Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2
It was all news to Wanda. She was getting all the tea.
“Charlie always been a foul bitch, Momma B, real talk. The only reason I ain’t go after that bitch after the shit she did to me is because I got respect for you,” Wanda proclaimed.
“And I always thought y’all were friends.”
“If she’s a friend, I would hate to see my enemies.”
“That bitch ain’t got no friends.”
“She sure don’t. But anyway, I’m ready to see what you got for me, Momma B.”
“I damn near forgot that I called you here for business. Bitch, you got me high and running my mouth,” Bacardi joked.
“It’s because we’re cool like that.” Wanda smiled.
Maybe, Bacardi thought. Though she was high and tipsy, she was still on her guard and about her business.
Bacardi removed herself from the couch and disappeared from the living room for a moment. Wanda sat there and took another pull from the blunt, her eyes like slits from the potent weed.
Bacardi came back into the living room tugging multiple black garbage bags. She dumped everything out onto the floor for Wanda to look at. The tags were still on the clothes, the shoes were topnotch, and the belts, earrings, and bracelets were high-quality.
“Shit! Charlie left all this shit behind?”
“Bitch ain’t leave shit behind. I took her shit,” Bacardi corrected.
Wanda grinned. “I know she was mad.”
“And? Like I give a fuck ’bout that bitch’s feelings.”
Wanda loved it. She took a look at the clothes and said to Bacardi, “I definitely have some clients for these clothes. I can have everything sold by the morning.”
“You serious?”
She nodded. “Yup! Charlie always had the best shit. The people I know will eat this shit up.”
Bacardi grinned. It was music to her ears.
They started to place everything back into the trash bags. Wanda was eager to leave with the merchandise and get down to business—maybe too eager. Before she could step foot out of the living room, Bacardi grabbed her arm, her grip like a vise. Her fixed stare at Wanda meant that what she was about to say was serious.
“You better not fuck me over, Wanda, cuz I swear, I’ll fuckin’ find you and fuck you up so bad that ya own mama won’t recognize ya ass. You understand me?”
Wanda nodded submissively. She understood.
Bacardi’s tightened jaw transformed into a smile. “Ok then, girl. I’ll see ya tomorrow!” Bacardi released her tight grip from Wanda’s arm and allowed her to leave with the expensive merchandise.
Chapter Eleven
I’m not gonna lie, Chanel, you can definitely cook your ass off,” Pyro said as he devoured a thick slice of her French toast.
Chanel smiled. “I’m glad you like my cooking.”
“I love it. I’m mad at myself for missing out all this time. Damn, this is almost better than sex,” he joked.
Chanel laughed. “You’re so silly.”
Pyro finished off his plate and made himself a second helping of French toast, sausage patties, and scrambled eggs. Pyro had started eating Chanel’s breakfast on the regular and was making it home for her dinners. He had fallen in love with her cooking. Someone to cook for, shelter, and conversation—it was what C
hanel needed.