18. Zaraa
I couldn’t get Lamari’s voice out of my head, no matter how much I wanted to. His threats, his smooth-talking promises of a million dollars, the way he dangled the power to ruin my friendship with Dream over my head—it was all too much. Every time I thought about what he wanted me to do, my stomach twisted.
I’d spent the past few days replaying his words, trying to decide what to do. Part of me wanted to tell him to go to hell and block his number for good, but another part—the part that was still angry and jealous—wondered if I should just go through with it.
Maybe if I told Dream the truth…
The thought lingered. If I had the guts, confessing might be the only way out of this mess. She deserved to know the kind of person Lamari was—and, let’s be real, the kind of person I’d been.
But what if she never forgives me?
As if on cue, my phone buzzed. It was Dream, calling for the third time today. My chest tightened. I knew I couldn’t avoid her forever.
“Hey, girl,” I said, trying to sound normal.
“Hey! You’ve been hard to catch,” she said, her voice bright. “What are you doing tonight? I have some big news to share, and I need my best friend here for it.”
My throat felt dry, but I forced a smile she couldn’t see. “Big news, huh? Alright. What time?”
“Eight. My place,” she said. “Be ready to celebrate.”
I agreed, and we hung up. The moment the call ended, the pit in my stomach grew deeper.
All day, I couldn’t shake the conversation. I kept pacing around my apartment, lighting blunt after blunt, trying to calm my nerves. But then my phone rang again.
Lamari.
I hesitated before answering. “What do you want, Lamari?” I snapped.
His chuckle on the other end made my skin crawl. “What’s with the attitude? I’m just checking in. You make up your mind yet?”
“Stop calling my phone with bullshit,” I said, trying to sound firm, even though my voice wavered.
“You think you can ignore this forever, Zaraa? Time’s running out,” he said, his tone sharp.
I hung up before he could say more. My head was spinning. I smoked another blunt to calm myself and eventually dozed off, but when I woke up, it was time to head to Dream’s.
$$$$$
When I woke up, it was already 7:30 PM. I rushed to get ready, throwing on a casual but cute outfit. Dream’s house in Woodland Hills was the picture of comfort and wealth—a one-story home with manicured lawns and warm lighting that made it look straight out of a magazine.
When I pulled up at 8:00 PM, she was already at the door with a glass of champagne that had strawberries floating in it. She smiled brightly, her energy infectious.
“Hey, girl!” she said, pulling me into a hug.
I took the glass, my eyes quickly scanning her. Even in her house clothes—a soft white Chanel shorts set with gold jewelry that caught the light—she looked rich. And I hated how much I noticed it.
“You look good,” I said, forcing a smile.
“So do you,” she said, stepping back. “Come in. I’m so happy you’re here!”
Her energy was radiant, but as I walked inside, my mind churned with bitterness. I sipped the champagne, hoping it would dull my jealousy. Her living room was immaculate, as always. The view of the backyard pool shimmered through the sliding glass doors, making the place look even more luxurious.
“I haven’t been home much,” she admitted, handing me another glass. “I’m always working, and I’ve been staying at Damier’s penthouse for weeks, but I’m finally back. And guess what?”
“What?” I asked, feigning interest, though my nerves were on edge.
She held out her hand, the massive diamond on her finger catching the light. “I’m engaged!”
I froze, the champagne glass halfway to my lips. “Engaged?”
She nodded, her smile so big it almost hurt to look at. “Damier proposed in Turks. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet because he doesn’t want bad juju on it, but I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
The jealousy hit me like a punch to the gut, but I forced a smile. “Congrats, girl. That’s… big.”
She didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. “I’m so happy, Z. He’s everything I didn’t know I needed.”
The champagne was working its way through my system faster than I thought, and with it, my bitterness bubbled to the surface.
“Bad juju, tho’?” I said with a smirk. “I think he’s just trying to start hiding you from the world now that it’s real.”
Her smile faltered, and she looked at me, confused. “Damier would never,” she said firmly, brushing off my comment.
We moved on, the tension easing as we drank more, listened to music, and caught up like we always did. For a while, I felt like myself again, the jealousy fading into the background. But when Dream brought out some imported ass tequila she had gotten from her man, it stirred up the ugly feelings I’d been holding back.
We were playing Uno, vibing to music, when I finally let the bitterness slip as I couldn't stop glaring at her big ass ring.
“All this engagement shit you got goin’ on,” I said, smirking, “means Lamari’s on the market now.”
Dream laughed, her brows furrowing. “What?”
“You heard me,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You got a new money giver. You might as well let me have Lamari.”
She set her cards down, staring at me. “First off, I’m not with Damier for money. And second, I wouldn’t recommend my leftovers.”
I chuckled darkly, the tequila making me bold. “Dream, cut the act like you’re some good girl. I raised you, bitch, and don’t forget that I am the one who told you to go on the show you met his ass on for money. I taught you how to get a bag out of these rich niggas when we were dancing at Stars. You’re using that man for money in your own cute ass way, so you might as well hand over Lamari.”
Dream’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. “Girl, that liquor got you tripping. If you want Lamari, have him. With your shady ass.”
That hit a nerve. I stood up, my voice rising. “You wanna know what’s really shady? I’ve already been fucking and getting money out of Lamari’s corny ass for years. You ain’t stopping nothing, and I don’t need permission to fuck a nigga.”
Dream froze for a second, and then she snapped. She pounced on me, her strength catching me off guard as she knocked me to the floor. It was as though she had started lifting weights to get her strength up because her punches were powerful. Her fists came down fast, and all I could do was grab at her hair, trying to defend myself.
“Bitch!” I yelled, trying to grab her, but she was too quick. Her fists connected with my face more times than I cared to count. I tried to fight back, but she had the upper hand.
When she finally stopped, my lip was bleeding, and my eye throbbed with pain. Her messy hair from where I’d pulled it was the only thing wrong with her.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” she yelled, her voice shaking with anger. “You can have Lamari’s weird ass. I got a real nigga now—something you’ll never experience. You might’ve gotten close to my leftovers, but you’ll never get close to Damier. You’re not to be trusted, so our friendship is over!”
She pushed me toward the door, and I stumbled. “Stop pushing me, bitch!” I yelled. “You want to cut me off over money and a nigga, fine! You’re gonna get yours. I promise that! Remember who taught you this game, bitch! You ain’t get that nigga on your own!”
She shoved me out and slammed the door behind me.
Fuming, I stormed to my car, wiping blood from my lip. Without thinking, I called Lamari.
As soon as he answered, I screamed into the phone. “You can’t blackmail me anymore, you punk-ass nigga! I already told her what I did, and our friendship is over. I’ll help you, but I want my fucking million dollars as soon as it touches your hands, you bitch nigga!”
He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Yeah, I just saw you leave there, beat the fuck up. I’ll see you in a couple of days with my plan.”
He hung up, leaving me seething as I drove home. My face hurt, my pride was shattered, and my friendship with Dream was over. But it didn’t matter anymore.
It is what it is.