Chapter 13: Reckoning

Mercedes slammed the door behind her and tossed her purse onto the nearest chair. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. Chris peeked out from the kitchen, a bag of chips in hand, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"What the fuck happened? I was worried sick. Are you okay?" Chris questioned, a slight frown on her face.

"Don’t even start," Mercedes groaned, covering her face with a pillow.

"That bad, huh?" Chris sat down beside her, her tone now laced with genuine concern.

Mercedes sat up abruptly, clutching the pillow like it was a lifeline. "It wasn’t bad. It was... infuriating. I can’t stand that man."

Chris tilted her head. "Which man? You’re going to have to be more specific. You seem to hate a lot of people these days."

"DeSean!" Mercedes practically spat his name. "That arrogant, smug, irritating man. He acts like he’s God’s gift to the world. Ugh!"

Chris chuckled, clearly amused by her friend's outburst. "Wait, DeSean? Was he at the meeting too?"

"Not really." Mercedes huffed, crossing her arms.

"What did he do now?" Chris asked, leaning forward.

Mercedes groaned. "Last night, he brought me and two others to his assistant’s house because —"

Chris cut in. "Wait, what? I thought you met with his associate, Gary and then you guys later went to Ghost. Does that mean he was there?"

"Okay, so while we just arrived at Ghost, we number into Elsa, DeSean's assistant who was already drunk. She dragged us to the VIP section where DeSean was and made us drink because she just lost her mom. So we all drank except DeSean, and we were extremely drunk. I don't know how it happened but we woke up inside Elsa's car parked in front of her house." Mercedes narrated.

"DeSean left you guys there?" Chris asked with wide eyes.

"Yes. And he had the audacity to insult me this morning, call me naïve, and... and..."

"And what?" Chris prompted, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"He claims he saw my boobs!" Mercedes blurted out, her cheeks flushing.

Chris burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "Oh my God! This is gold. You’re mad because he saw your boobs?"

"I am mad because he’s so... so infuriating!" Mercedes snapped, her voice rising. "And he thinks he can just walk around like he owns the place!"

Chris wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. "Girl, you’re not mad about the boobs. You’re mad because he’s getting under your skin. Admit it."

Mercedes glared at her. "No, I’m mad because he’s a jerk!"

Chris smirked. "Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Mercedes threw the pillow at her. "I hate you."

"You love me," Chris retorted, catching the pillow. "But seriously, why is this guy getting so much of your energy? You’ve got bigger things to worry about."

Mercedes froze, Chris's words hitting a nerve. She did have bigger things to worry about—the murder case.

"I know," Mercedes said quietly, her anger deflating. "I just... he gets to me, okay?"

Chris leaned back, her tone softening. "Maybe that’s because he’s not like the other guys you’ve dealt with. He’s challenging you, and you don’t know how to handle it."

Mercedes frowned, considering Chris’s words but refusing to acknowledge their truth. Before she could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She reached for it, her heart sinking when she saw the caller ID: Mr Ashton.

Her hand hesitated.

"Who is it?" Chris asked, noticing her expression.

"Probably no one," Mercedes lied, standing up and walking into the hallway to answer.

"Hello?" she said cautiously.

A deep, menacing voice came through the line. "Mercedes."

Her blood ran cold. "Sir?"

"You thought you could get away with murdering my son," the voice snarled. "But you won’t. I promise you that."

Her breath hitched. "Mr. Ashton..."

"You’re going to pay for what you did to Ronnie. You think you're safe, but I’m watching you. I’ll make sure justice is served," he growled before the line went dead.

Mercedes stood frozen, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor.

Chris appeared in the hallway, her face etched with concern. "Mercedes? What’s wrong?"

Mercedes turned to her, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. "It’s him... Ronnie’s dad."

Chris stepped closer, gripping her shoulders. "What did he say?"

Mercedes shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "He said I won’t get away with it. Chris, what if he’s right? What if I lose the case?"

Chris hugged her tightly. "You’re not going to lose, okay? It was self-defence. We’ll get through this."

But as Mercedes clung to her best friend, her mind spiraled with fear and guilt. No matter how much Chris reassured her, the looming shadow of Ronnie’s death felt closer than ever.