Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

“I just came to pack up my things and leave,” Chanel said.

Claire was silent. She didn’t care if her sister stayed or left. She had her own issues to deal with. It was Bacardi and Charlie that were making the most noise about the situation.

“So, what about us, Chanel? You wanna leave and forget about family?” Bacardi asked with some disdain in her voice.

“What about you, Ma?”

“I just want you to be well taken care of.”

Mateo finally intervened. “My woman is always going to be well taken care of. I’m gonna make sure she has everything she needs until the end of time. And that, I promise.”

Chanel smiled.

Bacardi looked at Mateo and had the audacity to ask, “And what about her parents? Are you gonna take care of us too? Don’t forget about us.” She didn’t want her cash cow to cash out.

Mateo had to chuckle at that bitch’s ridiculous comment. Was she serious? He wasn’t there to take care of her family, only his woman. He was tired of everyone taking advantage of Chanel and him, particularly after knowing about the abuse and mistreatment Chanel had endured.

“You need to get a job, Ma,” Chanel said.

Bacardi didn’t want to hear that, especially from her youngest. She had a job, but they fired her, and over time, she’d become lazy. She believed that her kids should be now taking care of her since she had taken care of them.

God emerged from the bedroom and came into the living room wearing a pair of boxer shorts—indecent attire with women in the home. But he didn’t care.

“Hey Chanel,” he greeted her with a smirk.

Chanel didn’t acknowledge him. She kept silent. He always made her uneasy and uncomfortable.

God and Mateo locked eyes, and it was clear that these two men didn’t like each other. Mateo held his hard stare against God, knowing his type—a grimy nigga, a user.

God continued to smirk and finally acknowledged Mateo, saying, “So, you the new nigga in her life, huh?”

“I’m the only nigga,” Mateo corrected.

Chanel went to the bedroom to pack her things. She couldn’t wait to finally be free of the place. Mateo stayed in the living room to hold things down and to size God up. God did the same thing. He coolly eyed the jewelry on Mateo, the clothing, the style. God knew the nigga was a definite payday for him if he ever got the chance to go after him. The sight of Mateo’s money and shine was making his dick hard.

“So, where you from?” God asked him.

“Around,” Mateo uttered with a frosty response.

God chuckled. “I was just tryin’ to make conversation, that’s all. No need to get all emotional.”

Mateo wasn’t about to let this nigga bring him out of character, unless he didn’t have a choice. He was simply there to help his fiancée move her stuff out of the house.

“Anyway, y’all be safe out there, ya feel me? It’s a treacherous world out there . . . too many grimy niggas tryin’ to come get what you got wherever you turn,” said God.

“We good.”

The unlocked front door opened with authority and Pyro was standing on the other side. He needed to check on his man and make sure that things were moving along without incident. Pyro’s eyes scanned his surroundings before settling on a dusty looking nigga. God gave him a chilly glare before Mateo spoke up. “We’ll be down in a minute, Pyro.”

Pyro nodded. As he backpedaled out the front door, he smirked at God.

God was unfazed as he pivoted and went back into the bedroom, and Charlie followed behind him and shut the door.

It didn’t take long for Chanel to pack her things. She soon emerged from the bedroom with a rolling suitcase, which Mateo helped her with. Bacardi was sad to see her go. Chanel moving out definitely meant that Mateo would stop coming around.

“Bye!” Chanel uttered coldly.

Bacardi sighed.