“Bye, sweet P.” Logic winked at her as Duce slammed the door in their face.
Chapter Three
“Well, Tyler and Dexter are back in the media today,” Nesha Re, the host of a very popular Detroit podcast, sighed. “Can I just say I love this girl! She has no filter, and baby, if she isn’t the Crashout Queen, I don’t know who is. Now it looks like Tyler was arrested for attacking Dexter and TikTok influencer Amber outside of a studio on the west side over the weekend. Baby girl walked out of that jailhouse like Left Eye, and I’m here for it. The mugshots are posted on our site, and baby, I was dying. Tyler looking like she wasn’t done, Aria crazy ass smiling, and lord, Bobbi looked a mess.”
“Listen, at this point it’s givin’ Blueface and Chrisean or Kirk and Rasheeda because ain’t no way Tyler is still in love with that man,” Nesha Re’s cohost Monti commented.
“Not too much on my girl. I’m sure Tyler has her reasons for staying. Plus, she’s young. A lot of young people go through the motions before finding their forever person. Tyler’s situation just happens to be on display in front of the world. We’ve all fought with a man. Shit, me and my friend jumped my husband on the night of our prom.”
“I hear you, but it gotta be the pipe because ain’t no way a man about to have me out here looking stupid. She has three songs on the Top 100 and her last album went platinum. As far as I'm concerned, that girl has enough money to build herself a new man.”
“Love doesn’t work like that,” Nesha Re reasoned. “A man could be broke as fuck and we’ll love their dirty draws.”
“Yea, well love me less. Tyler did just right by beating his ass. I’ll go to jail before I let a man play with my feelings.” Monti pursed her lips. “On to the other cheaters of Hollywood...”
“Girl, turn that shit off.” Bobbi smacked her lips. “You know people gone talk and hoes gone hate. Here, let’s take a shot.”
Tyler glanced at the red cup in Bobbi’s hand before taking it. She didn’t like drinking before going on stage, and no matter how many times she expressed it, someone was always shoving a cup in her hand. Normally, Tyler would turn it down, but irritation had her reaching for the cup and downing it in one gulp.
“I know that’s right.” Bobbi followed suit. “Fuck these niggas and that’s that.”
Dexter had been on his best behavior, or at least he tried to be. He spent the week kissing Tyler’s ass, and to no avail because she was still giving him the cold shoulder. Dexter wished he could rewind time because this version of Tyler was hard to please. He couldn’t buy her a couple of gifts or take her on a trip to fix her attitude. This version of her required time and patience, something Dexter didn’t have. All that begging was for basic niggas and that wasn’t him.
Tyler stared at the picture of Dexter grinning all in some random bitch’s face like he wasn’t in a whole relationship, likeshe wasn’t the one who bought the gold fronts he kept running his tongue across, like he didn’t just get his ass beat for playing with her. Dexter was a natural flirt, so seeing him talk to a female was nothing new. Tyler was used to the media making something out of nothing, yet the picture caused her stomach to churn and fill with butterflies. Not the good butterflies either. Nah, these were the nervous kind that made her feel sick. The kind that caused her heart to plummet and her eyes to burn.
“This nigga,” Tyler hissed, shaking her head. She was starting to think Dexter got off on making her look stupid, or maybe he was just plain stupid and didn’t understand the concept of being in a relationship. Her mugshot was still circulating on the internet, and here he was about to have her catching another charge.
“Don’t sweat it cousin. You know Dex ass for everybody,” Bobbi said. Tyler wanted to laugh. A couple of weeks ago, she was bucking her up to fight, but now that she got her wig snatched, she was singing a different tune.
“I’m over it.” Tyler sat up in her chair, reaching for the Don Julio on her vanity. Removing the top, she refilled her cup and threw it back without batting an eye.
“All these niggas cheat, just be happy you bagged a nigga that got money,” Bobbi replied. “It’s the broke niggas you gotta worry about. Trust me,” she spoke from experience.
Tyler listened to Bobbi but inwardly cringed. The thought of allowing a nigga to walk all over her for money was sickening. Then again, doing it for love was even worse. At least hoes were paid for their pain, hopeless romantics were gifted wet asses, endless lies, and broken hearts.
“I’d rather a rich nigga waste my time over a broke one any day,” Bobbi continued. “Shit, you’re too fine to stress about anain’t shit ass nigga.” She ran her hands through her long, red weave. “I know I am.”
Bobbi told no lies. She was fine. Video vixen fine. The type of fine that rappers talked about, tricked on, fucked on, and then passed to their friends. She was stacked with big, perky breasts, sharp hips, and a round ass that she was still getting used to. Thanks to several rounds of cosmetic surgery, Bobbi was often compared to the Clermont twins. She was a pretty girl, and you couldn’t tell her otherwise. Bobbi was about her money, and a lil cheating wasn’t stopping shit. She’d sleep with the Pope if he was trickin'.
“Nah, that’s not going to work for me.” Tyler shook her head.
What she craved was love. Real, dancing in the rain, heart throbbing love. Tyler didn’t need a nigga to trick on her. Hell, she was the trick in her relationship. Dex knew, she knew it, but the world didn’t. They swore it was Dexter cashing out in clubs, splurging on jewelry and trips, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Dexter couldn’t fathom the world finding out he was a showboat on his woman’s dime.
“To each its own. Plus, Dex been a fuck boy since the day you met him.”
“You mean since the day you insisted I give his weak ass a chance?”
“I didn’t tell you to fall in love with the nigga,” she laughed as if the situation was funny.
“Yea, but that didn’t stop you from pushing me into his arms.”
“Tyler!” Carla yelled into the basement. “Bring your ass up here and clean the kitchen.”
Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Tyler closed her notebook and sighed. Every time she was in her zone, Carla or Bobbi was hollering her name like she was Cinderella. Tyler do this, Tyler wash that, Tyler clean this. The number of times they called her name should’ve been studied. She could get away with telling Bobbi to fly a kite, but Carla wasn’t having it.
“I know you hear me, lil girl. You wanna hang out all night and think you gone sleep all day,” Carla yelled, hitting the door with the broom.
“I’m coming,” Tyler mumbled.
