Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
BIANCA
Discernment is a motherfucka… Last week, I remembered Rhy saying she’d probably have to check one of the nurses who worked on Chauncey’s floor soon, and she did.
The nurse whose ass Rhy tapped walked past me on my way up to Chauncey’s room. Rhy handled her fucking business. I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’m not sure what the fuck she thought this was, but it’s not that.
Ain’t no way in hell I would’ve walked out of that hospital looking as crazy as she did.
That’s how I knew.
Not suspected.
Knew.
When my intuition taps me on the shoulder like that, I don’t ignore it.
I listen.
Because this wasn’t random. That nurse wasn’t just doing her job. She crossed a line she felt entitled to cross. And that only happens when a nigga makes a bitch feel like she has a place.
I pulled out my phone and called Amirya so she could merge Aisha in. Amirya answered on the first ring. About damn time, because I can’t hold this tea.
I knew Chauncey was reckless… but not this reckless.
This ain’t sloppy. This is fucking embarrassing. And I finally understand why Rhy left.
To leave the city, heal, and rebuild yourself… Only to come back and still have smoke with random bitches? It’s insane.
At this point, Chauncey is fucking anything that smiles at him.
Because this shit is bad for business, I need to speak with Simmy about his nigga.
“What’s up, B?”
Amirya sounds good, which means True hasn’t pissed her off today. Thank ya! I appreciate that.
“Shit… what’s not up?”
I knew I was finna tag one of these bitches when I pulled up. Even to my own ears, I sound tight.
“What’s wrong? Why do you sound like that?”
“Girl, everything. Call Aisha on a three-way so I don’t have to repeat myself.”
“Bet.”
Aisha answers on the first ring.
“What’s up, hoes and trolls?”
Amirya and I both burst out laughing. Aisha is crazy, but I need a good laugh. I’ll be honest: I’m feeling a little uneasy and on edge.
“I got some shit to tell y’all about what happened at the hospital today.”
“Shit, we’re listening.”
I tell them everything. How the nurse walked in like she had a right to another woman’s husband. How Rhy clocked her. How the bitch admitted she slept with Chauncey. How security had to peel Rhy off her weak ass.
I don’t leave anything out.
There’s a pause.
Then—
“Yo, B, these bitches are getting beside themselves. Who was she? I feel Rhy. I would have Donkey Kong that hoe, too.” Amirya says.
“B, who was she?” Aisha asked.
“I don’t know who she was; she wouldn’t tell Rhy her name. We found out later; it’s Whitley.”
“I hate to say it, but Chauncey is a whore; this nigga really be doing too much. I fuck with Rhy the long way; these bitches ain’t even measuring up to my girl.” Aisha exhales slowly...
“He is.”
“On True’s crackhead-ass momma. I would kill True’s ass if he ever tried me like that,” Amirya stressed. “I know True doesn’t have the best record with these hoes, but play with me, nigga; if he wants to, he will fuck around and find out.”
Then Aisha asks the real question.
“So, B, did you tell Rhy about the Kori chick?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because—I don’t want to give Rhy another reason to leave.”
That’s the truth.
I don’t like keeping shit from Rhy, but this is one of those things. She’s already halfway back on a plane. And if she finds out it’s another bitch tied up in this mess?
She’s gone.
And this time, for good.
“B,” Amirya says, steady. “You need to tell Rhy what’s up. I understand what you’re trying to do, but the last thing we need is for Rhy to be moving around the city and running into one of these goofy-ass hoes out here.”
Damn, she’s right.
“True. I wanted her to settle in first.”
“Fuck settling,” Aisha cuts in. “We need to see her. In person. She ain’t okay.”
That hits hard as fuck.
Because Rhy fights hard, she bleeds quietly.
“I was thinking ladies’ night,” I say. “Somewhere controlled. I don’t want her out in the mix, swinging on somebody.”
“Set it up,” Aisha says. “If they don’t start shit, it won’t be shit.”
And I know that’s a fucking lie.
Because wherever we go?
Eyes will be watching.
I continued talking with Amirya and Aisha on my way home; we need to go out.
Iwas supposed to call my husband on my way home, but I needed a moment to myself because the shit Chauncey has going on is too much.
I cannot believe this nigga. The whole year Rhy has been gone, I have never seen Chauncey with another woman, and he has never brought a bitch around us. He knew better.
Now?
It’s sloppy.
I know a lot can change in a year, but Chauncey is still married to Rhy, my fucking cousin, and these hoes need to fall the fuck back.
I thank God every day that Simmy is a different breed.
If Simmy thought he could do what Chauncey is doing to Rhy, that nigga would fuck around and end up lying in a goddamn morgue.
I’m still rooting for Chauncey and Rhy… But damn, Chauncey’s making it hard not to say, “Fuck him,” and “Rhy, do your thang and never look back.” Everything that’s happened this past week is a lot. It’s still the same shit, but worse.
Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been through some shit with Chauncey, but what happened today was some crazy work.
I want Rhy to move back home, but at what expense?
I’m not finna let no nigga and his bitches play in my cousin’s face, period.
At this point, these bitches are begging to bring me out of retirement because I’m standing on all ten behind my cousin.
Rhy has come a long way; she’s finally using her nursing degree, which I’m super proud of.
I don’t want Rhy beating these hoes’ asses every time she runs into a bitch who doesn’t know her place with her husband.
Chauncey needs to get his shit together fast. I’m really looking at this nigga sideways. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Simmy approaches me from behind, wraps his arms around my waist, and buries his face in the curve of my neck. I rest my head against his shoulders. Simmy squeezes me as tightly as he can.
“I love you, wife.”
And just like that?
I soften.
On God, I love this nigga. Simmy is perfect after everything that happened today. I needed this from him. It’s reassurance for me; in his arms is the only place I want to be.
“I love you too, husband.”
I know for a fact these bitches want my husband…
But they cannot have him. Simmy is a real street nigga, very handsome and very manly, might I add.
Simmy stands about 5’11 and weighs roughly 195 pounds of pure muscle.
His complexion is almond-brown and free of imperfections.
Simmy has a chiseled low fade—his brows form a natural arch.
His cheekbones are high. His nose is full, and his mustache is well-groomed. Simmy rocks a long, black, full beard. His lips are big and alluring. Simmy’s teeth are white as Coke; he has two gold fangs at the top and the bottom.
Simmy is making moves in Teflon Hills. I’ll put a bounty on a bitch’s head for even trying to holla at Simmy.
“What’s up with you, B?”
I hesitate.
I like this peace.
“Not much; I was just sitting here, thinking about a few things.”
“Thinking about what, B?”
“I would rather not say because I don’t want to change the energy between us. This intimacy feels good.”
“Oh, yeah? Yo ass has been thinking too hard because you forgot to call me when you got home. What’s up with that?”
“I needed a moment to myself.”
“Tell me what’s on your mind, B. I do not want to be kept in the dark about anything.”
And that’s why I love him. Because Simmy doesn’t move blindly.
So, I tell him.
Everything.
The nurse. The fight. The confession. Rhy almost caught a charge.
His jaw tightens.
“How come Rhy didn’t call me?”
There it is.
Protective mode.
I sigh.
“I’m not sure.”
“You know why, B?”
“Simmy, Rhy’s tired. I know Chauncey is a grown-ass man, but he really needs to tighten up the fuck up.”
“I agree.”
But the way he said it?
Calm.
Too calm.
“I don’t think you heard me,” I continue. “I fuck with Chauncey the long way, but I don’t think I can still be down with him if he has all this shit going on.”
Simmy exhales slowly.
“Chauncey needs to decide whether he’s going to live the rest of his life as a married man or a single-ass nigga. All of this is way too much for Rhy. It’s getting old, and each bitch is getting more disrespectful by the day. Did you know Chauncey had a bitch who works at the hospital?”
“I’ll handle it.”
That’s all he says.
That wasn’t a surprise.
That wasn’t confusion.
That was an acknowledgment.
“It’s crazy because Wood didn’t say shit.”
“Rhy fired his ass; she wanted to put a bullet in his fucking skull. She still might.”
Simmy nods once.
“So, who is guarding the room?”
“Nobody. She’s handling it herself. The way she’s feeling, anybody can get it. Ain’t nobody crazy enough to come into Chauncey’s room while she’s there. Especially after she rearranged that motherfucka, they won’t make it out alive.”
That makes him straighten up.
“No.”
That one word?
Firm.
“Chauncey’s security has been in the streets with us, but I will pull them out of the streets so they can guard this nigga’s life and let Rhy chill. I think you should have told me this shit earlier so I could have put some things in motion.”
That’s the difference between men who move recklessly and men who move in a structured way.
“I should have told you earlier, but everything happened so fast.”
“You should’ve,” he says evenly. “The moment shit cooled off, you should’ve called me and talked. A security detail must provide heavy guard for Chauncey’s room. Wood fucked up big time.”
“He did.”
Simmy grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room. He lifts me and sets me on his lap. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
That steadiness?
Simmy’s hands roam across my body. His touch feels so good.
“Are we good?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“It seems you wanted to get some shit off your chest about Chauncey.”
“I said what I had to say. It’s not our business, though.”
“It’s not.”
Silence lingers.
“I just want you to know that Chauncey is reckless as fuck. And some of the shit he’s doing, he might not be able to come back from. He’s running out of chances with Rhy.”
Simmy doesn’t rush to defend him.
“Chauncey knows B; he’s aware of what’s at stake. We had a few conversations. I’m praying he gets it right with Rhy.”
“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want to order in, or step out for a few hours?”
“We can step out.”
He stands, smooth and composed.
And that’s when it hits me.
Simmy completely ignored my question about whether he knew Chauncey had a bitch who worked at the hospital after today’s shit. I’m not sure if this bitch will still have a job after today, but oh well.
Which means one of two things:
He knew.
Or he’s protecting something. Simmy doesn’t miss details. So, if he brushed past it? It wasn’t accidental.