Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 5 Part 2

"Your chica?" She raised a questioning eyebrow as she watched him saddle up beside her to lean against the rail.

"Yeah." The boy shrugged. "I did see you first. I even broke you off a little change too."

Her eyes flared in surprise as her lips curled into a smirk. "Whatever. I don't even know your name."

"Pepe. But my peoples call me Pep." He leaned down to whisper. "You can call me your man though, when you get tired of hollering at that lame you dealin' with at the moment. I can wait my turn. You're worth it."

Cleo's mouth fell open, but came up impotent. She didn't know whether to thank him or go the hell off.

"Yo' Pep." The boy covered in tattoos from the other day crossed the street, stopping at the edge of C's property. "Why the hell you over here tryin' to push up on one C's honey dips. You know how hombre is about his broads."

Cleo seethed. One of his honey dips! His broads! 

"C's." Pep frowned at the dude who was edging closer to them. "Ain't she too young for him? Don't he usually knock off chicks in their twenties?" He stared back at her expectantly, like she'd confirm the question for him.

Ignoring Pep's dumb ass inquiry, she kept her eyes trained on Mr. Tattoo who stood only a couple feet away from them now. She stared up at him through her lashes. And he stared back with the darkest most intense eyes she had ever seen. Unable to stop the curiosity that bubbled inside, her gaze traveled over him, taking in the unusually dark skin that reminded her of English toffee. If it wasn't for his light Spanish accent and tuft of satiny obsidian hair that screamed of his Mexican descent, she'd have assumed he was black.

"I guess he got tired of being the only one in the room who didn't know what he was doin'." The guy murmured never taking his-black as night-eyes off of Cleo. "Old fruit is no fun when it's soggy and you don't know what to do with it, Holmes. I myself personally, prefer my peaches straight off the vine." The last of his words came out in a seductive whisper.

Not comfortable about the way he was staring at her, Cleo stood and dusted off the back of her shorts. "Um. My cab should've been here by now. Let me see what's takin' it so long."

Before she could turn to go back into the house, Mr. Tattoo spoke again. "A cab? Keep your money in your pocket, Mami." He narrowed the distance between them by stepping up on the bottom step. "I can take you home. My rides right over there." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he pointed at the pimped out Supra sitting at the curb across the street.

Cleo shook her head, backing up into the door, hitting her lower back on the golden knob. "Naw. I'm cool with taking a cab." Her gaze swung to the other boy. "Later, Pep."

Stepping inside the house, she slammed the door on any further...any further. Hmm. What the hell was that? Dude reminded her of one those guys on an after school special. The ones who hung around playgrounds offering kids candy. And she was definitely not having that shit. C's and she might be beefing, but that didn't mean she was ready to jump the first thing smoking. In the face of what many believed about her, she was not a hoe.

Where the hell was that phone? Cleo frowned down at the empty phone cradle. Damn. The last thing she wanted to do was go another round with Ant, but dealing with C's later wasn't at the top of her wish list either. Bullshit now or hell later? With an f-ing Kool-Aide smile, bullshit now was more preferable, than going through hell later, with a hot tempered Puerto Rican.

Cleo released a long harassed sigh, and then dragged herself into the kitchen. Ant stood at the islander with the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, while he blended something in a blue metal cup with what looked like a miniature egg beater.  

"Naw, carino. Not tonight." Ant murmured into the phone. "I know...yeah but you playin' though...yeah? Daaayum." After a minute of beating whatever was in the cup he sat it down on the countertop. "Man I still ain't fucking with yo' ass tonight. Because I gotta ice my balls. Ah ha ha...chica you got a nigga around here with King-Kong balls."

A shudder ran down her body, bottoming out at the tips of her toenails. Cleo sucked her teeth in disgust. If she'd known he was running his mouth like that on the phone she'd have taken her chances with C's.

"Ay, Keena? Let me call you back." He exhaled loudly into the phone. "Naw ain't no bitch over here...man girl stop actin'...yeah, yeah, yeah, bye." Hitting the end button, he hung up the phone and placed it next to the aluminum cup on the counter.

She moved to grab the telephone, only to have Ant place his hand over the thing she wanted most.

"C'mere, crazy girl." He cut a side way glance at her. "Let me show a little something, something."

Still a little pissed, but more curious than she was salty, she closed the distance between them to stand next to him at the counter. Ignoring the intriguing cologne that wafted from his shirt, Cleo peered down into the cup. A waxy substance had begun to inch its way across the bottom of the cup, coming to a stop only when the entire bottom surface was covered.

"What is that?" Cleo asked wondering if the substance was somehow alive.

Ant smirked. "It's that butta. That's what the hell it is folk."

Cleo made a face at his stupid answer. It didn't look like any butter she'd ever seen. That mess looked more like dried candle wax.

Snatching the cup off the counter, he took it over to the faucet and turned on the cold water tap. She watched as he placed the cup under the water, pulling it back when the strange substance floated to the top. Quickly, he covered the rim of the cup with his hand, using his hand to drain the water from the cup, while filtering the waxy content.

"Get a paper towel and fold it in half and lay it on the counter." Ant ordered, holding a round disc the shape of the bottom of the cup in the flattened palm of his hand.

Cleo yanked two sheets from the dispenser over the sink, and placed them on the counter the way Ant instructed her to do. Once they were down, he sat the disc on top of the paper.

Afterwards he turned to grin at Cleo. "Your turn, Lil' Crazy."