Page 18 of The Birthday Girl

M ercedes shifted her weight against the car, the glow from the streetlight catching the glitter in her nails as she tapped her phone against her thigh.

Over thirty minutes had passed since she’d made it to the drop sight.

Tahlia was late, and she was growing more agitated by the minute.

She hated nothing more than to be kept waiting.

“Five more minutes. That’s all I have. If she’s not here by then, I’m leaving. Fuck this bitch,” Mercedes said to herself, her eyes focused on the street’s entrance.

A few minutes later, a black sedan rolled to the mouth of the cul-de-sac and eased into the driveway of the abandoned house. Tahlia, with her chin lifted high, stepped out like she owned the night. Not a hair was out of place, and not a thread on her coat was wrinkled.

It never was. Order was a must.

“Mercedes,” Tahlia spoke her name with a politeness that felt rehearsed, her brittle smile morphing into something sinister.

“Lil’ Tah-Tah,” Mercedes said sweetly, dragging out the nickname she knew Tahlia despised.

“Stop with the Lil’ Tah-Tah shit. Do you have what belongs to me?”

Mercedes giggled, pushing up off her car. “The real question is—do you have what belongs to me?”

“Let’s not play games. Give me what you have. Now.”

Mercedes snapped her gum. “You should remember, I have what you want, which means I’m running the show, and I’m not handing over nothing until I see the money.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Tahlia shook her head, her beautiful curls bouncing around her shoulders. “You give me everything first, and then you get paid.”

Mercedes’ eyes narrowed, her smirk fading. “I don’t think so. Money first, or there’s no deal.”

The silence stretched between them until Mercedes scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“You know what? I’m not about to play games with you.

I got better ways to spend my night, and I can definitely get more for what I have than what you’re offering.

I was trying to do you a favor, but I guess you don’t want it. ”

She turned on her heel, strutted toward the driver’s side door of her vehicle, and waved. “Bye, bitch.”

“Mercedes.” Tahlia’s voice carried after her, each syllable sharpened with intent. “The most I can do is let you see the money, but you can’t have it until we make the exchange.”

She didn’t stumble. Not once. Her tone struck the perfect balance of weary and convincing, like a woman reluctantly pushed to her last compromise. Even the tilt of her head and the faint sigh she threaded into her words were all staged.

Desperation was the role, and she played it flawlessly because Tahlia knew that if she gave Mercedes nothing, she would know something was up.

“Deal. I just wanna make sure you’re not playing me,” Mercedes said, rubbing her hands greedily.

"Alright. Come on." Tahlia pivoted toward her sedan.

Mercedes’ footsteps quickened behind her, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward with glee.

Tahlia unlocked the rear door with a flick of her wrist and stepped aside, gesturing toward the dark leather interior. Her expression remained polished, not a smile out of place, not a breath uneven.

“There it is. Take a look.”

Mercedes licked her lips and leaned into the car, her breath fogging the glass as she reached for the duffel. She reached for her winnings, nails tapping the zipper in a frenzied staccato that matched the rush in her chest when she tugged it closer.

Tahlia watched the way Mercedes’ eyes widened with hunger, her fingers twitching as if she could already feel the cash in her hands. Greed dripped off her like sweat, making her almost too easy to bait.

Greed, Tahlia thought, was never the sin they claimed it to be. It was the truth people tried to bury. Everyone wanted more—more money, more love, more power. Only the weak convinced themselves that enough was noble. Enough was nothing but failure dressed in virtue.

She had never feared greed. She embraced it. Greed was what separated the bold from the broken. It was what gave her the edge, what made her sharper, faster, untouchable. And when she saw it in others, it became her weapon.

Mercedes’ greed made her sloppy. It blinded her to the danger standing three feet away. That was the beauty of it. Greed would kill her long before Tahlia ever needed to.

“Now that's what I'm talking about,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the bag.

Mercedes, so engrossed with the money, didn't hear the soft click of Tahlia's clutch opening behind her. Her fingers closed around the cold steel, grounding her in the moment.

Mercedes, too lost in her hunger, didn’t notice the subtle shift in Tahlia’s posture, or the quiet control in her breath, until the butt of the pistol cracked against her skull with a force that reverberated through Tahlia’s wrist.

Her head snapped sideways, her gold hoops swinging wildly as her mouth formed a perfect O, no sound escaping. She crumpled, face-first onto the duffel, one arm sliding off the leather seat, fingertips grazing the car floor mat.

“Wha—” Mercedes tried to speak, but Tahlia silenced her with a sharp pinprick beneath her jaw.

She pressed the syringe deep, watching the liquid slide into her bloodstream. Tahlia’s lips curved faintly as she leaned close so Mercedes could hear every word.

“Relax, Cedes. I didn’t poison you,” she whispered, her breath brushing the woman’s ear. “You’ll be awake and very aware. You just won’t be able to lift a finger to save yourself.”

Mercedes’ eyes bulged as the drug spread. Cold fire rippled under her skin, like ice water flooding her veins. Her tongue went numb against her teeth, her mouth falling slack as if her body had forgotten how to obey.

She tried to scream, but the only sound was a wet click, small and pathetic. Her fingers scraped at the leather seat, then fell open, useless.

Tahlia tilted her head, her gaze trailing over Mercedes as if she were admiring a portrait. “You feel it, don’t you? The paralysis. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, trapped inside yourself.”

Mercedes’ chest fluttered with shallow breaths, her eyes frantic in their sockets. Her lips parted, trembling, but no sound escaped.

Tahlia’s hand rose, and the back of her knuckles brushed across Mercedes’ cheek.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “All that noise you made before, gone. Now you’re mine.”

Tahlia slid her arm beneath Mercedes’ shoulder and pulled, the dead weight working against her, but she didn’t rush.

Mercedes' head lolled, hoops swinging as her cheek pressed against Tahlia’s sleeve, and with a grunt, she eased her out of the car.

Mercedes’ feet skidded across the gravel, her body folding against itself. The night air clung to her skin, but her eyes, those wide, darting eyes, betrayed her fear.

“Don’t fight it,” Tahlia drawled, adjusting her grip and hauling her toward the abandoned house.

She dragged Mercedes over the threshold and into the darkness, the scent of mildew rising to greet them. Tahlia let the door close behind her, sealing them off from the world outside.

Exhausted, she dropped Mercedes onto the floorboards, then crouched beside her, tenderly smoothing stray curls from her face.

“You thought you were clever,” she giggled, as she shifted Mercedes’ limp body so her arms stretched neatly at her sides.

“You thought you could sell me out and walk away with my money.” She adjusted one leg, dragging the heel until it was perfectly aligned with the other. “But rats don’t get to profit off me.”

Tahlia rose and stepped over her, pacing slowly in a circle. “Do you know what I hate most about you, Cedes? It isn’t your greed; I can respect that. It’s the way you’re loud about it, but you’re cheap. You’ve always been cheap.”

Mercedes’ eyes rolled toward her, wet and shining. Her lips quivered, a muffled rasp catching in her throat.

Tahlia crouched again, pressing two fingers against Mercedes’ chin to still her trembling. “Ah. It’s coming back, isn’t it? That little tongue of yours. That’s okay. Just know that when your mouth remembers how to work, you’d better use it wisely.”

Tahlia rose, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. “Sit tight,” she said softly, turning toward the door. “I won’t be long.”

Her heels echoed across the warped floorboards until the groan of the hinges swallowed her into the night. The silence that followed wrapped around Mercedes, broken only by her ragged, shallow breaths.

Her eyes darted wildly around the room, scanning the corners for Tremaine and Jimmy. They had to be there. They had to have seen what was happening. Any second now, one of them would come running, pull her off the floor, and drag her out of this nightmare. At least that was what she told herself.

However, the room remained empty, and her fear grew in intensity, gnawing at her chest until it felt like her heart might claw its way out. They weren’t coming, and deep down, she knew it. They would’ve already been there.

The crunch of gravel outside, followed by the soft slam of a trunk, made her flinch. Moments later, footsteps returned. The hinges moaned again, and Tahlia stepped back inside, the black duffel swinging from her hand.

Her smile was delicate as she set the bag on the floor and unzipped it. “Now, we can get to the part I’ve been waiting for.”

Tahlia unzipped the duffel and pulled out a hammer. She stepped back to Mercedes, the tool hanging loose at her side.

Mercedes’ lips trembled, her tongue heavy in her mouth. A garbled sound slipped out, broken and wet. She swallowed hard, tears streaking her face as she tried again.

“P–pl…” The sound cracked, barely a whisper. Her chest hitched, lungs fighting her. “Pl…ease… don’t.”

The hammer rose.

Her throat rattled as she pushed harder, the words dragging themselves out one by one. “I… I got… info.” Her jaw sagged, then clenched again. “Danielle… told me… everything.”

Tahlia froze mid-swing, eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Y–your… m-mother… she… she set it all up.” Mercedes gagged on the words, her jaw trembling. “She… told Danielle… t-to… to mess with Tyriq. S-said… you got money already… s-so… so he’d be… better use… to your sister.”

Mercedes’ throat worked, every word dragging like gravel. “D-Danielle… she bragged… said it was all… Tisha’s plan. Said… she deserved Tyriq… ‘cause he had money… and you… you already have plenty.”

Tahlia lowered the hammer a fraction, her eyes narrowing as she took in the stammering mess at her feet. For a moment, she said nothing, just listening to the ragged breaths that shook through Mercedes’ chest.

“Keep going,” Tahlia ordered, her voice low, calm, and dangerous. “Don’t choke now, Cedes. You’ve finally found your tongue, use it.”

Mercedes’ lips trembled, drool shining at the corner of her mouth as she forced another broken syllable out. “Sh-she… wanted… Danielle to have… everything… so-so she can take… care of.. her and your dad.”

Mercedes coughed, spit pooling at the corner of her mouth as she forced the words out. “Th-they… been laughing… at you… this whole time.” Her voice cracked, wet and broken. “And… T-Tisha… she ain’t… the only one… pulling strings.”

Her eyes rolled back, then fixed on Tahlia again, wide and pleading. “You… you really think… Shanice just… just showed up… on her own?” She gagged on her next breath, then pushed harder, her lips trembling. “S-somebody… close… to you… made that happen. They… want to… humble you.”

Mercedes’ words seeped into the silence, sticky and foul, but they clung to Tahlia all the same.

Her jaw tightened as she crouched beside Mercedes again, gripping her chin so hard her nails dug into her flesh. “Who?” The word cracked like a whip. “Say the name.”

Mercedes whimpered, her throat raw, her lips struggling to shape sound. “I… I don’t… know…” she rasped, the syllables collapsing against each other.

Tahlia’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Then you’re useless to me.”

She released Mercedes and brought the hammer down on her head.