Blood & Weed

3| Attitude Takes Away Beauty

{This photo is Ivory}

Raje

As I pulled up into Ivory's driveway, it dawned on me that it was Saturday. Surprisingly, she didn't have to work today. Ivory runs her own babysitting business, and let me tell you, don't even mention kids around her. She's absolutely crazy about them.

I heard her bidding her farewells inside as I stepped out of my car, leaning against the door. The sun beamed down, causing a slight burn on my exposed legs where my shorts ended. But I welcomed the warm sensation and didn't bother moving my leg.

In my head, I couldn't help but think, "What the fuck, Ivory? Black folks are always late for everything." I had texted her five minutes before arriving at her house, just so I wouldn't have to wait around, yet here I was, still waiting for her ass.

"Ivory, bring your ass on!" I yelled, my annoyance seeping through. Finally, she emerged from the house, hand in hand with Marcus.

I don't believe people can truly change. What Marcus did to Ivory left her deeply wounded, but she'd rather have the fleeting illusion of love than endure the pain, so she took him back.

I could never be so foolish.

As they descended the porch, Marcus nodded in my direction, fully aware that I couldn't stand him. He did shit like that just to get under my skin.

Ivory always pleaded with me to try and get along with him. But why should I? He ain't my nigga. I can't even fathom the idea of getting along with him, especially considering the fact that he once tried to get with me behind Ivory's back. And to top it off, he actually thought I would go for it.

Sure, he's an attractive guy, but he ain't attractive enough for me to betray my best friend. Even if he were, that's not what true friends do.

When I confronted Ivory about it, he had the audacity to claim I was lying and spew a bunch of other bullshit. That was the first and only argument we've ever had. Over a sorry-ass nigga like him.

I saw Ivory shoot me a look, silently urging me to be nice. So, out of kindness or whatever, I got out of my car and walked over to hug both of them and PopPop.

Approaching Ivory, I embraced her as if I hadn't even noticed Marcus standing right beside her.

"Stop being immature," she whispered into my ear, playfully pinching my nipple. I rolled my eyes and leaned over to shake Marcus' hand.

As I started to ascend the steps, I realized someone else was coming down at the same time. I looked at him, and although I had never met him before, damn, he looked good. I mean, fine as fuck. And trust me, it's rare for me to say something like that.

His skin appeared smooth, with a baby brown hue. His eyes had a mix of green and gray, and his hair cascaded in beautiful curls. He was fly as hell with unreleased Jordans resting on his feet. 

I noticed he wore a Rolex, and it didn't look fake. So, yeah, the guy had money. But that shit don't mean nothing. Money don't define you. He didn't have too many tattoos, unlike me. I only sport one tattoo on my collarbone—my mommy's name, Aisha.

I miss her every damn day. Thank goodness I'm not an only child. I have two aunts and an uncle. But I don't keep in touch with any of them because of some shit that went down a long time ago with my father.

His skin looked so soft and baby brownish. His eyes were greenish gray and his hair was long and in these beautiful curls. He wore a beach boy tank top and cargo shorts with some new Jordans that had came out. Unlike him, I didn't have many tattoos. Just one, actually—my mom's name, Aisha, inked on my collarbone.

Damn, I miss her every single day. Thankfully, I'm not alone in this world. I have two aunts and an uncle. But due to some fucked-up shit that went down a while ago involving my father, I don't keep in touch with any of them anymore.

Lost in my thoughts, I realized my gaze must've lingered a little too long because he asked Marcus about me.

"Aye, Marc, who's that? She bad," he said, licking his bottom lip.

I figured he was talking about me, but indirect statements don't sit well with me.

"And who are you? If you want to know me, maybe try asking me yourself. Sound smart?" I replied with attitude, not holding back.

"Whoa, sweetheart, no need for the attitude. My apologies. May I ask who you are?" he asked politely, a sly grin plastered across his face.

I guess I didn't have to be an ass today.

"That's better. I'm Raje, Ivory's best friend," I introduced myself.

"Oh, well, I'm Cliché. Nice to meet you, Raje," he said, reaching for my hand as if he were about to kiss it. I snatched it away before he had the chance.

"Yeah, whatever. You too," I replied carelessly.

I continued walking back up the steps, just like before. But as I struggled to open the door, Cliché couldn't resist making another comment.

"That attitude you've got won't get you far. It even lowers your beauty. Fix that shit," he said, his tone laced with attitude.

Once again, he managed to get on my nerves. I hope he isn't one of those guys who get pissed off just because they're not getting any attention.

"Guess what? I don't give a fuck," I replied honestly, brushing off his statement.

Rolling my eyes, I opened the door and looked for PopPop, only to find him fast asleep. I decided I'd swing by later, depending on what Ivory and I decided to do.

Ivory was waiting in the passenger side of my car, while Marcus leaned in through the window, still all lovey-dovey. Meanwhile, Cliché stood by the porch, lighting up a blunt.

Part of me wanted to be petty and roll the window up on him, but I decided against it. Cliché looked me up and down, shaking his head, and I couldn't resist saying something to his annoying ass.

"I still don't give a fuck, nigga," I said nonchalantly, wearing a smirk on my face.

"Look, don't kill my vibe, alright? I don't have time for your bullshit. Just so you know, I have no problem being disrespectful to a pretty girl like you. So loosen up that tight-ass attitude and get the fuck out of my face, so I can smoke my blunt in peace," he calmly retorted, still lighting his blunt.

"Nigga, Cliché or whatever the fuck your name is, I dont give a DAMN who you are or what the hell you do. but you sure as fuck still aint shit in my book. So thank you, but no thank you ."

Ivory and Marcus were looking confused about the whole things just got in my car waited till Marcus backed up and pulled off.

Who the fuck did he think he was ?