Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 2

“You shouldn’t have exited off the highway. I want to know where that bitch stay.”

“And we’ll find out, but not tonight.”

They were both pissed that they couldn’t follow Chanel and Pyro home. Her plates were registered to a PO Box, which was smart on Mateo’s behalf. Charlie wanted to fuck Chanel up real good—destroy her life. She hated to see her little sister happy and thriving.

“I know one thing for sure—that bitch fucks wit’ me and I might end up making myself an only child,” Charlie said coldly.

Chapter Thirty-Three

It was early morning when Pyro buzzed Mecca upstairs. He barely slept the night before. He had a lot of things on his mind, one of which was Chanel. Their sexual experience replayed in his mind every day. It was good—really good, and he enjoyed it. But it was wrong—so why did he want to do it again? But he couldn’t, right? Mecca was his girlfriend and Mateo was his best friend. Chanel was emotional because of Claire’s suicide, and he wanted to be there for her—to console her whenever she cried or felt alone.

Mecca came into the apartment and stared at her man with mixed feelings. There he was, standing in front of her in his boxers and shirtless while Chanel was still inside her bedroom.

“You always come out your room looking like that?” she asked him without greeting him with the usual hug and kiss.

“What’s the problem? It’s my place,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s your place, but did you forget you have Chanel staying here too? You don’t feel like it’s inappropriate to walk around half-naked?”

Pyro frowned. “What’s wrong wit’ you, Mecca? Why the attitude?”

“I heard that you were with Chanel at her parents’ apartment. I heard what happened to Claire, and that’s fucked up, and I’m sorry she did that to herself. But I’m confused. Chanel didn’t call me to tell me about her sister,” said Mecca. “You know how I found out? By seeing the news.”

“Well, I didn’t know. I thought she would call you,” Pyro said.

“Well, she didn’t. And you know what? When I did find out about her sister, I called her multiple times and she never called me back. And when I called you, you didn’t answer or return any of my phone calls either. It seems like y’all both froze me out.”

“Didn’t nobody mean to freeze you out.”

“So what’s going on then?”

“Chanel is going through some shit. She just lost her sister.”

As if on cue, Chanel’s bedroom door opened and she exited dressed in a T-shirt, scowling at Mecca. Sexual guilt had now turned into anger. Chanel was mad with herself, she was mad at God for taking her sister, and last, she was overwhelmingly mad at Charlie. Chanel felt that Charlie had done something to provoke Claire. And all that anger was now transferred to Mecca.

“Why are you here?” she snapped at Mecca.

It was unexpected coming from Chanel. Even Pyro was shocked by her tone.

“Chanel, are you serious? This is my man’s place—what do you mean, why am I here? And I came to see if you were okay. I knew Claire too,” Mecca replied.

Mecca didn’t match Chanel’s anger because she knew the weight of the situation. Her friend was upset, and she could easily lash out at anyone.

Chanel backed off, knowing it was wrong to go after Mecca. None of this was her fault.

Mecca stayed a few hours to try and comfort Chanel, even though she felt some kind of way about her living with Pyro. But she put that aside for now, knowing Claire’s suicide was weighing heavily on her.

“Why would she do that to herself?” Mecca asked.

But there were no answers. There most likely would never be an explanation on why Claire would commit such a ghastly suicide by throwing herself in front of a moving subway train. Her death was hard enough, but how she killed herself was the most troubling part for the family.

While the trio were inside the kitchen talking, both Mecca and Pyro tried to keep Chanel in an upbeat mood. Mecca paid close attention to Pyro and Chanel’s behavior toward one another. She noticed that sometimes he looked a little too deeply into Chanel’s eyes and vice versa. There was even some minor contact between them at the kitchen table. Pyro would touch Chanel’s hand slightly and then pull away, or he would gently brush his fingers across her cheek for some reason—maybe trying to wipe away a tear. It bothered Mecca. Something was going on, but she brushed her gut feelings to the side because of the situation with Claire.

***

It seemed like the entire neighborhood came out for Claire’s funeral. Her tragic suicide had been airing on the local news for several days. Chanel’s only wish for that miserable day was that Mateo was well enough to be there beside her. Mecca had Pyro, Charlie had Ahbou, and Bacardi had Butch. The somberness of the day made her feel isolated and more alone than ever. Chanel wanted to be held for emotional support; to cry in her man’s arms. When she had visited Mateo at the rehab facility and told him about Claire’s suicide and Butch’s paternity, through his eyes, she saw his heart break into pieces. He felt this was yet another moment he couldn’t shield Chanel from the hurts of life, but she assured him there was nothing he could have done to prevent any of it.

Bacardi planned an all-white funeral and requested that everyone wear white to celebrate her daughter’s life, not her death. A white horse and carriage carried her casket to the funeral home, white roses decorated the place, and white doves were to be released. It was all compliments of Charlie’s drug money. Charlie wanted her little sister to have an extravagant funeral that would rival a famous celebrity’s. Claire’s last days on earth were troubling, so Charlie wanted her home-going service to be special. It was the best that money could buy.