“I think that’s the one Sky and her friends are going to. Y’all aren’t going together?”
Clueless to the tension and words that’d been shared between them, Nia’s question was genuine. In her mind, it only made sense for them to go together.
Cyren shook her head. “Nope. According to your daughter, me and her friends don’t mesh,” she said, arching her middle and index fingers.
Sighing, Nia shook her head. “My child, my child.”
As if she’d been summoned, Skylar’s heels clicked as she walked down the hallway. She didn’t speak to Cyren or Gabi as she entered, just looked them over with a look of disinterest, as if they weren’t standing there looking fine as hell.
“Mama, can I wear your black mini Chanel bag?” Skylar asked.
“You don’t have one?” Nia asked.
Skylar huffed. “Yes, but I don’t havethatone. It goes with my outfit.”
Cyren was no hater, and she loved most of the outfits her cousin wore, but this one wasn’t it. They always dressed for the occasion, and not the weather, but the Chanel T-shirt style dress she had on stopped right at the cuffs of her ass cheeks. She might have been able to pull it off, had she gone a different route for her shoes. The heeled ankle boots she wore gave the outfit an overall cheap, thrown-together appearance. Cyren would’vegiven her two cents but kept them tucked, knowing she’d be wasting them.
“I don’t care, Sky. Just make sure you put whichever one you grab, back,” Nia let her know.
There had been too many times she had to go into her room and search Skylar’s closet for her belongings. Smiling, Skylar started to head toward Nia’s bedroom but stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes squinted, trying to gather an understanding of what she was looking at.
“Mama, this is the purse right here,” she said, pointing to the bag on Cyren’s shoulder.
Nia looked at it. “It is? I didn’t know that’s the one you were talking about. I gave that to her.”
“What!” Skylar’s neck almost broke the way she swiveled it so fast.
Cyren looked down at the quilted lambskin clutch with a gold chain, then lifted it. “Oh. Is this the purse? Hmm. It is cute and goes perfectly with my outfit, too. I’m sure she has another one you can borrow.”
Gabi’s snicker did nothing but piss Skylar off more. Mugging them both, she mumbled obscenities under her breath before stomping back down the hallway. Cyren could’ve fallen out laughing when Nia shrugged.
“Guess she didn’t want to look. Y’all have fun and be safe tonight,” Nia said.
Cyren told her they would and walked out of the house. Gabi laughed all the way to the car, knowing Skylar was going to be pissed for the rest of the night.
Heavy didn’t carefor the club.
The crowds, the obnoxiously loud music, overpriced drinks, and niggas who always felt the need to approach him, were played out. He enjoyed it back in his younger days, and he was still young, but this wasn’t his scene anymore. It was a rare occasion, though. Mhazi, one of his cousins, had flown into town to handle some business. This was more of a celebratory outing, if nothing else.
While he was making strides to flip over a new leaf, an opportunity fell into his lap that Heavy wasn’t passing up. Leaving the streets was one thing. Knowing he’d be making just as much money not being in them was the determining factor. He still needed a bit more convincing and a few more zeroes to his accounts, but Mhazi and Nash weren’t letting up.
So, they were right there with him, including Mesha and one of her friends. Heavy stood posted in their section, with his back angled against the wall. His eyes moved around the dark club while listening to Mhazi rap EST Gee beside him. Mesha and her friend were already halfway through their drinks and up dancing.
“I’m over this shit,” Nash said, looking around like he’d seen enough already.
Heavy didn’t say anything.
“Swear to God I am,” Nash continued, gesturing out toward the crowd. “Look at this shit. Ain’t no type of decorum in here. All these young-ass girls. Some of ‘em wearing tennis shoes. Niggas got hoodies on in the club. Fuckinghoodies, cuz.”
He was so disgusted it wasn’t funny. Heavy smirked while Mhazi chuckled and said, “You acting like an old head complaining and shit.”
Nash shrugged. “I don’t care. If I’ma spend my money somewhere, it needs to be up to my standards. A hoe bet not walk up to me with some Jordans on, trying to talk. I’ma dap her ass up and keep it moving.”
Mhazi shook his head, sipping from the Hennessy and Coke in his hand. “Nah, I feel you though. It’s always like this?”
Where he was from, and the places he let his presence be known in, were nothing like this. People stepped correctly and knew if they didn’t, their asses weren’t allowed inside the establishment. That’s what Nash wanted to be on.
“Yeah. Heavy don’t go out for real, so he don’t have a clue,” Nash said.
