Chapter Eight
Tyler, Dexter, and Bobbi were seated in the back of a rented black SUV. Tyler wanted to drive her own car, but Dex was still all up her ass and she was choosing her battles wisely.
“Here, baby.” He held his hand out.
Tyler stared down at the white pill in his hand and rolled her eyes.
She told him earlier that day she was trying to slow down, but the words must’ve gone in one ear and out the other because there he was handing her the very thing she was struggling to give up.
The small voice in her head urged her to slap it out of his hand, but the familiar chill that slipped up her spine encouraged her to reach out and take it from him.
Popping the pill in her mouth, Tyler washed it down with a sip of water and turned her attention back to the window.
“Oh, we about to be lit!” Bobbi danced in her seat. “I’m trying to leave with a baller tonight.”
“Chill out. You’re on the clock,” Dex warned her.
“It’s a social event.”
“And you’re my assistant. You can’t be throwing yourself on niggas. You never know what I might need.”
Tyler thought it was a joke that Dexter hired Bobbi to be his assistant at Carla’s request, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Dexter didn’t need an assistant, and if he did, Bobbi wasn’t the person for the job. She wasn’t organized, she partied hard, and she couldn’t follow simple directions.
“Whatever, Dex. Shit, I might as well take one too,” Bobbi pouted. She tagged along to party, not work.
“Are you not listening? I said you’re on the clock.”
“Ugh,” she scoffed. “Cousin, I don’t see how you deal with him. I only been working with him for a week and I’m over it.”
Tyler didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t even hear them bickering. Her mind was floating between writing lyrics for the beat she heard earlier that morning and Detroit’s skyline. The full moon and specs of stars prompted her to close her eyes and make a wish.
“The fuck. Are you nodding off?” Dex slapped her leg.
“Ouch nigga!” Tyler’s eyes popped open. “Don’t fucking hit me.”
“Trying to make sure you weren’t on no crackhead shit.”
“Heroin addicts nod off, dummy,” she corrected him. “And I wouldn’t be doing anything if you hadn’t given me a pill after I told you I needed a break to clear my mind, but I guess you like me high?”
“Who the fuck you talking to?” He thumbed his nose and leaned forward.
“Do you even love me for real?”
“I’m with you, right?”
Tyler chuckled as her eyes filled with tears.
“And you think that’s enough?” She scoffed. “Why do you love me?”
“Man, gone with all that shit. I love you because you’re mine and these hoes not fucking with you. That’s why.”
“That’s kinda pitiful.” Tyler gazed at him. “Stupid ass, immature ass answer, but what did I expect you to say?”
“I mean what the fuck you want me to say?” Dexter huffed, not in the mood for her wave of emotions. “You know I’m not no romantic nigga.”
“Right.”
“Man, why the fuck you tripping? That’s all you do now, bring the fun Ty back. This version depressing as fuck.”
“I’m drowning right in front of you, and instead of saving me, you’re standing there watching me sink.”
“The fuck is you talking about right now?”
“I’m drowning, Dex. I’m losing touch with reality and you…” Tyler softly cried. “You know what,” she paused, dabbing her eyes. “Just keep doing you, Dex.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean? Doing you?” Dexter frowned. “You saying that like you’re about to leave me or something. Are you trying to leave me, Ty?”
“Ok yall. Let’s have a good night,” Bobbi pleaded, knowing where the conversation was headed.
“You trying to leave me, Ty?” Dexter repeated, thumbing his nose, seconds away from flying off the handle.
“It's not about you!” Tyler screamed so loud the driver swerved, sending Bobbi’s drink flying to the floor. “You talking about leaving you... Dexter, I wake up some mornings and want to leave Earth.”
“So now you suicidal?” He mocked.
“Might be.” Tyler shrugged, turning her attention to the strobe lights as they pulled up to their destination.
The listening party they were headed to was being held at the Roostertail near downtown Detroit.
Rahlo’s team spared no expense with the rollout of his new music.
The guest list ranged from Detroit’s royalty to Tubi celebrities.
Strobe lights beamed in the sky, guiding partygoers to the venue where paparazzi stood behind velvet ropes, trying to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous.
“Baby.” Dex tapped Tyler’s leg when their driver came to a complete stop.
“Hm?” Her glossy eyes peered at him, letting him know emotional Tyler was gone and high Tyler was in his presence.
“I love you and I don’t wanna live without you, so stop talking like that, aight?”
“I’m fine, Dex. Let’s just go have a good time.”
“We was gone do that regardless.” Dex kissed her lips. “And then I’m going to work a nut up out that pussy.” He stroked her exposed thigh. “I promise I got you this time.”
With the Molly making its way through her bloodstream, Dex's hand on her thigh made her body tingle. The combination of his cold hand stroking her thigh and his warm breath on her ear sent Tyler's body into overdrive. A soft moan escaped her lips and her nipples hardened under the thin fabric.
“Oh hell nah, yall can feel each other up when I get out of the car.” Bobbi looked on in disgust.
“Don’t be jealous,” Tyler giggled.
“I promise you I have nothing to be jealous about.”
“I’m going to take care of you later, aight?” Dex kissed Tyler’s cheek.
“Ok,” she cooed.
Dexter sat back in his seat and adjusted the cuff links on his suit jacket. No longer was Tyler sitting there lost in deep thought. She was happy for the moment... even if it was drug-induced.
When the car came to a stop, Tyler removed the lip gloss from her clutch along with a compact mirror.
Dexter watched as she puckered her full lips and reapplied the Fenty gloss.
He could never deny how beautiful she was and he couldn’t explain how he envied her confidence.
Even when he called himself trying to belittle her, Tyler still lit up the room.
Dexter should’ve been honored to have her by his side, but sometimes he wished he would’ve left her where she was.
“Damn, you gone put the entire tube on the motherfuckas,” Dexter blurted.
“Gotta make sure I'm on point.”
“Don’t get in here and get lost, stay by my side. You know I don’t trust these niggas.”
“I hear you.” She flashed him a smile as the car door opened.
Dexter moved ahead of her and stepped out of the truck.
Pulling at his sleeve, he glanced at the paparazzi who were on standby, waiting to snap pictures.
Dexter felt slighted that they weren’t trying to capture his picture, but he cleared his throat and held his hand out for Bobbi to exit.
She waved at the paparazzi, flashing them an award-winning smile, gaining a couple of flashes.
Extending his hand again, Dexter helped Tyler step out of the truck and was almost blinded by the flashing cameras.
“Tyler, this way!”
“Tyler, who are you wearing?”
“Tyler, give us a pose!”
“Tyler!”
“Tyler!”
“Tyler!”
Like the star she was, Tyler held onto Dexter’s arm with one hand, waving to the crowd with the other. She stopped and posed, allowing Dexter to drape his arm around her shoulder. In true Dexter fashion, he threw up a couple of gang signs before groping Tyler’s ass.
“Ty, can we have a minute?” A reporter from a very popular Detroit news blog asked.
“Sure.” She stepped closer to the rope.
“First off, let me just say that you look amazing,” the reporter gushed.
“Thank you so much! The girls over at House of Ki did their thing.”
“You're wearing that outfit, honey. Now I know you finished your tour, which was amazing by the way. I caught three shows and felt like I needed more.”
“Thank you,” Tyler beamed. “A time was had.”
“Is there anything else in the works?”
“Aye, my man, you can find out when everybody else finds out. Let’s go, Ty,” Dexter rudely snapped, almost yanking Tyler away.
Caught off guard, she smiled through the sharp pain that shot up her elbow. It was almost as if he was trying to pull her arm out of the socket. The further they walked, the tighter his grip became. Jealousy had him damn near dragging her up the red carpet and he couldn’t control it.
“You know Carla don’t like all that free press shit. They need to pay for exclusives,” he whispered against Tyler’s ear. “These muthafuckas don’t get shit for free.”
“Dexter, do not grab me like that again. I’m grown and can say what I want. Carla is not my mama, and you aren’t my daddy.”
“What?” Her words made him pause. “Aye, man….” he wiped the corner of his lips. “Don’t get fucking cute because we can go back to the crib.”
“Ty, can we get a picture?” Another reporter called out.
“Fuck outta here with that picture bullshit.” Dexter ignored them, dragging Tyler inside. “Take a picture of these nuts.”
???
“Made it to the top and pulled my niggas in. Whole hood wearin’ Mink, bitch we all win. No losers over here, that shit’s a sin. Gotchu girl in the kitchen whippin' chickens, call her mama hen,” Rahlo rapped into the microphone.
“Leaving dust on these tracks, Harleys. Lil booty chick on my side, call her Marley,” Czar joked, winking at his wife.
“I’m going to smack you,” she hissed, trying to stop the smile that pulled at the corner of her lips.
She loved it when he rapped to her in public but hated it when people started turning it into memes.
Thanks to Czar and his nickname for her, they started a “little booties matter” movement, and fans made her the face of the organization.
“What?” Czar grinned. “I thought you like it when I rapped to you,” he replied, leaning down in her face.
“Nah, I like it when you sing.” Marley licked her lips.
“Nigga you sing?” Rahlo chortled.
“Mind your business nigga.”
“Ole Chris Brown ass nigga.”
“There goes your boy.” Czar tossed his head to the left.