Chapter 12 #4
“Peebo! Don’t nobody want yo’ twelve-baby-mama-havin’ ass.
Ain’t you got dat lil’ young hoe pregnant?
Yeap! You do; that’s twelve.” She read more words from the screen, while I stood there not knowing whether to laugh or walk away.
“Coulda! Shoulda! Woulda! But I ain’t. Don’t get blocked!
I could’ve been the thirteenth but that abortion was a blessing, baby.
Stop bringin’ up old shit, po’-ass nigga.
Dis girl don’t want cha. You can tell she fuck with ballers!
She ’bout here for Ja Morant. She don’t want no nigga dat’s a professional baby mama player when she got a pro baller. Da fuck!”
Security had finally come out, and just when I sighed in relief, I clutched my pearls seeing that he, too, stood back and watched the two men claw at each other. This was a mess—a mess I wasn’t use to in no shape or fashion.
“She is The Pretty Eater… The girl on TikTok with the seafood boils.” Wig looked from reading her phone to me again.
Beep! Beep!
A horn not only paused the fight but halted ole girl’s next words.
Turning to see who had pulled up, we all took in the black Mercedes-Benz on to the curb.
There was a pretty lady leaning over the passenger seat, scanning the small crowd.
Her skin was light brown and reminded me of a honey cake recipe I’d saved on TikTok.
The beat on her face was clean and should have been on the cover of a cosmetic magazine.
“Hey, boo. Tunan sent me,” she stated, pulling me from the trance I was in, looking at her.
Eager to escape the chaos, I tugged my luggage behind me and nearly tripped over my own feet while heading to the car. The trunk popped open, and even though I wasn't sure if the pretty girl was driving me to my doom, I tossed my carry-on inside, careful not to hit the folded Burberry stroller.
When I closed the trunk, the fight was finally being broken up by a different security guard, who was an older White guy. The young Black one was still standing idle.
“Heyyy, Tuscany, boo!”
Gray Wig was now bent, with her whole head sticking inside the vehicle.
I had no choice but to stand idle while she finished her conversation.
This Memphis heat was proving to be no match for my edges and makeup, but I waited patiently for Gray Wig to finish talking to Tuscany through the passenger-side window.
Since I wasn’t in my element and hadn’t heard from Tunan, it was best I now make a fuss over anything minor.
For a fake pre-husband, he was already fucking up.
He’d been adamant that I come see him; the least he could have done was wait outside the airport for me to arrive.
“So, the Pretty Eater done took my boo.” Gray Wig’s face was twisted up, but the amusement in her expression gave away that she was joking.
Good; I wasn’t up for tussling with anyone over a man that wasn’t mine in real life—or in fake life either, since we hadn’t made the agreement official.
She pulled the door open for me and took a step aside so that I could get in.
Giving the driver, whom Gray Wig had acknowledged as Tuscany, a small wave, I placed my purse between my legs and got comfortable in the E-Class vehicle.
Gray Wig pushed the door closed gently, and I turned to her before she could walk off. “Thank you for keeping me company.”
“Girl, boo. You don’t gotta thank me. Just shout ya girl out on TikTok.
I’m tryna get the fuck up outta that messy-ass warehouse I call work.
I’ma have to dog walk a hoe clean off the assembly line!
They need to quit playin’ and accept me in the creator fund.
” She huffed and pulled the phone up to my face.
If I had a dollar for every time a person asked me to help them grow their following, I would be rich.
Social media seemed like it was easy money, but it was far from it.
Was I able to live a lucrative life from it?
Yes, but she probably worked fewer hours in the warehouse than I did by as an entrepreneur.
Still, I winked at her live-stream and said, “I got you.”
Leather, the tangerine-like notes from her Chanel perfume, and the faint smell of something fried lingered as my ride navigated through the nearly nonexistent traffic. This is probably the first time I’d ever seen an airport without an influx of traffic.
Not wanting to be rude, I turned slightly in my seat to at least thank her.
To my surprise, she was already eyeing me as we came to a stop sign.
Now that we were inches away from each other, the resemblance to Tunan was uncanny.
They shared the same thick brows, except hers were perfectly groomed.
From the small nose, high cheekbones, and semi-round chin, I could tell they were related.
Tuscany. That was his sister. She’d birthed two sons—his nephews. The conversation from our meetup at the restaurant came back full force. That wasn’t the only thing that had come back, and since I didn’t want my pheromones floating around the car, I squeezed my legs shut and cleared my throat.
“Glow Eats,” she said before I could say anything. “Pretty in person, just as you are on those seafood boils.” Tuscany smiled, nearly blinding me with her stark white teeth.
I didn’t think women outside of the mob actually walked around with teeth that white, but Tuscany had proved my theory wrong. She was gorgeous, looking like the female version of her brother.
“You’re pretty too. And you watch me? Thank you for the views.”
No matter how many views I got, it was still baffling to me when people recognized me. I wasn’t a celebrity. I was just a girl who ate on camera and got brand deals for it.
“Girl,” Tuscany tsked. “Who doesn’t watch you?”
She turned the steering wheel to the left while her right tires careened down the incline. The airport was now in our rear-view mirror, and the bubbles had now settled in my belly.
“Lots of people don’t watch me.” I chuckled. “But I appreciate your support. I know you’re his sister. Can you tell me your name again? I want to make sure I pronounce it right.”
Tunan didn't do much talking that night, mostly listening, but he’d spoken about his sister a few times. It was clear that he loved and respected her to no end.
“Tuscany Payne… Cherman, I mean. My husband hears me use my maiden name, and he will appear out of thin air, looking ugly in the face!” She beamed at the mention of her spouse.
Her smile was infectious, causing me to produce a grin of my own.
She shot me another quick glance as she veered through traffic.
“I’m fan girling over here, and that’s something I usually do not do.
My daughter, Athena, put me on to you. Thanks to you, her daddy done made more than a few seafood places rich ’round the city.
I’d appreciate it if you ate some peanut butter jelly sandwiches or some shit the next few videos. Go easy on my nigga.”
Tossing my head back, laughter escaped from my chest, and just as Gray Wig had done, Tuscany made me feel at ease.
“I am not a fan of peanut butter, but I got you. Don’t have Athena spamming my comments, going off on me when I switch up, though.” We laughed together, knowing how girls and women can be.
The semi-smooth tar of the expressway was now long gone and had been replaced with crater-sized potholes that Tuscany dodged with ease.
Buildings that had seen better days, some with air conditioning units hanging from them, appeared alongside children playing on the sidewalks and riding bikes in the streets.
There was a man with a towel covering his head while pushing a shopping cart and a green old-school car on tall rims, doing donuts in an empty parking lot.
We were in the hood. I wasn’t a stranger to the hood at all, but I’d never visited the areas since I grew up lower-middle-class.
I wasn’t green to the ghettos. I’d gone to the Bricks on a few occasions with Jisei and Mocha, and each time I’d gone, I had a time.
But this wasn’t Jagoda Bay. This was Memphis, Tennessee, the fucking murder capital.
“Ion know what you and Tunan got goin’ on, and even though my brother is cute or whatever…” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe he knows you. But I am glad you came to visit here with him.”
There was a red light, and instead of the car slowing, Tuscany looked both ways and ran it.
My heart accelerated as I searched the area for the police, expecting flashing blue lights.
When they didn’t come, I relaxed. I opened my mouth to say that Tunan and I weren’t together, but that wouldn’t be entirely true.
I’d fucked that man like I was on camera, getting paid for it.
I’d drenched his dick with my juices, and the mere thought of it had me saturating my panties.
So, I just gave his sister a tight-lipped smile.
“He’s been through a lot when it comes to these bitches.
Tunan is one of six, but he’s one of one, for real.
He’s always been his own man—always figured his own way out.
Right now, he needs someone real; someone who has too much to lose.
Never will I ever encourage a woman to build a nigga up, even if that nigga is my brother.
I will say, though, I’m glad he’s not giving these nothing-ass hoes his time. You a great look, Glow.”