Page 26 of In Too Deep

Mimi had been texting me back to back, frightened, and she had every right to be.

I had basically disappeared off the face of the earth, and apparently in the middle of nowhere.

Romelo purchased a new iPhone, one from Telo Wireless, which was very sarcastic of him.

It was an upgrade from my previous one. Being slick, and thinking quick on my feet, I tried to track my location, but nothing popped up, making my accusations appear accurate.

I was in the middle of no fucking where, so I couldn’t send Mimi my location.

I’m sure if I told her how wild my life had been these past few days, she wouldn’t believe me.

My number was the same, so seeing multiple texts from Trecee shocked me too.

There was even one from my ex manager Keisha, riding me about work hours all of a sudden.

After so many days of doing a no call no show, she had to terminate me, which I’m sure she found joy in doing.

Romelo and I have been anal fucking nonstop and sexting each other, imitating a high sex drive, not being able to keep our hands off each other.

Each time we had sex, he loaded my bank account.

It was looking like tax season. He’d gone overboard and got me my own Wells Fargo account, which I was relieved about because he couldn’t touch it.

Every second, of every minute, he was making me like him more and more.

When we weren’t fucking, we humored each other with knowledge.

Romelo was far more intelligent than I thought.

Besides his country grammar and thug mentality, he had intellect.

I was trying not to fall for him though because there were so many red flags that I tried to dodge, but it was becoming difficult.

He was caring towards me. My needs had become a priority.

No matter how bad I felt, I couldn’t escape the fluttering in my stomach when I was around him.

Far more better than any guy in my past, Romelo cared about my thoughts, indulged in my feelings, and what I was interested in.

Oddly enough, I was also shocked that Trecee invited me to her birthday bash in Tulum.

I declined the invite because it was a couple’s birthday trip, and I’d be hanging on by a string, gawking over the other couples she invited.

Of course, Mimi and Oliver were invited, leaving no chance for her to accompany me because she would be too busy being booed up.

I knew about the trip. It was booked months in advance, but the reminder text had me feeling perplexed since I figured she was still feeling shitty after our fight.

I mentioned it to Romelo, and he jumped ship, getting my passport picture taken, allowing me a breath of fresh air, still keeping where his mansion was away from me, and keeping the procedure of getting out of the trunk in the middle of now a common thing.

To clear the air, I appeared back in the hood afterwards, shocking everyone who cared.

I mustered a lie, telling everybody—Mimi, Trecee, and my cousins that I went to Houston for a few days to get a clear head and different scenery.

Mimi knew me well enough to know that I was lying, but Trecee didn’t spot a difference.

She couldn’t tell a zebra was white with black stripes or black with white stripes either.

“This trip will give me a breath of fresh air. Ah,” Trecee gasped, dramatically stretching her arms. “I can’t wait to be in the blue water with my man, and my toes in the sand.”

Mimi adjusted herself on the concrete steps, our usual hangout spot.

The sun wasn’t beaming down on us today.

A cool breeze, whispering through the trees, ruffled our hair as the low-hanging clouds made the air feel misty.

On the last step there was a blood stain.

It was fading away from either the sun or someone trying to scrub it away.

The vibe didn’t feel different though. Trecee was acting normal, as if the fight between us never happened. Mimi peeped it too, I’m sure.

“I’ll be ovulating, I need to bring a few Plan B’s with me. I’ll be damned if Oliver knock me up,” Mimi winced, and scrunched up her face in disgust like there was a bad taste in her mouth.

Her kids, my God babies were made back to back. At one point, she loved carrying his seeds proudly.

“I’m hoping Romelo and I can make a baby out here. I think it’ll save us.”

My head darted in her direction, snatching my attention away from my peach colored nails.

I sort of felt some type of way, but didn’t want my reaction to come off like it did.

From what Romelo mentioned, they weren’t on good terms and the only reason why he was going on the trip was because it was booked in advance.

Even his brother, Roxx was coming to galivant.

He’d planted in my head that he and Trecee were on bad terms and any hopes of rekindling their relationship, were null.

“What you mean?” Mimi asked, fanning the flies away from her face.

Trecee scoffed. “These past few weeks, Romelo and I have been so distant. It’s weird.”

“Weird like how?” I questioned.

Trecee’s lips were twisted as she looked off into the distance in deep thought.

“The other night we got into really bad. I’ve never seen him that angry before.

It scared me for a second. It’s time I step my game up and start investing in myself—in my hair business.

I could make a killing if I started taking appointments.

I mean, Synthia, any time I do your hair and post pics on Instagram, they flood my comments, begging me to start taking bookings, right? ”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“So, is that what the argument was about?” Mimi interrogated, making my curiosity grow harder.

“Basically,” Tree shrugged. “It was the foundation of it, along with some other things. I can’t have my man running off into the arms of another bitch. Bitches be already flocking over him, and I can’t have these hoes trying to take my spot.”

“He must’ve lit a match to yo ass and showed you that fat meat is greasy?” Mimi spoke, followed by a loud cackle.

“Nope,” Trecee frowned as she rolled her eyes. “That argument made me think really long and heavy. I need to get on my shit. I need to be the Keyshia Ka’Oir to my Gucci Mane,” she giggled, sticking her tongue out and started whining her hips.

“Girl please,” Mimi fanned her off. “Niggas like Rome want bitches with ambition, that you don’t have, but you have to be on your feet and be able to hold him up when shit goes down.

That’s where shit goes left, and that’s why bitches need to start reading the fine print.

Yeah, shit be sweet in the beginning and every hood bitch wants to reap the benefits of a rich nigga saving her.

But that’s shit don’t last for long before that nigga starts throwing up shit that he’s done for you upside your head, if you can’t keep up with his lifestyle.

Y’all see what happen to these piss poor ass girls falling for these rapper ass niggas all the time on the ShadeRoom.

They get dropped like a bad habit and move on to the next thing. ”

“Who said what Rome and I have going on is like that? I want to be able to sponsor my own damn lifestyle,” Trecee snapped.

Mimi put her hands up in defense. “I’m just saying. That’s how it goes. Don’t blame me for keeping it real.”

“Yeah, the last time somebody called themselves keeping it real, there was a brawl.”

“Bitch please,” Mimi shot off. “I’ll sweep the floor with yo ass. Don’t try me, Trecee.”

Trecee didn’t bark back, choosing her battles wisely.

Mimi wasn’t the one to fuck with. I took it easy on her off the strength of us being related, but Mimi wouldn’t go for that shit.

I’ve seen her drag a bitch and her mama in a fight without looking touched, only walking away with cat scratches.

She was capable of sending her away, bumped up and comatose.

“Whatever,” Trecee snapped again, then shot her eyes at me. “Synthia, what happened to your head?”

“Huh,” I uttered dumbfounded.

“You got stitches?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lifting my hand up, I touched the stitching. The swelling had gone down, but the scar was still visible. It wasn’t noticeable at first glance unless you stared at me. “I hit my head on one of those scooters downtown in Houston. It’s not that bad.”

“Hmph,” Mimi stated, shooting me a sadistic side eye.

“How’re you just going to go to Houston and not tell us?”

I shrugged, bouncing back from another lie. “It was a quick trip. I needed a different booster.”

“You still doing that?” Trecee asked, raising her arched brow. “I’d never do no shit like that. Romelo wouldn’t allow it.”

Per usual, Trecee was donned in designer.

There wasn’t an ounce of struggle in her clothing.

The Chanel shirt, denim jeans, and Chanel sandals was her ensemble for a casual day like sitting on the porch, wanting to be a show stopper as if paparazzi flocked around her all the time.

It was weird, but she wasn’t used to anything.

“Don’t say what you won’t do,” Mimi warned her.

“I’m just saying,” Trecee shrugged. “When you boost and shit like that, do you not get scared?”

“Scared money don’t make no money,” I uttered lowly. “I don’t plan on doing it for long. It’s a way out though.”

“A way out, huh?” Trecee judged me.

“Yup. I don’t have to depend on a nigga hand and foot. I set the tone and let the narrative play out how it wants to.”

“Clock it,” Mimi teased.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing that you have heard, Trecee.”

Adjusting myself on the steps, we talked a little while longer before we parted ways.

Trecee didn’t bother giving me a ride home, so Mimi offered that I kick it with her for a while, so we could chop it up.

Romelo was tracking me. He knew I was at Mimi’s house before I mentioned it to him, giving me a little bit of freedom.