Chapter Fourteen #2
“Oh, let’s do Soul Food.” Aria clapped her hands together. “Big mama always told me not to leave the towel on the stove.” She pointed her finger in Shane’s face.
“I’mma fuck you up,” he hissed at her. “But Soul Food sounds fine.”
“Great!” The host gathered the menus. “We do ask that you keep the talking to a minimum because the show is sold out and we want to make sure everyone has a good experience. Please follow me.”
“She saying that because we’re black?” Aria whispered to Tyler.
“Bitch she's black too.” Shane popped her on the arm. “Please don’t get in here talking and have these people kick us out.”
The host opened the door and led the trio into a dimly lit room with a big screen.
There were three rows of recliners with blankets draped over the arms. Small coffee tables were placed next to each recliner with little lamps, providing just enough light to see what was directly in front of you.
The recliners were spaced out evenly, ensuring everyone had just enough breathing room.
“Here we are.” The host pointed to the first row. “We have you right up front. Let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with.”
Shane took a seat on the end, Aria sat in the middle, but Tyler was still standing up with a mean mug etched across her face.
When she stuck up her middle finger, Shane started looking around the room.
He prayed there weren’t any bloggers or paparazzi in the same room as them because he wasn’t in the mood to have their face plastered on three thousand different sites.
Shane had been so busy that he was hoping tonight they could relax without all the extra shit.
“Ty, what’s wrong?” Shane stood up, taking the space beside her. Being that he was trying to keep a low profile, he asked if they could be let in early. The other guests had yet to arrive, so he wasn’t sure who Tyler was talking to.
“You don’t see that bitch looking at me like I won’t knock her head off her shoulders?” she gritted.
“The ankle bracelet you’re wearing says you won’t do that, and who?” He followed her line of sight but was confused.
“The bitch in the green looking like a fucking fig tree.” Tyler jumped.
“Bitch.” Shane palmed his head. He had never questioned their friendship, but there was a first time for everything. “It is a fig tree!” he said through gritted teeth. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”
“Oop,” Aria snickered.
“The next time yall wanna take mushrooms, I'm locking yall hoes in the closet,” he promised. “Sit down!”
“Aht aht.” Aria wagged her finger at him. “Don’t yell at my friend.”
“I’m two seconds away from gluing your lips together,” Shane promised.
Almost twenty minutes later, fifteen more people entered the room, and Shane wanted to clap when the lights lowered. He was ready to get a drink in his system because Aria and Tyler had his blood pressure high as hell.
As the opening credits rolled, the waiters walked in with a glass of pink champagne for the celebration of Bird and Lem’s wedding. The champagne started off bitter but left a sweet taste in their mouths as Big Mama danced with Lem, saving Bird’s wedding and marriage.
“I would have fucked Lem and that bitch up,” Tyler uttered, swallowing the rest of her champagne. “This nigga dancing with that big booty bitch and Bird in the bathroom crying.”
“We know,” Shane and Aria giggled, gazing down at her blinking ankle.
“Fuck yall.”
Fifteen minutes into the movie, the waiters were coming out with fried deviled eggs and a sweet and sour whiskey.
The deviled eggs represented Big Mama's stubbornness after she burned her arm on the stove. Like most older people, she claimed she didn’t need a doctor, but her family wasn’t having it.
The drink represented the sisters' attitude toward one another. One minute they were loving on each other and the next they were fighting about the past and things they couldn’t change.
“Teri should’ve tore Maxine's ass out of the frame for stealing her man,” Aria snorted. “Stole that girl whole life and she got stuck with Miles funny looking ass.”
“Swear,” Tyler agreed, thinking they probably should’ve just watched Baby Boy. Soulfood was hitting a little too close to home.
Right after that, they were given a drink that represented Cousin Faith. It was sweet but would sneak up on you later. Thanks to the drink, Tyler was seeing two fig trees instead of one.
“Nobody's cutting off my leg,” Tyler and Aria repeated after Big Mama. “And that’s that.”
“Excuse me.” The host appeared. “Could you please refrain from quoting the movie? It’s disturbing the other guests.”
“Fu-” Aria started cursing, but Shane slapped his hand over her mouth.
“Of course,” he smiled forcefully.
When she walked away, Tyler and Aria giggled.
“If they put us out, I’m going to disown yall,” Shane vowed.
By the time Big Mama was going into surgery, Tyler and Aria were in shambles.
They were crying out loud like it was their grandmother on the table and she suffered a stroke.
The healthy helping of roast, potatoes, and carrots didn’t comfort them like it was supposed to.
Shane was over the theatrics and promised himself that if they had one more outburst, he was going to drag them out of the movie by their ear.
Then it happened while they were being served cheesecake with strawberry topping.
Miles' weak stroking ass fucking Cousin Faith sent Tyler over the edge. She flung her cheesecake at the projector and swung on the fig tree. Aria didn’t question the move.
She threw her blanket to the ground and jumped in to help her friend.
Together, they tore off leaves and flung figs as if they were articles of hair.
Shane was beyond embarrassed and started to leave them, but the hostess and security threatened to call the police.
“You know what?” Shane yelled as he slammed his car door after getting them into the car. “When yall are sober and realize yall jumped a fucking fig tree, I hope like hell yall feel stupid and relive that moment over and over.”
“That bitch had it coming. Griming me like I wouldn’t beat her ass. Shit, she probably stole my face,” Tyler exclaimed with her arms crossed.
“Bitch, your face is on your face,” Shane snapped. “Aw shit, now I sound just as stupid as you. I should snatch yo lips off.” He started the car. Connecting his phone to the car, Shane went to his playlist but was distracted by the social media tags popping up on his phone.
“Welp,” he laughed. “Looks like that fig tree wasn’t the only thing that got an ass whooping.”
“What that mean?” Aria asked, sitting up.
“Looks like Thugger beat Dexter’s ass and it’s all over the Gram. Can I get an amen?” He clapped his hands. “I’m not even mad at yall hoes no more. Shit, give me a mushroom, this is cause for celebration.”
???
Bobbi watched the clip of Dexter getting folded into the Pepsi vending machine and cringed.
Him constantly getting manhandled by the same person was turning her off.
He had so much smoke with women, but it seemed like Logic dog walked him every time they were in the same vicinity.
Bobbi didn’t know why they were fighting, but she would bet her last dollar that it had something to do with Tyler.
Dexter didn’t know it, but Bobbi went through his phone almost every night.
She saw the text messages to Tyler, begging her to come home, cursing her out, then begging her again.
Dexter stalked her social media pages and relentlessly called her phone.
Bobbi didn’t know if Tyler ever answered, but her guess was that she didn’t because Dexter was on edge.
He tried to act like it was about the music, but deep down, Bobbi knew that was a lie.
Sure, he was in hot water with the label, but that was the least of his worries.
Dexter wanted Tyler back under their roof, and without her, he was lowkey losing it.
Ding
“Aye, go get my shit,” Dexter barked as soon as he stumbled off the elevator with Marty and Tilly.
It was after three in the morning, and he was wasted.
Instead of going home after the fight, Dexter cleaned up at Tilly’s house and then went to the strip club to lick his wounds.
He was embarrassed, and with every drink he placed to his lips, the little devil on his shoulder hyped him up to go get revenge.
His lip was busted and his ribs were sore, but that had nothing on his pride.
“Get my shit,” he repeated.
“Man, let that shit go,” Marty sighed, tired of hearing Dexter’s drunken rants.
“Let what go?” Dexter spun around, bewildered that he’d even suggest that.
“I’m not letting shit go. That nigga sucker punched me.
Look at my fucking face!” Both Tilly and Marty looked at the ring forming around his eye.
They were both there and knew it was Dexter who threw the sucker punch, but out of respect for their boy, they didn’t mention it.
“What’s going on?” Bobbi asked, moving around the couch.
She knew what social media was saying, but she wanted to hear it from him.
“Dex, what happened?” she questioned, staring at his battered face.
Specs of glitter were smeared across his face, and he reeked of cheap perfume and liquor.
The smell caused Bobbi's stomach to churn. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the same man she was creeping with.
The man she was creeping with was the life of the party, he dressed to impress, and he balled wherever they went.
This man was lame. All he did was drink, pop pills, and complain, and Bobbi was turned the fuck off.
“Tyler hoe ass gotta be fucking with that nigga,” he continued. “I’m going to knock that bitch head off her shoulders.”
“For what?” Bobbi folded her arms. “It’s been almost two months, you've moved on. Why can’t she?”
“I didn’t move on! That’s still my bitch.”
“Oh really?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And what about us?” Bobbi palmed her stomach.
“What about you?” Dexter’s eyes stretched open. “Me being with her didn’t stop you from jumping on my dick before and it’s not going to stop you when she come home.”
“Actually, it is. I’m pregnant. My child and I will not be second place.”
“Yall hear this shit?” he chuckled. “Bitches get pregnant and think it solidifies their placement.”
“Fuck you, Dex,” Bobbi cursed. “Fuck you.”
“No, fuck yo non cooking ass too. I should have never fucked with your thirsty ass.” Dexter shooed her away. “My fucking ribs hurt and this bitch talking about she won’t be second place. She ain’t even third place, the fuck.”
“Bro, you high.” Marty shook his head. “I’m about to head out. B, don’t let this nigga leave.”
“The fuck she gone do, throw some of them hard ass pizza rolls at me?” he laughed.
“This nigga,” Tilly chuckled. “I’mma chill here.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Dexter frowned.
“You need something,” Bobbi mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sleep in the guest room, I’m going to invite over a bitch who can take the dick.”
“Excuse me?” She whipped her head around.
“You heard me,” Dexter slurred. “All of a sudden you forgot how you got this position. Sucking and fucking is what got you access to this penthouse might I remind you.”
“Fuck yo non-rapping ass!” Bobbi spat, tossing a pillow at him.
“Yea, yea, yea, but this non-rapping nigga had you sucking my dick backstage while your cousin was on stage performing. What’s that shit you use to sing after I nutted in your mouth?” He paused. “Oh...can I get a refilllllll.”
“Nigga, take yo drunk ass to sleep,” Tilly cackled.
“Bobbi, come milk me real quick...or did your mouth close right along with your cervix?”
“Wow.” Bobbi blinked away tears. She didn’t know why she thought that them being together would be any different, and if his bank account was as big as she previously thought, he could’ve continued to be an asshole while she swiped his card.
Being broke and disrespectful was something he couldn’t afford.
Foolishly, Bobbi blurred the lines and somewhere in the mix, she caught feelings for a broke nigga.
Her worst nightmare had come true, and she couldn’t help but think this was her punishment for all the fucked-up shit she’d done.
The phrase everything that glitters ain’t gold boldly flashed over Dexter’s head, and Bobbi felt stupid.
For years, she was jealous of her cousin's relationship, only to find out Dexter had nothing to offer her except dick, and that wasn’t enough to keep a bitch like her content.
“And I promise that bitch ass nigga gone see me,” Dexter mumbled, stumbling over to the couch. “I’m southwest Dex and ain’t nobody gone lil dog me.”
“Sleep it off, bro,” Marty advised as they all stood around watching him.
“Nah. I’ll sleep when Ty brings her funky ass home,” he muttered, unknowingly shooting daggers at Bobbi’s chest. “How the fuck she gone live without me?”