Smooth Operator by Risqué Page B

your goddamn spot, Mr. Compton. It’s mine!”
    “I’ma ask you one more mother … fuckin’ … time,” Lyfe said, backing Payton into the corner of the room, gripping her by the collar, and lifting her off her feet, “to lower your motherfuckin’ voice. Because I ain’t afraid to catch a case; and I will toss yo’ ass out this fuckin’ window before I let you come up in here embarrassing me! I ain’t that niggah! Motherfuckers have dropped for less than this. Now you tryna be murked?” His eyebrows arched into the shape of Vs. “You wanna be raked down the motherfuckin’ street? Sprayed? You got a death wish, is that it? ’Cause if you think,” he spat with his eyes squinted and his lips unshakably stiff, “that I won’t land your ass out there on that concrete, then say one … more … mother … fuckin’ thing.”
    Payton moved her lips and before anything could come out of her mouth, Lyfe whipped her around toward the window so hardand fast that the thick glass vibrated and waves of fear caused tears to fall from Payton’s eyes.
    Lyfe pressed the side of her face into the glass and her eyes frightfully scanned the street below, where the people resembled action figures and the cars looked to be toys.
    “You see that shit,” Lyfe forced Payton’s head to nod, “you see it? You want me to splatter your ass all over it?”
    In the midst of Lyfe’s grip Payton struggled to shake her head no.
    “Then don’t you ever in your life come up in here, or anywhere else, speaking to me like you snortin’ insanity. ’Cause I will whup your fuckin’ ass to a pulp. This is the last time I’ma tell you—that fuckin’ wit’ me ain’t an option. And I’m not your fuckin’ man, I’m your
goddamn husband
and you will fall your ass back, do you understand? And you better not say a word more than yes.”
    “Yes,” Payton tearfully whispered.
    “Now what you gon’ do is get your sick ass back on the plane, go back to L.A., and stay the fuck out my face!” He roughly walked her to the door and as he opened it people scattered and scrambled to their seats, some of them falling and tripping over one another.
    “Jesus!” Mare-Hellen yelled. “Y’all ’bout to stomp all over me! I’m tryna get out the way too!”
    “Would you shut up,” Khris said, “I wanna see if he gon’ Big Red her ass out the goddamn window!”
    Lyfe strolled over to Arri, his body radiating cool, calm, and collected. He looked her directly in the eyes and his smooth baritone voice said, “Arri, reschedule the meeting for Monday morning.” He turned toward Payton and shot her a chilling ice grill. Afterward, he walked into his office and slammed the door behind him, leaving his wife center stage.
    Payton pulled her shoulders back, draped her blue sable perfectly onto her shoulders, and checked her makeup in her compactmirror. Seeing that it revealed very little evidence of her almost being thrown out of a window, she tucked her clutch beneath her right arm and stood steady in her stilettos. Now she could address the motherfuckers that she felt staring and smirking at her; after all, she was still the top bitch. “I will fire every motherfuckin’ body up in here,” she held her left arm in the air, pointing her index finger toward the ceiling and looking wildly from her right to her left, “if you don’t stop minding my goddamn business! You don’t get paid to stand the fuck around!” She snapped her fingers as she headed toward the glass doors, which were etched with the company’s name. “Get back to work!” she threw behind her as she entered the hall and stepped onto the elevator, disappearing behind the closing doors.

New York
    P ayton stepped over the cracks in the concrete and sauntered toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood waiting for her with the door open. The heaviness at the bottom of her stomach let her know she’d entered the Wild Wild West, where anything fuckin’