Then it happened while they were being served cheesecake with strawberry topping. Miles' weak stroking ass fucking Cousin Faith sent Tyler over the edge. She flung her cheesecake at the projector and swung on the fig tree. Aria didn’t question the move. She threw her blanket to the ground and jumped in to help her friend. Together, they tore off leaves and flung figs as if they were articles of hair. Shane was beyond embarrassed and started to leave them, but the hostess and security threatened to call the police.
“You know what?” Shane yelled as he slammed his car door after getting them into the car. “When yall are sober and realize yall jumped a fucking fig tree, I hope like hell yall feel stupid and relive that moment over and over.”
“That bitch had it coming. Griming me like I wouldn’t beat her ass. Shit, she probably stole my face,” Tyler exclaimed with her arms crossed.
“Bitch, your face is on your face,” Shane snapped. “Aw shit, now I sound just as stupid as you. I should snatch yo lips off.” He started the car. Connecting his phone to the car, Shane went to his playlist but was distracted by the social media tags popping up on his phone.
“Welp,” he laughed. “Looks like that fig tree wasn’t the only thing that got an ass whooping.”
“What that mean?” Aria asked, sitting up.
“Looks like Thugger beat Dexter’s ass and it’s all over the Gram. Can I get an amen?” He clapped his hands. “I’m not even mad at yall hoes no more. Shit, give me a mushroom, this is cause for celebration.”
???
Bobbi watched the clip of Dexter getting folded into the Pepsi vending machine and cringed. Him constantly getting manhandled by the same person was turning her off. He had so much smoke with women, but it seemed like Logic dog walked him every time they were in the same vicinity. Bobbi didn’t know why they were fighting, but she would bet her last dollar that it had something to do with Tyler.
Dexter didn’t know it, but Bobbi went through his phone almost every night. She saw the text messages to Tyler, begging her to come home, cursing her out, then begging her again. Dexter stalked her social media pages and relentlessly called her phone. Bobbi didn’t know if Tyler ever answered, but her guesswas that she didn’t because Dexter was on edge. He tried to act like it was about the music, but deep down, Bobbi knew that was a lie. Sure, he was in hot water with the label, but that was the least of his worries. Dexter wanted Tyler back under their roof, and without her, he was lowkey losing it.
Ding
“Aye, go get my shit,” Dexter barked as soon as he stumbled off the elevator with Marty and Tilly.
It was after three in the morning, and he was wasted. Instead of going home after the fight, Dexter cleaned up at Tilly’s house and then went to the strip club to lick his wounds. He was embarrassed, and with every drink he placed to his lips, the little devil on his shoulder hyped him up to go get revenge. His lip was busted and his ribs were sore, but that had nothing on his pride.
“Get my shit,” he repeated.
“Man, let that shit go,” Marty sighed, tired of hearing Dexter’s drunken rants.
“Let what go?” Dexter spun around, bewildered that he’d even suggest that. “I’m not letting shit go. That nigga sucker punched me. Look at my fucking face!” Both Tilly and Marty looked at the ring forming around his eye. They were both there and knew it was Dexter who threw the sucker punch, but out of respect for their boy, they didn’t mention it.
“What’s going on?” Bobbi asked, moving around the couch. She knew what social media was saying, but she wanted to hear it from him. “Dex, what happened?” she questioned, staring at his battered face. Specs of glitter were smeared across his face, and he reeked of cheap perfume and liquor. The smell caused Bobbi's stomach to churn. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the same man she was creeping with. The man she was creeping with was the life of the party, he dressed to impress,and he balled wherever they went. This man was lame. All he did was drink, pop pills, and complain, and Bobbi was turned the fuck off.
“Tyler hoe ass gotta be fucking with that nigga,” he continued. “I’m going to knock that bitch head off her shoulders.”
“For what?” Bobbi folded her arms. “It’s been almost two months, you've moved on. Why can’t she?”
“I didn’t move on! That’s still my bitch.”
“Oh really?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And what about us?” Bobbi palmed her stomach.
“What about you?” Dexter’s eyes stretched open. “Me being with her didn’t stop you from jumping on my dick before and it’s not going to stop you when she come home.”
“Actually, it is. I’m pregnant. My child and I will not be second place.”
“Yall hear this shit?” he chuckled. “Bitches get pregnant and think it solidifies their placement.”
“Fuck you, Dex,” Bobbi cursed. “Fuck you.”
“No, fuck yo non cooking ass too. I should have never fucked with your thirsty ass.” Dexter shooed her away. “My fucking ribs hurt and this bitch talking about she won’t be second place. She ain’t even third place, the fuck.”
“Bro, you high.” Marty shook his head. “I’m about to head out. B, don’t let this nigga leave.”
“The fuck she gone do, throw some of them hard ass pizza rolls at me?” he laughed.
“This nigga,” Tilly chuckled. “I’mma chill here.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Dexter frowned.
