| |
Breeze rolled her eyes as she heard the phone ringing from inside the house. She knew that it was only her mother calling.
“I’ll be back,” she told her friend before she went inside. She picked up the cordless phone and the caller ID confirmed just what she’d assumed.
“Hello.”
“Where Nya?” Lauren asked.
Breeze could tell that her mother had an attitude, but that wasn’t a surprise. She was always in a bad mood.
“Outside.”
“By herself?”
“Dior out there.”
“I swear you so fuckin’ dumb. She yo’ sister. Why ain’t you watchin’ her?”
“I was. I came in to answer the phone.”
“It’s cordless. You can take it outside. If somethin’ happens to my baby Imma fuck you up. Hello?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Feed my baby and clean up my house!” Lauren demanded before she hung up.
Breeze placed the phone back on its charging dock and headed back outside wishing she hadn’t answered the call. Her mother had a way of always putting her in a bad mood. They say misery loves company and Lauren was a miserable bitch.
“Get out of that street!” Breeze yelled at her younger sister Nya.
She was glad that she only had one younger sibling because at six years old, Nya was more than a handful and Breeze took care of her sister more often than their mother did.
“My ball,” Nya whined from the curb as she watched her pink and white ball bounce off of the curb on the opposite side of the street.
“Uuggh.” Breeze groaned before she walked down the seven steps and across the street to retrieve the ball. “Play wit’ somethin’ else,” she told her sister as she tossed the ball onto the porch.
“Aw man.”
Nya folded her arms over her chest.
“Ride your bike,” Breeze suggested as she sat back down next to her friend.
“You heard about what happened to Lil’ Man?” Dior asked.
“Yeah. That shit fucked up.”
“I know Keyonna messed up. What she gon’ do wit’ a baby at her age?”
“I don’t know and I ain’t tryin’ to find out. She betta find her a fuckin’ baller.”
“So he can get locked up like Lil’ Man?”
“As long as her ass don’t get locked up. Fuck these niggas.”
“So, she just supposed to use men?”
“They’ll use her. Lil’ Man got her pregnant and now she runnin’ back and forth to that jail. He can’t do shit for her from there. She need to get her mind right and move on.”
“You so heartless.”
“And?”
“You ain’t gon’ be sayin’ all that when it’s yo’ ass that’s in love.”
“Fuck love.”
Dior twisted her lips to one side and gave her best friend a knowing look.
“So you ain’t gon’ ever fall in love?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Breeze knew that love was for dummies. She didn’t need love, just a man with enough money to get her out of her mother’s house.
“Yeah right. We’ll see.”
“Just cuz you already got your wedding planned don’t mean Imma fall into that love trap.”
“Whatever. I do not have my wedding planned.”
“Right. All Brian gotta do is look at you and you gon’ faint.”
“Shut up!”
Dior slapped her friend on the thigh as they both laughed. It was no secret that she loved her some Brian.
“Why Shayna always cheatin’ on Melvin?” Dior asked, changing the subject. Talking about Brian always made her blush.
“Cuz that old ass nigga is a lame,” Breeze said with a frown.
“What you mean?”
“He old, he got that pot ass belly and I bet he can’t fuck. He work so much he probably be too tired to hit it anyway,” Breeze said with a laugh.
Melvin and Shayna Jensen lived down the street from Breeze and it was no secret that the Mrs. was not faithful to her husband.
“Yeah, but what about Shayna? What does she really bring to the table?” Dior wanted to know.
“She young and fly. He lucky to have a trophy wife like her.”
“A trophy wife?” Dior asked incredulously.
“Yeah. She gettin’ older, but Shayna had three kids and still looks like a video model. She keep her hair and nails done, she stay in the hottest shit and she cute in the face,” Breeze explained.
“That’s all true, but I mean what does she really bring to their relationship? She looks like a video hoe and that’s cute at thirty years old? All she does is stay home and fuck around, spending his hard earned money.
And if it wasn’t for him providing what she needed and wanted she wouldn’t be able to keep her nails and stuff done.”
“That’s the price he decided to pay for a bad bitch to call his own.” Breeze shrugged.
“I just don’t see how she can be so grimy,” Dior said softly.
“You gotta look out for you cuz most of these niggas sure ain’t gon’ do it.”
“That’s true, but if you find a good man you should treat him like one,” Dior shot back.
“I guess so, but whatever. Here come Primo,” Breeze said as a white Dodge Avenger with big, white rims and a loud ass sound system slowly rounded the corner.
Everyone knew when Primo was behind the wheel of a car. His name fit him perfectly because he was the highest quality of nigga in their neighborhood. He had more money than most black men would ever see in their lifetime and he loved to remind everyone just how well off he was. He only drove expensive, white cars with white or chrome rims.
“You still obsessed wit’ him?” Dior asked as she watched the Avenger pull into an empty space near the corner on the crowded block.
“I’m not obsessed, but I’m still feelin’ that nigga,” Breeze corrected.
“Oh,” was all Dior could say.
She’d tried to talk some sense into her friend but she knew that Breeze wouldn’t be satisfied until she got Primo to notice her.
“Let’s go to the store,” Breeze suggested, knowing that Primo was heading into the corner store that he owned.
Dior shook her head, but agreed to walk with her friend. It wasn’t like she was doing anything else.
“Nya, come on,” Breeze called out as they walked down the stairs.
Nya followed behind her sister and her friend on her bike.
“Can I get some chips?” Nya asked once they were inside the store.
“Yeah,” Breeze said, trying to discreetly keep her eyes on Primo, who was flirting with the cashier.
“Can I get a juice?” Nya asked as she stood with the refrigerator opened.
“Yeah,” Breeze said impatiently.
Dior shook her head at her friend as she helped Nya to pick out a few snacks.
“Is that all?” Monica, the cashier asked as Dior placed the items on the counter.
“Yeah.” Dior nodded.
“Six fifty-three,” Monica announced.
Dior paid for the stuff, most of it was hers, and started to head for the door.
“I forgot I gotta get a uhh, some bread,” Breeze said as she headed towards the back of the store. Primo had disappeared back that way a few minutes earlier.
Dior sighed out loud knowing that her friend was just stalling so that she could hopefully catch another glimpse of Primo. He was fine. Dior had to give him that.
He was six feet five inches tall with a slim, muscular build and smooth skin the color of honey glistening in the sunlight. He had a sexy smile with perfect, movie star white teeth and deep dimples in both cheeks. He kept his hair cut low with deep waves and he walked like he owned the world. His deep voice was enough to make just about any woman melt, and although she did have a little bit of a crush on him, Dior knew that he was more trouble than he was worth.
“Hey Dior,” Brian said as he and a couple of his friends walked into the store.
“Hey,” she said with a smile that she couldn’t stop from spreading across her face.
Brian set heart aflutter and she couldn’t deny it if she wanted to. She’d had a crush on him since she was in the sixth grade.
“What you doin’ tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Probably nothin’ much.”
Dior shrugged as she forced herself not to stare into his hazel eyes.
“Imma text you,” he said as he leaned against the counter.
“Okay,” she said, trying to sound like she couldn’t care less. “What you doin’ tonight?” she asked.
“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to the movies wit’ Jeff and Shawn, but them niggas be cakin’ on some double date shit.” He chuckled, uncomfortably.
“Oh,” Dior said as her heartbeat quickened.
She was happy to know that Brian didn’t have a girlfriend. She was cool with Brian and they talked whenever they ran into each other, but he’d never asked her out and she was sure that he was about to.
“But Imma hit you up,” he said as Jeff and Shawn brought their items up to the counter.
“Okay,” she said again, feeling let down.