Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

“I feel you. So when I’m gonna see you again?”

“I’ll be back north sometime next week.”

“Business or pleasure?” she teased.

“Ya know I’m down fo’ both.”

They kissed passionately once again before her exit from the vehicle. KB smiled her way; they were like two teenagers in love.

“Be safe out hurr, shawty,” he said to her before driving off.

“I will.”

She watched his Beamer turn the corner and headed inside. The New York City cold was a direct contrast to the Bahamas. It was paradise out there, and Charlie was grateful that KB whisked her away to someplace she had never been before. KB was fun and exciting. He was different and funny, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Charlie came sauntering into her apartment after her blissful week on vacation with KB. She was tanned, cheery, and finally loving her life again.

However, the moment she stepped foot into her place, she was confronted by an angry Claire.

“Where the fuck were you, Charlie?” Claire shouted.

“What, you Bacardi now? I gotta tell you my fuckin’ whereabouts?”

“You were gone a week!”

“And?”

“And that crazy cop you’re fuckin’ kept coming by here looking for you, and he even assaulted me,” Claire exclaimed to her, waiting for her sister’s reaction.

“I’m not worried about that fool,” Charlie replied.

“What? I told you, he came here and fuckin’ assaulted me.”

“Obviously, he didn’t do a good job at it. You look like you don’t have one scratch on you,” Charlie replied.

“Are you serious? After everything I did for you—after everything you put me through, you stand there nonchalant about Ahbou assaulting me? I had your back against our parents and got put out because of you, and you can’t have my back over a nigga!”

Charlie remained unaffected by the speech. “Ain’t nobody ask you to have my back, Claire. I know how to handle my own.”

In that moment, Claire realized that she meant just as much to her sister as Chanel did. She stared at Charlie with disgust, having nothing else to say to her. She turned around and left the apartment. She needed to go for a walk—clear her head and get Charlie out of her mind. She wanted to punch Charlie in her face, but she kept her composure.

Charlie was over Claire’s tantrums and wished she would grow up.

The loud and impulsive banging at the apartment door came after midnight. Claire and Charlie were both asleep, but the reckless knocking ricocheted through the apartment and stirred both girls awake.

“Charlie, open the fuckin’ door!” Ahbou shouted.

Charlie sighed with contempt for that man. He was relentless, and she knew he wasn’t going away. She grabbed a long T-shirt and went to confront him. She angrily swung open her door and shouted, “Nigga, you know what time it is?”

They had matching scowls. He pushed his way past Charlie and into the apartment and shouted, “Where the fuck were you this past week?”

“I was busy!”

“Busy doing what, Charlie?”

“Like that’s your business,” she retorted.

“It is when you’re fuckin’ with me,” he countered.