—
"I told you before we left the house to not even say a word to that bitch," Blair said to his wife, all as the two of them were inside their provided suites unpacking and beginning to settle in. "I specifically said don't ask her a damn thing about her and Bobby, nor those fast ass daughters of theirs." While he spoke, his head moved from one direction to the other, a display of his disbelief.
Mariah, who had been unloading her luggage, allowed her eyes to roll in a circular motion. She was well aware of the friction that often appeared between her and Whitney. But above it all, she found no harm in showing respectful concern for the woman's wellbeing, as well as her kids. This was because Whitney and Mariah had shared quite a close knit friendship before the start of whatever conflict they held. Now, Mariah had no sense of what could've possibly changed between them, at least none that she could remember. And even though it had been quite a long time that their friendship fell, she just could not make peace with not getting back to the way they used to be.
"Okay and I heard you very clearly," the woman said back to her husband, placing her belongings in their respectful positions of the suite. "But regardless of how Whitney feels about me, she is still my friend. And, Blair, please do not talk about my goddaughters that way."
Blair waved her off, also placing his possessions where they best fit. "Well obviously you are just as dumb as she is if you thinkin' she's any friend to yo' ass." For a second time, his head moved in a motion that showed his disbelief. "No friend is going to talk to you like that bitch been talkin' to you."
Instantly feeling disrespected, Mariah rushed over to where her husband stood. "Look, you can say whatever the hell you want about me." The index finger of her right hand pointed within the man's face. "But you will not talk about Whitney like that so please—"
But, before her words could continue, Blair had given the left side of her face a smacking, forming a reddened handprint of his own. "Please don't tell me you 'den forgot who you talkin' to?" He watched as his wife quickly grabbed onto her face, breathing rather deeply. "Don't ever step to me like that again, pointing yo' finger in my face and shit. You hear me?" When he realized she hadn't answered, he asked again, "I said do you hear me?"
Incessantly freeing profound breaths from her body, Mariah looked up at her husband with eyes of fear. "Yes. I—I heard you. And I apologize."
The man smiled a bit, gave the woman a gentle kiss upon her forehead, then headed for the direction of the suite's restroom.
Once his presence had been clear of sight, Mariah couldn't help but to hurriedly release the tears that surrounded her pupils. For years she had taken blows from her husband, that it became almost normal to her. Out of protection for him, she chose to keep the mistreatment unknown to her friends. Therefore, she just couldn't believe Blair even had the audacity to raise his hand to her while on a trip where all of their peers were present.
Now, while Mariah tried to regather herself after what had just occurred, Angela and Idris had finally found the suite specifically provided for them. Both of their mouths gasped all while entering, seeing the creation of the room. To them, it's beauty was rather ravishing.
The suite consisted of a fully inbuilt kitchen, an enlarged bathroom with a walk-in shower, and a living area that held decor of blush, gold, and white pigments.
"Oh, Janet and Boris are really showing out with these rooms, Chile," Angela said, allowing her eyes to roam the bed of which she and her husband would rest upon. "I ain't never seen no bed this big in no hotel room."
Idris's head moved up and down as he agreed with what was said. "Look at this jacuzzi though," he then added, peeping through the window of the room. "It's right in the back of our room. That's crazy."
