Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

“Say what?” Pyro questioned. “Why the sudden attitude?”

“I’m just saying, we were chilling and doing us, and now you actin’ funny because she’s here.”

Dior glared at Chanel, sizing her up. She knew the type. Dior despised Chanel’s soft voice, how she never kept direct eye contact, and how she was always cooking and cleaning for Pyro. The docile, humble persona that Chanel projected was just an act in Dior’s eyes, and she was irked that Pyro didn’t see it.

Chanel lowered her head a touch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start any trouble between y’all. I’ll be in my bedroom,” she said, walking away from them.

“Ain’t no need to be sorry, Chanel.” Pyro’s eyes lingered on Chanel walking away.

Dior peeped it. “Why your eyes more on her than me?”

“She’s a friend, and she’s been through a lot in the past few months, Dior. Her man, my nigga, is fucked up in the hospital and we’re both tryin’ to be there for him, and I’m tryin’ to be there for her because it’s what Mateo would want me to do. I ain’t got time for your fuckin’ jealousy,” Pyro barked.

“Jealousy?” Dior screamed. “Nigga, how long you knew me? When have I ever been jealous?”

“You know what? Just leave.”

Dior looked shocked. “What?”

“Just get out!”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, like cancer.”

“Look, you’re being extra right now. I didn’t mean to overreact,” Dior explained. “I just wanted us to spend some quality time together.”

“Yeah, well that can happen some other time. I got shit to do anyway,” he replied unemotionally.

“Really? You got shit to do after I done fucked you?”

“Listen, I’m not tryin’ to argue with you or be an asshole. You need to leave, though,” he said sternly to her.

Dior didn’t want to leave, but Pyro rushed her out the door while she tried her best to do everything to stay. But his mind was made up. Besides, she wasn’t really his girlfriend.

With Dior finally gone, Pyro went to Chanel’s bedroom door and knocked. He was curious about what later news she wanted to tell him. She opened her door and smiled. Once again, she started to apologize for interrupting his quality time with Dior.

“I’m so sorry, Pyro. I didn’t mean to start any trouble . . .”

“Nah, you good, Chanel. Everything’s good. You didn’t start any trouble,” he said with a smile. “I wanted her to leave anyway.”

Chanel came out of the bedroom and into the common area. She was still cheerful about something.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked her.

“Good news. He’s dead. God is dead. My mother called and told me this morning,” she stated.

It was astonishing news, but Pyro felt ambivalent about it. He wanted to be the one to tell Mateo that he had killed Fingers and God. Still, he was glad that the rapist was dead. Killing one out of two wasn’t bad.

“I can go home now,” Chanel said. “He can’t hurt me again.”

Home. She was right about God not posing a threat to her anymore. But there was one thing he felt she was forgetting. Charlie. He had become Chanel’s protector, and he didn’t want her in the same apartment with Charlie, the mastermind. Pyro felt that bitch was a wicked sociopath to set her own sister up to get robbed and raped by her own boyfriend, and then make her live through the trauma of her fiancé being shot in the head. Charlie was more ruthless than any bitch Pyro had encountered before.

/> He stared at Chanel with some concern. “Maybe you shouldn’t rush to go back home. I would feel more comfortable if you stayed here until Mateo gets better. And then y’all can both move on with your lives.”

“You’re worried about Charlie, right?”

“That bitch is wicked, Chanel. Sister or not, you can’t trust her, and she needs to get got.”