Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

“You want breakfast?” asked Chanel.

“Yo, that would be cool. I’m fuckin’ starvin’ out this bitch, fo’ real.”

Chanel and Landy made their way into the kitchen. Chanel washed out a few pans and went to work on making some bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. While she worked her magic over the stove, Landy pulled out the latest iPhone, and Chanel’s mouth dropped.

“Oh shit, you got the new iPhone? Get the fuck outta here—that’s what I wanted for Christmas.”

“Yo, this fuckin’ phone is dope, Chanel. Shit got wireless charging, it’s water and dust resistant, a fuckin’ ill-ass camera an’ shit. It’s on point, ya feel me?”

“That shit is nice. What else did you get?”

“A couple of hundred-dollar gift cards, a Fire Stick, and a new bedroom set.”

Chanel was happy Landy had a better Christmas than she had. At least someone got what they wanted. Landy took a seat at the rickety table and slouched in the chair. She eyed the messy kitchen that matched the messy apartment and shook her head in disgust.

“Damn, your peoples don’t clean?”

“They don’t do shit around here,” Chanel replied.

“So what happened yesterday?”

Chanel turned to her friend with a look that said, Bitch, too fuckin’ much. She made sure not to speak too loud while talking to Landy, nearly whispering her troubles to her friend.

“Charlie came by with her boyfriend God with three big ol’ garbage bags of gifts, and she hooked everyone up. I’m talking about red bottoms and mink coats and a Valentino bag for my mother, a cashmere sweater for my father. She was just spilling out nice shit for everyone, and she was even rocking a fuckin’ diamond necklace and a Rolex for herself.”

Landy asked, “Damn, where she get that kind of money?”

“That’s what I want to know. But she out here actin’ like she won the lottery. And then she gonna give me my gift last, handing me some old-ass laptop and some Echo Dot, and she wanted me to kiss her ass for it.”

“Wow, that’s crazy, yo.”

“I know. I gave her that shit right back.”

“I woulda whooped that bitch’s ass!”

“It’s all good.”

“Nah, it’s not all good, Chanel. They need to stop treatin’ you like shit! You don’t deserve it. You one of da coolest peoples I know, and if I gotta pop off on ya family, then bitch, let me do it,” Landy said.

Chanel smiled. She knew that her sisters would beat the brakes off of Landy and Bacardi would pulverize her. “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

“You my bitch, Chanel. I got your back.”

“It’s just odd, Landy. I don’t understand why they hate me so much.” Chanel sulked. “I guess it’s because I’m the black and ugly one.”

Landy was confused. “Y’all are all black, or am I missing something? If it’s us four in a car who do you think is not getting racially profiled?”

“We’re all black but not the same black. My sisters are that lighter, whiter black with red, curly hair—it’s too much to explain. If you were African-American you would get it. I’m the ugly one.”

“Ugly? You really believe dat?”

Chanel shrugged. “Landy, you’re more of a sister to me than my own blood, so I feel like I can keep it one-hundred with you. You know some black parents love their kids to be bright white with that good hair like Charlie and Claire. Charlie and Claire walk around here talking about how their freckles are like Meghan Markle and how niggas love their red pussy hair. They’re so revolting! And they’re constantly talking about how I’m not a redbone like them.”

Landy smirked. “Girl, bye wit’ all that dumb shit. I would kill for your complexion. I look like a jar of mayonnaise.”

Chanel chuckled. “You do not.”