Aubrey
“I told you that nigga was sweeter than a bowl of Fruity Pebbles,” my brother Rodney said.
He slapped hands with our older brother Jacquees, sharing a laugh at my expense causing me to roll my eyes upwards.
Rod and my best friend Spring are in a relationship, so I came over to their house to talk with her.
If I had known that Beavis and Butthead would be here, then I wouldn’t have come.
They were the last two people that I wanted to know, but I needed to vent.
So, against my better judgment, I spilled the beans.
“Stop it, you two,” Spring fussed.
“It’s cool, let them laugh at my pain,” I rolled my eyes with a pout.
Que walked over to me, wrapping his large arm around my neck and pulling me into his body.
“We just fucking with you, sis. You know all you gotta do is say the word, and that nigga will be on a T-shirt by tomorrow,” he stated with no hint of playfulness.
“No cap,” Rod consigned.
I knew that if I gave them the word that they would make him disappear in a heartbeat. And even though he deserves it, the love I held for him in my heart would never allow me to do that.
Spring clasped her hands together before ushering them out of the kitchen.
“Alright, y’all time is up. Now, come on. Get out so we can have girl talk in private,” she said, shooing them out of the kitchen. They mumbled under their breath as they did as she said. “Uh-huh, we love you too.”
Once they were out of the kitchen, and far away from earshot she wasted no time to get down to the nitty gritty of the situation.
“Tell me the truth. I know you said that you’re fine, but how are you really feeling about this? I know how much you loved Tyrese and put into y’all relationship.”
“Like, fuck love!”
“Abby, you can’t let this make you give up on love. Your future soulmate is coming, you gotta have faith.”
I scoffed. “That nigga doesn’t exist.”
I already stated a long time ago if this relationship went down the drain, then I was done, and I meant that. I’m tired of these lame niggas treating me like I’m a bottom of the barrel ass bitch. Like, I don’t have options. The number of niggas that I turned down to be faithful ought to be studied.
I grew up in a two-parent household until I was seven years of age. My parents’ love for each other was undeniable—always joyful, rarely arguing, and quick to resolve conflict. They truly embodied what real love looks like. They’re the reason why I’ve been a hopeless romantic my entire life.
My mom spent years with Que and Rod’s father, who wasn’t worth shit.
She constantly tried to bring out his potential, but it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t until he fathered another child that she walked away.
Throughout that painful process, my father was her confidant and shoulder to cry on.
They had known each other since middle school—best friends who’d fallen in love over time.
My dad had a crush on my mom, but she saw him only as a friend.
For years, he was content just being her best friend.
After her breakup with Que and Rod’s father, she moved in with my dad.
It was supposed to be temporary—a safe, warm place to stay.
As they spent more time together, she slowly fell for him, though she was too scared to admit it.
That hesitation turned into a long game of cat and mouse until she gave in to temptation.
From that moment, there was no turning back.
My father stepped up, raising my brothers as his own.
He ensured that our family never wanted for anything.
My father was a good, caring and protective man. He made it his mission to show me how a man should treat a woman. We went on weekly daddy and daughter dates. He showered me with flowers, teddy bears, jewelry— spoiling me endlessly. As a little girl, I always got whatever I wanted.
The day he passed shattered my heart beyond repair.
He was supposed to be by my side forever, but life had other plans.
My mother was never the same after losing him.
Her only focus became pouring all her love into her children, refusing to date or even consider moving on.
My parents are the reason that I’ve never given up on love, but a heart can only take so much.
She opened her mouth to speak when our big-mouthed best friend walked in.
“What’s up, bitches?” Chastity said, holding her hand up, displaying a bottle of XXL wine.
She walked over to the cabinet where Spring keeps the glasses and pulled out three wine glasses. Chastity swayed over to the table, heels clicking against the tiles.
“You do realize it’s one in the afternoon,” I quizzed.
Chastity set the glasses down before twisting the top off the bottle. “It’s brunch time, which equals mimosas. Bottoms up,” she said, pouring the wine into the glasses.
She filled them up to the halfway point and passed them out to us.
“So, what did I miss?”
“Her telling me about Tyrese cheating ass.” Spring beat me to the punch.
Chastity waved her off. “Oh, I already know that tea.”
That piqued my interest because I haven’t spoken to her, so how could she possibly know?
“And how the hell is that?” I asked, eyebrows bushed together.
“Ms. Pearly, old messy ass. You know I’m her nail tech. When she came for her two-week appointment, she filled me in. She even told me that you pulled out your gun. From what I heard, you should’ve shot his ass.”
Spring snapped her head in my direction. And I quickly looked the other way, trying to ignore her burning gaze.
“Umm… Ms. Ma’am, you failed to mention that part.”
“You said bottoms up?”
Chastity nodded, entertaining my antics. I picked up my glass, sipping the watermelon-flavored wine.
“Don’t try to change the subject. Abby, what were you thinking pulling your gun out? Things could have gone wrong. What if you had ended up in jail or freaking worse?” Spring lectured.
Spring is the mother of our group. She’s the one who’s responsible, nurturing, affectionate, honest, and direct.
Spring always holds us accountable for our actions, and she’s brutally honest, even if it’s difficult.
We don’t take much offense because we know it comes from a genuine place.
Chastity is the wild one of our group. You never know what you’re going to get with her.
She is spontaneous, energetic, unconventional, and a risk-taker.
Chastity lives to her own beat. It’s nothing that no one can say or do to make her do something she doesn’t want to do.
I’m the feisty one out of our group. I’m courageous, outspoken, loyal, and protective.
I’m just as fun and energetic as they are.
However, I’m a very vocal and passionate person who doesn’t mind setting a mothafucker out.
The three of us have been thick as thieves since grade school, and we’re now twenty-three years old. They are more like sisters to me than friends. If there’s anyone I trust to have my back aside from my family… it’s these two.
“Ryn, I get where you’re coming from, but I’ll be damn if a mothafucker gets to acting like Boosie Badass in my shit. I told him to leave, and he wouldn’t, so I did what I had to do.”
“Shid, I feel like she let him off easy. Nigga got the audacity to bring another bitch in her crib… a white one at that.” Chas chimed in.
“I’m not saying he wasn’t wrong, but she can’t go around pulling a gun on people.”
“Girl, you fuck with a whole street nigga. What the hell do you think he does?” Chas sassed with the roll of her eyes.
The look Spring gave Chastity let me know she was growing irritated. I didn’t have time for these two to be beefing, especially not over my funky ex.
“Uh-uh. We’re not doing that. Fuck him. Fuck that bitch. And fuck a relationship,” I said, putting an end to the conversation.
“Period. Fuck his bald ass!”
Chas raised her glass, and I clinked mine against it. We simultaneously placed them to our lips, downing the liquor. Spring rolled her eyes. She picked her glass up, drinking from it as well.
“Now that we’re done with that,” Chastity put down her glass, “Klutch is coming to the city, so you know we’re gonna turn up.” Excitement dripped from her voice.
Klutch is Chasity’s cousin, but they practically grew up as brother and sister. Chastity’s mother took him in once his mom got hooked on drugs, raising him as her own. Klutch moved out of Palm Heights when his rap career took off, and he got signed.
Klutch was my first ever crush. I used to want him so bad that I would always daydream about us being together.
But he never paid me any attention. I guess the fact that I was his little cousin friend, and him being cool with my brother played a part in that.
By the time I reached high school, I had outgrown that crush.
“Looks like we’re about to have a ball,” I replied.
This weekend is about to be my welcome back to the streets party. I plan on making up for the past two years of being locked down. The weekend won’t owe me anything by the time I’m done.