house, Egypt.”
“I know you do, baby. His ass is leaving as soon as we get inthe house. And my sister’s ass is going to be right behind him. Come on.”
We both stepped out of the car and headed up the walkway. They must have heard us pulling up, because Tony headed out the door toward his truck with a purpose. That son of a bitch passed us and didn’t even speak, which was probably for the best, since Rashad couldn’t stand his ass. It wouldn’t have taken much to get him to head back to the car and get his gun.
My sister, on the other hand, acknowledged our presence, but only by slamming the front door when she saw us coming.
The first thing I did when I entered the house was head for the stairs. Rashad was right behind me, talking about dragging Isis out of the house by her hair. With him being so angry, I took his threat seriously. I had to stop him halfway up the stairs. I was pissed at Isis, but I didn’t want things to turn violent. “Baby, go back out to the car and bring our bags in. Let me handle this, please.” He didn’t say a word, but his body language spoke volumes. He was disgusted and looked like he wanted to hurt somebody. “Please, baby,” I repeated. He wanted to take his anger about what happened in New York out on someone, and my sister was the most logical choice. Only, even though she was an ass for having that man in our house, she didn’t deserve what was rightfully meant for Tammy and Tim. I pleaded one last time, “Please, Rashad. For me.”
He turned around and walked down the stairs. “I want her out of my house by Friday. You hear me?”
“Yes, baby. I hear you,” I replied, then headed up the stairs, stopping in front of Isis’s door.
They say if you love someone, let them go. Well, that was what I was about to do with my sister: Let her ass go. I reached for the doorknob, surprised to find it was locked. How could she lock doors in my house? She was really pissing me off. “Isis, open this door.”
I could hear movement, but she didn’t reply. I slammed my fist on the door three times. “Open this door! This is my goddamn house!”
I waited for a few seconds, then said, “You think I don’t have a key to this door?” I stomped down the hall to my bedroom toretrieve the key. When I entered my room, all I could do was gasp, hand over my chest, as I took in the disaster area I called my bedroom. “Oh my God. No, she didn’t have him in my room!”
Orange stains, probably from juice, were splattered on our carpet, along with what looked like pancakes and—oh no, syrup. The lamps were turned over like these two fools had been having one wild whoopee-making session. Strawberries and rose petals were smeared all over my comforter. Crumbs and a breakfast tray were sitting on one side of our bed. Let’s not forget the bottle of whipped cream that sat on the nightstand. Over in the corner, balled up like it had just been thrown to the side, was my husband’s favorite robe. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all? Dear Lord, could it get any worse?
That’s when I noticed the bed was made with my brand-new three-hundred-dollar silk sheets. I hadn’t even taken them out of the package yet, and this broad had the nerve to use them. When I pulled back the top sheet, I saw what looked like dried up semen in three places.
Oh, hell no, this heffa didn’t have sex on my new sheets without a condom!
Just the idea that she came into our room made me see red. I was furious!
“Isis!” I screamed, running back to her bedroom door.
I didn’t even care about the key anymore. If she didn’t open that door, I was going to break it down. Like most siblings close in age, Isis and I had had our share of physical fights over the years. I happened to be the winner of most of them. “Open this fucking door! I’m not playin’ with you no more, Isis! I want you the fuck out my house!” I started to pound on the door again and heard her fumbling with the lock.
“I know you do, baby. His ass is leaving as soon as we get inthe house. And my sister’s ass is going to be right behind him. Come on.”
We both stepped out of the car and headed up the walkway. They must have heard us pulling up, because Tony headed out the door toward his truck with a purpose. That son of a bitch passed us and didn’t even speak, which was probably for the best, since Rashad couldn’t stand his ass. It wouldn’t have taken much to get him to head back to the car and get his gun.
My sister, on the other hand, acknowledged our presence, but only by slamming the front door when she saw us coming.
The first thing I did when I entered the house was head for the stairs. Rashad was right behind me, talking about dragging Isis out of the house by her hair. With him being so angry, I took his threat seriously. I had to stop him halfway up the stairs. I was pissed at Isis, but I didn’t want things to turn violent. “Baby, go back out to the car and bring our bags in. Let me handle this, please.” He didn’t say a word, but his body language spoke volumes. He was disgusted and looked like he wanted to hurt somebody. “Please, baby,” I repeated. He wanted to take his anger about what happened in New York out on someone, and my sister was the most logical choice. Only, even though she was an ass for having that man in our house, she didn’t deserve what was rightfully meant for Tammy and Tim. I pleaded one last time, “Please, Rashad. For me.”
He turned around and walked down the stairs. “I want her out of my house by Friday. You hear me?”
“Yes, baby. I hear you,” I replied, then headed up the stairs, stopping in front of Isis’s door.
They say if you love someone, let them go. Well, that was what I was about to do with my sister: Let her ass go. I reached for the doorknob, surprised to find it was locked. How could she lock doors in my house? She was really pissing me off. “Isis, open this door.”
I could hear movement, but she didn’t reply. I slammed my fist on the door three times. “Open this door! This is my goddamn house!”
I waited for a few seconds, then said, “You think I don’t have a key to this door?” I stomped down the hall to my bedroom toretrieve the key. When I entered my room, all I could do was gasp, hand over my chest, as I took in the disaster area I called my bedroom. “Oh my God. No, she didn’t have him in my room!”
Orange stains, probably from juice, were splattered on our carpet, along with what looked like pancakes and—oh no, syrup. The lamps were turned over like these two fools had been having one wild whoopee-making session. Strawberries and rose petals were smeared all over my comforter. Crumbs and a breakfast tray were sitting on one side of our bed. Let’s not forget the bottle of whipped cream that sat on the nightstand. Over in the corner, balled up like it had just been thrown to the side, was my husband’s favorite robe. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all? Dear Lord, could it get any worse?
That’s when I noticed the bed was made with my brand-new three-hundred-dollar silk sheets. I hadn’t even taken them out of the package yet, and this broad had the nerve to use them. When I pulled back the top sheet, I saw what looked like dried up semen in three places.
Oh, hell no, this heffa didn’t have sex on my new sheets without a condom!
Just the idea that she came into our room made me see red. I was furious!
“Isis!” I screamed, running back to her bedroom door.
I didn’t even care about the key anymore. If she didn’t open that door, I was going to break it down. Like most siblings close in age, Isis and I had had our share of physical fights over the years. I happened to be the winner of most of them. “Open this fucking door! I’m not playin’ with you no more, Isis! I want you the fuck out my house!” I started to pound on the door again and heard her fumbling with the lock.
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