Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2
They cursed each other some more, and then the elevator chimed. Charlie couldn’t believe who stepped out of it. She stood there in shock, feeling like she was outnumbered.
Chapter Thirteen
Chanel and Pyro sat in his Benz outside the project building on another beautiful autumn day. Chanel felt antsy about being back in her old neighborhood. It had been a long while since she had been back to the projects. There were so many memories she wanted to forget.
Pyro promised her that he had her back and wasn’t going to let anything happen to her as long as he lived. Still, Chanel looked a bit on edge.
“Look, we don’t have to go up there,” Pyro said.
“I need to a get few important things. I’ve waited too long,” she said.
“Well, I’m ready when you are.”
She nodded and smiled at Pyro. He had become her protective angel, and she didn’t know where she would be without him.
The two climbed out of the Benz and walked toward the lobby. Chanel moved with her head held up high, feeling like she could take on anything right now. She was different. She looked and walked differently. The meekness and low self-esteem that once ruled her was long gone.
Pyro allowed Chanel to step into the elevator first, and the stench of urine was something she did not miss.
“Nasty muthafuckas,” Pyro griped at the smell. “Niggas ain’t got no fuckin’ home training. Like, who the fuck takes a piss in the elevator?”
Chanel pressed for the fourth floor and they rode up in silence. Moments later, the doors opened to the commotion in the hallway. Seeing Charlie arguing with Bacardi made Chanel stop and frown. She wasn’t expecting Charlie to be there, but she wasn’t about to run from her sister. Things done changed.
Hateful glares were exchanged between the sisters. Charlie’s angry attention quickly shifted from Bacardi to Chanel. Charlie was overtaken with jealousy and embarrassment. Chanel looked good. In fact, she looked better than ever.
How? Charlie thought.
Her nigga was almost dead—or brain dead—and still, Chanel looked like she could walk the runway at a fashion show. Her outfit looked like she had money, and her hair was long and sensuous, flowing down her back. Seeing her with Pyro triggered something in Charlie.
“So, you fuckin’ him now?” Charlie spewed with contempt. “Y’all gettin’ off the elevator all boo’d up!”
Pyro stood in front of Chanel protectively with his eyes narrowed into angry slits. He was ready to slap the shit
outta Charlie.
“Leave her alone, Charlie. You fuckin’ done enough!” Bacardi yelled from the doorway.
“Apparently, I didn’t,” Charlie replied in a gloating, antagonistic manner.
Her words stung like a thousand bees. Chanel furiously fixed her eyes on her older sister and something came over her—a feeling that possessed her like a raging hell. She eased from around Pyro’s protection like a panther on the hunt and abruptly pounced on Charlie with ferocity. She punched Charlie so hard in the mouth that her head jerked back.
It was on!
Chanel viciously punched her sister again and again, but Charlie wasn’t going down without a fight. She swung back with a fierce jab, striking Chanel, but Chanel wasn’t that weak and meek little sister anymore. One hit wasn’t about to intimidate her. They fought pound for pound, cursing, yelling, and carrying on.
“You fucked up, bitch!” Charlie shouted.
Charlie thought she was going to get the best of Chanel. She believed that she had more experience and more rage, but she underestimated her baby sister. Chanel’s anger was nuclear. A right hook to the side of Charlie’s face stunned her and she started to stumble. It felt like she’d been hit by a brick. Swiftly, Chanel was on top of Charlie wailing away. While she attacked her sister with a barrage of punches, she repeatedly screamed, “He raped me! He fuckin’ raped me! You let him rape me!”
“Get this bitch off me!” Charlie hollered in near defeat.
The hallway was once again teeming with neighbors with a front-row seat to the main event. There was never a boring moment at Bacardi’s apartment. Seeing Charlie getting her ass beat, the neighbors started to yell, “Kick her ass, Chanel! Fuck her up!”
Another resident shouted, “Trifling ho!”
“Grimy bitch!”
It was obvious who they were rooting for. Folks were tired of Charlie and her deceased boyfriend God. They had terrorized people for too long, and now karma was biting back like a grizzly bear.