Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 12

"How can I not?" She backed out of Liberty's snatching reach. "You standing right there. Dang!"

"Matter of fact since you done took me there." Liberty returned her gaze to the meat sizzling in the pan, but leaving her attention fastened on Cleo. "I don't wanna catch you back in that damn Circle. Of all the places you coulda posted up, you choose over there. With them damn Latinos of all people." She smacked her lips. "What's wrong with her Jesus? How many times I gotta tell you they don't care about you, 'fore you believe me?"

Shaking her head, she jutted her chin out. "Tell me again, you'll be wasting your words." She clamped her mouth close, refusing to say another muttering thing.

"Oh, I will huh?" A smirk settled on her mouth, but her eyes grew, Federal sentence, serious. "What he do? Get fly with you or something?"

"Or something," she said, running the pad of her finger along the edge of the counter. "You ain't gotta worry about me going over there again. Don't have time for all the moves he be pulling. I'm done with the entire situation. I promise you."

Liberty stared at her for a moment through narrowed eyes, while the only sound in the kitchen was the popping of the grease off the meat. After a few ticks her mouth hitched at the corner, while the expression on her face screamed what she could do with her promise.

With a flick of the wrist Liberty waved her words back at her. "You lying."

"Unh huh. Ain't nobody gotta lie to you."

"Oh you not lyin' to me," Liberty said, pointing a finger at her. "You lyin' to yo' damn self. That's who you lyin to sweetie. I can tell by that dumb ass look in your eyes, you ain't a bit more done. Umph, umph, umph. Might as well not waste my time. Caught hell the first time I tried to take you from him. You cried for weeks." Wrapping the dishrag around the handle of the pan, she lifted the skillet from the stove. "Get me the strainer from down there."

Cleo kneeled. Opening the cabinet, she began to move pots and pan around in search of the silver strainer. As she searched, curiosity kicked her butt. Why the hell did Liberty have to be so guarded all the time? She was more locked down than the Pentagon with all the stuff she planned to take to the grave. Shoot. If she kept going like that, there wouldn't be any room left for her in the coffin.

Deciding to try her luck one more time, Cleo stood and handed Liberty the strainer, while eyeing her to gouge her mood and tolerance level. "What you meant by, 'the first time you tried to take me from him? Are you talkin' about...," she swallowed the name that almost slipped from her lips. Clearing her throat, she finished the sentence in a weaker tone. "Him?"

"Stop askin' me so many damn questions. Who you think you is Opera Winfery or somebody?" Liberty snapped, turning back to the sink to empty the contents of the pan into the strainer. "I ain't givin' no damn interview. Go find you something to do so I can finish cookin' in peace."

Knowing better than to press her luck any further, Cleo spun on her heel and left the kitchen, before she pushed Liberty too far and got rewarded with an ass whooping on the house. She stomped across the living room with an on the sly attitude. Not crazy enough to have a full grown one out in the open. But ooh, ooh Liberty made her want to get loose and do the fool sometimes. Especially, when she dismissed her just because she thought she could. Before she reached her bedroom, a fist landed on metal and heavy knocks sounded like discharging gunshots on the screen door.

"Who the hell that is knockin' on my door like the got damn police?" Liberty yelled, coming to stand in the entrance way of the kitchen wielding a fork in one hand, while the other was planted firmly on her hip.

Ignoring her mama, Cleo reversed her steps, turning in the direction of the front door. She came to a hard stop in front of the screen. The skinny boy from the Circle stood on the other side wearing a stupid grin. Her eyes bulged out so far, they almost rolled out of their sockets. What the hell was he doing there?