Page 6 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

She pulled a bag of frozen carrots out of the freezer and took a seat at the table. Her legs extended like a boxer in the corner of the ring, only she was already defeated. She wouldn’t be coming back to the center swinging. The fight was over. Morgan had won, and Bleu couldn’t hide her devastation.

He’s so blinded by her. He’ll never get his shit together and get over that damn girl, Bleu thought. I hate her, and for no other reason than because he loves her. I don’t even know how I became this girl. Her thoughts mocked her. She was smarter than this. She was more valuable than this. She had worked hard to be better, to pour into herself, to make something of herself. She had reduced herself to hating another woman over a man. Bleu was sick with envy, brimmed with anger, and flooded with disappointment. Her anxiety over what those emotions would lead to was crippling. The last time she had spiraled into an emotional storm, addiction soon followed. God, please not this time, she pleaded.

Isa looked at her sympathetically. “I’m grown as hell fighting over this nigga,” Bleu scoffed. She placed the ghetto ice pack to the side of her face and winced. She knew it would bruise.

Isa scratched his temple as he pulled out a chair across from her.

“I knew you and bro were close, B, but it was supposed to be like family. You knew the hold Mo had over that nigga. How y’all let it go out of bounds in the first place?” Isa asked.

“He was dying in my arms, and I realized living without him was going to be impossible. He chose me to die with. He spent every day with me! Not her! He shared the most intimate times of his life with me, and you telling me that doesn’t mean anything? That’s not love?” Bleu asked.

“It is, B. It’s a form of it. I believe bro loves you. He’s always fucked with you; and maybe even if y’all had tried before Mo, I might could buy it, but we were all there to witness they shit, B. He chose to die with you, but he was living with her. He came alive with her.” Isa shook his head in disbelief. “This shit is a fucking shit show,” Isa stated. “What were you thinking? Stepping to Mo like that tonight?”

Bleu shook her head, searching for an answer herself. She had played her position in Morgan’s shadow for years. Bleu knew the routine, but Messiah had given her hope. He had made her feel special, and she had run with those emotions. “Does it even matter, Isa? Like, for real? I thought he might have opened his eyes by now. Morgan Atkins will be the death of him, but he chooses her anyway, so…” She shrugged, and her eyes misted. “Can you just leave? It’s been a long night. I don’t need more witnesses to my humiliation.”

“Nobody wins a beef between you and Mo,” Isa stated seriously. “It’s supposed to be family.”

“Morgan isn’t my family! You niggas lusted after these young-ass college girls and pushed me out of the family! Why am I the expendable one?” Bleu asked.

“You ain’t expendable; you just moving wrong, B. You’re the homegirl. Your position should have never conflicted with what Messiah got going on.”

“I didn’t blur the lines by myself. I’m not crazy. I’m not imagining a connection that’s not there. Messiah said he loved me.”

“And he does. He just…” Isa scratched the back of his head and stood to his feet. This was a lot of back and fucking forth for Isa, especially for a situation that wasn’t his. He hated that it had come to this because he did care for Bleu. He considered her a friend. Isa categorized people into two categories. One’s he would kill for and ones he would kill. There was no in-between. Bleu existed under the scope of his protection in his mind, but he couldn’t protect her from this. She had gotten tangled in a sticky web.

“Loves her more?” Bleu asked, staring up at him.

“I don’t know, B. I ain’t about to be explaining lies off another nigga dick. I’m sorry you fucked up out here, though. If you need something…”

Bleu stood. “I won’t need shit from none of you niggas, ever,” Bleu stated in disbelief.

“Whoa, B, how the fuck I’m in it? What you mad at me for?” Isa asked, pulling a pre-roll out of his back pocket. He snickered a bit at her temperament.

“The bitch snuck me in the middle of a hospital lobby, and you just stood there! She’s childish, and y’all think the shit is cute! Her and her little homegirl…”

“Deep waters, B,” Isa warned. He understood the disdain for Morgan, but he had no patience for malice on Aria’s name. “I tried to tell you that you were biting off more than you could chew, but nah, you wanted to grandstand and put your shit out there. Wanted to let it be known that you and bro were fucking around. Morgan little ass is a menace when it comes to Messiah. I saw her knock a bitch clean off her feet over a convertible and snuff her in the backseat. You baited her, B. Can’t play victim. I saw that smoke coming from a mile away.” He was tickled, but Bleu was disgusted. She found no entertainment in her misery.

Bleu shook her head. “It’s not funny.”

“Come on, B. You win some, you lose some,” Isa said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“When y’all crash out behind Morgan Atkins, and she have y’all making collect calls from prison, don’t call me. Let yourself out, Isa.”

Isa lifted two hands in surrender. He knew she was pissed. Going back and forth would only frustrate him, and this wasn’t his fight. He had a lot of love for Bleu, but Isa wasn’t about to argue with a woman he wasn’t giving dick to. He stood and backpedaled toward the door. “When you cool off, you know how to find us. If you need us, the number won’t change.”

He walked out, lighting his blunt on the way to the car.

“What a fucking night, dawg,” he mumbled. He started his car and sat in Bleu’s driveway for a good ten minutes, letting the smoke relax him before reversing the BMW and pulling off into the early morning hours.

Aria lay on her side with Messari tucked beside her as she stroked the top of his head. The lamp on the nightstand cast a yellow hue over the room. She wouldn’t dare turn it off until Isa got home. It wasn’t just for Messari; Aria was also afraid of the dark. Her mind was in overdrive, and the trepid emotions made her ill at the thought of Yara’s condition. She heard the alarm beep as Isa deactivated the security system.

His heavy footsteps carried across the wood floors. Normally, she would curse at him for wearing his shoes in the house, but today it didn’t even matter. He appeared in the doorway and stood there, silently, as he stared at her and Messari.

He was angry at her. She could feel it. She waited for him to speak, but instead, he peeled off his coat, put his gun in the nightstand on his side of the bed, and then walked out of the room. He knew she hated silence. She would rather scream and get it all out than be stonewalled. The sound of water moving through the pipes in the home told Aria he was taking a shower. Her eyes burned badly. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she wouldn’t, in fact, she couldn’t until he came to bed. It had been a long night, and too much had transpired. She needed to process it. She needed him to tell her it would be okay.

Half an hour passed before he finally entered the room.

“Shit is fucked up.” It was all Isa could offer.