CHAPTER NINETEEN #3
"Yeah, I said cute. 'Cause you sitting here thinking you special, but you ain't. Me and Sosa been fucking around for years. We got history. You just the flavor of the month."
I felt my blood boiling.
"Flavor of the month? Bitch, I live with him. We been together for over a year. Who the fuck are you again? Oh, a nobody who just sucks his dick when it’s convenient for him." I shot back.
"I'm the bitch he gon’ come to when he gets tired of yo’ ass," Sheree shot back. "You think you the only one? Girl, please. Sosa always gon' come back to me. We got a bond you can't break."
"A bond? You mean you a fucking side bitch who he use when he bored!"
"Call it what you want, but I ain't going nowhere. And neither is he. So you can cry about it, leave him, do whatever you want, he still gon' be in my bed."
"You a dirty ass hoe, you know that?"
"And you a stupid ass bitch for thinking he was faithful," she said, laughing again. "But go off, sis. Get mad at me all you want. It ain’t gon’ change shit."
I wanted to reach through the phone and choke her ass. "You know what? Fuck you, bitch. And fuck him too."
"Yeah, I do fuck him. On a regular basis, actually." She was really enjoying this. "Now get off his phone and go cry to somebody who gives a fuck." She hung up.
I sat there, the phone still in my hand, my whole body shaking. I felt like I was going to explode. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to break everything in this room. But instead, the tears just started falling.
I dropped the phone on the bed and put my face in my hands, sobbing. All the happiness I felt earlier, all the love, all the pride, shit was gone. Replaced with this heavy, crushing feeling in my chest.
I really thought Sosa was different. I thought he was the one nigga who wouldn't do me dirty, who wouldn't cheat, who wouldn't lie to my face. I thought what we had was real.
But he was just like every other nigga.
How long had this been going on? How many times had he left the house saying he had "business" when really he was going to see her? How many times had he fucked her and then came home and fucked me, lying to my face like it was nothing? I felt so fucking stupid.
I pulled my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, crying so hard I could barely breathe. My chest hurt. My head hurt. Everything hurt.
I looked over at the phone again, still lit up with that text message.
"You acting funny after I just sucked yo' dick. Fuck you Sosa."
I grabbed the phone and threw it across the room as hard as I could. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, the screen cracking. But it didn't make me feel better. Nothing was going to make me feel better.
I laid down on the bed, crying into the pillow. I could still smell Sosa cologne on the sheets, and it made me cry even harder. I thought he loved me. I really thought he loved me. But love don't cheat. Love doesn't lie. Love doesn't make you feel like this.
I didn't know how long I laid there crying, but eventually, I heard my phone buzz. I picked it up, hoping for a second that it was Sosa. But it wasn't. It was Mya asking if I was good. I didn't respond. I just put my phone down and closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear.
My phone buzzed again. Then again. Then again.
I snatched it up ready to cuss Mya the fuck out because I was already too close to the edge, but when I saw her name flashing across the screen, I just stared at it for a second.
I didn’t wanna answer it, because answering meant I had to talk. Talking meant I had to explain. Explaining meant I had to say out loud that Sosa had me looking stupid behind this bitch Sheree, who was bold enough to text his phone like she had rights to him.
The phone stopped ringing. Then started right back. That was Mya. Persistent as hell when she felt like something was wrong.
I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, but it didn’t matter because the tears kept falling. My eyes were burning, my nose was running, and my chest felt like somebody had parked a truck on top of it.
“Hello,” I finally answered, my voice cracking.
Mya got quiet for half a second. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Yah-Yah, don’t play with me. You crying.”
I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”
“Girl, I know you. You not fine. Where Sosa at?”
That made the tears come harder because I didn’t even know where the fuck he was.
“Mya,” I whispered.
“What happened?”
I tried to talk, but the words got stuck.
All that anger I had on the phone with Sheree had disappeared the second she hung up.
Now all I had left was hurt. The kind of hurt that made you feel stupid.
The kind that made you replay every moment, every lie, every kiss, every “I love you” and wonder which ones were real.
“Sosa cheating on me,” I finally got out.
There was silence.
“With who?” she asked, and her voice changed.
“The bitch named Sheree.”
“Sheree who?”
“I don’t know her last name. But she own that club Allure.”
“Allure?” Mya repeated, like the name alone pissed her off. “That spot on the West Side?”
“Yeah.”
Mya sucked her teeth so hard I heard it through the phone. “Oh, so she one of them bougie hood bitches with a liquor license and a security team?”
“She bold as hell, too,” I cried. “She texted his phone talking about, ‘you acting funny after I just sucked yo’ dick.’”
“What?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up because the anger was starting to find me again. “And I called her from his phone. Bitch got real cute. Talking about they got history, I’m the flavor of the month, and Sosa always come back to her.”
“Flavor of the month?” Mya repeated, and I could hear the way her attitude rose. “Bitch she got the wrong one.”
“She said he gon’ be in her bed regardless.”
“Where she at?”
“Mya—”
“Nawl, where she at?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“You know something.”
I sniffed and looked toward Sosa’s cracked phone across the room. “She probably at Allure tonight. I mean it is her club.” I said and Mya got quiet.
That quiet scared me a little because Mya loud was one thing. Mya quiet meant her mind was already made up.
“Get dressed,” she said.
“What?”
“I said get dressed.”
“Mya, I’m not going nowhere.”
“Yes, you is. You not finna sit in that room crying in that man pillow while some bitch with a club and a lace front think she can play in yo’ face. Get dressed.”
I wiped my face. “I look a mess.”
“And? You still prettier than that bitch on your worst day.”
That made me laugh a little even though I was still crying.
“I’m serious, Yah. Get up. Wash yo’ face. Put on something black.”
“Mya—”
“I aint tryna hear shit. I’m on my way.”
Before I could say anything else, she hung up.
I sat there for a minute, staring at my phone like I had lost my damn mind. And maybe I had. Because any woman with sense would’ve stayed in that room, packed her shit, and waited on Sosa to come home so she could confront him like a mature adult.
But I wasn’t mature tonight. I was hurt and embarrassed. And more than anything, I was pissed the fuck off.
I climbed out the bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the light. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked like she’d been through hell. My lashes were wet and clumped together. My nose was red. My eyes were puffy. My hair was messed up from me crying into the pillow.
I looked like exactly what I was. A woman who had just found out the man she loved had been lying in her face.
I turned the water on cold and splashed my face until the tears stopped trying to fall.
Then I brushed my hair down, fixed my edges the best I could, and changed into black leggings, a black hoodie, and my black Balenciaga slides because I wasn’t getting cute to fight no bitch.
I wasn’t giving Sheree the satisfaction of thinking I came to compete.
This shit wasn’t a competition, this shit was about consequences for disrespecting me.
By the time Mya pulled up, I was standing by the front door with my purse on my shoulder and Sosa’s cracked phone in my hand.
I don’t know why I brought it. Maybe because I needed proof.
Maybe because I wanted to throw that shit at him when I saw him.
Maybe because a part of me still couldn’t believe none of this was happening and I needed to keep looking at the message to remind myself I wasn’t crazy.
Mya honked once.
I walked out, locked the door behind me, and climbed into her passenger seat.
She looked me over. “You good?”
“No.”
“At least you honest.”
I leaned my head back against the seat. “I feel stupid as hell.”
“You not stupid.”
“I am.”
“No, you in love. It’s a difference.”
“That don’t make me feel better.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
I glanced over at her. She had on a black tracksuit, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and them big ass hoops she only wore when she was about to act a fool. She looked calm, but I knew my sister. Mya’s calm was dangerous.
“Where we going?” she asked.
“Allure.”
“Good.”
“You not gon’ tell me this is a bad idea?” I asked as she pulled off,
“It is a bad idea.” She said and I looked at her.
“But some bad ideas be necessary.”
That was all she said, and honestly, that was all I needed.
The ride to Allure was quiet at first. I stared out the window while Chicago moved past us in blurry lights and dark streets. Every time we passed a car that looked like Sosa’s, my stomach dropped. I kept wondering where he was.
“You know what’s fucking me up?” I said after a while.
“What?”
“He be acting like he love me so much.” Mya sighed.
“No, I’m serious,” I said, turning toward her.
“He be looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world.
He sleep wrapped around me every night. He call me his wife.
He talk about kids and the future and all this shit, and whole time he got some bitch out here feeling comfortable enough to text him crazy. ”
“Men be selfish.”
“Sosa is selfish.”
“Very.”
“I hate him.”
“No, you don’t.”
I rolled my eyes because that pissed me off. “Yes, I do.”