Don’t Be Funny, Be Hilarious #2
My lips quirked as I raised the bottle to him. He didn’t need it more than me, even if his cousin was chewing him out.
Sure enough, Set and Fredo were posted up outside by a beamer. Set opened the back door for me, but when I went to slide in, he blocked my entrance.
His fingers pinched my chin as he met my gaze.
“That nigga not using you to set us up, right?”
He tightened his hold when I shook my head. “No. Wave and Flyy are all about money. They not on that. Not like you.”
Eyes the color of storm clouds bored into me until he blinked and nodded. “Fasho. Fredo taking us back to my whip, then you with me tonight.”
His thumb rubbed my chin before he let me go, closing the door behind me.
I was officially in The Twilight Zone.
I wasn’t the only one getting to the paper.
Set and Fredo put the west side crips to shame.
We started at Hollywood Hookah, where we met up with Reem and Tyree, who also didn’t say shit when Set had his arm around me, clinking shots with me.
After getting a nice buzz, we ended up at the club downtown, Secret Sundayz, and they and the rest of Foe Dub besides Turk and Rico bought out the bar.
Set was a super light weight, drunk as fuck off only two shots, but the club didn’t say anything when he faced two blunts to get back to a respectable pace.
But everyone was sloppy drunk. Tyree mentioned it was one of the last few weekends they’d all have free. Some girls Fredo knew joined us, and by the time we made it to Paradise, we had a caravan of cars.
Set gave me a thick stack of fives and ones and we made it rain on a couple strippers in our section. Auty was in a private party, with Turk’s supervision, so they never came to us.
Not that it mattered.
I had a fucking ball.
Until Set left to tell Turk he was out, and Fredo slid next to me.
“The fuck is you doing, Wyn?” he asked in my ear. His words were slurred, just a little, but I knew he wasn’t as plastered as everyone else.
“Does he know? About me and Rico?”
Fredo sighed and rubbed his face.
I chuckled. “Of course not. Why would Rico tell anyone he was with a slut like me, right?”
“You gon’ tell him?” he glared.
My eyes stretched. “And why the fuck would I claim a nigga who couldn’t ever claim me? As far as I’m concerned, me and Rico never happened.”
“Wyn–”
“And you’re not gonna tell him either. Because you know, deep down, that if he didn’t give a fuck back then to put him up on game about me, then he’s surely not gonna give a fuck now.”
Fredo didn’t have a comeback, which more or less cemented my words as facts. I wanted to be proven wrong. I wanted to mean something to that damn man.
Though I knew at the beginning of the night it wasn’t the case.
“Don’t be too put out, Fredo. I still love you, even if you love Auty more now.” I winked at him and stood to gather my purse.
He stood too, and pulled me to him. “Promise me if you need me you’ll call.”
“I won’t need you, Fredo.” I squeezed him tight before I walked out of the section with more confidence that I felt, right into the bathroom.
It was empty, thank God. I wasted no time getting to a stall. I needed another bump.
Fuck him. Fuck him.
How foolish was I to think I ever meant something to Rico, after all the times he showed me otherwise.
He never fucked a girl he knew I was cool with. They were the only girls he turned down, granted, but still. He never crossed that line.
I thought it was because he cared.
I thought that meant that even though we weren’t shit to each other now, once upon a time, we were everything. And he honored that.
Clearly not.
Every woman knew if your ex’s friends tried to get at you, that means he either gave the go ahead, or you overestimated your place in their life. Rico was secretive before, but after they took over the Birch, all of them were thick as thieves.
He would have told him. If it mattered.
And yet, I’d been tucked beside Set the whole night.
I dipped my nail into the baggie and gave myself two more bumps. If there was enough room, I’d do a line, but alas.
Besides, I didn’t wanna be too blitzed.
I was fucking Set that night.
I checked my makeup and when I saw I was good, I left the bathroom. Set saw me and dapped everyone up before throwing an arm around my shoulder and leading me out of Paradise.
“You good to drive?” he crooned.
“I don’t have no license, boy,” I chuckled.
“Just don’t get on the freeways. I know yo ass can drive. G-Pops taught all of us before like ten.”
He handed me the keys before opening the driver side for me. I was happy I did do a little pick me up, because my nerves were acting up bad.
I knew I needed to get my license, but I hated driving. I really hated being in cars, period, after that whole ordeal, but I kept myself from thinking about that.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I adjusted the mirrors for myself.
“I moved back home a few weeks back, so we can go there. It’ll give me time to sober up, too.” He chuckled to himself as he entered the address into the GPS. Without the freeways, it was over a forty-minute drive, so he settled in, while I prayed we made it in one piece.
By the time I finally crawled into the long driveway, Set was snoring loud as hell, and my knuckles were white.
I didn’t know if it was the car stopping or his snoring, but Set jumped up, hand on his gun.
“We’re here, fool,” I grumbled, taking off my seatbelt.
“Rude ass.” He followed suit, and I had to hold his drunk ass up to put the code in to go inside.
The house was new, like it still smelled like paint. My heels clacked across the marble floors as he led me deeper inside, until we got to his room.
It was sparsely decorated, with just a huge bed, a dresser, and a tv as big as I was. We stumbled in, and I dropped him into his bed.
“You really sloppy drunk,” I laughed. “Like a girl.”
“Fuck you,” he mumbled, or tried to. His eyes were already closed.
“Come on. Don’t sleep in your outside clothes.” I woke him up enough to help me undress him, then he crawled into the middle of the bed, curled up, and went back to sleep.
I couldn’t help but shake my head. The times I’d seen Set be normal were few and far between, but they always amazed me.
I also felt kinda funny; for him to be this open, as open as he could be, he clearly recognized me as the Wyn he grew up with.
I knew for sure Set wasn’t bringing random hoes to Tiny’s house.
And they for sure weren’t seeing him this fucked up.
My cheeks began to hurt from keeping the smile off my face. I toed off my heels, and walked into the attached bathroom. It was easy enough to find towels, so I wrapped my ponytail into a bun and took a hot shower, washing the makeup off my face.
In the mirror–that didn’t fog up–I froze. Freckles. Everywhere.
Clashing with my blonde hair. A welcomed change on my eighteenth birthday that was slowly breaking my hair off, but I didn’t care. I hated my ruddy hair almost as much as I hated my freckles, but I didn’t want to sleep in makeup.
I peeked at the scars on my side from the bullet fragments. My next tattoo would be to cover them up.
I padded back into the room, and grabbed a clean shirt and pair of boxers from his drawer before I climbed into bed.
Even with Set stretched out in the middle, I had more than enough room, so I settled in, and tried to get some sleep.
A door slamming woke me up just as I started to doze off, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed that way more hours passed.
I caught movement, and Set’s expression turned sheepish as he moved closer to the bed. “My bad, Wyn. I ain’t want Nut or Shad to come in here. Niggas ain’t got no privacy in this bitch.”
He clearly showered, since he was shirtless and in silver basketball shorts, instead of the wife beater and unbuttoned jeans he passed out in.
In his hands were two steaming plates of pancakes and eggs.
I sat up and took them as he got into bed. “Thank you.”
“Fasho. That one with all that damn syrup is yours. I’m surprised you ain’t got no cavities.”
“Whatever,” I scoffed, my mouth watering at the fluffy goodness already cut and drenched for me. I took a fork from him and dug in immediately.
“You’re a horrible drunk,” I said, my mouth full. “Here I am thinking I’m finna get fucked and you pass out in the car.”
He barked out laughter, socking his chest to swallow his food. “On Foe, fuck you. That’s why I don’t drink, foreal. But a nigga was stressed, and every so often I need the reminder of why I should just stick to weed.”
“Why stressed?”
Set shuffled some eggs into his mouth before he went into his nightstand. He threw a water to me before opening one for himself.
“I was serious about airing out that fucking bar. That west side nigga got my whip, and I got it back and got at him, but the money that was in my dash is gone. Them niggas can’t even cross Proctor how I’m feeling about that shit.”
The air grew thick, until Set smirked and winked at me. “But then yo fine ass pulled up, and I changed my plans.”
I averted my eyes and placed my half-eaten plate on the other nightstand. “Shut up.”
“Why you being so shy, Wyn? You know you sexy. Especially with no makeup, wearing my t-shirt.”
His large hand gripped my waist and I found myself straddling him. My eyes stretched, feeling a dick as big as my arm right below my pussy.
He couldn’t have been wearing underwear.
“Damn–I mean, hold on there, partner,” I nervously chuckled, placing both palms on his chest.
A chest that was chiseled for an eighteen year-old.
“We need ground rules.”
“Ground rules, huh?” he asked, his hands gripping my waist before moving lower.
“Yes. We’ve–shit.”
His hands kneaded my ass as he grinded my hips on his dick. I was losing the battle, but I had to stay strong.
“We need rules, Set. We’ve known each other too long. I used to call you Case–”
“Aight. I get it.” He stopped his teasing to scoot up so that we were facing each other. “What rules you thinking of?”
“Well, for one, if we fuck, you’re wrapping up. Every time.”
“Done. I don’t run up in nobody raw.”