Chapter 9 #2
Skylar was so tired of hearing how Cyren had moved away and was in college on her own, while she stayed at home and became a well-known influencer and content creator. The two weren’t the same, and one wasn’t better than the other, but Skylar felt otherwise.
She couldn’t tell Cyren without sounding crazy that she hated the way her mom had softened toward her after Nicole passed.
Nia had been pouring into her in ways Skylar felt like she had to compete with.
All the while, she was grieving too. Not just her brother, but her aunt as well.
It was a sticky, pain-filled situation that one conversation, while she was getting ready to go drink and party her pain away, wouldn’t fix.
Cyren exhaled, slowly. She wasn’t about to argue about her own experience or try to convince Skylar of something she’d never see from her perspective.
“Alright. If that’s what you want to call it. Enjoy your night and be safe.”
She turned and walked out, not waiting for a response this time.
There was no love lost on Cyren’s end, just recognition.
The realization that not every relationship was meant to stay the same, no matter how close people were, was something she had to constantly remind herself of.
It didn’t matter if they were family; those relationships could end, too.
Her heart felt heavy as she went back to her bedroom to grab her phone before heading to the kitchen. Cyren was sure they’d have another conversation, but fewer words would probably be spoken then. For now, she needed to fill her growling stomach and call Gabi back.
Opening the fridge, she pulled out the container Mama Dot sent her home with, popped the lid off, then slid it into the microwave and placed the plastic covering over it. She leaned against the counter while it warmed, unlocking her phone out of habit.
Though living with her uncle sounded nice, she was glad Whitnee had sent over a few apartment listings earlier.
She was a realtor and knew about the best properties at reasonable rates and in great neighborhoods.
Opening a few she sent, Cyren scrolled through and approved.
They were just her style: modern, open layouts, updated kitchens, balconies, and hardwood floors.
Clearly, Whitnee knew what she liked without needing to ask about her interests.
Cyren wasn’t completely sold on moving, but she didn’t oppose it either.
Tony shouldn’t have planted the idea in her mind because it’d be all she thought about.
Browsing nice complexes was a good start, though.
The microwave beeped, and she grabbed the container before reaching into the drawer for a fork.
She couldn’t even stir her food or check its temperature thanks to the incoming call.
Cyren looked at Heavy’s name on her screen and thought about ignoring the call for a second, but she answered instead. “Hello?”
“What’s up. Come outside.”
She frowned down at the phone, placing him on speaker. “Huh?”
“If you can, ‘huh,’ you can hear. I’m outside.”
Cyren was utterly confused. “For what, though?”
“You’re a really smart girl. I know you are. You’re too damn pretty to be a dummy.”
She choked on a laugh at his blunt yet sweet words. Only Heavy. “Um, thanks?” She chuckled. “You’re still not telling me why you want me to come outside. We just talked and—”
“And you told me to call you back, right?” Heavy asked.
“Yes.”
“A’ight then. Bring your ass here. Or I’ma just come in.”
Her head snapped toward the hallway. “No, you’re not.”
“Why not?”
Cyren lowered her voice, instinctively, even though nobody was standing there. “Because… just don’t. I’ll come out.”
Heavy chuckled as she picked her phone up, covered her food, and abandoned it on the counter.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Cyren rolled her eyes as she walked back down the hallway to her room. “Whatever.”
“Nah. Ain’t no ‘whatever.’ Chu’ hang up in my face for? That was highly disrespectful.”
“Says the man who was gambling in my ear. No one wanted to hear that.”
“Yeah, yeah. You ain’t even stay on the phone long enough to hear some shit. Just whining.”
“So what,” she said, unwrapping her hair. “I see you called back, too.”
“‘Cause your nigga likes to follow rules, Renny Pooh.”
She giggled, covering her mouth. “Renny Pooh? No one has ever called me that. What the hell.”
Heavy grinned, although she couldn’t see him. She skipped right over the part about him being hers. Cyren wasn’t falling for that trap.
“Good. That’s my shit. Don’t let nobody use it either.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said, laughing.
“Man”—Heavy chuckled—“hurry up. You ate?”
“Don’t rush me. And I was trying to, but you interrupted me.”
At this point, she’d never be able to eat her food. Rubbing some Aquaphor on her lips, Cyren spritzed herself with some body spray. She slipped her feet into a pair of Ugg slides and threw on a jacket.
“We can go get something,” Heavy suggested.
She was fine with that. Cyren opened the front door, closing it quietly behind her.
Even though she knew the Ring camera probably already caught him pulling up, something in her still didn’t want to be seen going out there.
And she didn’t want Heavy to be seen either.
Before he could get out of the driver’s seat, she had rushed down the driveway and toward the passenger door.
It was pushed open just as her hand reached for the handle.
“You gon’ make me fuck you up,” Heavy griped once she was inside.
Cyren giggled. “I swear I forgot. It’s cold. I was trying to hurry up.”
Turning the volume down on the radio, Heavy eyed her and smiled. She’d been on his mind all day and having her in his presence eased him.
“A’ight. What’s up, though? You still got an attitude with a nigga?”
“No. I never really had one. I was just telling you to call me back once it was quieter,” she informed. “Hanging up was the only way to get you off the phone.”
Heavy nodded. “I hear you. But it’s gon’ be times you call me, and I can’t answer, or if I do, I’m busy, with shit going on around me. That doesn’t mean I ain’t wanna talk to you, or for you to hang up in my face.”
Cyren realized her actions had bothered him, but so did his.
“I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again. But if I’m asking or telling you to do something, it’s because I know you are busy. Me staying on the phone with you, halfway listening to me, was only going to piss me off. Or get you blocked.”
Heavy chuckled. “Damn. Blocked is extreme. I got you, though. Glad we could come to an understanding.”
Smiling, Cyren nodded. “Mhm. I am, too. You didn’t have to stop what you were doing to come see me.”
“Yes, I did. Was tired of being ‘round them niggas anyway,” he said, yawning, running a hand over his goatee and beard. “Had to come see my baby.”
Cyren’s eyes had been on his lips, but the bruises on his knuckles drew her attention away.
Her hand touched his before she could stop it.
Heavy didn’t pull away; just let her caress the scars.
He kept his eyes on her French-tipped, almond-shaped nails as she rubbed his hand.
Her fingers against his rough skin was like butter sliding across a slice of warm, toasted bread.
“Did you win?”
Heavy wasn’t sure if she was talking about the fight or the dice game, but the answer was yes to both.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, clearing his throat.
“Good.” She pulled her hand away, while his went into the pocket of his joggers.
The sound of him counting and peeling off bill after bill from the thick stack echoed around them, and her nipples tingled. Cyren had no idea the sound and act alone could arouse her, but it had. Shamed, she shifted in her seat.
“Here,” Heavy said, handing the money to her.
Cyren glanced at it and back at him.
“You were on my mind the entire time. This your cut,” Heavy explained without her asking questions. He knew she had them.
She took the bills and slid them into the pocket of her jacket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Before he could say something else, Tish’s name flashed across the dashboard screen.
Here she was again, calling at the most inconvenient of times.
Heavy declined it without a second thought.
Cyren wanted nothing more than to ask him who Tish was, but then she thought about how easily he’d just declined her call.
He’d answered for her, so in her mind, whoever Tish was, wasn’t important.
Yet, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from tumbling out of her mouth.
“You could’ve answered that.”
“Nah. She didn’t want anything,” Heavy replied so honestly and quickly, Cyren didn’t know what to say.
He hadn’t come right out and said who she was, but he didn’t outright ignore Cyren’s suggestion either.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ma get back in here so I can eat,” she said. Heavy chuckled, causing her to frown. “What’s funny?”
“You. What you running from?”
Cyren blinked, almost insulted. “I’m not running from anything. I’m just gonna let you get back to your night, and I’ma go eat my food.”
“But who said that’s what I was trying to do?” Heavy asked, pressing her.
Cyren had mistaken him for a man who gave up easily. He was down for the chase, so she could try to escape, but he was going to be on her heels at each turn.
“If you missed me, just say that,” Cyren taunted.
“I missed you,” he said with ease, licking his lips and leaning over the console. Pulling her to him by the strings of her jacket, Heavy softly kissed her lips. “You ain’t miss me, sweetheart?”
He mumbled the words against her lips, and Cyren couldn’t stop the quick bobs of her head. “I did,” she replied, a bit breathless, kissing him back.
Cyren tried to suck his lips off his face. She couldn’t get over how soft they were. All tongue and nasty, just like Heavy liked it, she tongued him down. She really did miss a nigga, he thought, grinning. Reaching around her, Heavy rubbed her booty, giving it a smack. Cyren moaned into his mouth.
“Come up out of this,” Heavy said, unzipping her jacket.
Breathing hard, Cyren pulled back. “Wait. Not right here. I don’t want to disrespect my aunt’s house like that.”
“A’ight. Spend the night with me, then.”
“Okay.”
Heavy was so surprised she didn’t give him a rebuttal, he chuckled. “Yeah?”
Grinning, Cyren nodded. “Yes. I’ma go pack a bag.”
“A’ight. Gimmie another kiss before you go do that.”
Heavy was down bad and didn’t give a fuck. Sweetly, like he asked her to do, Cyren smooched his lips and sucked on the bottom one, before dragging the tip of her tongue up them. Heavy gripped her jacket, and she cackled while he tried pulling her into his seat. Cyren wiggled out of his grasp.
“Yeah, hurry your pretty ass up so I can get you home,” Heavy said, giving her those bedroom eyes.
“My door,” Cyren said, looking at him with a goofy grin.
“Man, you better push that shit open and hop out real quick.”
They fell out laughing, but Cyren stayed planted where she was while he climbed out. She was giddy as he rounded the truck and opened the door. Heavy sent her up the driveway with a pat to her ass.
“Don’t forget that money in your pocket,” he said.
“I won’t!”
Cyren pushed through the front door and damn near jumped out of her skin at Skylar’s presence. She was standing right by the door with a scowl on her face.
“Ooh,” Cyren squealed, holding her chest while chuckling. “You scared me.”
“You need to watch who you have pulling up over here.”
The smile on Cyren’s face fell. “What?”
“You having random men pull up over here is not gon’ fly.”
“Didn’t you just have a nigga over here the other day?” Cyren questioned but knew the answer. She heard the male voice inside Skylar’s room for hours.
Skylar smirked, uncaring that she brought that up. “Yeah, I did. But this is my mama’s house. Not yours.”
Cyren’s body heated so quickly, it was as if she hadn’t just been outside in the cold.
Gritting her teeth, she did everything she could to hold her tongue and not beat Skylar’s ass.
Making it clear that this was her mama’s house and rubbing it in that hers was no longer here was enough to make Cyren mop the floor with her.
But she let her make it, knowing that if she hadn’t, Skylar might have ended up in the hospital where Nia worked.
Mugging her, Cyren nodded. “Yeah, okay. You remember you said that.”
Before she could really do something she wouldn’t regret, Cyren walked off. Whatever mending she was trying to do with her was out the window. To go that low, especially when she was in no position to, was beyond foul. Skylar wouldn’t have to worry about Cyren ever speaking to her again.