London's Guard Is Falling Down

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

[𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍]

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐃
on my face—had me surprised.  It actually looked nice. It was a good thing she defied me when I asked her not to use the colors she did, which were  sage green and army/olive green

I allowed my little makeup artist to take pictures and put them on her Instagram story.

While Paris did my makeup, Brooke tagged along. We made some small talk, I actually initiated the conversation. She seemed rather shy, the opposite of Paris.

"Do you have any electives at your school?" I had asked her.

"M–hm," was her short answer.

Paris had sighed. "Tell him what electives you have, Brooke," Paris advised.

"Oh, right. We have Art, Music, Debate, and Theater." I nodded, Paris gave me a "menacing" look since she'd told me not to move.

That night, Paris and Brooke had a little sister sleepover in Brooke's room. The next day after school, I drove the sisters to Nordstrom. I already had everything I needed done for the party.

I followed Paris and Brooklyn around the mall like a bodyguard.

Paris went inside a Cartier to get her mom a gift, while Brooklyn searched for a gift in Tiffany's.

I went with Brooklyn to look after her since she was young.

The middle aged woman at the paying counter (who was white) kept eyeing me. I glared back at her. It was a bad idea for me to wear a black hoodie. Had I had the hood on top of my head I probably wouldn't even be allowed in the store.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Brooke began, polite as always. "Can you open the counter so I can check out this tennis bracelet please?"

"Well are you buying it?" the woman questioned.

"I'm not sure, I just want to check it out and see," Brooke replied, still being polite, though the woman didn't deserve it.

The woman came over, and unlocked the counter, taking the tennis bracelet out as well. I helped Brooklyn put it on her wrist.

The woman took a look at her neck and saw the Tiffany heart necklace around her neck.

"Did you pay for that?" she demanded.

"Pay for what?"

"The necklace," the woman clarified.

"I came in with this," Brooke informed, touching her necklace. "Seriously, I've literally had this for a few years now."

The woman gave Brooke a disapproving look and looked at me.

"Are you buying anything?"

"No, I'm helping her look for stuff though," I said.

"Well, then, you need to leave."

I crossed my arms. "Why?"

"If you're not buying anything then there's no point in you being here. So leave. I don't want you in my store anymore."

I chuckled at her reasoning, but I was also a little irate by her treating me like I was some criminal.

Brooklyn had already taken the tennis bracelet off her wrist. I nodded toward the exit for us to go.

Before I crossed the threshold, I turned around And went in my pocket to get my wallet, the woman gasped as I reached. I took out two hundred, approached the woman and threw the money in her face.

She was distraught by the move. I grinned and turned around.

"Have a good one," I concluded and stalked out, proud of myself for not telling her off.

I could've bought something just to upset her. I even could've went off on her, however, kings don't step off their thrones for peasant. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing be angry, that's probably what she wanted.

I'd make sure the woman got put in her place, though, she was going to know that she messed with the wrong one.

"Was that racist or what?" Brooke said as we headed to Cartier.

"Brooke, don't even worry about it, she'll get her's, trust and believe that."

Paris was already paying for her stuff when we arrived she had three Cartier shopping bags in her hand.

She smiled when she saw us and approached us.

"I may have gotten a little somethin'-somethin' for myself." I smiled at the audacity she had.

On the way to another store, Brooke and I informed Paris on us being racially profiled. Paris was livid when she heard that someone tried to mess with her little sister.

It was new to see this protective side of Paris, I liked it. Something about it is just so attractive.

"Fuck that, I'm going to go confront that bitch," Paris asserted angrily and headed to the direction of Tiffany's.

I put my hands on her shoulders to stop her.

"No, no, no, no, don't even give that any energy," I told her. She was clearly not beat for listening to anything I had to say, I could see that by her looking everywhere but me. It was almost like I could feel the anger radiating off her.

I continued, "Don't give that woman the power to take you out of your character, because that's most likely what she wants." Paris sighed and finally met my eyes.

She contemplated while looking into my eyes. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"M-hm. Are the end of the day, I'm better than the old, racist bitch in there."

I was proud of her. "That's what I'm talking about. Hey, queens don't leave their thrones for peasants."

"I know that's right."