Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 31

"Me and him ain't like that. We just-,"

"Friends?" Liberty said, cocking a brow at her as she wore her best—kiss my ass—smirk. "Excuuuse me, then. Thought he was the reason you been around here all week draggin' your bottom lip on the floor. 'Cause he ain't called or snuck his ass over here to see you while I was mingling."

"Ain't nobody draggin' nothin," she said, glaring at the TV to avoid eye contact with her mom. "Can care less about what him or C's is doing. Hope they doin' them and doin' it big. I got too much goin' on to be worried about them."

"Like what?" Liberty asked folding her arms across her chest. "Eye stalkin' that foggy ass TV. That's all you do now. At least before you started messin' with that damn boy you would go outside. Can't remember the last time I saw you sittin' on your step."

"I don't need to sit out there to know what's happenin'. Every day is just like the last around here. Nothing changes."

Liberty glanced over her shoulder. "You sound like you 'bout ready to down a bottle of Midol. I might need to lock some shit down before I go. Last thing I need is you OD'ing over Rico Suave ass. Especially since I know like hell he ain't rubbed two thoughts together when it came to you." She spun on her heel to face Cleo, placing a hand on her hip. "Bet his hoe ass ain't even the one who told you 'bout his new chick. The lil' bitch probably answered the phone and took it upon herself to put in on wood for you."

Cleo's gaze swung back to the television. "Least now I know." She cringed. That mess sounded stupid to her own ears.

"Fuck him, and the bitch he chose," Liberty said, her neck damn near rolling off of her shoulders. "How many times do I have to tell you he ain't worth all the energy you burn just thinkin' about him? It's time for you to get the hell over his ass. 'Specially since he now has a new slut under him. Bump who's behind you. Check out the shit in front of you. That's what matters. 'Sides, that damn Circle is like a war zone now. You lucky to bounce back with your life." 

"Is that what you told yourself when Juan Alejandro left you?" Cleo asked, downright vicious in her need for retribution.

Liberty's neck snapped back like she received two the dome. The expression on her face was no where near worth the ass stomping sure to come her way. Squaring her shoulders, Liberty visibly tensed. Sound faded to nothing, while time slowed down like it was being watched. Fear climbed in Cleo's lap and gave her a look that said: What the hell is you gonna do now? She'd stepped fly and now she felt like Squeak in the Color Purple right after she slapped Ms. Sofia in the juke joint. Damn. Did her mouth always have to be so slick?

"What I told you about bein' in grown folks business?" Liberty asked, snatching the breath from her body with a coward inspiring hate maker. "The next time I hear his name cross your lips, I'ma reach down your throat and step the fuck back with your tongue. Now get your ass up and go wash a dish or push a vacuum cleaner, before it slips my mind that you're my jit."

Cleo shot from the tattered sofa as if she'd been loaded and fired from a Tech nine. Relief intoxicated her mental, and overwhelmed her deflated lungs, while her butt cheeks clenched in gratitude. After the narrow escape of hurricane Liberty, she decided to remain in her lane for the rest of the day.

~ ~ ~ ~

The cold morning breeze licked her nose, and the tops of her ears. Grudgingly, she descended the stairs, not even a fraction excited about going to school. All the girls hated her. The boys snickered behind her back, while most of the stupid teachers took too damn long to get to the point. She'd rather stay home watching soap operas, than stuck attending Bell Aims middle school. Watching Vicky flip the script to Nicky was way more desirable than listening to her fake ass peers calling her PR throwback. Cleo's nerves ached from the constant taunts.