When Love Hurts by Shaquanda Dalton

bar. It has a grand space area and, two separate rooms for a break room and my office, and all that’s left to do is go over the leasing contract. I’m doing just that as I sit across from Mr. Ridd, the owner of the building. He’s a white man in his late fifties with a long awkward mustache spilling from his nose. He sits with his arms folded as he watches me read the contract.
    I lean back and nod. “It all looks good, man. Let’s do this.”
    Ridd nods and reaches over to sign his name on the last page. I’m about to do the same, when the door to my new building opens, and Malcolm walks in with the most worried look I’ve ever seen. He walks over and touches my shoulder.  
    “I need to talk to you real quick,” he says, nodding toward the exit. He’s staring with such a silent urge that I stand up and turn toward my new business partner. “Give me a second, Ridd.”
    Ridd shrugs. “Take all the time you need. Just don’t forget our deal.”  
    “Yeah,” I say, then follow Malcolm outside to the summer heat. He turns around to face me, and his look is stern.
    “Did Jessica call you or stop by?” he asks. I shake my head no. Malcolm runs a hand over his face and starts patting his leg nervously.
    “Why you ask that?” I ask, watching him closely. “Something happen?”
    “I think so. I just spoke to Jonathon about half an hour ago, and he said he saw Jessica at my place a few days ago, and I’m thinking, ‘Why would she come to my house without calling, texting, or nothin’?’ Something’s up, man. I swear it is.”
    “What did Jonathon say? Did Jessica say what she wanted?” I ask, starting to feel uneasy.
    “No. He just said that she had a bandage and a black eye, and was looking for me.” He says those words with so much venom in his voice, it equals the lethal feeling I have building up.
    I don’t need to hear anymore and start walking straight to my car. Malcolm follows and gets in on the passenger side.  
    Malcolm’s saying things to me, but I’m focusing on Chris. Bandage? Black eye? What the fuck?  
    “Uh, yo, Jay—ease up on that gas, bro,” Malcolm says, nudging me on the shoulder.  
    I lift my foot off the gas slightly, but I’m still doing twenty over the speed limit and dodging in between traffic. I clench the steering wheel tighter and fidget at a red light.  
    Finally, we pull up to Chris’s apartment, and I’m half-expecting to find Jessica sitting around somewhere crying. We walk through the main hallway, and Malcolm bangs on his door. Chris opens the door a few seconds later wearing a wife-beater with a joint hanging out his mouth. He laughs when he sees us, and I reach to slap the grin off his face, when Malcolm stops me.  
    “Let me talk to him for a second. We need some information.” Malcolm turns to face Chris. “Where the hell is Jessica?”
    Chris shrugs. “I don’t know where that hoe is. I kicked her ass out a week ago ’cause I found out she was fucking my nigga Mike. I ain’t with that bitch no more, so you guys can go find her ass in the dumpster, if you lucky. Now get the fuck out of my face with this shit.”
    I’m on top of him the next second. My blows pound into his head over and over until I feel the blood oozing out, but I don’t stop. I can feel his body going up and down, and I know Malcolm’s stomping the shit out of him as I beat his face in. Chris is bleeding heavily beneath me, and I’m loving it. All I have to think about was Jessica flinching when I touched her and the bruises on her belly when I was making love to her. I hate him. I hate this man.  
    I stand up suddenly and pull out the gun I have at my waist and point it between Chris’s eyes. He can’t speak, but his eyes are teary and nearly swollen shut.  
    Malcolm sees the gun and comes up beside me. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. We can’t take care of a body right now,” Malcolm says, staring hard into my eyes. He pushes the gun down from Chris’s face. “We