A week had passed since Cleo overheard Liberty's conversation with Max, but she'd never given a damn about who her sperm donor was before she knew his name and it really didn't phase her now. Especially since she hadn't talked to Tech in a week. Where the hell was he, and wherever the hell he was didn't they allow pagers?
Upset, she eyeballed the cordless phone on her fake ass coffee table. The urge to call C's took her under all the reasons she shouldn't. Without thinking, she snatched the receiver from the cradle. She punched in his house number. Rubbing her sweaty palms down her jeans, she tapped her foot against the worn out carpet. The roaring in her ears competed with the purring on the line, while anxiety played double dutch with her intestines. What would she say if he answered? Damn it. Why the hell hadn't she thought of something to say before she called?
A half a ring later a feminine voice answered. "Hello?"
"C's there?" She asked, rolling her eyes. When the hell had Ant's randoms started answering the phone.
There was a pause. "Um...who's this?"
"Why? Who's this?" Now see, this mess was getting way out of hand. She couldn't wait to let Ant have it about this nosey bitch.
"This is his girlfriend, why?" The voice replied with an attitude.
For the second time in Cleo's life her world crashed landed and exploded on impact. Taking a deep breath, she gave the voice the benefit of being hearing impaired. "I said C's not Ant."
"I heard you the first time," The girl snapped. "And like I said before, I'm his girlfriend. So who the hell are...wait...are you that foot dragger I saw him in the mall with a few months back?"
"Ay, who the fuck is that on the phone, yo?" C's yelled somewhere from the background.
The phone line clicked off, and the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Shocked, she sat there until the fast busy signal pierced her ear drum. Slowly pulling the phone from her ear, the receiver slipped from her hand. His girlfriend. After only three months? She couldn't believe he'd replaced her. After only three months! Son of a bitch! For the last few months, she'd been around there on life support. Too damn hurt to do anything other than sit around reliving every moment of there relationship, trying to figure out what the hell she'd done so wrong to lose him. And now here he was on to the next chick.
"The hell wrong with you?" Liberty asked, her face twisted in a frown as she glared at the phone on the ground. "Who was that on the phone? Another got damned telemarketer begging for shit, I bet." She tugged a pack of Newports from the back pocket of her jeans. Sticking a cigarette between her lips, she patted her front pockets for a lighter and shook her head. "No couldn't have been. You sittin' over there lookin' too stupid for it to have been a worse-um ass operator or a bill collector. They only piss me off ." Giving up on finding a lighter, she reached for the box of matches on the coffee table. "Tried to call that damn boy again, didn't you? What lie they tell you this time?"
A stream of smoke from Liberty's cigarette invaded Cleo's nostrils and tickeled the back of her throat. Almost hacking up a lung, she swiped the smoke away. "No lie," she mumbled. "Just found out he's got another girlfriend." Why in the world did she tell Liberty that mess?
"So what? Don't you got another boyfriend?" Liberty asked, tapping ashes on the coffee table.
A frown twisted her mouth. "Who? Tech?!" Had Liberty lost some more of her damn mind. Her and Tech weren't together. Not like that!
"Yes, owl." Liberty strutted over to the screen door to peer down at the parking lot, before opening it to flick out the cigarette butt. "He damn show don't come over here to see me."
"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.
They ran her break up with C's into the ground since they could no longer clown on her clothes. Her wardrobe and shoe game was now on polish. Even though C's wanted nothing else to do with her, he'd made sure she had what she needed by sending Ant and Angela to take her—back to school—shopping.
For a couple of weeks afterwards, the Nike checks at the bottom of her shoes barely touched the ground. She just knew him looking out for her had meant something. Maybe an attempt on his part, to push pass the issues separating them. Like more times than not though, wrong refused to pass on defining her foolishness. Especially after the, I'm sorry, phone call never came.
At the bottom of the cement steps, she swung her gaze over the parking lot. A few scragglers ambled in the direction of the front gates. Like her, they'd probably chose to delay going until two minutes before the bus was scheduled to come. What sense did it make to stand out there and get iced out by not only the weather but also the crowd?
Adjusting her book bag on her shoulder, she strode towards the bus stop. Soon as she hit the corner, she saw Tech's Cadillac posted in front of Coco's building. He sat on the hood, while Tim and Dre leaned against the grill on either side of him. Coco stood between his legs with her face turned up to his, wearing a face splitting grin. Tech's expression remained impassive, but his hands had still found their way to the sides of her waist. The sight of them together clenched her back teeth.
She couldn't stand Coco. The bitch was the main ring leader when the mob went in on her at school. After Coco instigated some mess with her, she'd always stand on the sidelines laughing as somebody else finished what she'd started. People elbowed the hell out of each other to fall in line behind her. She was the type of chick the hood reffered to as a project supermodel. Light skinned, killer smile, and sandy brown shoulder length hair gave her a ghetto, Tyra Banks, vibe. At fifteen, despite her short height, dudes always mistook her for a grown woman. Her breasts, ass, and drift cliff curves blinded dope boys on a daily basis and sadly, Tech was no exception.
Not caring about the sound of the school bus pulling through the gate, Cleo changed directions and headed over to Tech. She passed Coco, Tim, and Dre as they ran to catch the bus. By the time she made it to him, he'd slid from the hood, and began walking around to the drivers side of the car. He craned his neck to stare in the direction of the bus. His bored gaze flared when his eyes collided with hers. A closed lip smile graced his face, before he locked down shop on his expression. Pushing the dreads from his face, he rounded the car and walked towards her to meet her halfway.
"Cleopatra, erry ting alright?" He asked, frowning over her shoulder at the retreating school bus. "Are ya sick?"
Cleo ignored him. "So is this where you been? Over here posted with her?" She asked, waving her hand at the vacant bus stop. "Is that why you weren't answerin' my pages, 'cause of her?"
"Who Coco?" A look crossed his features that she couldn't read. "This my first time seein' her in a couple of weeks. It wasn't my intention ta see her today. I came out ta get at some business wit Tim and Dre. Lil' mama spotted my ass on da way ta da bus stop."
She lifted her chin and regarded him through a narrowed eyed glare. "So you ain't been chillin' with her?"
"Naw. I've been in New Orleans hollerin' at my bothers for da past week," he answered, holding her gaze. "And since der's nuthin' I can do about any pages I get while der, I turn it off and leave it at my spot." He lifted a stray curl from her shoulder and rubbed the tendril between his index finger and thumb. "Haven't even been home ta check it yet. Wanted ta come check out tings here first, 'fore I headed in. Ain't no tellin' how long I'ma sleep."
Groundless assumptions pricked a hole in her anger, releasing unjustified hot air as embarrassment shoved her eyes to the ground and firmly planted itself on her shoulders. She mentally kicked herself. Why the hell did she come for Tech like a crackhead trying to snatch a purse? He wasn't her man. Homey, could chill with whoever he wanted. Then on top of everything wrong, her dumb ass had to go and miss the bus. Liberty would have her ass. She hated when people called the house about Cleo missing school.
"My bad, Tech," she muttered under her breath. "Thought you was acting funny with me because of what happened in my kitchen the other night."
Cradling her face in his hands, Tech nudged until her reluctant gaze met his. "Ya thought I was freezin' ya out 'cause you shut me down? Are ya crazy? I have no pride when it comes ta ya, gurl. Push me away today and I'll be back tomorrow ifa can. What was you tinkin'?"
"Since we started fallin' into each other zones, we haven't gone this long without talkin'." Her eyes rolled closed when the pad of his thumb stroked the hollow of her jaw. She wasn't supposed to feel so weak when he stood that close to her. When had Tech begun to control the pace of her breathing. "It just felt..."
"Off track?" He questioned, his eyes focused on hers like two laser beams of light.
She nodded. "Look, I get that you don't owe me anything. Not a kiss my ass or a fuck you, not a thang. But still, a phone call to let me know you was dippin' for a week would've been nice."
"Alright," he said with a lazy shrug. "Da next time, you'll be da first ta know 'fore I even tink 'bout crossin' dat state line. You have my word, Lil one." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her forehead. "Now come on wit ya. Let me drive ya ta school 'fore ya late."
When his hands left her face to return to his sides, the ice block in her chest vibrated as more condensation rolled down the sides. The heat which radiated from Tech's affection had compromised her cold indifference. The integrity of the ice in her chest cavity could no longer be trusted to block the bullshit. Pretty soon her defenses would be no more than a puddle.