Cliché

Cliche Is My Middle Name - Fidele' The Business

                                    " An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of A Cure " 

Two Years Ago :   

" Aye, hurry yo' ass up, she bout to go into labor in the next two seconds." Quamaine screamed at Juice as he sped off in his Mercedes Benz.

"Mane, I'm trying, sh*t don't rush this."

"Ewww, I see something." Mya flinched as she lifted up my skirt.

"Somebody get this damn thing out of me !" I screamed, squeezing Quamaine's heavy hands until he didn't have any blood circulating, "Juice, if you don't hurry the hell up, I'm gone shove my foot in your scrawny little ass."

"Damn, bae you hurting my damn hand."

I looked up at him, cutting my eyes in anger and frustration, "I swear to you that we ain't never in a million damn years having another damn baby." I said seriously making him chuckle, "I'm glad you think this sh*t funny."

"Oh sh*t, it's something coming out her damn coochie ! " Iman jumped up.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !" Me, Iman, Juice, Mya, Neo, and Quamaine all shouted out.

"It's coming !" I cried out, pushing as hard as I can.

"Damn, baby wait."

"I can't f*cking wait you dumb ass the baby is coming nowwwwwwwwwwww !"

"Quamaine, ghee, catch the baby." Neo instructed him.

He knelt down, grabbing onto my already spread legs, "Ahhhhhhh !" I screamed pushing even harder than the last time.

"God damn the baby gone be born in a damn car." Iman shook his head.

"Mane, shut yo' ass up." The boys told him.

The urge of me pushing was becoming a normal stage, I pushed for the last time, closing my eyes, and breathing heavy from all my hard work. When I opened them, Quamaine was sitting next to me, holding our cute baby boy,  Blake Quazel Thompson.

Current Year : 

"What the hell you mean you lost my designs? Find my sh*t, and replace them, cause I ain't spend eight hours working on all that sh*t." I said through the phone, yelling at my secretary, Jessica.

"Alright, I'll do what I can." she said with much ease.

"You better." I hung up.

I'm sorry let me introduce myself. My name is Azalea Desire Thompson. I'm a fashion designer in Brooklyn, New York, and I'm the proud owner of the most popular magazine outchea' in the Big Apple ; Fidele' (French word for Loyal). Originally my plans were to major in business, but after recognizing my exquisite skills in designing clothes, things took a toll on me. Technically, I'm still a business woman, in a way. Everyone knows who I am. All the teenage girls bombard into my clothing stores buying vintage clothing for going out, or just for their casual wear.

"How you doing, baby?" Quamaine said grabbing my waist from behind, and kissing my lips.

Yes, Quamaine Thompson. You remember him, right? Well, after me telling him the big news two years ago, he proposed to me, and we'd gotten married. You should've caught up on that when I re-introduced myself. We've been married for a good two years, and we're going on strong. He's an owner of the car dealership in Harlem, New York. Both of us are connected in the business. He also owns a shoe store called Fidele' which is sponsored by my business. We have family connections.