Chapter Three
“Well, Tyler and Dexter are back in the media today,” Nesha Re, the host of a very popular Detroit podcast, sighed.
“Can I just say I love this girl! She has no filter, and baby, if she isn’t the Crashout Queen, I don’t know who is.
Now it looks like Tyler was arrested for attacking Dexter and TikTok influencer Amber outside of a studio on the west side over the weekend.
Baby girl walked out of that jailhouse like Left Eye, and I’m here for it.
The mugshots are posted on our site, and baby, I was dying.
Tyler looking like she wasn’t done, Aria crazy ass smiling, and lord, Bobbi looked a mess. ”
“Listen, at this point it’s givin’ Blueface and Chrisean or Kirk and Rasheeda because ain’t no way Tyler is still in love with that man,” Nesha Re’s cohost Monti commented.
“Not too much on my girl. I’m sure Tyler has her reasons for staying.
Plus, she’s young. A lot of young people go through the motions before finding their forever person.
Tyler’s situation just happens to be on display in front of the world.
We’ve all fought with a man. Shit, me and my friend jumped my husband on the night of our prom. ”
“Love doesn’t work like that,” Nesha Re reasoned. “A man could be broke as fuck and we’ll love their dirty draws.”
“Yea, well love me less. Tyler did just right by beating his ass. I’ll go to jail before I let a man play with my feelings.” Monti pursed her lips. “On to the other cheaters of Hollywood...”
“Girl, turn that shit off.” Bobbi smacked her lips. “You know people gone talk and hoes gone hate. Here, let’s take a shot.”
Tyler glanced at the red cup in Bobbi’s hand before taking it.
She didn’t like drinking before going on stage, and no matter how many times she expressed it, someone was always shoving a cup in her hand.
Normally, Tyler would turn it down, but irritation had her reaching for the cup and downing it in one gulp.
“I know that’s right.” Bobbi followed suit. “Fuck these niggas and that’s that.”
Dexter had been on his best behavior, or at least he tried to be.
He spent the week kissing Tyler’s ass, and to no avail because she was still giving him the cold shoulder.
Dexter wished he could rewind time because this version of Tyler was hard to please.
He couldn’t buy her a couple of gifts or take her on a trip to fix her attitude.
This version of her required time and patience, something Dexter didn’t have.
All that begging was for basic niggas and that wasn’t him.
Tyler stared at the picture of Dexter grinning all in some random bitch’s face like he wasn’t in a whole relationship, like she wasn’t the one who bought the gold fronts he kept running his tongue across, like he didn’t just get his ass beat for playing with her.
Dexter was a natural flirt, so seeing him talk to a female was nothing new.
Tyler was used to the media making something out of nothing, yet the picture caused her stomach to churn and fill with butterflies.
Not the good butterflies either. Nah, these were the nervous kind that made her feel sick.
The kind that caused her heart to plummet and her eyes to burn.
“This nigga,” Tyler hissed, shaking her head.
She was starting to think Dexter got off on making her look stupid, or maybe he was just plain stupid and didn’t understand the concept of being in a relationship.
Her mugshot was still circulating on the internet, and here he was about to have her catching another charge.
“Don’t sweat it cousin. You know Dex ass for everybody,” Bobbi said. Tyler wanted to laugh. A couple of weeks ago, she was bucking her up to fight, but now that she got her wig snatched, she was singing a different tune.
“I’m over it.” Tyler sat up in her chair, reaching for the Don Julio on her vanity. Removing the top, she refilled her cup and threw it back without batting an eye.
“All these niggas cheat, just be happy you bagged a nigga that got money,” Bobbi replied. “It’s the broke niggas you gotta worry about. Trust me,” she spoke from experience.
Tyler listened to Bobbi but inwardly cringed. The thought of allowing a nigga to walk all over her for money was sickening. Then again, doing it for love was even worse. At least hoes were paid for their pain, hopeless romantics were gifted wet asses, endless lies, and broken hearts.
“I’d rather a rich nigga waste my time over a broke one any day,” Bobbi continued. “Shit, you’re too fine to stress about an ain’t shit ass nigga.” She ran her hands through her long, red weave. “I know I am.”
Bobbi told no lies. She was fine. Video vixen fine.
The type of fine that rappers talked about, tricked on, fucked on, and then passed to their friends.
She was stacked with big, perky breasts, sharp hips, and a round ass that she was still getting used to.
Thanks to several rounds of cosmetic surgery, Bobbi was often compared to the Clermont twins.
She was a pretty girl, and you couldn’t tell her otherwise.
Bobbi was about her money, and a lil cheating wasn’t stopping shit.
She’d sleep with the Pope if he was trickin'.
“Nah, that’s not going to work for me.” Tyler shook her head.
What she craved was love. Real, dancing in the rain, heart throbbing love.
Tyler didn’t need a nigga to trick on her.
Hell, she was the trick in her relationship.
Dex knew, she knew it, but the world didn’t.
They swore it was Dexter cashing out in clubs, splurging on jewelry and trips, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.
Dexter couldn’t fathom the world finding out he was a showboat on his woman’s dime.
“To each its own. Plus, Dex been a fuck boy since the day you met him.”
“You mean since the day you insisted I give his weak ass a chance?”
“I didn’t tell you to fall in love with the nigga,” she laughed as if the situation was funny.
“Yea, but that didn’t stop you from pushing me into his arms.”
“Tyler!” Carla yelled into the basement. “Bring your ass up here and clean the kitchen.”
Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Tyler closed her notebook and sighed.
Every time she was in her zone, Carla or Bobbi was hollering her name like she was Cinderella.
Tyler do this, Tyler wash that, Tyler clean this.
The number of times they called her name should’ve been studied.
She could get away with telling Bobbi to fly a kite, but Carla wasn’t having it.
“I know you hear me, lil girl. You wanna hang out all night and think you gone sleep all day,” Carla yelled, hitting the door with the broom.
“I’m coming,” Tyler mumbled.
“Not fast enough. Shit, I have to go to work and need to cook. It’s three days of dishes in this damn sink.”
“Then Bobbi needs to wash them. I’ve been over Aria's house all weekend. I haven’t stepped foot in the kitchen.”
“Well, you about to step foot in this muthafucka today,” Carla snapped.
Knowing that she wasn’t going to win the fight, Tyler slipped on her pajama pants and headed upstairs.
Carla was sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette hanging from her mouth and scrolling on her phone.
She glanced up at Tyler, twisted her lips, and then focused back on her phone.
Tyler turned to the sink full of dishes and frowned.
Instead of moving the dishes out of the sink to thaw her food, Carla set the frozen chicken right in a pot full of nasty water and old rice.
“I can’t wait until you turn 18.” Carla coughed, pulling from the cigarette. “You can go stay with Aria or the lil gay boy forever.”
“I don’t have to wait for 18, I can go now,” Tyler snapped back, bucking her eyes in the process.
“Now why would I mess up my money because you ready to run the streets like ya mama? Keep on acting hot in the ass, you’re going to get into some shit you can’t handle.”
“Can you not?”
“Can you not go to bed with a sink full of dishes? Got my kitchen smelling like sour milk,” Carla fussed, blowing smoke in her niece's direction. “I took you in when I should have left you in that foster home. Ya daddy didn’t even want you. Shit, you need to be thanking me. When I say jump, your only words need to be how high.”
“You wish,” Tyler mumbled, snatching the chicken out of the sink and tossing it on the counter.
“And when do you get another YouTube check?” Carla followed up.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you need to find out. I have things to do.”
“How are you making plans with my money?” Tyler frowned at her.
“'Cause it’s in my name,” Carla snapped. “That’s how. You’re sixteen and you can’t do shit without my permission, including collect money for them lil singing videos.”
Instead of responding, Tyler turned back around, almost biting a hole in her lip.
She hated that she had to go through Carla to cash her checks, but YouTube wouldn’t put them in her name because she was under the age of eighteen.
The checks weren’t much, but Carla always took the majority, leaving Tyler with no more than a hundred dollars.
It was shit like this that made Tyler want to stop singing, but she didn’t do it for the money.
She sang because it made her feel whole.
“Call them and see what’s the holdup,” Carla continued. “And you might need to start posting more videos. Shit, that money comes in handy.”
Again, Tyler chose not to respond. It only took her twenty minutes to wash the dishes, bleach the sink, and wipe down the counters.
Tyler knew that once her aunt was done cooking, she’d have to do it all over again because Carla damn sure wasn’t going to lift a finger to clean shit when she had Cinderella sleeping in the basement.
Drying her hands, Tyler left the kitchen without a word.