Page 4 of Cause When You Love Someone

Clarke

P ray It Away

“Rock! Stop right here!”

My driver peered at me through the rearview mirror. “Take that ski mask off, little one! Your mom is?—”

I pushed the door open, ignoring his unsolicited advice. The older man had been my personal driver since I was a teenager. He acted as my therapist many times, but that day, I didn’t need his counsel. There were no words he could say to make me rethink my decision to trip out.

A part of me regretted opening the direct message that put me on a hunt.

I was supposed to be enjoying brunch with my friends, but I made the mistake of opening Instagram.

I didn’t have intentions of telling my friends about the videos of Chaz in bed with another woman or the pictures of him kissing a woman in my Benz, but they called me out when my mood shifted.

After sharing what happened, I threw back a few shots of brown liquor and announced it was time for revenge. Simone and a few women I worked with in the past pumped me up to show out, whereas my personal assistant, Sage, reminded me of the consequences I would face.

Before I hopped out of the black truck, I leaned over the back seat and grabbed a bat from the trunk.

“Let me borrow this!” I snatched Simone’s glueless wig off her head.

“Clarke! What the hell?”

“I’ll replace it!” I assured her as my heels crashed into the pavement.

The popular downtown area was busy with shoppers, yet my focus resided with the apple red G-Wagon parked in front of a luxury boutique.

With no hesitation, I smashed the wood into the driver’s side window, sending a bang through the atmosphere.

My chest caved in as I proceeded to do the same to every other piece of glass in my line of vision.

“That’s right, best friend. Fuck his shit up!”

Fueled by embarrassment, I didn’t need Simone’s encouragement to damage Chaz’s prized possession. The proof of his disrespect was all the motivation I needed.

“Don’t let up, Clarke! If that nigga wants to embarrass you, then we’re going to return the favor!”

My head almost spun off my shoulders. “Bitch! Don’t say my name!”

On my Catwoman tip, I hiked my House of C.B.

dress over my knees and crawled up the hood of the truck.

Balanced on six-inch heels, I jumped up and down until there was a valley-low dent in the top.

Every ounce of frustration that snatched my appetite guided my actions.

The late nights. The women. The outside baby.

I couldn’t physically make Chaz feel my pain, but I knew what would hurt.

No longer than three minutes after my arrival, the blaring of sirens could be heard in the distance. Though I wanted Chaz to embody the same fury that flowed through my heart, I refused to end up behind bars. I wasn’t above breaking the law, but I was too pretty for jail.

In a haste, I swiped Simone’s wig from the concrete and stuffed the human hair deep into the muffler. A mischievous smirk seized my lips while I marveled at my handy work.

“Pam Grier!” Sage called me by a name only he used. “Get your ass in this truck!”

I jogged to the Escalade and jumped into the back seat, where Simone greeted me with her phone raised in the air.

“I got everything on camera, girl.”

“What?” I snatched her phone. Without asking for permission, I deleted the video and then tossed the iPhone into the space beside her.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she complained.

“Why are you recording me committing a crime? Remind me to never do dirt with you.”

“Too late.” Simone rolled her hazel eyes as she began taking down the braids that were underneath her wig. “I was being a good friend. I thought you would want proof that you don’t fuck around.”

“The proof is in the Benz truck, boo,” I teased while sliding the ski-mask off my head. “Sage, please give me the compact out of my purse. I need to make sure my Barbie ponytail is still intact.”

My sassy assistant smacked his lips, though he did as I asked. “I hope you feel better now because, later, your mom is going to kill us.”

“No, she won’t. If she kills me , then she won’t have anyone to control. If she kills you , there won’t be anyone for her to pawn me off on.”

“Damn, Sage!” Simone rolled her eyes. “You’re always complaining when it’s time to put in work.”

“Simone, we all know between the three of us, I’m not the one who’s afraid of earning my keep. There are friends for everything, and I’m not the one to hype up bad behavior. Freeloader.”

Amidst their bickering, my phone started ringing. I grumbled reading my mom’s name on the screen before I placed it face down on my lap.

“I don’t know why you’re ignoring her,” Sage commented. “If you don’t answer, she’s going to call me.”

“You don’t have to answer either.”

His chin slipped into submission. “She pays me to answer her calls, Clarke.”

“ I pay you, Sage. She can wait. That’s her problem. My mom thinks she’s the talent, and she forgets she is my manager.”

Right as Rock pulled up to my condo, my phone went off for a third time with a text message from my publicist.

Piper: C. Rose! Do you live to make my job hard? You showed your behind, and it’s on film!

Me: No face, no case *smiley face*

Piper: Clarke.

Piper: People aren’t as dumb as you think.

Me: Maybe, but can they prove it?

Though I was grateful, I was surprised at how long it took for the video to hit the blogs. Ever since I joined the cast of the hottest reality show available to stream, my moves became the subject of think pieces.

Some days, I still didn’t know how I felt about the way my life turned out.

What started off as posting videos of myself performing ballet and contemporary pieces to hip-hop music, blossomed into millions of followers and endorsements.

However, a torn ligament and thirty pounds of weight gain redirected my dreams. One day, I was in a dance studio, and the next, I was beating ass on television.

Back then, resentment over my failed dance career powered my rage.

Nowadays, I couldn’t pinpoint what kept me in the industry.

“Hey, Javier!” I greeted my doorman as I entered the building.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Rose.” He tipped his hat. “Earlier, a few fans stopped by pretending to be guests of yours. I had security clear out the lobby.”

“Thank you. If they return, give me a call please.”

In addition to loving the bohemian-themed décor throughout my place, I loved the staff that worked in my building. No one ever crossed personal boundaries, and most were kindhearted.

The journey up to my house was quiet, but the instant I unlocked my front door, my ears were soiled with profanity.

All my bold energy deflated when the sight of the biggest pain in my ass filled my sight.

Anytime I came home and my mom was in my house, I thought about getting Javier fired.

The only thing that kept me from acting like a diva was knowing how persuasive my mom could be. I had dealt with it all my life.

“Mom, I keep telling you it’s rude to pop up at my house.”

“Girl, I keep telling you, I don’t give a damn. I’m the mama.”

Designer threads covered her surgery-enhanced shape, and her long hair was pulled up into a ponytail.

As much as her honey-toned skin glowed, I knew her power came from making me feel low.

People called us twins any time we were in the same room, but other than matching brown skin and a dimple in our chin, we were nothing alike.

Some days, I would rather be an orphan than share anything with her.

I got comfortable on my vintage TEDDY sofa and watched her stomp a hole in my Persian rug.

“Sage!” she bellowed. “Why would you allow this idiot to vandalize property in broad daylight?”

From across the room, I saw Sage’s light skin turn red as he looked between the two of us. The conflicted expression on his face caused me to sit up.

“Sage can’t control me, and I don’t pay him to watch me,” I interjected.

My mom rushed toward me. “You need to pay someone to do it. Your silly ass got robbed in a club weeks ago, and you’re running around the city like a ghetto bitch!”

“I went to brunch,” I replied in an even tone.

She smirked. “Now we both know eating is the last thing you need to go out and do.”

“Ma, I don’t understand why you’re upset.” I groaned. “I thought all press was good.”

“Not when you have brand deals on the line! We all know reality TV is fake, so those white people don’t care when you cut up on screen. Showing your ass in the streets is different.”

I freed a gust of air through my nose. “My supporters are people who look like me. I don’t have time to impress a bunch of palm-colored vultures. They’re asking me to promote their products, not the other way around.”

“Oh. You don’t have time for that, but you have energy to give a nigga who don’t know his place? You’re hustling backwards.”

I giggled at her slick comment. “You want to be a pimp so bad.”

“Girl, please. If I was a pimp, I’d be in here beating your ass for fucking up my money.”

Simone snickered, reminding me she was in the room.

My mom’s face was scrunched up as she walked up to Simone with a stiff finger pointed in her direction.

“Raggedy Ann, I don’t know why you’re laughing. I’ve been telling Clarke since you guys were in high school, you’re a bad influence.”

Simone pressed her fingers into her chest. “Moi? I rebuke that statement. I remind Clarke of her power.”

“Bullshit. You’re a professional crash out who loves dragging my baby into your shit.”

My baby.

The candid lady loved to code switch between a loving mother to a soulless manager. At one point, I thought her rollercoaster behavior was a result of losing my dad, but fifteen years later, she still hadn’t found balance.

“Enough of all the back and forth,” I declared. “Nobody knows it was me. I had something over my face. Anyone who says my name is assuming.”

Surges of air worked my mom’s ribcage. “Timon and Pumba, give me a minute alone with Clarke’s silly ass.”