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"Here's your key, enjoy your stay." She smiled tiredly at the guest couples.

She watched them walk away, and a tiny smile formed on her lips as she remembered Cals was like that with her a few years back.

They had met when she went to visit her parents in Atlanta. She remembered how Focused Cals was on getting her.

How time has flown; maybe if she could do a time skip, then she wouldn't remember that Cals left early in the morning, and she had to prepare breakfast for Paris and herself, leaving Paris at her school and then driving to work half asleep.

He didn't even wake her up, and the fact that he probably won't be home for dinner, but late in the night.
'Night shifts,' he says; why would he work Morning and night? She has yet to get a sensible reason without going into an agurement.

She took deep breaths and wiped her sweaty hands on a hand towel she kept nearby. She glanced up and offered a smile, getting ready to enter new information on the computer.

"Good afternoon, welcome to—"

The hotel door slammed loudly interrupting her.

"Yuh cah just barge in here so!" The security shouted.

A light-skinned female with the image of a gangster with long locs and tattoos, dressed in a white Tank top and blue Jaggers, storms in, does a pivot, and shoves him the middle finger.

"Do yuh fucking job, next time." She said. Her US accent is thick as a slab of ham.

"I am so sorry, but you have to leave; we don't invite violence in here," Another security walked up and said. He made an attempt to touch her arm but Amari exits behind the counter and step forward.

She did a stop sign with her hand.

"I am so sorry, my apologies. Could you go to the next receptionist, please?"
She cringed, and without waiting for an answer, she took hold of the female hand and slightly shoved her across the room.

"Sorry, I'll take it from here."

Pulling the stretched skirt down, she sighed.

"Zendi what are you doing? Are you going to make me lose my job?"

"Job? fuck that, you up in here stressing yourself, they ain't even paying you good money, and that lousy fat killer bean- I might just pull up to him and punch him two," Zendi huffed, puff and caught the locks in a back ponytail.

"Violence, Zendi, you are going to make me lose my job," Amari face palms herself before glancing around.

"It's not like you need to work, for at least a year. You here wasting time."

"We are not having this conversation again, Zenora."

Zenora is a dancer, a leader who keeps dance classes for RNB, who has been on Amari's case ever since she became a receptionist, for about a year now.
Cals himself didn't want her to work, and that seemed to have given her the willpower to do so.

"If that's all you came over here to do, Zendi, just be gone already, please; my head hurts, okay?"

"No, no, the thing is, hum. It's—"

Zendi stuttering? That's news to Amari's ears.

She leaned her head to the side, waiting.

"Am sorry about your head," Zendi said, squeezing her fingers together.

"Zendi what is it? What's wrong? Do you need more money? I told you countless times to refrain from taking the Coke, it's not good for you."

"It ain't that. You know I'm clean, don't trust me no more? I stopped doin' that shit a long time ago."

"What do you need the money for then?" Amari asked folding her arms together.

She tries to believe in her, hoping Zendi will stay true to her words. Zendi's family had money, but due to her being a drug addict, her mother now watches over her bank account. She got back from rehab six months ago, but she would ask for money now and then; no one knew what for until Amari realized that she was using alcohol as a getaway from past traumas. She got scared that every time Zendi asked for money, she would use it for cocaine.

"I don't need money, it's not money."

"Zendi."

"Brie."

"Brie? What happened to Brie?"

"She ain't answerin' her phone, and, well, she—hum—ain't home. Nobody, nobody—she—nobody knows where she has been since Saturday. I know it might be nothin', but I just—"

Like a hz that tunes out, Amari's ears went dull.

"What? What do you mean? Where's Brie? You are not okay, hold on, Brie is okay, weh fi do har? Nothing nuh do di girl."

Amari raced across the room, went into the 'Employees Only' to collect her bag, and did a quick rush back to the front entrance.

Zandi was outside pacing when Amari caught up to her.

"Her phone isn't ringing," Amari tried for the umpteenth time. "Today is Monday, for Christ's sake; why didn't you say something?"

She struggled with her handbag and the phone, struggling to remove the key.

"I— I —what the fuck was I supposed to say? She has been avoiding me, and you know that."

"You have yet to tell me why she's avoiding you, but I didn't do anything," Amari hissed her teeth and finally removed her car keys.

Dimmit, she might as well lose her job.

"It was your family time, you knew we ain't gon' say nothin'."

"I pray that mother fucker didn't do her anything," Zendi adds.

"What do you mean do her anything? He ain't? He did not put his hands on my friend!"

They got in the car, and Amari threw her handbag to Zendi before starting the engine and speeding off down the road.

They've been like the three musketeers; they are a family without the same DNA.
They had known each other since high school; from Jamaica to the States, they lived together In the States, and they never let distance grow them apart. Some things might remain in the dark, but one thing is for certain they got each other's back.

Brie, shortened for Brianna, was in an on-and-off relationship with a fellow Jamaican Scama. She had been physically abused by him a few times, which only Zendi and Cals knew about.

"So that burn, the burn, Oh God, Jesus Christ. That burn she had on her arm, am such a fool for believing her! How did I believe the iron burned her there?! Am such a fool!" Amari shouted, hitting the steering wheel in frustration.

"It's not your fault."

"You kept this from me, how could you?!" She shoots arrows from her eyes at Zendi, who continues, to crack her knuckles together. She pulls and thugs at an elastic on her wrist.

"She—she, we were handling it."

"You were handling it, wow, And how's that working for you?"

"Cals was the one who gave her the treatment, am surprised he didn't mention anything to you."

"Cals? Who? Who am I even living with?"

They turned into a street, and Amari left the engine running, grabbed her phone, and jumped out.

"Brie?!" She called, pulling a gate and walking up to a door.

"Brie?! Open up!"

Zendi stepped past her and shoved hard on the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Open up the door, Brie."

"She's in there; I just heard her crying; why is—?" But before Amari could finish asking; Zendi kicked the door open.

And there she was, bloody and folded up in a corner. A knife lay next to her, and her hands were covered in red. Her knees drew up to her chest, and her hands shook.

Amari stood rooted, but Zendi rushed towards her.

"Holy fuck. Is this blood?" Zendi asked, in bafflement.

"Amari! Blood! Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit shit," Zendi stares around her as she hugs Brie trembling body close.

"What did you do?" A whisper came from Amari's mouth.

_____________________________________

Thoughts?- I have plots, don't get bored just yet.

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