AW...When Honey Pot Checked Shayla for asking Wayne for some money! 😱

 

The Disappointment

The night began with expectations already set too high. Videos had promised perfection—marbling, melt, luxury. Instead, the steak arrived heavy with letdown. One voice cut through the table, sharp and unfiltered: it wasn’t good. Not Wagyu-good. Not worth the hype. Not even better than a chain restaurant down the street. Laughter tried to soften the blow, but the disappointment lingered like smoke after a fire.

Free, But Not Forgiven

Someone reminded the table it was free. A gift. Gratitude should have filled the gaps where flavor failed. But free didn’t mean satisfying. Even faith was invoked—Jesus paid it all—yet the steak still fell short. The humor landed, but underneath it, something curdled. Jabs slipped out. Accusations of selfishness floated, half-joking, half-true. The meal ended, but the tension stayed seated.

The Quiet Before the Check

Goodbyes came easy. Chairs scraped. Work called. Smiles returned just enough to pass. Then the room thinned, and the air changed. A name was spoken softly, like a warning. What followed wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The calmest voices carry the sharpest blades.

“Don’t Do That No More”

The line was drawn without theatrics. Before lunch, a request had been made—first class, paid by Wayne. The words landed carefully: inappropriate. Not explosive. Not accusing. Just firm. A boundary, finally spoken aloud. History was offered in defense. Longevity. Familiarity. But none of that outweighed the present truth: he had a girlfriend.

Boundaries Have Teeth

This wasn’t about money. It wasn’t even about the ticket. It was about access. About respect. About who asks whom—and why. The rule was simple and terrifying in its clarity: ask me, not him. Anything else crossed a line you couldn’t pretend not to see.

Apology Under Fluorescent Lights

The apology came quickly. Maybe too quickly. Regret wrapped in reason. It wasn’t meant that way. It wasn’t a big deal. But intentions don’t erase impact. Adjustments were promised. Growth was claimed. The words sounded right, but the room listened for something deeper—understanding.

We’re Good… For Now

Reassurances followed. We’re girls. We’re good. This is how we grow. The tone softened, but the boundary remained, glowing like tape on a dark floor. Step over it again, and there would be no confusion next time.

And Then… Another Name

Just as the moment settled, another tension crept in. A friend. An assistant. Someone described as “cool people,” but the pause said more than the words. Dislike hung in the air, unfinished, waiting.

The Real Horror

The scariest part wasn’t the bad steak. Or the awkward laughter. Or even the money ask. It was how easily lines blur when no one thinks they’ll be called out. Until they are.