"Are you serious?" Trisha's voice echoed off the mansion walls. She held her sparkly silver clutch and walked over to Chanel, still in her heels. She helped take off Chanel's right shoe.
"Yea, I know it was Bizzy and his bitchass niggas." I said, as I pulled off Chanel's left shoe.
Flex locked the door behind him after letting Emil storm pass.
"This nigga is bold as fuck, and pussy. He couldn't fight you himself?" Emil spat.
"That nigga know I'll fuck him up." I retorted.
Chanel groaned and placed her head on the back of the couch. Trisha moved the hair out of her face and rubbed her arm. I looked back at Emil who was so heated, someone could probably scramble some eggs on his face.
The thought of the pain reminds me of my own stinging wounds. I wiped my nose and winced at the discomfort then gradually got nauseated looking at the blood on my wrist. I would say the blood is from my nose but I'm not even sure what's bleeding exactly.
"You been talking to those boys? Cause I know how you get and the last thing you need is hood niggas after you for a situation that's already settled." Flex spoke authoritative, like he was for sure our Father.
" I haven't said shit to the nigga. He tight Chanel mine and was looking at her like I wasn't sitting right next to her." I answered.
"But who is up in Chanel house taking care of her drunk ass?" Flex questioned. "YOU." He answered his own question.
"So it doesn't matter how he was lookin at her-" I cut Flex off.
"First of all, it does matter and don't act like you wouldn't get tight if some nigga who already disrespected you was staring at Ms. Sasha. Either way I'm tryna tell you I ain't say nothin to Bizzy or his boys." I stated firmly.
"Look we got you lawyers for a reason, the record label has lawyers for a reason. It's not about to be too pretty for Bizzy. We gotta amp up security at the rest of the events and shows you have the next few months, at least until we have a story on whats happening. Chanel's security needs to be amped up to. Do you want to press charges?" Flex questioned staring down at me on the couch.
"Nah, I'm bout to press that nigga myself." I finished.
"Just say when." Emil assured.
"If either one of you touch him, you gon have to answer to me. This ain't Brownsville." Flex didn't waste time calling out the hoodrats in us. But it didn't matter what Flex said, if I see Bizzy it's onsight.
Chanel groaned and wrapped her arm around her stomach.
"Let me take her up to bed." I cleared my throat and pushed myself off the couch. A sharp pain ran up my side and I winced. Trisha caught the reaction and was by my side quickly.
"I can take her." She shrugged, not trying to make a big deal of it and knowing that my pride would reject her offer.
"I'm good. I'm good." I motioned for Trisha to get away from me.
Careful and effortlessly, I took the drunken beauty into my arms and continued up the stairs, her head and her feet dangled. I placed Chanel on her large soft bed and closed the door, locking us into the room. I could hear the mumbling and the bickering still going on downstairs. But hasn't it been a long enough night? I didn't even want anyone else in this house anymore. Not right now. Not while so much anger and tiredness was built up in me.
I turned on the small lamp next to the bed and relaxed at the sight of its calming glow. I felt as though I was in a daze as I unzipped Chanel's dress and carefully got her slender body out of the expensive and sparkling gown. I slid a t-shirt over her head before unhooking her bra and letting it fall, she slid her hands through and I pulled it down over her body.
"Do you want me to get your pajama pants, baby?" I asked in my softess voice.
"No." She sighed. The one word appeared to have taken so much energy and effort to say.
I pulled the covers back and watched her go under them, then pulled them up to her neck. Her eyes closed as soon as her head sank into the soft pillow. I watched as she laid there peaceful. Her beauty was sometimes too much to take in at once, even in the midst of all this disaster.
"My baby is drunk as shit." I sighed to myself. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Baby out here throwing up on niggas faces."
I pulled a makeup remover wipe out of the small blue packet and held her chin steady as I gently wiped the foundation and concealer and all the other names I've heard girls use off her face. The damp white paper was now covered in brown, black and blue from the eyeshadow.
"Look at my clown ass baby." I chuckled again to myself. Chanel lets out a groan and turns her face, pushing me away.
"Okay, alright. Almost done." I said moving a little faster. "You gon thank me for this later." I continued as her beautiful chocolate skin found a way to shine beneath the makeup. I got the last bit of it off, folded the paper to the last white spot and circled around her eyes and eyebrows again. Those parts seemed to require the most effort.
"There you go." I kissed her forehead lightly and got up to take my own clothes off when I heard her mumble.
"Thank you for stopping." She mumbled almost inaudible.
"Huh?" I questioned confused. Was she talking about the removal of her makeup?
She took a breath then continued.
"You stopped punching him when I said. " She breathed. "You listened." She struggled to get out.
___________________________________
"Surveillance footage from the High End Album Release party of DJ Benzy, has been released but only one suspect is in custody. The famous '808s and Heartaches' rapper, Prodigy is seen to be leaving the club with superstar girlfriend Chanel Little when-"
"Can we not relive this right now?" Chanel's small voice comes from the middle of the stairs, interrupting the news reporter.
I turn my attention back to the TV, as the black and white surveillance video gives little information about who the people are. The small clip the news keeps playing only shows four men jumping out of a black car.
"It is unknown who the suspect in custody is connected to at this time, though signs lead to another up and coming rapper, Bizzy who is said to be the reason for the recent break up of the talented power couple. Though under investigation, both parties-"
"Trev." Chanel warns.
I turn the station to the cooking channel and set the remote down already a little on edge. This entire thing was turning into a mess I didn't feel like dealing with in the public eye. If this was Brownsville, things would have be done that same night. Sitting back and watching the media play the story however they chose was annoying enough. Not writing anything on social media or responding to any emails and texts about it is another thing.
Chanel makes her way down the stairs and stands in front of me.
"How are you feeling?" I question with a sigh. The big t-shirt hangs a few inches above her knee. She looks down at me and I reach my hands out to accept her into my lap.
She comes. Her legs wrap around my waist and her arms around my neck as she sits facing me like a toddler. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheek and forehead a dozen times.
"My head hurts." She mumbles.
"I bet. You were throwing back henny shots when I wasn't looking." I kiss her lips lightly.
"Mmm, love the taste of throw up." I say with enthusiasm.
She giggles.
"I brushed." She complains.
"Did you?" I tease.
I feel her head nod into my neck, her breathing tickling the sensitive skin.
I was happy to have her here. Her presence in itself is very settling. The power and control she has over myself and my mood is a little insane but I try not to think about it too much. She unwraps herself from me and walks towards the kitchen.
"Are you hungry? I'll make you something, come sit back down." I insist. She walks like she is dying.
"No, food is the last thing I want right now. I'm really nauseous." Chanel responds.
"I'll go get you some gatorade and advil then, for the headache. You're probably dehydrated." I stand to my feet.
"I think we have both those things from the last time you went grocery shopping." She says opening the refrigerator.
I switch the channel back to the news and continue talking to distract her.
"Oh ok, well you just let me know what you need." I respond.
"Bizzy has yet to speak on the matter but both rappers are involved with Major labels and this can really-"
"Trev! Please!" Chanel shouts from the kitchen.
"Alright! I'm sorry, I just want to hear what's going on." I say confused. "How do you not want to hear it?"
"Because I hate listening to the news or anyone in media, it gives me anxiety. It literally drives me crazy. Especially when it's about us. We will handle this with our legal team, in our own privacy with our people giving us the real facts and updates on whats going on. I don't want to hear what anyone else says. Not the magazines, not twitter, not any of this." She looks visibly mad and her explanation seems to have weaken her.
"Okay, that's all you had to say. I ain't know allat." I apologize without apologizing.
She turns her attention back to the refrigerator and takes out a red gatorade.
I flip through the chanels looking for something to watch when my cellphone begins to vibrate.
The ringer sounds and it echos through the mansion.
The screen reads 323 which is an LA area code but I've never seen this number before. I answer cautiously.
"Hello?" I speak.
"Heyy!" A squeaky high voice hits my ear and I hear a small giggle.
"It's Mila!" She says. My stomach drops and I glance at Chanel who hasn't looked my way. I completely forgot about DJ Benzy's offer for the song. He mentioned that he wanted me to work with her but I thought I had way more time than this. Does she know what happened to me last night? Is this a good time to be calling in her opinion?
I get up and take the phone to the bathroom with me.
"Uhm, one second." I say quietly.