Daddy Lessons (Nicki Minaj x Beyoncé)

Chapter 22

I had a job to go and make sure a deal went south with a rival gang member, but they didn't have to know I was with Sasha's vixens. Normani had helped me pick the sexiest thing from my closet to wear underneath a trench coat dress, and in a set of Louboutins, and I was meeting up with him in his house near the beach. He was supposed to have a briefcase full of money that belonged to us, and that would be in his house.

I had brought my new gun, a shiny little thing, to ensure that it went the kind of south we were hoping for.

T-Boz and Chili had given me tips. They'd used to do this stuff before Sasha was in control, but T-Boz had the best advice. Though they'd moved out of the house, after what happened to Left Eye, though they were still reliable contacts that Sasha-Beyonce-recommended I make myself comfortable with.

Fuck, I still haven't gotten over it. Her...real name, or what happened. I'm one hundred percent sure that it's mostly due to me avoiding her like the plague, because the second I see her is the second I'm going to break down in tears and feel all the guilt for what I've caused her. 

But, I'm assuming that she kept it. 

How can so much shit happen in a single week?

Ariana had to come into my room, look me over and add on a fuzzy muppet-penis looking thing over my shoulders. I'm sure it was some sort of shawl, more in the shape of a dead ferret than anything else and a muted pink.

"Go get 'em, sugar." Ariana carefully stuck the muppet penis under my dress, only able to hide because of how thick the material was. "You'll be great." 

"I'm so fuckin' distracted," I told her, eyeing myself in the mirror and reapplying lipstick. "As confident as I pretend to be, I've got serious shit to sort out during all this." 

"Then...why didn't you ask for someone else to go in your place?"

"Because I'm not a 'lil bitch." I rubbed my forehead, shaking my head at the idea. What the hell was supposed to happen? I was supposed to drug and seduce this poor fucker. Not my style one bit, and I was fully intent on finding another way to go about this business. 

"Oh, you're not? Boo-fuckin'-hoo, hun, then don't complain about a good job when you have it," Ariana snapped at me, which did force me to look at her. Little brat. "You are not a little bitch, so prove it. To yourself, more than anyone else." 

I was about two seconds away from pimp slapping the hoe, but she had a point. A really good point. 

"Go back to being emo when you're back home after a job well done. Don't go into this thinking you're gonna fail." Ariana gave me a little nudge for effect. "You're a damn savage, so go get it." 

I can safely say it's the weirdest pep talk I've ever gotten, but it worked, that was for sure. 

I said as much, and Ariana only laughed and walked back outside with me. She had such a strange fashion sense, but there was no confusing her for what she was. This bitch was a princess, through and through, but one who was in full command of her people and served her Queen Bey. 

They must've met. I wonder what they said, what happened between them. 

I wonder what Beyonce thinks about me. Now, if not before. What she will think of me after this job, after Rih and I continue us further, after everything. 

After she's the only one I really want, and I don't have the balls to say anything to her about it.

It hurts, it really does. I wonder if she'll find someone else, and I wonder how I'll feel about it then. 

I'm in the car, I realize now. Ariana is saying something that I don't totally hear. 

She was right, I can't be so miserable. God, that's the worst thing I can be going into this. 

"Nicki, we're here." She says it a little loud, like I didn't hear the first time. I didn't. "It's time to go." 

"I'll call you in a bit," I tell her, slipping out of the car and flicking my hair over my shoulder. 

The house is really, really nice. Gated, but it's already opening for me. I stride in, my shoulders squared and chin up. Confidence, tits out, red bottoms clicking on the ground. 

I step up to the door, knocking and watching, waiting for my fate to be handed to me and for my self loathing to go away.

It does. Instantly. 

And it's replaced by a loathing for the man in front of me.