“And when the fuck you get so sensitive? Every little thing a nigga say got you crying and in your feelings and shit.”
“Probably because I’m tired of your triflin’ ass.”
“Then take another nap because this shit forever,” Dexter yawned.
Tyler didn’t bother responding. She stormed into the bathroom and slammed that door as Dexter mumbled under his breath. The little devil on her right shoulder encouraged her to double back and start some shit, but her emotions were high, and they’d surely end up on the Shaderoom for a domestic disturbance situation. Standing in front of the mirror, Tyler took note of the handprint on her neck and fresh bruises on her arms.
After leaving the club, Dexter couldn’t let go of the embarrassment and felt like it was Tyler’s fault. In his drunken stupor, Dexter swore that Tyler called Logic and had him come to the club. He accused her of cheating, and the second they stepped off the elevator, Dexter grabbed Tyler by the neck and threw her to the floor. Being that she was high off herass, fighting back wasn’t an option, and Dexter didn’t care. He dragged her from the living room to the bedroom and proceeded to berate her until he started nodding off.
“Since you up, you might as well cook breakfast,” Dexter called out from the other side of the door. “Let a nigga get a meal out the deal.”
Tyler chose not to respond because not only was what she had to say wasn’t nice, but if she was going to make anything, it would contain rat poison with a dash of flea medication, since he couldn’t stay out of the streets.
Going into the medicine cabinet, Tyler twisted the bottles until she found the one she was looking for. Removing the cap, she tapped the bottle against her palm, stopping when three small white pills fell into the palm of her hand. Without a second thought, she brought her hand to her mouth and flinched as the pills traveled down her dry throat.
“They say I’m addicted; I call it maintainin.’ Things changin,’ a whole lot of blamin,’ but I’m told to keep sinigin'.’ Hold your head up Ty, the world's watchin.’ Here, take this pill Ty, keep her floatin.’ Smile through the bad times, swallowing my tears when things get worse, wondering when will it stop…probably when I’m laid out in the back of a hearse,”Tyler quietly sung to herself.
Cutting on the shower, Tyler slowly stripped off her clothing. She waited until the water was as hot as fish grease and stepped inside. Instead of sitting on the bench, Tyler sat on the floor of the shower and bowed her head as the water rained down on her skin.
“Send me a sign,” she whispered as salty tears rolled down her cheeks.
???
Hours later, Tyler stepped out of her building wearing a pair of Nike Pro shorts, a tank top, and New Balance gym shoes. Her long weave was pushed to the back and covered by a black beanie. With glossy lips and Chanel frames covering her eyes, Tyler gazed around the busy street, trying to decide which way she wanted to run. The second she turned to the right her eyes landed on the black SUV pulling to the curb. Almost instantly, she grew irritated, and the thought of going back into the building crossed her mind, but it was too late. Before the truck could even come to a full stop, the back door opened and a man clad in a tight ass suit hopped out holding an iPad.
“Get in. He wants to talk to you,” Greg, Darryl’s assistant, demanded.
“You know it’s customary to greet someone when you didn’t sleep with them.” Tyler rolled her eyes behind the dark frames.
“Girl, get in the car.”
“He didn’t call, and I’m about to go for a run.”
“Tyler,” a deep voice barked. “Let me holler at you for a minute.”
“I tried to be nice,” Greg said with a hunch of his shoulders.
“Shut up,” Tyler hissed, pushing past him to slide into the back seat. Her ass didn’t even touch the seat before the door was slammed close. “Asshole,” she mumbled.
“What’s going on with my number one girl?” Darryl questioned, looking up from his phone.
“Nothing much, was about to go for a run.”
“Keeping that body tight, I dig it.” He pulled at his salt and pepper beard while his eyes boldly ogled her exposed thighs. Tyler’s skin started to itch. She hated the way Darryl claimed she was like a daughter to him, but given the opportunity, he’d fuck her from sunup to sundown.
Darryl wasn’t unattractive. In fact, he was quite handsome and put her in the mind of David Banner. His high-top fade was braided into four plaits that fell a little past his ears. The thin mustache and goatee he sported outlined his dark lips, which often held a cigar or a Black & Mild. A thick diamond flooded chain hung from Darryl’s neck, matching the diamonds on his wristwatch and Super Bowl-like rings on his scarred hands.
“I heard the show was sold out.”
“It was.” Tyler shifted on the cold leather. “It always is.”
“And that’s why you’re number one.” Darryl eyed her hard nipples and licked his lips. “They love your fine ass, and I don’t blame them.”
Tyler opened her mouth to ask him what the reason for his visit was, but rapid taps on the window halted her. Darryl rolled down the window and Dex stuck his head inside.
“What up doe, OG. I didn’t know you was out here.” He pulled at the handle of the truck. “I can hop in too.”
“I’m not here for you,” Darryl snipped.
