Chapter 9 #2
“Okay, I’ll call you later.” Nene called out to my back, and I didn’t reply just walked in the shop. It was time for her ass to get the fuck on. After this weekend I was finna cool out on fuckin’ with Nene.
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Friday Afternoon
I hated to fuckin’ shop and I hated being in the mall.
I always order my shit offline, groceries, clothes, shoes, if you had to get it from a store I wasn’t going.
Ion know if it was my time in jail or what, but crowded places made me uncomfortable.
I never felt like I could fully watch my surroundings.
I felt out in the open and vulnerable and I hated that shit.
I was always on high alert. Coming to Beaucity Mall wasn’t in my plans for the day but I had a few things to take care of, the called for me to get out of my comfort zone.
For one Chunk kept going on and on about these light up princess shoes she saw on tv that she wanted.
Solana claimed she would eventually get them for her.
I didn’t like the uncertainty in her voice, so I took it upon myself to go get Chunk the shoes she wanted.
Solana was probably gonna cuss me out like she did whenever I bought Chunk something extra, but she’d be alright.
I also had to take back a pair of pants I ordered that didn’t fit me the way I wanted.
The bitch ass store claimed they only did in person refunds which was some bullshit.
I already got Chunk’s shoes, and I’d just exchanged my jeans for bigger ones.
I pulled my phone from my pocket when I heard it ringing.
I debating on answer the shit when I saw the name Pops rolling across the screen.
I fucked with my dad more than Lo did, but I kept the nigga at arm’s length.
The nigga did too much at times. He stayed with his handout once he saw how successful Lo and I became.
I broke my dad off from time to time, I didn’t mind that.
At the same time, the nigga was absent for a big part of our childhood.
He wanted to chase pussy instead of helping raise us.
Dealing with my mama’s negativity I got how it was easier being gone than at home.
My thing was he could have stopped fucking with our mama and still been a dad to us.
He couldn’t expect to be treated like a dad who’s been there.
For whatever reason he didn’t want to understand that.
Whenever I told his grown ass no, he’d cop an attitude like a little bitch.
He’d have hella little slick shit to say like I gave a flying fuck.
My dad loved tryna pit Marlo and me against our younger siblings.
The shit ain’t even make sense because our siblings were all still kids.
What the fuck our grown asses look like beefing with a fourteen, ten, and eight year olds.
I cussed that nigga out every time he tried that shit with me.
I fucked with all my siblings. Lo did too, we wanted to make sure our brothers Hakeem, who was fourteen, and Hiro, who was eight, stayed out of the street life.
Hakeem stayed at our shop during the summer trying to learn what he could from Lo and me.
Our daddy ain’t like that shit, he was jealous cause he’d been trying to come work for us for years, but Lo wasn’t having it.
He didn’t fuck with our dad, and I don’t think it was just cause he left us when we were younger.
Nah, our dad was shady nigga who was always in some shit.
He was the get rich scheming kind of nigga.
“What up?” I spoke into the phone after answering it on the last ring.
“Damn, son I thought you wasn’t finna answer.” My dad’s gruff voice bellowed through the speaker.
“Nah, man. What’s up you good?” I wanted him to get straight to the point. There was no need to beat around the bush cause I know he wanted something.
“Yeah, I’m good son. Just left from dropping Shakarii off at cheerleading practice." He spoke about my ten year old sister. That was my baby and I spoiled the fuck out of her like I did my nieces.
“Oh, yeah? When her next game? She was supposed to call and tell me so we can make it to see her cheer.”
“Next week, I think. I’m let you know tonight when I pick her back up. Lo coming too?”
I kissed my teeth annoyed with him asking that dumb ass question. “Lo always come to all of their stuff.” Lo didn’t fuck with our dad. He loved our siblings the same way he loved me.
“Aye don’t shoot me. I’m just asking. You know that nigga funny acting,” My dad bitterly said.
“Nah, he just don’t be on your bullshit,” I defended Lo, my dad knew better than to say anything outta pocket about my brother to me.
“I ain’t did nothing to that boy. But I ain’t finna beg no child of mine to love me. He ah regret the way he treated me when I ain’t here no mo’,” I wanted to tell my daddy not to hold his breath, but I held my tongue.
“Unhuh whatever you say big dawg.” I’d checked outta the conversation.
“But uh, why we on the subject did you talk to Lo about what I asked you?” My dad finally said what he really was calling for.
“Man, ain’t no point in askin’ him. He ain’t going and I don’t care enough to go against him,” I truthfully answered him.
My dad been trying to get Lo to higher him on at our shop. Lo didn’t trust him enough to let him anywhere near our business. We put too much into B she was skin and fucking bones when we was fucking around.
Every day I told her that her ass was getting fatter knowing good damn well that shit was as flat as it came.
But when some short, well he was shorter than me but taller than the broad I was following called her name and she stopped walking.
I stepped off to the side out of her line of vision just in case she was who I thought she was.
When she turned around, I almost lost my got damn mind.
It was Zaylee Cooper in the fucking flesh, and I was more heated that she still looked like something, if not better than before.
I damn near wanted her ass to be a fuckin’ junk head somewhere strung out than to look as good as she did now.
No amount of hate was finna make be delusional her stupid ass was still fine as fuck.
Zaylee always stuck out to me cause she had the prettiest deep mahogany skin complexion.
Like a river of dark chocolate coating her body.
Her round onyx colored eyes were always hidden by the thick glasses she always wore.
I used to hate her glasses so bad and to see she was still wearin’ them bitches.
Hardheaded ass. A lot of people often thought the mass of curly jet Black hair was a wig, but it was all hers.
Her and her mama had long thick ass hair.
Zaylee didn’t play about taking care of her hair either.
When I said Zaylee used to be skin and bones when we were together, I mean that she had no ass, small titties but I loved her beyond what she lacked.
Now I wasn’t saying Zaylee was big booty stripper thick when I say she was thicker and her ass was fatter.
She’d still looked tiny compared to the average IG model, but her body was stacked compared to how flat she used to be.
Her curves were more defined, hips wider, ass fatter and she easily went from an A-cup to a C-cup.
The tight jean skirt that cuffed her ass making it look even bigger and made my dick come to life.
I wanted so bad to touch Zaylee’s newfound curves, it was making me green with envy watching her hug the nigga who’d called her name.