My security was already moving in, but I got there first. I grabbed Yah-Yah around the waist and pulled her off, but she was fighting me, kicking and screaming, trying to get back to the girl on the ground.
"Let me go!" she shrieked. "I'm gon' kill that bitch! Let me the fuck go!"
"Nah, you done," I said, holding her tight even though she was thrashing like crazy. She was stronger than she looked, and it took everything I had to keep her from breaking free.
"Get off me, Sosa! I swear to God,"
"You done," I repeated, firmer this time. I started dragging her toward the exit, ignoring the way people were staring, the way phones were pointed at us. This was about to be all over social media by morning, but right now I didn't give a fuck. I just needed to get her out my spot before she made a bad situation worse.
"I'm gon' beat that bitch ass on sight every fucking time!" she was screaming, still trying to twist out of my grip. "Every time I see her! I don't give a fuck!"
I kicked open the back exit and dragged her out into the alley, finally letting her go once we were outside. She immediately tried to go back in, but I blocked the door, crossing my arms.
"Move, Sosa!"
"No."
"I'm not playing with you!" Her chest was heaving, her braids spilled down in her face, and there was blood on her knuckles. "That bitch,"
"I don't give a fuck what she did," I cut her off, my voice hard.
"You not going back in Ma."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"I just did. This my shit." I stepped closer, looking down at her. "Now you gon' calm the fuck down, because I said so. And if you don’t you gon piss me the fuck off."
She glared up at me, her eyes wild, her whole body still vibrating with rage. For a second, I thought she might actually swing on me too. But then she let out a frustrated scream and turned away, pacing back and forth in the alley like a caged animal.
"That hoe think I’m playing wit’ her. She stabbed me in the fucking back,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. "Out clubbing and shit, as if shit was sweet. Like I wasn't gon' see her ass again."
"What she do?" I asked, genuinely curious now.
"She fucked my man." Yah-Yah stopped pacing and turned to look at me, and for the first time I could see the hurt in her eyes. "She was supposed to be my best friend, and she fucked him. And then she had the nerve to try to act like it wasn't like that, Bitch knew exactly what she was doing."
"Damn." I didn't know what else to say. That was some foul shit.
"So yeah." She wiped at her eyes, and I realized she was crying now, even though her voice was still hard. "I told her if I ever saw her again, it was on sight. And I meant that shit."
"You good?" I asked, my voice softer than usual.
"No." She laughed, but it came out bitter. "I'm not good. I haven't been good in weeks. But everybody keep expecting me to be okay and to just get over it. And I can't. I can't just let shit go like that."
"Then don't."
She looked up at me, surprised. "What?"
"Don't let it go." I shrugged. "You got every right to be mad. That's some fuck shit what they did to you. But you can't be out here fighting every time you see her. That's how you gon’ end up locked up."
"So what I’m supposed to do?" Her voice cracked. "Just let her get away with it?"
"Nah. You live your life, be happy, make her regret that shit every time she see you doing better without her." I stepped closer, tilting her chin up so she was looking at me. "That the real get back, that glow up ma. Not beating her ass. Some hoes like pain, that shit aint fazing her."
She stared at me, and I could see her trying to process what I was saying. Finally, she nodded.
"You right," she whispered.
“You better than that. And you deserve better than the nigga who chose her over you."