Too Far Gone (Urban)

35.5| Better Call Maury

The ride to Gat's place didn't seem as long as it usually did. She was distracted, confused. Her mind felt as if it's been scrambled apart and tossed around until it created a tightly coiled mess. Her world that she so carefully crafted in her head received it's final blow, collapsing onto itself till it laid in ruins. She had no one. Rascal was acting strange, Trinity cut her off, and now Pierce was ignoring her too. There was no one left in her gated community besides herself and the strangers lurking around waiting for the gates to open up.

      Chenelle knocked on the door and rung the doorbell twice, mentally kicking herself for choosing to scamper out the house without grabbing a proper coat. Today was a chill day, cloudy and murky. A sudden cold front brought about a mix of rainy and snowy days and wind chills for the last few days, and though the raining ceased, the winds remained, bringing a gentle shower of snow. The boss opened up the door, and Chenelle immediately noticed he was topless, giving a clear view of his inked up torso.

He greeted her with a grin and allowed her to enter the warm oasis, switching his phone from one ear to the other. The ornamentation of the house didn't change much since Aisha's death, aside from the oriental rug that concealed her death spot. The house held the strong scent of bleach and cleaning product. Her miscellaneous belongings still remained on her coffee table and other surfaces: CDs, magazines, and other small things she'd noticed when she first came here. It was as if she never died.

     Gat's belongings merged with hers to create an organized mess of what they were when she was alive. A large purple blanket and pillow were folded neatly on the couch, the pillow resting on top of the blanket. It was evident to her that Gat had been sleeping here for a while.

     Chenelle followed the boss into the kitchen where Johnny Gat resided dressed in a pajama set of a tank top and boxers, a white apron covering up any print of extremities she didn't need to see. Gat tore his eyes away from the smoky, buttered frying pan.

      "Well, don't you look like a big ball of sunshine," he teased, focusing again on the pan. Chenelle forced out a laugh and took a seat at the nook situated in front of a large panel window. The boss slid into the seat in front of her and rested his elbow on the table, saying a few more words before hanging up his phone.

     "So," he breathed, "what did you wanna talk about?"

     Chenelle fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, her legs itching to twitch. "It's about Pierce," she mumbled over the sizzling sound of meat hitting the hot pan. The boss leaned in, a half smirk adhered to his face.

     "Aww, you're finally gonna confess your love to him?"

Chenelle blinked rapidly and scoffed, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. She frowned, "No!"

The boss let out a chuckle and cradled his head in the palm of his hand. "What is it then?"

     Chenelle adjusted her position in her seat until her legs were crossed under the table and both elbows rested on its surface. Her foot bounced and bopped her reposed leg up and down to the point it pounded against the table. "Rascal came to me this morning and told me that Pierce... he's the father of my friend's child..."

     The shaking stopped. The sizzle of the meat dialed down to a low grumble. Both the boss and his partner gaped at her in bewilderment. She couldn't meet their eyes. She herself couldn't digest the fact, and it churned around her stomach, making its way back up. It was a painful discomfort similar to a stomach virus, a discomfort that made her want to vomit. Johnny turned off the stove and brought two large plates of pancakes and sausage over to the nook, sliding it onto the table.

     "You said Rascal told you that?" Gat questioned, taking off his apron and tossing it aside. He opened up a cabinet and grabbed three plates, shaking his head. "I don't believe that shit. Pierce is moderately naive, but he ain't that stupid."