Didn’t I tell you to delete my number?Tyler quickly replied.
313-446-9612
Can I call you?
Call me?She thought.Is this nigga stupid or dumb?
“What do you think?” Dexter asked, bringing Tyler’s attention back to her current situation.
“Huh?” She glanced up from her phone, discreetly deleting the text thread.
“The fuck you doing?” He snatched the phone from her. “Why you not listening?”
It was a little after two in the morning, and their apartment was full of people, half of them she didn’t know, but Dexter cleared them to be there. He claimed he needed the crowd for inspiration, but in the four hours they’d been there, Dexter hadn’t written a word, and Tyler was overstimulated. Bobbi and a couple of her friends were spread throughout the room, providing entertainment for the many men who sat on countertops, couches, and posted up against the wall. Drinks, weed, and a couple of other drugs flowed freely through thespace, and the darkness in the room provided enough privacy for bumping and grinding.
“I finally write some shit, and you don’t pay attention, what the fuck?”
“Because I can’t hear over all the autotune.” Tyler snatched her phone right back. “Your voice sounds like Alexa.”
“Watch your mouth, Ty. Real shit,” Dexter gritted in her ear. “Fuck is you doing anyway, you supposed to be helping me with this shit.”
“I am helping, what are you talking about? I wrote the first two verses, but whatever that was,” she pointed out, “It doesn’t go with the rest of the song.”
“I like it.” Bobbi stood to her feet and started popping her ass. The skirt she wore rose over her hips, showing off the lip print tattoos on her ass cheeks. “The beat is nice, that’s all we care about,” she said, tossing her long weave over her shoulder. Sticking out her tongue, Bobbi skillfully made her ass bounce to the beat. Her friends took that as a sign and started dancing with her.
“They seem to like it,” Dexter smirked, pulling from the blunt between his fingers.
“And they also think a $40.00 meal is five-star dining. The fuck?” Tyler frowned, watching her cousin and a couple of her friends grind on each other in the middle of the floor. “I’m about to go get some air.” She stood up.
“Aight and take something while you’re back there. You’re acting too uptight for me,” Dexter uttered, adjusting his dick. “Loosen up and come help me fix this verse since it’s so bad. New niggas entering this rap shit and I need to come a little harder.”
“Uh-huh.” Tyler inwardly rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back.”
“Aight.” Dexter patted her on the ass.
Tyler peered back at Bobbi and the hoe crew once more before heading to her bedroom. A part of her wanted to put them out and slap her cousin for shaking her ass in Dexter’s presence, then again, this was normal for them. Had she been high, Tyler would have been right next to them while Dexter recorded.
Slipping into the bathroom, Tyler locked the door and sat on the counter. Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating if she should answer.
“Oh my god, this is stupid,” she laughed, climbing off the counter. “Bitch, you in a whole relationship,” Tyler chastised herself. “Back the fuck up.”
Bzzzz bzzzz
The vibrating phone danced across the counter, sending her heart to the pit of her stomach. Tyler thought he’d hang up after a few rings, but the caller was persistent.
“Aw shit,” she mumbled. “Just answer and let this nigga know you’re not that kinda girl, the fuck,” Tyler whispered to her reflection.
“This fangirling is getting a little out of hand,” she jested, answering the phone. “I didn’t say you could call me, and I could have sworn I told you to delete my number.”
“What up doe?” Logic’s deep voice penetrated her ear.
“Didn’t I tell you to delete my number?” Tyler repeated.
“Damn, can you greet a nigga before you start tossing out orders?”
“Fine. Hi stalker, didn’t I tell you to delete my number?”
“I already told you I wasn’t deleting shit. Where yo nigga at?”
