Furtive Little Bygones

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I ran as fast as I could to the hotel. I didn’t even wait for Richard to take me home, or to go back to class. As soon as I saw the ring and the note, I just broke into a run.

When I got home, I could barely see. I was just so surprised and my head was filled with one single thought: find T. And that’s exactly what I did.

But it wasn’t easy. When I tried his number, I remembered that he changed his number every month in case people found it. So how was I supposed to know what number he had now? I tried Drake to see if he knew the number, but he didn’t pick up the phone. I tried everyone else I knew, and they didn’t pick up either.

I decided to wait until tomorrow. He’ll call me—I know he will. No one just leaves things like that for people and doesn’t call. I remembered when I saw someone running away from the locker when Raquan and I got there. It was probably T. He’d probably just put it in there.

But how come he knew I was going to the school, and what locker I had? I bet Drake told him everything.

I felt really happy. I WAS GETTING MARRIED! That’s the greatest thing that I’ve been able to say in my entire life.

Did I mention that I switched hotels? That last one was getting too old for me. I was feeling new and refreshed, so I needed to be somewhere new. But then I thought, what if T comes looking for me at the last hotel and can’t find me? I’m sure they’ll let him know which hotel I switched to though.

“Baby!” Someone called from the window next to the bed I was lying on. I ignored it. It obviously wasn’t a call to me.

“Open the window J.” The call came again. Then I realized—it was T! I flew off of the bed and opened the window, and he climbed up. He didn’t really have to climb that high, since it was only one floor up.

When he was finally inside, I grabbed him and hugged him as tight as I could. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t let myself. T hugged me back, and then we separated to look at each other.

He looked pretty relaxed, wearing a black and white striped T-shirt and blue jeans. I only wore capris and a tank top.

Of course, we kissed. It was the best kiss I ever had. But then again, I always say that when I kiss T.

“I missed you.” I said to him, hugging him again.

“I love you.” He replied. God, I loved hearing that voice! I hadn’t heard that voice in so long…I wanted to say ‘I love you too’, but I worried that if I did I would start crying. T sat me down on the bed and we looked into each other’s eyes…

(What Tyga Looked Like That Day Is In The Comments.)

“So did you get my ring?” He asked with a big smile on his face. I loved that smile.

“Yeah, I got it. I got the note too.” I smiled back.

“So…what’s your decision?” T asked nervously.

“Of course I’m going to say yes, T. Why wouldn’t I?” I said softly. T smiled, and then we hugged.

“We’re officially getting married. This is so cool.” I said as T and I lied on the hotel room bed and just stared up at the ceiling. I was relaxing with my fiancée. My FIANCEE!

“Honestly, I just want to say that you’re going to have to hire some kind of wedding planner or whatever, ‘cause I have no idea how to get married.” T said, twirling my hair around his finger. I smiled as sweetly as I could.

“Don’t worry. I know a lot of people who’ll help us take care of it.” I said. But I realized that all of them were T’s friends. All my friends hated me. Then I thought of Camilla—gosh, I missed her so much. Why did she have to be crazy? She was kind of ruining everything by being crazy. Now I didn’t have a best friend.

But then again, T should be enough for me. I don’t need friends. I’m Tyga’s girlfriend!

Then there was a knock on the door. Neither T nor I wanted to get it. I mean, we hadn’t seen each other for so long. We broke up for no reason, and then people want to disturb us. Sometimes I feel like T and I aren’t meant to be. Every time we’re together, there’s some kind of interruption even if it’s minor. It’s getting on my nerves.

T told me to stay in the bed, and he got up and opened the door.

“I'm finna kill somebody.” The person at the door said.

Oh my God. No. It’s impossible. He’s dead.

But I’m pretty sure that I saw my father standing in the doorway.

* * *

So I was thinking two things at that moment. Either my father needed to be with Camilla in the crazy house, or I needed to be there because I was imagining him in the hotel.

But then I thought: I would never imagine my father swinging at T, would I?

That’s when I flew off of the bed and pushed my father back with all my might.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” I yelled at my father. T was looking away from me so I couldn’t tell if Daddy had punched him or not. Either way, I was mad.

“THAT BOY DONE GOT YOU PREGNANT! YOU DON’T DEFEND HIM!” Daddy screamed while I pushed at him away from T. I would not let him touch T.

“Who are you? This is my first time meeting you. YOU HAVE NO SAY IN WHO GETS ME PREGNANT OR NOT!!!”

Suddenly, before my father could reply, T turned around and punched my father in his face. He fell to the ground on his knees, and then on his face. Then I was just standing there, staring at the man on the floor. I’d seen him in pictures in my Mom’s bedroom. He was light skinned with hair like Drake. He was pretty handsome, but my mother said he had a bad personality. I tried asking Keron about it, but he always said he didn’t remember Daddy that well.

I turned around and looked at T. His jaw was clenched and he was looking down at my father like he just won a fight; satisfied and angry at the same time.

I slapped him. I slapped my fiancée.

“Why? WHY WOULD YOU PUNCH MY FATHER?!” I screamed at him.

“That man ain’t just your father. He’s a freaking monster.” T said, not looking at me.

I pushed him. I pushed him and shoved him, just so I wouldn’t cry. My mother and brother told me that my father died before I was gone. And here he was, on the floor because my boyfriend just punched him in the face.

“He IS my father. Do you know how jealous I was of my friends because THEY had fathers? And then all this time he’s been alive, and you’re the one to knock him out the first time he sees me? HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL?!” I asked him.

“How is it supposed to make me feel when I find out that my fiancee’s father is the same man that walked into a strip club a few years ago and took one of those sixteen year old girls outside with him and raped her and tried to choke her? How am I supposed to feel when I find out that the sixteen year old girl was Blac Chyna, one of my best friends??” T argued.

My father raped Blac Chyna?

Blac Chyna was stripping since she was 16?

Why didn’t anyone let me know he was alive?

Why didn’t anyone let me know he was a criminal?

All these questions were hanging around in the air, but I was too scared to ask them. All I could do was hold on to T and cry, and make plans to go back home tomorrow and find out what the hell is going on.

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