Bumblebee


Damn phone. The melodic sound of the repeating gospel ringtone was more like the plague at this point. I couldn't help but chuck it at the wall and watch small pieces of the screen fall to the ground. My brother Rick called me 20 times after I told him what happened. I plopped on the couch and grabbed the unopened bottle of Hennessy that sat next to the corpses on the floor. I chugged about half of the bottle and passed out shortly after the high kicked in.
Damn kids. I was awakened by their obnoxious laughs as they played outside in the courtyard of my apartment.
Better their banter than the soon-to-follow chaos. I reflected back to my motherless childhood and became overwhelmed with joy at the memory of playing hide-and-go-seek with my brothers in our four-bedroom home. Man, what I wouldn’t give to go back to the beginning. If I knew then what I know now I’d probably be single with a goldfish or some other low maintenance pet.

"Claire, are you home?
I was jolted back to reality as Rick banged on my door.
“I know you’re scared. Please open the door."
The knocking grew louder, but he eventually left.
There was always a side chick. Always. I'm tired of it. Who raised these chicks to think it's ok to lay up with a man for a couple of hours just for him to leave and go home to his woman? Excuse the language, but these niggas are idiots! He's a damn riot.
He had her in my shower! Can you believe that shit? I’m sure her nasty butt rubbed up against my new purple loofah. My neighbor Mrs. Harvey - nosiest person to ever have graced the earth - called me while I was at the gym. I had reached my 30-pound weight loss goal and purchased new dresses and lingerie. Asshole and I were supposed to have a beautiful weekend getaway up north when I got the call. I left my gym bag, didn't wipe down the treadmill and flew out of there like someone's uncle during a trap-house raid. All I saw was blood.

I could hear his sorry ass apology now. “Baby please", he’ll say but none of that is going to matter. We've been together for 5 years. He proposed to me last month with my damn family and close friends in attendance. I was so ready to become Mrs. Wright, but I am tired! He cheated two years ago and I forgave him. We saw a counselor and he promised it would never happen again as we discussed wall paint and bedroom decor.

I knew there was someone new but never in a million years did I expect that fool to have a chick in our place. Could I have called my sister Taylor? Yep. Was I going to? No. She definitely would have handled it - without a doubt - but I knew what had to be done and I wasn’t afraid to do it.

It took 10 minutes of what is usually a 25-minute drive from the gym to my place. I pulled into the complex, walked into the building and down the long beige-colored hallway and paced for a couple of minutes to gather my thoughts. Was I ready to be a martyr for love? Go out with a bang, right? I heard them laugh and as I reached into my bag to grab my pistol, I heard something frighteningly familiar.

I had gotten into a bar fight with a guy about 5 years ago. He touched Taylor’s ass and I don’t play that disrespect shit. The 7 years of boxing lessons my dad enrolled me in paid off. I pieced him up and Tay has called me Bumblebee ever since. She even bought me a bumblebee necklace and charm bracelet for one of my birthdays.

I stood outside of my apartment door and became filled with anger, hurt and confusion as I heard the chick who screwed my fiance ask if Bumblebee would be home soon. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. I pushed it open and pointed my revolver at the naked bodies that stood in the kitchen and fired two shots…



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Copyright © 2016 By Jasmine D. Rivers.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this site's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to AJ Writer with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Please contact AJWriter.com for more information.

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Copyright © 2016 By Jasmine D. Rivers.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this site's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to AJ Writer AND The Mom Who Could with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Please contact AJWriter.com for more information.







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