Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

Chanel pretended to be happy and excited for the couple as Seth showed them different styles and cuts of beautiful and expensive rings. Each ring was remarkable and flawless, and they all came with a hefty price tag. But for Pyro, money wasn’t an issue. He was willing to spend whatever on a ring for his woman so she could flaunt it to her university friends.

Chanel tried to pick a modest ring for Mecca, stating that her friend wasn’t flashy and that she admired the simple things. But Pyro felt the opposite. He wanted his woman to have the biggest and gaudiest diamond ring ever.

Pyro ended up picking out a 7-carat platinum setting diamond ring that was truly gorgeous. The ring even made Chanel envious. She wished Mateo was putting it on her finger. And it didn’t come cheap. Pyro dropped $90,000 onto the counter like he was Floyd Mayweather, and the jeweler was all smiles.

“Anything for my lady,” he proudly proclaimed.

“She is a very lucky woman,” Seth replied.

Leaving the jewelry store, Chanel tried to smile and be happy for Pyro and Mecca, but it was becoming difficult. The engagement ring Mecca was about to receive was sinking into her mind like quicksand. She thought, Why am I hating on my best friend? I should be happy for her. But it continued to feel like the opposite no matter how hard she tried.

She climbed into the passenger seat of Pyro’s car and sat there gazing out the window, lost in her own troubling thoughts.

“You think she’ll like it, right?” Pyro asked.

“Yeah. She’s gonna love it,” she replied faintly.

Picking up on her aloof response, he asked, “You good, Chanel? Everything okay wit’ you?”

“I’m fine, Pyro . . . just thinking about some things.”

“Like what? Mateo?”

“That and other issues that I got going on.”

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Chanel. I’m there for you like you’re here for me,” he said.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“So, you good?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Listen, I wanna make this proposal really special. I want to set up something nice for Mecca, and I’m gonna need your help wit’ this.”

“And what do you have planned?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I need you in my corner right now, Chanel. I don’t wanna mess things up. I want this proposal to be really memorable for her.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” she replied halfheartedly.

He grinned. “I would appreciate that so much. You’re the best.”

Chanel didn’t feel like she was the best. It felt like she was drowning in jealousy, sorrow, and displeasure. It felt like she was misery and she wanted to drag her friend along for some company.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Wanda was sprawled sloppily across the couch in Charlie’s living room. She was tipsy and high and looking for an escape from her trouble

s. She and her man, Wisdom, had gotten into a major fight earlier. Wanda swung on him several times and threw a bottle at his head. Her temper had gotten the best of her, and Wisdom threatened to kill her. So she left in a hurry, escaping to Charlie’s place to hide from him.

It was a Wednesday night and Charlie didn’t care that it was a weekday. Wanda had become a regular guest, and the two of them frequently hung out in the living room, which doubled as Claire’s room. They would have their own private party with drugs and liquor and talking shit. Wanda had become something like a leech in Charlie’s life. She loved the area that Charlie was in, she loved the apartment, and she loved cruising around town in Charlie’s SL Benz—along with being affiliated with someone who was on the rise. Charlie was making money and she was making a name for herself on the streets, and Wanda wanted to be a part of that.

Wanda didn’t know it was Charlie who sent the cops to kick in her front door looking for stolen merchandise.

Charlie took a swig of Hennessy straight from the dwindling bottle. “You and ya nigga always fighting and breaking the fuck up, and then y’all get back together like the shit ain’t happen.”

“Fuck that nigga this time, for real. He ain’t shit,” Wanda griped.