“You couldn’t have paid me to run up behind my little sister.” Carla blew smoke out of her mouth.
Tyler bit down on the inside of her jaw until she tasted blood and felt the tooth imprints in her flesh. She hated it when Carla spoke on her mother. It was a well-known fact that Carla harbored a deep resentment towards her little sister. When it came to Maple, Carla was in second place, and she hated it. Everyone wanted to be Maple’s friend; they wanted to hear her sing, see her dance, play in her hair, or simply be in her presence. Maple was the funny, outgoing sister, and she was always the center of attention, even without trying. Maple wasthe "it" girl, whereas Carla walked around with her nose in the air. She hated the projects they lived in and never played with any of the kids. Carla’s only goal was to graduate and get the fuck out of Detroit.
As the sisters grew older, the boys loved Maple, and Maple loved them back. The hood niggas couldn’t get enough of her soft voice and big smile. They all wanted her on their arm, but Maple only had eyes for one guy. Once he showed interest in her, she was blind to every other boy around their way. It didn’t take long for Maple to get pregnant, and when she did, Tyrell moved her into an apartment of her own.
Carla was furious. She had a four-year-old, and unlike Tyrell, her baby’s father left her to fend for herself. Slowly but surely, Carla’s ill feelings toward her sister morphed into envy, and from envy, hate formed. Carla made it up in her mind that Maple thought she was better than her, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Maple adored her big sister, but the love wasn’t reciprocated, so she stopped trying.
When child services called, asking Carla to take Tyler in, her initial response was no. She didn’t even ask what happened to her sister because she didn’t care. Carla hadn’t spoken to Maple since her niece was a toddler, and she didn’t feel bad about it. Through the grapevine, Carla heard all about Maple and Tyrell’s toxic relationship, and it made her laugh. In her opinion, that’s what she deserved for putting all her eggs in one basket. Maple’s incident didn’t shock Carla one bit. In fact, her first words wereI knew this was coming.
It took Carla three weeks to pick Tyler up, and it was only because Tyrell begged her to with promises of paying her. Taking Tyler home with him wasn’t an option. His daughter was a sore spot in their house and he’d already caused enough damage. With the thought of extra income in the back of her mind, Carlawas at the group home with bells on. Tyler didn’t remember her aunt, but she was excited to be with someone who knew her mother before the accident. Tyler thought that being with family had to be a lot better than the group home, but she was sadly mistaken.
The minute Carla pulled up at her house, she had a list of rules for Tyler. Don’t touch this, don’t eat that. She also made it clear that she wasn’t going out of her way to do anything special for Tyler. If it wasn’t a necessity, Carla wasn’t buying it, and there was no way she’d ever let Tyler outshine her daughter. So, while Bobbi was getting her hair done once every two weeks, Tyler was forced to learn to do her own. Bobbi got new clothes, and Tyler was gifted hand-me-downs, even if they were twice her size. Carla did everything she could to break her niece, but Tyler’s smart mouth, witty comebacks, and silent treatments sent her through the roof.
“Listen,” Carla cleared her throat, bringing Tyler back from her thoughts. “We’re dropping you off at home. Go get some rest and we’ll talk later. What’s on your schedule for the next couple of days?” She blew smoke out of her mouth.
“Don’t know. You sent my assistant home.” Tyler nonchalantly shifted in her seat.
“Speaking of assistant, we need to talk about Aria. She’s very disrespectful, loud, ghetto, and to be honest, your cousin can do that job,” Carla suggested. Tyler almost laughed in her face. As much as she loved her cousin, she’d never let her work for her again. They tried that before, and because of Bobbi, Tyler kept missing studio sessions and important meetings.
“Let her be your assistant. I’m fine with Aria.”
“I don’t want to be anyone's assistant,” Bobbi huffed as they talked about her like she wasn’t there.
“You need to do something since trouble keeps finding you.”
“I’m an influencer,” Bobbi mumbled.
“Influencer,” Carla sneered. “Followers can’t be influencers. You need a job with some structure. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Dex.” Carla rolled down her window and flicked the cigarette to the ground. “And you,” she glared at Tyler as the car came to a stop in front of her high-rise condominium. “You’re going to stop trying to bite the hand that feeds you.”
“Damn, and here I was thinking I fed myself… and everybody else.” Tyler pulled at the door handle.
“Whatever, lil girl,” Carla mumbled, knowing she was telling the truth. Going into her purse, she reached for a mint can and tried to hand it to Tyler. “Here.”
“I’m good.”
“You’re not because you’re on edge.” She forced the can in her lap. “Go relax and try to get some writing done. We need to start working on the next album. Darryl wants you back in the studio this week, and I agree. This next album is going to get us a Grammy.”
“Yea, about that. I’m at the end of my contract and I’m not sure I want to sign on with the label again. I’ve been looking into going independent.”
“Independent?” Carla gasped, baffled at the thought. “So, because you had to spend a couple of nights in a cell, you want to blow up your life?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m ready to grow, to change. I’m tired of sounding and looking like everybody else. I have my own style, and I want to freely express it without all the backlash.”
“Oh, girl please. Nobody wanna hear them depressing ass songs, nor do they wanna watch you hop around on stage looking like a stud. The second you take that wig off, everybody is questioning your sexual orientation. Grow your hair back! You had beautiful hair and why you decided to cut it off is beyond me. You wouldn’t have to wear wigs if you had hair.”
“Hair doesn’t make me,” Tyler grumbled. Cutting her hair was impulsive, but it was a decision she didn’t regret.
“Girl, you need to be a little more grateful. If it wasn’t for Oakwood, you’d still be living in my basement, probably working some minimum wage ass job. Shit, probably with three or four kids by an ain’t shit ass nigga, and lord, had you followed in your mother’s footsteps, the nigga would’ve been married.
“And you’d still be living in that government-assisted house, working at a dead-end job with a sore ass back. They might’ve helped me, but they laced your pockets too.”
Carla tucked her lips. Tyler had a point. Her rise to stardom put them all on the map, hell, even Oakwood. The label had a few artists before her, including Dexter, but none of them took off the way Tyler did.
“Look, let me talk to the label and see if they can let you do an EP album or something,” she tried to reason.
“That’s not what I want though.”
“Tyler, just sleep on it,” Carla sneered, knowing her niece was headstrong and it was going to take a lot to change her mind.
