No One Will Help You Beauty
No One Will Help You Beauty
Allan sighed, the sound heavy with years of knowing his friend well enough to recognize when he was lying to himself. "You're still the same," he said, shaking his head with the kind of fond exasperation that came from watching someone you cared about make the same mistakes over and over again.
"Now I have a question for you Jamal, what if you actually fall for her besides she wasn't part of what happened," Allan said, leaning forward in his chair as he pressed the point that he knew his friend didn't want to face.
"I'm sure she doesn't know about anything that happened, so punishing her is really unnecessary," Allan continued, his voice carrying the quiet conviction of someone who believed deeply in fairness and justice, even when it complicated his friend's plans for revenge.
"I don't need that advice," Jamal said, his voice sharp with the kind of defensive anger that came from being told truths he wasn't ready to hear.
"But the way you treat her, the way you talk to her, I don't think you have any intention of hurting her," Allan said, his observant eyes having caught the subtle signs of care and protection that Jamal probably wasn't even aware he was showing.
"That's because she's still of use to me," Jamal said, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears, like a rehearsed line he'd been telling himself to maintain the fiction of his cold detachment.
"I don't think so, I think it's because you can't bear to hurt her," Allan said, his voice gentle but insistent as he tried to break through the walls his friend had built around his heart.
"I see your imagination has started to run wild," Jamal said, reaching for his usual deflection tactics when conversations got too close to emotional territory he wasn't comfortable navigating.
"Well if you don't want her then I do, immediately you leave her I'll go after her, treat her way better than you," Allan said, his voice taking on a challenging tone as he decided to test just how detached his friend really was.
"I feel really bad you met her before me," Allan continued, watching Jamal's face carefully for any reaction that would give away his true feelings about the woman he claimed to see as nothing more than a tool for revenge.
"You're crazy, lusting after your best friend's wife," Jamal said, his voice carrying an edge that hadn't been there before, something sharp and possessive that contradicted everything he'd just said about using her and casting her aside.
"It's not lust you can call it love at first sight," Allan said, pushing the boundary even further as he watched his friend's carefully controlled facade begin to crack around the edges.
"You're crazy," Jamal muttered, but there was something in his voice now, something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy wrapped up in dismissive words.
"Crazily in love besides you don't want her, you shouldn't be bothered or concerned about my feelings for her," Allan said, delivering the final blow to his friend's pretense of indifference with surgical precision.
Jamal glared at him before picking up a pack of cigarettes beside him, his movements sharp and agitated as he used the lighter to light it up, the flame casting harsh shadows across his face as he tried to regain his composure through the familiar ritual of smoking.
"Say something," Allan said, not willing to let the silence stretch and allow his friend to retreat back into his emotional fortress.
"I have nothing to say to you any longer," Jamal said, the words coming out clipped and final, like a door slamming shut on a conversation he couldn't handle having.
\---
Queenie made her way to the reception entrance when she bumped into someone as her mind was occupied with the thoughts running through her head about what she'd just witnessed between Jamal and his friend, and what it might mean for her future in this strange marriage arrangement.
"Hey watch where you're going," the voice snapped, sharp with irritation and something that sounded like barely contained malice.
"I'm sorry," Queenie said, looking up to see the person only to find Catalina standing in front of her, dressed in clothes that were far too revealing for someone her age and with makeup that was applied with a heavy hand.
"Queenie," Catalina called with shock as she chuckled softly, the sound containing no warmth or genuine amusement, just the cruel satisfaction of someone who had stumbled upon an opportunity to cause trouble.
"I knew your eyes had issues, can't believe you can't see any longer," Catalina snapped, her voice dripping with the kind of venom that suggested she was still nursing grudges from their earlier confrontations.
"I already said sorry, if you don't want it I'll take it back," Queenie said and made to walk away but Catalina blocked her path, moving with the predatory grace of someone who had spotted prey and wasn't about to let it escape.
"I must say I'm really surprised to see you in the club not only the club but a private section," Catalina said, her eyes glittering with malicious delight as she took in Queenie's appearance and location with calculating interest.
"I wonder how people will react when they find out that despite being Jamal Deveraux's wife you still go behind his back to whore yourself out," Catalina said, her voice loud enough that several nearby patrons turned to look at them with curious interest.
"I don't understand where your thoughts are running wild but for your information, I'm here with my husband," Queenie said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was beginning to race with a growing sense of danger.
Catalina chuckled, the sound harsh and disbelieving. "Do you think I'll buy those shameless lies of yours, I know what you are," she said, her voice carrying years of accumulated hatred and resentment.
"You're shameless, always pretending to be innocent when you're far from that," Catalina continued, her words designed to hurt and humiliate, to tear down whatever confidence Queenie had managed to build.
Queenie chuckled, finding some strength in turning the accusation back on her tormentor. "Doesn't that make us the same, I mean what are you also doing here," she asked, her voice carrying just enough challenge to make Catalina's eyes narrow with renewed anger.
"Does that concern you, you're a married woman yet you're being so shameless now," Catalina snapped, clearly not liking having her own presence at the club questioned or examined.
"Now that I've seen you you're coming with me or I'll tell the whole world what I saw," Catalina said, her voice taking on the threatening tone of someone who thought they held all the cards in this particular game.
"What's happening here," a voice came from behind, as a middle-aged man walked up to them, his expensive suit and confident demeanor marking him as someone with money and power, though there was something unsavory about the way his eyes immediately focused on the two women.
"Catalina what's the problem," the man asked, his voice carrying the familiarity of someone who knew her well, perhaps too well.
Catalina let out a soft smile, the expression transforming her face into something almost pleasant as she saw how the man's eyes lingered longer on Queenie's body with obvious appreciation and something darker.
"Nothing serious," she said as she noticed his interest, a calculating look crossing her face as she recognized an opportunity to cause even more trouble for her stepsister.
"If you want her you can take her," Catalina said, the words coming out casually as if she was offering him a drink rather than essentially trying to traffic another human being.
"She looks fresh and pretty would do a nice job in my bed," the man said, his voice carrying the crude confidence of someone who was used to getting whatever he wanted, regardless of whether it was freely given.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say but I'll be leaving," Queenie said and made to walk away but Catalina held her, her grip tight and painful around Queenie's wrist.
"You can't just leave like that he wants you, don't play hard to get," Catalina said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the power she thought she wielded in this situation.
"Let me go, I'm not in for your silly games," Queenie said and yanked her hand away from her grip, adrenaline giving her strength as the danger of the situation began to crystallize in her mind.
She made to walk away but a group of guards surrounded her, appearing with the kind of practiced efficiency that suggested this wasn't the first time they'd been called upon to detain unwilling women for their employer's entertainment.
"Take her to my room," the man said, his voice casual as if he was ordering room service rather than essentially commanding a kidnapping.
"No let me go, someone help me," Queenie shouted, her voice cutting through the club's ambient noise as panic began to set in and she realized just how much trouble she was actually in.
"Too bad no one will help you beauty, it doesn't concern anyone what is happening here," Catalina said, her voice filled with the cruel satisfaction of someone who was finally getting revenge for all the perceived slights and humiliations she'd endured.