"What more do I need to say that you don't understand now?" I asked, my tone flat.
Behind her eyes, I could see the hurt. The desperation. The realization that she was losing control.
But that's how she always reeled me in. She used tears and sadness as bait, expecting me to fold like I always did.
Once upon a time, I used to be crazy in love with her. I accepted her flaws as my own, coated them, kept them warm, made excuses for her behavior.
But her ways were vindictive. Manipulative. Selfish.
And that's valid enough reason not to fuck with her the way she wants me to anymore.
Trecee used to be my soft spot.
But a while ago—maybe a year, maybe two—I checked out emotionally from this relationship. There was nothing she could do to bring that feeling back.
At this point and beyond, it had dissipated completely. Like smoke. Like it never existed in the first place.
"C'mon, Moriah," Synthia said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. She took the little girl's hand gently and led her out of the room, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Trecee and I stood there, staring at each other. Her chest was heaving, her eyes were red and puffy, mascara streaking down her cheeks in black rivers.
And I felt nothing.
***
"You really think I'm about to spend a whole trip in Turks with just her? Nah. I need you there."
"Romelo—"
"I'm serious, Juicy. I already got your ticket. You're coming."
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked like she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.
"Doesn't she have access to a lot?" she finally asked, changing the subject. Her tone was careful, like she was testing the waters.
I scrunched up my face in confusion. "The fuck you mean? What type of access?"
"Access to your accounts? Money? Your plug?—"
"Hell naw!" I cut her off, my voice sharp. "Where the fuck you get that shit from?"
"For as long as y'all been together, she has to know something."
I shook my head, irritation creeping into my tone. "Her head's been in the fucking clouds. Trecee only worried 'bout what I could do for her. As long as I was breaking her off some bread, she was good. If she had access to that type of shit, I'd be fucked up out here." I leaned forward, my elbows on the counter. "She has poor money management skills. That'd be like giving a kid a bag of candy and expecting them not to eat it all. Fuck I look like to you?"
Synthia bit her lip, thinking. "What about you being loyal to her for saving your life?"
That question hit different. I paused, my jaw clenching.
"I couldn't let that shit hinder me for so long," I said quietly.
"What if she tries to set you up?" Synthia pressed, her eyes searching mine.
I leaned forward even more, my face inches from hers. My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Yo cousin's a fucking bird brain. She ain't got no fuckin' power. You ready to attend a funeral? You'll look sexy as fuck in your Sunday's best." I let that hang in the air for a second. "Don't put thoughts like that in my head. I don't have to be in town to get her touched. You know what the fuck I'm capable of, don't you?"
She bit down on her bottom lip—a nervous habit I'd noticed. "Any more questions?"
