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“Believe me, I will.”
Fuck Chanel and her Range Rover, she said to herself.
Charlie tuned the radio station to Hot 97, and Davido’s “If” started to blare through the car. She drove the Benz off the lot and bopped in her seat as she headed home. When she got there, she left the Benz idling and called Claire. Several rings later, her sister finally answered her phone.
“What, Charlie?”
“Come downstairs. I wanna show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“Just come downstairs, Claire,” Charlie said with a little more force.
Claire sighed and hung up the phone. She exited the building with an attitude. In fact, she had several and was keeping everything pent up inside. She eyed the candy apple red convertible Mercedes Benz and knew it was bought with the blood money Charlie didn’t share with her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This me,” Charlie replied with a huge grin. “You like it?”
“What happened to your old car?”
“That piece of shit? You can have it.”
The remark infuriated Claire. Am I only worth that piece-of-shit car? Does that make me a piece of shit too? she thought. Even after Charlie made her an accessory to murder? She felt Charlie was belittling her.
“So, do you like it, sis?” Charlie asked her again.
Claire frowned. “Are you serious right now? You spent all that money on this?”
“Yeah. It’s a status symbol—let everyone know that I’m makin’ a fuckin’ comeback,” said Charlie.
“Comeback?” Claire chuckled. “And what do you plan to do about parking, huh? This whole area is a huge no-parking zone. You’re gonna get ticketed or towed.”
“Claire, stop being so fuckin’ negative. Shit! We need to go out and celebrate. Look at what we accomplished since our parents kicked us out.”
“You mean what you accomplished, Charlie. I’m not in your world and you damn sure don’t include me in it and when you do, it’s some fucked up shit,” Claire shouted. “And it was a stupid thing to spend our money on.”
“What the fuck is wrong wit’ you? Damn it, Claire, why can’t you act right just for once, and be fuckin’ happy ’bout something?”
“Because I can’t,” Claire yelled.
“You know what? I’m out. I tried to put a smile on your face and all you do is fuckin’ complain. A bitch is tired of hearing it,” Charlie griped.
Claire still frowned. “Bye!”
Charlie sighed. With finality, she spewed, “Get ya shit right, Claire, or get left behind. And as for parking, I’ll figure it out. I always figure shit out and get shit done.”
Claire pivoted and went back into the building with her negative attitude.
Charlie shook her head and sped away. She had better things to do than coddle her little sister. She drove her new toy straight to her old neighborhood to show it off and announce to the haters, I’m back, bitches—and better than ever. Y’all can’t keep a bad bitch down!
Chapter Fifteen
It was nearly noon, and Chanel had spent a lazy morning in bed. She was gently awakened by the sun seeping through her window. She had a good night’s rest and she was ready to start her day by making herself a breakfast fit for a queen. She had to put the fight with Charlie behind her. There was no reason to dwell on it. She was moving on, but the beatdown she had given Charlie was therapeutic for her. Chanel didn’t even know she had it in herself.
She climbed out of bed, put on a long T-shirt and shorts and some fuzzy animal slippers, and walked out of her bedroom feeling like a blossoming flower. Finally, it felt like she was winning—like she was getting back on track. Mateo was improving and so was her life. Chanel had support from Pyro and, surprisingly, her parents. She never thought that would ever happen. She always believed that hell would freeze over before Bacardi and Butch would ever have her back. But they did, so the devil must have had frostbite. It was an amusing thought.
In the kitchen, she started to prepare breakfast for herself and Pyro, if he was hungry. She heard him last night with company. Pyro kept himself busy with the ladies, but it didn’t bother her. At least someone was having sex.
