Page 49 of Cause When You Love Someone
“So it’s okay for me to take a charge for your boyfriend? I can’t play basketball from jail. I can’t get financial aid with a felony! Tell them the truth, Mariah.”
“Stop talking, Ishmael. Charles is going to straighten things out.”
My mom was no better than the old heads who convinced youngins to take the fall with promises of less time. I knew better, but I also knew snitching on Charles would bring my family more trouble than me going to juvie.
Chapter 8
Clarke
Why
For a week, I acted like a runaway held up in a nice hotel in downtown Silk Hills as if I didn’t have a home to go to. But this day, I rode the elevator up to Bell’s rooftop restaurant with newfound confidence. After the drama at the club, the distance from the spotlight allowed me to realign my thoughts. I vowed to be done with Chaz, but he wasn’t the only thorn in my side.
When I stepped off the elevator, a camera crew and the backdrop of the city fell into view. The scene looked like an upscale cafe in the sky, but I knew from experience that most of the patrons were paid extras. They made a few hundred dollars and got a free meal. I didn’t blame them for accepting tickets to the circus.
A few steps away from the table, I smoothed my hands down my spaghetti-strap Pucci dress. Fresh out of a seat at City Glam, I walked on set ready to film.
“C. Rose!” a cameraman cheered.
Everyone who was paid to be there smiled at my arrival. On the other hand, my mom mugged me from a table in the center of the scene. I ignored her menacing gaze and hugged Sage tightly. Simone got the same dismissive energy I gave my mom.
“Oh my God! Look at my baby!” Sage squealed as he fluffed my new short hair. “You look so good! Who gave you this fabulous cut?”
“No!” My mom yelled, prompting cameras to go up. “The real question is, why the hell would you let someone cut your hair? You know how many years I worked to get your hair to that length. You’re tipping the scale at one-sixty-five, and now, you’re baldheaded!”
I shrugged, brushing her insults off my shoulders.
“I’ll be twenty-seven in a few months. I needed a fresh start.”
“The style makes you look old!”
“That’s not the worst thing in the world. If you remembered that, you wouldn’t have to take so many trips to the Dominican Republic.”
She didn’t have the chance to spew a hateful comeback since a producer I worked with onHotties of the West Coastwalked over and ushered me away from the table.
“C. Rose, it’s good to see you.” Jerry embraced me like we were old friends. “I know tensions are already high, but I want to go over some show notes. Things can go off the rails, and I want to ensure we get what we need.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“I want to start with making note of what’s off limits.”
I thought to tell him I didn’t want to talk about Chaz, but I wasn’t ignorant. I knew most of my views would come from people who wanted to hear what I had to say about our breakup.
Jerry and I spent twenty minutes off to the side before I rejoined the table.
While the team ordered appetizers and drinks to be brought to our table, I decided to check in with Ishmael. To my surprise, I already had two messages from him.
Superman: Dark or Light?
My brows crowded in the center of my forehead when I asked for more context.
Superman: I can’t say.
I followed up and asked for a dick picture to ease my now anxious mind.
Superman: You are freaked out. I love that shit.
“Clarke. Get off the damn phone.” My mom raged. “You walk in here with a bald head and a smile like things are all good.”
