Page 13 of The Hellcat Barbies: Aubree
“That nigga looked mad. He said some fly shit?” Cook asked as I walked back over to him.
“Nothing that I gave a fuck about. All I wanted was for him to take his hands off her.”
“I don’t like that nigga.”
That was news to me. “Since when?” I looked over at him.
“Since he came up. I remember that nigga just playing the background when he was with Ish. He wasn’t broke, and he dressed fly, got women and all that, but he didn’t have it like that. People actually referred to him as Ish’s homeboy. They didn’t even call him by name. Since he started getting a little money, he’s real cocky and arrogant. Walks around trying to son people. If he ever tries that shit with me, I don’t care how many people deep he is. I’m beating his ass.”
I released a breath. “I need food and a blunt. Shit was supposed to be calm when I came home. Shit has been the exact opposite of that.”
Two hours later, I was walking to my car when I saw Aubree bending down to pick up the keys she’d dropped. As soon as she had them in her hand, she dropped them again. With a shake of my head, I walked over to her.
“You good?”
The moment she stood up, I knew she wasn’t. Aubree’s eyes were low and glossed over.
“Yo you aren’t driving like that. You might as well prepare to leave that car here.”
Aubree kissed her teeth and frowned. “Nigga, you are not my daddy. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Stepping forward, I snatched the keys out of her hand. “Beat my ass and take them,” I glared at her serious as a heart attack.
“You really get on my nerves,” she growled. “You hate me, right? What do you care if I drive drunk?”
“Stop talking stupid,” I snapped. “You might be foul as hell, but that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to you.”
“Wow,” she chuckled with a laugh. “And because you feel like I did you wrong, I’m supposed to put up with this shit from you?”
Ignoring her, I took off walking toward where my vehicle was parked. She didn’t have to follow me, but she wasn’t going anywhere in her car because I had her keys. After releasing a dramatic groan, Aubree began walking behind me.
“I don’t need your condescending ass concern. Give me my keys. I’m fine. Don’t you have pussy to chase.”
“I can chase pussy with your keys in my pocket,” I stated in a flat tone.
Aubree didn’t respond, so I kept walking. When I reached my car, I turned my head to look behind me, and she was a few feet away, standing in place. Crying.
“I do not have the patience for this shit,” I grumbled. Aubree had never been a big crier, so I knew it was more than likely the alcohol she’d consumed.
I could hold grudges with the best of them, so I refused to walk back to where she was. “You coming, or you got another ride?”
Aubree’s eyes cut into slits as she glared at me. I knew she was pissed off, but she’d be okay. Maybe both of us were being childish as hell, but hiding a child from me was wrong, and I’d stand on that shit forever. After a few seconds of pouting, Aubree stalked toward me. The closer she got to me, and I saw the tears streaming down her cheeks my soft ass folded just a bit, but I kept my poker face on. I didn’t say shit, but I was going to ease up on her.
In the car, Aubree folded her arms across her chest and glared out of the window. After a few minutes of silence, I spoke. “I’ll come back with Cook and get your car.”
“You don’t have to do anything for me. I’ll get my own car home.”
“Cool.”
The silence returned, and the tension in the car was thick enough to be cut with a knife. The way my emotions fluctuated when I was around Aubree pissed me off to no end. It had never been hard for me to walk away from anyone. Except her. I had cut people off for doing way less to me than she did. Was I selfish for being upset? Was it wrong of me for wishing she had thugged it out and chosen the single mother route with Brianna just until I came home? I was confused as shit, and that was another thing that I didn’t like.
From my peripheral, I saw Aubree unzipping her purse. She removed something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Glancing over, I saw that she was twisting the cap off a shot bottle of tequila, and I frowned.
“Yo you dead ass still drinking?”
“I’m dead ass still drinking,” she replied sarcastically and rolled her eyes as she placed the bottle against her lips and turned it up.
“You don’t think you’ve had enough?”
