by Erica Hilton
“I fuckin’ hate you!” Chanel shouted.
During the melee between the sisters, Charlie’s gun spilled from her jacket, and she was left completely defenseless. Seeing the pistol on the floor, Pyro snatched it up. If there weren’t so many witnesses around, he would have killed Charlie with her own gun. But he kept his composure and allowed Chanel to do her thing. He didn’t know she had it in her.
Chanel clearly won the fight. She proved that she was no longer going to be anyone’s victim. When Bacardi finally pulled Chanel off Charlie, it looked like Charlie had fought a bear. Her nose was bloody, her eye was black and blue, and her hair was in disarray. She had a hard time catching her breath as streams of sweat rolled off her body. She smelled like a wet puppy. Charlie, who was once worshiped and feared around the projects, was humiliated.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Chanel! You fucked that bitch up,” someone said with amusement.
***
Inside the apartment, Chanel paced back and forth in the living room, cursing and amped up. She needed to calm down. Tears trickled from her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down. It looked like she was going to have a panic attack.
“Fuck that bitch, right!” she exclaimed with extreme emotion.
On the one hand, she felt elated that she had the courage to fight Charlie and she actually won. On the other, Charlie was her older sister and it hurt Chanel deeply that she played a part in what had happened to her and Mateo. Whatever possessed her to stoop so low, Chanel would never know.
“Calm down, Chanel. You did good. You did what you needed to do,” Pyro reassured her. “You finally put that bitch in her place.”
Butch and Bacardi agreed.
Still, Chanel didn’t want to be the bad guy. She didn’t want her anger to control her. Yes, Charlie did her dirty, but she wanted to be better than the tragedy.
Meanwhile, Bacardi’s tenant stood in the background in silence, not knowing what to expect next. She was new to the apartment, and seeing mother and daughter and then two sisters fight each other like they were in the UFC was mind-boggling to her.
Chanel finally noticed the stranger inside the apartment. Her frown transitioned into a warm smile toward the girl. She went over and said, “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry that you had to see that. I apologize. My name is Chanel.”
She extended her hand for a handshake.
“I’m Jacqueline,” the young woman replied.
The two shook hands. Chanel had become a different person for Jacqueline. Actually, she became her old self—friendly and warmhearted.
In Chanel’s eyes, Jacqueline seemed nice and pleasant. She was a part-time legal assistant, and she went to NYC Technical College at night. She used to live with her mother in the Linden Houses, but it was a rocky environment for her, with her mother being strung out on drugs and continuously smoking up the rent money and stealing from her. Jacqueline decided it was time for her to leave.
Chanel noticed that the apartment was clean, the fridge was stocked with food, and Butch was still sober. It was an entirely different place. Where was this place a few years ago? Chanel thought.
Butch was delighted to see his youngest daughter again, as was Bacardi. The days of treating her like trash were over. Oddly, Butch hugged her and proclaimed how deeply he missed her, and Chanel was taken aback by the action.
In no rush to leave, despite what had happened earlier, Chanel and Pyro took a seat in the living and chitchatted with everyone. Chanel lied to her parents and told them that she had been staying at Mecca’s place. She didn’t want Bacardi to get the wrong impression of her moving in with Pyro, even though it was temporary and they were friends. She also filled them in on Mateo’s progress.
“He’s doing so good,” Chanel mentioned.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Bacardi said.
When Bacardi brought out refreshments for them, Chanel needed to pinch herself. Whoa—what the heck has this place turned into? she thought. Bacardi was doing everything in her power to make the two of them feel at home.
“Look, it’s getting late. Chanel and I need to go,” Pyro said, standing up from the couch.
Butch and Bacardi stood too. Bacardi shot her daughter an inquisitive look that Chanel averted. Before his exit, Pyro reached into his pocket and removed a large wad of bills. He peeled away five hundred dollars and handed it to Bacardi.
“That’s for you,” he said.
She was pleased. Receiving money for doing nothing was her forte. “Thank you.”
“I know Mateo would have done it,” he said.
He gave the middle-aged woman a hug and left the apartment. Chanel shot a warm smile at her parents with thankful eyes, and she followed Pyro out the door.
When they left, Bacardi stood in the foyer baffled. They were behaving more like a couple than friends. And she didn’t like it.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie looked in the mirror and grimaced at what she saw. She was becoming tired of seeing bruises. Her meek little sister actually beat her down. Shit felt surreal. If there was one thing the hood respected, it was power, and everyone witnessed her looking powerless and humiliated. Charlie wanted payback. She needed to get back on her A game and show niggas and bitches how powerful she really was. If they wanted to call her grimy, then she was going to show them just how grimy she could be.
She seethed at her reflection. “Fuckin’ bitch.” She spun around and marched out of the bathroom.
Claire was sleeping, and Charlie didn’t want to wake her up. She threw on some clothes and left the building. It was time to implement her plan. It was time to go to the extreme.
She left the apartment and climbed into the backseat of an Uber. She needed to head to the city and get her cash from her Chase stash box. She gave the driver her destination, sat back, and marinated in her anger.
After the bank, she headed to a used car lot in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The dealership on 4th Avenue had some of the best cars that money could buy. Charlie walked onto the lot with $70,000 on her. Right away, her eyes landed on a candy red Mercedes Benz SL. It stood out.
“She’s a beauty,” the dealer said loudly.
Charlie turned around to see a short white man in a gray suit approaching her with a smile.
“Say what?”
“I said she’s a beauty. Red must be your favorite color,” he said.
“I just like the car.”
“I do too, but unfortunately, I’m gonna have to part with it today because it looks like you like it a lot more than me,” he replied.
She did. She loved it. It was like love at first sight.
“My name is Benjamin,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake.
“Charlie.”
“Well, Charlie, I already know you have good taste because you came here.”
“How much?” She motioned toward the Benz.
His thick smile continued. “For you, we’ll work something out, since you love this car more than me. It goes for ninety thousand—”
“Ninety?”
“Yes, but like I said, we can work something out.”
“Yeah, we need to, cuz I’m willing to pay cash for it right now.”
“Cash? You have cash on you right now to buy this car?” he asked.
Charlie unzipped the bag she had come with and had him take a peek inside. He smiled wide and said, “Well, um, let’s get started on the paperwork.”
“First, how much?”
“Straight cash? Sixty-five thousand, and that’s because you and I have the same taste, and I like you, Charlie. You’re my kind of woman,” he complimented.
She wasn’t much for the brown-nosing, but he was humorous. Charlie followed him into the main building to fill out the paperwork. An hour later, she had the keys to the Mercedes Benz SL. She slid into the driver’s seat and took a s
trong whiff of her new car. It was two years old, but it still had that new car smell. Now she was the one smiling brightly.
“Enjoy it,” said Benjamin.
“Believe me, I will.”
Fuck Chanel and her Range Rover, she said to herself.
Charlie tuned the radio station to Hot 97, and Davido’s “If” started to blare through the car. She drove the Benz off the lot and bopped in her seat as she headed home. When she got there, she left the Benz idling and called Claire. Several rings later, her sister finally answered her phone.
“What, Charlie?”
“Come downstairs. I wanna show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“Just come downstairs, Claire,” Charlie said with a little more force.
Claire sighed and hung up the phone. She exited the building with an attitude. In fact, she had several and was keeping everything pent up inside. She eyed the candy apple red convertible Mercedes Benz and knew it was bought with the blood money Charlie didn’t share with her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This me,” Charlie replied with a huge grin. “You like it?”
“What happened to your old car?”
“That piece of shit? You can have it.”
The remark infuriated Claire. Am I only worth that piece-of-shit car? Does that make me a piece of shit too? she thought. Even after Charlie made her an accessory to murder? She felt Charlie was belittling her.
“So, do you like it, sis?” Charlie asked her again.
Claire frowned. “Are you serious right now? You spent all that money on this?”
“Yeah. It’s a status symbol—let everyone know that I’m makin’ a fuckin’ comeback,” said Charlie.
“Comeback?” Claire chuckled. “And what do you plan to do about parking, huh? This whole area is a huge no-parking zone. You’re gonna get ticketed or towed.”
“Claire, stop being so fuckin’ negative. Shit! We need to go out and celebrate. Look at what we accomplished since our parents kicked us out.”
“You mean what you accomplished, Charlie. I’m not in your world and you damn sure don’t include me in it and when you do, it’s some fucked up shit,” Claire shouted. “And it was a stupid thing to spend our money on.”
“What the fuck is wrong wit’ you? Damn it, Claire, why can’t you act right just for once, and be fuckin’ happy ’bout something?”
“Because I can’t,” Claire yelled.
“You know what? I’m out. I tried to put a smile on your face and all you do is fuckin’ complain. A bitch is tired of hearing it,” Charlie griped.
Claire still frowned. “Bye!”
Charlie sighed. With finality, she spewed, “Get ya shit right, Claire, or get left behind. And as for parking, I’ll figure it out. I always figure shit out and get shit done.”
Claire pivoted and went back into the building with her negative attitude.
Charlie shook her head and sped away. She had better things to do than coddle her little sister. She drove her new toy straight to her old neighborhood to show it off and announce to the haters, I’m back, bitches—and better than ever. Y’all can’t keep a bad bitch down!
Chapter Fifteen
It was nearly noon, and Chanel had spent a lazy morning in bed. She was gently awakened by the sun seeping through her window. She had a good night’s rest and she was ready to start her day by making herself a breakfast fit for a queen. She had to put the fight with Charlie behind her. There was no reason to dwell on it. She was moving on, but the beatdown she had given Charlie was therapeutic for her. Chanel didn’t even know she had it in herself.
She climbed out of bed, put on a long T-shirt and shorts and some fuzzy animal slippers, and walked out of her bedroom feeling like a blossoming flower. Finally, it felt like she was winning—like she was getting back on track. Mateo was improving and so was her life. Chanel had support from Pyro and, surprisingly, her parents. She never thought that would ever happen. She always believed that hell would freeze over before Bacardi and Butch would ever have her back. But they did, so the devil must have had frostbite. It was an amusing thought.
In the kitchen, she started to prepare breakfast for herself and Pyro, if he was hungry. She heard him last night with company. Pyro kept himself busy with the ladies, but it didn’t bother her. At least someone was having sex.
Hearing Pyro’s bedroom door open, Chanel smiled. She was happy to cook for him and his female guest. But when she saw who came out of his bedroom, her entire expression changed. Mecca reluctantly walked out behind him wearing one of his button-up shirts, her long, shapely legs showing underneath. The look on Mecca’s face clearly indicated that Pyro had given her a really good night.
Mecca gave a hesitant smile. She knew she had some explaining to do.
A million emotions were going through Chanel. She didn’t understand why, but she suddenly felt betrayed by them both. However, she kept her expression blank. She didn’t want to make an issue of it. She went back to making breakfast when Mecca walked over with an apologetic look on her face. She attempted to help, but Chanel snapped, “I got this. I can do it without your help. And since when did you start cooking?”
Immediately, Mecca looked around to see if Pyro had heard the remark. Of course, Mecca didn’t cook, but she would pretend to be whatever type of woman she needed to be to catch and keep Pyro’s attention.
“Chill out, girl,” Mecca whispered to her. “Just let me help you with breakfast.”
Chanel eyed her friend with doubt.
Pyro saw them cooking and went over to say, “Hey, we’re not staying for breakfast.”
“We’re not?” Mecca shot him a puzzled look.
“Nah, I got shit to do. We’ll just grab some takeout on the way out.”
“Oh.” Mecca scurried back into his bedroom to throw her clothes and shoes on.
Chanel kept quiet. She tried not to be care whether they stayed to eat or not.
Mecca quickly hugged Chanel. “I’ll call you.”
Chanel shrugged. “Sure, cool.”
“I’ll see you later, Chanel,” said Pyro, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
He left with Mecca. Chanel stood in the kitchen feeling ambivalent about their situation. Why should I care? she asked herself. They were both her friends—friends who happened to find each other. But seeing them together did bother her.
Chanel knew everything about Mecca, including her schedule, and she decided that she needed to have a word with her friend. In fact, she wasn’t even hungry anymore. After she put the breakfast food away, she went back into her bedroom and shut her door. She went back to bed to get some more rest and to do some thinking.
***
Chanel decided to catch up with Mecca outside her job at a clothing store on Third Avenue in Downtown Manhattan late the next evening. She was somewhat nervous about talking to Mecca, but she was determined to do so.
Mecca walked out and looked at Chanel with an uneasy smile.
“Hey,” Mecca started. She sighed and continued with, “Look, I apologize for yesterday morning. I didn’t want you to find out like that.”
Chanel nodded. “So, you and Pyro—how long has that been happening?”
“We exchanged numbers that afternoon when he came to pick you up at the restaurant, and we started talking and texting each other. I thought you would be cool with it. I really want your approval of us, Chanel. It would mean a lot to me.”
“Why would you keep this from me? I’m supposed to be your best friend.”
“And you are, Chanel. Why are you making this a thing? I honestly thought you knew,” she lied. The truth was, Mecca didn’t want her relationship with Pyro exposed until she was sure she wasn’t a fling.
Even though she had once wished for it, for some reason, Chanel no longer wanted them toge
ther. Her eyes stayed fixed on her best friend and she asked that question—the question she already knew the answer to.
“Did you sleep with him?”
Mecca nodded. “I did.”
Chanel shook her head. “Listen, I’m going to keep it real with you. Pyro is a player. He’s a womanizer, and I see him bringing a different woman to his bed almost every night. So, believe me, Mecca, when I say this to you—you’re no different than the others. The only thing he sees in you is a booty call,” Chanel proclaimed.
Mecca listened, but she didn’t understand why her friend was telling her this. Her eyes started to well up. “You’re supposed to be rooting for me, Chanel, not going against me.”
“I’m not going against you; I’m only looking out for you, Mecca. I know Pyro, and he’s gonna use you.”
“It sounds like you’re hating on me,” Mecca countered.
“Hate? I’m telling you the truth—trying to protect you.”
It was a shock to Mecca. “Protect me? You know who you remind of right now? Charlie and Claire.”
Now that was a gut shot for Chanel. “Seriously? You’re going to compare me to my sisters? I’m nothing like them.”
“You could have fooled me. And you shouldn’t be telling Pyro’s personal business like that, especially after he opened his door to you and is allowing you to stay there rent-free.”
“I thought I was looking out for you—being a friend, you know?”
“No. I don’t know. And why should I tell you my business when you can’t be honest with me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how you were lying to me about where you were staying. I thought you were in a hotel all that time, but come to find out that you were shacking up with Pyro—and while your man is in the hospital. And now you’re telling me not to mess with him. Why? Because you want him too?”
Chanel was completely taken aback by the accusation. “No! Hell no! We’re just friends.”
“Well, you could have fooled me, because right now your actions are speaking much louder than your words. I thought you were my friend and that you would be encouraging. Obviously, I was wrong,” Mecca retorted.
