INFLUENCE

CHAPTER 3 Manhattan at night knew how to hold tension. The bar lounge: SPOTLIGHT. Sat above the street. Hidden, exclusive, quiet in a way that felt expensive. Smoked glass. Low amber lighting. Leather boots absorbed sound. A place where conversations stayed private & power lingered in the air long after people left.      Yeturah belong here. Not because she demanded attention, but because the room adjusted to her presence anyway. She wore a black jumpsuit, cleavage shower, diamonds all over the jumpsuit, straps crossed. 6 inch black Fendi heels. Small black diamond clutch to match. Cinnamon twist in a high ponytail.      Brooklyn sat across from her, posture perfect, shoulders tight. Anxiety hummed beneath her skin like a live wire. Controlled never silent. She wore an embroidered long sleeve silk Prada shirt, black leather pants, match 6 inch black Prada heels. 12 inch burgundy bob down in a middle part. They were tucked into a discreet section where smoking was permitted, an exception only for certain names. Wine arrived first. Brachetto d'Acqui. Then the food. Yeturah: lamb chops, charred just enough, yellow rice fragrant & warm, sweet peas glazed. Brooklyn: salmon with crisp skin, garlic mashed potatoes smooth & rich, okra sautéed & seasoned right.    They ate slowly, catching up the way only childhood friends could. Talk overlapping, laughter cutting through tension, silence comfortable instead of awkward. Brooklyn felt herself loosen just a little. Her turquoise iPhone 17 pro max rested beside her plate, BK engraved clean into the back. Apple Watch snug on her wrist. AirPods tucked away. Controlled & safe.      Yeti's hot pink custom made IPhone 17 pro max lit up. Yeti engraved clean into the back. She glanced at it & smiled. "Noviiii." Brooklyn waved her off "go." Yeturah stood, brushing past Brooklyn's shoulder as she slipped toward the discreet smoking area her & Brooklyn just came out of not too long ago. Custom watch flashing. AVI LANEZ AirBuds already in.      15 minutes pass & Brooklyn hadn't notice the shift. Then came the laughter. Two clock-able transwomen hovered nearby. Loud, overdressed, performative. Bodies exaggerated. Voice ignorant, giving off hood rat energy the kind that feeds off attention. One looked Brooklyn up & down slowly, sizing her up. "You cute" she said "real quiet though." Brooklyn didn't respond. The second woman laughed " she think she better than us?" Brooklyn lifted her gaze. Calm & flat. "I'm not interested." That should have been the end but it wasn't. "You acting brand new, like you ain't a tranny" the first woman snapped. Brooklyn stood up. Voice sharp & controlled "I said I'm not interested!" Phones came out. The first woman bumped Brooklyn's shoulder deliberately. Yeturah saw the bump & didn't say a word, just followed the chaos outside the bar.     Brooklyn didn't hesitate. Her anxiety didn't freeze her. It sharpened her. She ducked the first swing & drove her fist straight into the woman's jaw. The impact cracked loud enough to turn heads. Yeti yelled " yeahh BK, keep your head up" this gave Brooklyn some encouragement because she forgot she was with Yeti. This also let the two transwomen know Brooklyn wasn't alone. Brooklyn threw another punch, then another & the women hit the floor. A strange satisfaction cutting through her chest. Round One: Brooklyn won effortlessly. In Round Two the women lunged toward Brooklyn who blocked & countered. Her breath hitched. Anxiety surged, tightening her muscles, narrowing her vision. They traded blows. Brooklyn landed a hit that snapped the woman's head sideways leaving her with a black eye that formed instantly. But panic crept in her balance faltered. Round two resulted in a tie. Brooklyn stumbled back. A scratch burned against her cheek. Lip split, blood metallic on her tongue.     Seeing the altercation angered Yeturah leading to Yeturah asking the second transwomen for a tussle. Yeti was clean, precise & ruthless. She drove the women back with controlled strikes, her movements calculated, efficient. No crumbs. Blood poured from the woman's nose. Then something colder slid forward. In round two Tina took over. Emotions shut off. Yeturah's fist became faster, heavier, merciless. Each hit landed with intent. No hesitation. No restraint. The woman collapsed, nose bleed in worse condition, face swollen. The fight dragged on & Aisha surfaced. Measured. Strategic. Yeturah adjusted her stance, conserving energy, trading blows evenly now. The women landed 3 hits, Yeturah returned them ten times harder. The third round ended in a tie. Yeti stepped back, breathing steady. A thin scratch burned beneath her eye. Sirens. Too late. Police lights flooded the street outside. Phones caught everything. Faces, blood, screams, angles already uploaded. WorldStar, Avi Lanez, ShadeRoom. By the time the cops arrived, the crowd parted. Brooklyn's chest rising fast, lip busted, cheek scratched. She stood still. Yeturah held her eye where the scratch was burning. They were taken together. White lights. Sterile air. Curtains half drawn. The girls were taken to the G-Unit at Woodhall hospital.    They weren't separated. A doctor spoke gently, clipboard tucked under his arm. "Yeturah" he said "I'm Dr. Choi. Pleasure to meet you. Based on your symptoms & evaluations you meet the criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder." Yeti frowned. "What is that?" He explained carefully. Emotional dysregulation, identity shift, intense reactions. Brooklyn listened carefully as this explained a lot, she always knew something was off about her childhood best friend. Yeturah absorbed it in silence, then nodded. Brooklyn's diagnosis came next, severe anxiety which she already knew about.    They sat side by side, bruised, quiet, still together. Outside, the internet burned. Inside, something irreversible had begun.