sir, would you like to see your wife's purchases?" Carol
finally asked, trying to melt the ice and, I'm sure to collect
their dough. I was worried Supreme was going to choke
hold the broad for once again mentioning the items, but
surprisingly Supreme seemed serene about seeing them.
The woman walked behind a closed door and came out
with two long red velvet boxes. She placed them on top
of the countertop before opening each one up.

I stepped forward wanting to get an up close inspection
of the jewels. "Precious, always had spectacular taste," I
mumbled under my breath, taking in the jewelry.

"It's his and hers cuff link white diamond bracelets. The
emblematic Cartier link is borrowed from the Maison's
cult animal, the panther collection. As you can see the
diamond paving pieces are sensually wrapped around
and the fluid lines sparkle with the light of a thousand
flames," Carol gave her spill extra eloquently as her boss
smiled in approval. I couldn't be mad at the bitch for keeping to her sales pitch even though it was evident her
would be customer was more than pissed the fuck off.

"Your wife also had the inside engraved. Here, take a
look." Carol slid the bracelet closer to Supreme so he could
inspect it. "It says `Love 4 Life ...Always'. That's beautiful."

I was ready to spit on Carol's toothpick ass by this
particular point. She was spreading the romantic bullshit on
a little too thick. All I needed was for some motherfuckers
to step out playing their violins.

"Here, just bag it up for me," Supreme said, placing his
American Express Centurion-also known as the Black
Card-on the glass top. My mouth began salivating at the
thought of Supreme using that very credit card on me as
I devoured Rodeo Drive, shutting the stores down.

Carol and her manager's face lit up as she swiped
Supreme's card through the machine, collecting his coins.
"Here's your receipt, sir, and it was a pleasure doing
business with you and your wife," Carol said.

"And Mr. Mills, I'm sure Mrs. Mills is fine," the manager
added with an optimistic smile. Supreme simply grabbed
the bag and receipt and said nothing.

I walked slowly behind Supreme trying to get a read on
his body language. I couldn't tell if he was angry, worried,
or suspect of me. Until I was sure I decided to remain mute.
When we got outside the driver stepped out the Maybach
and opened the door for Supreme and I to get in, but
suddenly Supreme halted his stride. Without saying a word
he handed the Cartier bag to his driver and sprinted off. I
tried to stay within proximity to see what the fuck was going
on without appearing to damn nosey.

"Oh fuck!" I said under my breath once I got a view of what had Supreme dashing off.

"Get this fucking car off the back of your tow truck!" Supreme
screamed, banging on the driver side window.

The man was at a stop light about to pull off before
Supreme rolled up on him, and I wished he had. "Man,
what the hell is wrong with you?" the young black man said,
rolling down his window. "How you going to bang on my
window in the middle of the street?"

"Pull this truck over!" Supreme demanded, not caring that the
light had now turned green and he was holding up traffic.

"Man, I'm on the job. I ain't pulling shit over."

"This my motherfucking car you got latched on the back
of your shit and I want to know where the fuck you got it
from." Now horns were blowing and people were sticking
their heads out of their cars telling them to move, but
Supreme didn't budge.

"Supreme, what's going on? You're holding up traffic," I
said, trying to sound like the voice of reason.

"I don't give a fuck!" he said, grabbing the tow truck driver's
collar and pulling him so close that their noses were an inch
away from touching. "Pull this fucking truck over, now."

Right when I believed Supreme was about to start laying
blows we heard police sirens pulling up. Supreme pushed
the man back, getting his composure together, but the dude
began getting all extra for the cops.

As one cop began directing the traffic the other officer
began interrogating Supreme and the driver. "Both of you
put your hands up!" he ordered, wanting to make sure
neither was armed. "What is going on here? The two of you
are holding up traffic."

"Officer, this man came up to me out of nowhere banging on my window and demanding me to pull over acting crazy.
Then this idiot tells me this is his car, like he can afford a
half a million dollar custom made Lamborghini," he said, in
a cynical voice, turning towards Supreme. He then turned
back towards the officer and did a quick glance back at
Supreme. "Oh shit!" The man paused as if getting a good
look at the person who was ready to put an ass whooping
on him a minute ago. "Oh shit!" he repeated. "You Supreme!
What the fuck, music mogul Supreme just tried to jack me
up! My fault, man. I didn't realize it was you," he said, with
a big ass Kool-Aid smile.

Supreme stood shaking his head in frustration.

"I don't care who he is, you can't hold up traffic.

Now pull this truck over to the side so we can clear this
matter up," the officer directed.

"Listen, officer. I just left the Cartier store because my
wife was supposed to come by earlier and pick up some
jewelry, but she never got there. When I was leaving the
store I noticed the car she had been driving when she
left this morning on the back of the tow truck. I wanted
to know where he got the car from in hopes that it could
give me a clue as to where my wife might be."

"Hold on a minute. What is your name?" the officer asked,
taking out his notepad.

"Xavier Mills."

"So you believe your wife is missing?"

"I don't know, but something ain't right."

"And who are you?" the officer asked, turning his question
on me.

"Maya. I'm a friend of his wife, Precious."

"And I assume a friend of her husband too?"

"Yes, we're both concerned about her whereabouts."

The officer nodded his head and jotted something
down on his notepad.

"Listen, can we please go speak to the driver? I need to
know where he picked up my car from."

"You stay here. I'll go speak with the tow truck driver, and
when I'm done I'll then speak to both of you. Excuse me."

"Yo, these cops get on my fucking nerves. They wanna be
so by the fucking book when it's convenient for them."

"Supreme, I know it's hard but try to relax."

"I can't fucking relax until I find out what happened to
my wife!"

"We will find her. I'm sure she's okay."

"Nah, I gotta bad feeling about this," Supreme said, shaking
his head as he ran his hand over his face. "God help me if
Precious isn't okay, because if she's not, I'm done."

Then done is what Supreme would be, because Precious
wasn't okay and never would be again, thanks to me. But
who could really fault me for my actions. I mean, all is fair
in love and war, and like a true friend, I would be right
there to help Supreme pick up the pieces to his broken
heart. Most would call my tactics ruthless or maybe just a
good girl gone bad.

"It's morning, now wake the fuck up!" Mike yelled in my
face as I struggled to open my eyelids. I had only managed
to fall asleep a couple of hours ago and now this fool was
bringing me back into my misery.

"Damn, I'm finally able to get some sleep and here you
come waking me up."

"I'm doing you a favor."

"How you figure that?"

"You know they say sleep is the cousin of death," Mike
said, bending down to eyelevel so we were facing each
other. "Now I'm sure you need to use the bathroom, so I
brought this for you."

I looked at the large plastic cup and back at Mike.

"What, you expect me to piss in that?"

"This, or you can piss on yourself, It's up to you."

"Did you at least bring me some tissue?"

"But of course," he said, reaching behind him and
placing the tissue next to the red plastic cup. "Now listen
carefully, because if you fuck this up, I'ma have to fuck
you up."

"I'm listening."

"I'm going to unlock one of the handcuffs on your wrist
so you can do your thing."

"Oh, and I just assumed you were going to wipe my
pussy for me after I pissed," I said, sarcastically.

"Cute, but don't get cute when I take off this handcuff,
because it won't be a good look for you."

"I got you."

"Now when you're finished, place the cup to the side
and put this top on there."

"I don't understand why you don't let me use the
bathroom. I mean you can't expect me to shit in this cup
too, now can you?" I asked mockingly.

"Ain't nobody expecting you to shit in this cup. Just do
what I tell you when I tell you. I'm handling this. I know
you used to being in control, but that's your past and we
dealing with the present."