one shots

shorty swing my way [31]

november 1999
monday
12:00 pm

"Stop! Stop!" I shouted, part of me wanting to physically break them apart while the other part of me didn't want to risk getting knocked out in the crossfire.

After a few moments of watching them exchange punches and talk shit to each other, I finally pulled DeAndré back by his jacket. As soon as I did, his rage was redirected towards me.

"Renée, what the fuck is wrong with you? What are you doing here?" he barked at me.
"It's none of your business, DeAndré," I quickly began defending myself.

"You're my wife, Renée. It is my business," he growled.
"Wife?" Lesane questioned, pulling my attention toward him.

I stared into his eyes, seeing hurt and confusion in them, before DeAndré scoffed. "You didn't even tell him?"
"We're not together, DeAndré. . . You know that," I glared up at him.
He stared down at me, clenching his jaw before roughly bumping shoulders with me as he walked away.

"Whatever, man. Keep her. I'm sure you'll enjoy my leftovers. She's a good fuck. . . but that's all she is," he was speaking to Lesane but was staring into my eyes so that I knew how worthless I was to him now.

"Too bad you're stuck with that crazy ass personality for the next nine months. You can't tease niggas with something that'll always be mine while you're pregnant. Can you?" he smirked with cold eyes as he redirected his words at me.

I looked past him to gauge Lesane's reaction, which didn't seem all that great at all. DeAndré's smirk evolved into a smile as he followed my gaze. He laughed heartily before facing me again.

"You didn't tell him that either? Wow, this gold," DeAndré started to hold his gut as he cracked up with laughter.
"You out here being a hoe, and you can't even keep it under wraps," he articulated through his laughter, his face turning a little red before he began to repeatedly sigh with satisfaction, which was a sign that he was close to finishing up his chuckle-fest.

I could feel the slight sensation of tears surfacing as I glanced down a bit. I fiddled with my fingers, falling deeper and deeper into a shell of embarrassment.

"Yo, man. Chill out. . . and get out of my house," Lesane ordered coldly.
"No problem. See you around, Renée," D snickered before leaving the home without a second glance back.

Once the door closed, silence enveloped us and killed whatever positive vibes surrounded us prior to D's appearance. I almost didn't know what to say, and the fact that he wouldn't even look at me didn't help. He adjusted his shirt a little, which had gotten a little stretched out at the collar, which he was clearly annoyed by. . . but I couldn't tell if he was more so irritated by the effects of his brief brawl or with the fact that he had to hear very important things about me from someone else.

"Lesane, I was gonna' tell you. I was gonna' tell you everything, but—"
"I need to be alone," he mumbled before opening the front door and holding it open for me.

In other words, he was kicking me out as well.

"Oh, alright. I'll, uh, call you later," I spoke awkwardly before gathering my belongings and making my way out. He didn't say anything in return. He still wouldn't look at me.

I knew that this would be the last time that Lesane would ever talk to me. Whatever I was thinking about us— us being a cool little item together or him being a really great friend— was down the drain in a matter of minutes. Things were absolutely perfect, but as usual, DeAndré found a way to ruin everything good that was going for me.