Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 12

The screen door opening, and then clattering closed, robbed Cleo's mind of a hella wicked fantasy that featured him. A cringe seized her body when she realized she'd allowed herself to go there again. Snatching the milk from the shelf, she slammed the refrigerator, and spun on her heel in time to see Liberty saunter in the kitchen. The hot pink belly shirt she wore that showed off her mid-drift and tight black mini skirt that barely covered her privates had Cleo mentally rolling her eyes. Why the hell couldn't Liberty at least dress like a mama since it was clear she was never going to act like one? It didn't matter what time of day it was, nobody wanted to see that much of her mom's.

Cleo cast her attention back to hunting down the ingredients for the hamburger helper, tired of sweating things she'd never change. Not to be ignored though, Liberty strolled further into the kitchen, posting up in the spot next to her at the counter. With a smirk on her face she began to pull seasonings from the cabinets, placing them beside the box meal. Reaching behind her she yanked a large mixing bowl from the drain basket in the sink, and proceeded to open the plastic on the ground beef, dripping blood all over the tiled counter from the Styrofoam carton in the process.

Annoyance bitch slapped her as she glared down at the mess Liberty had made. With a full grown attitude, Cleo snatched the dishrag from the faucet. Then she started to mop up the pinkish red fluid with enough force to bruise the sensitive skin over her knuckles. Liberty needed to go sit her butt down somewhere. It would take forever just to cook hamburger helper with her underfoot. Especially, if she had to keep stopping to clean up after her.

"Why don't you go rest while I finish cooking?" Cleo said, forcing her tone to remain respectful.

"Rest?" Liberty smacked her lips, while she continued to sprinkle seasoning on the gummy pink meat. "Chile puhlease. Can do that when I'm dead. Why don't you go sit down somewhere? While I knock this out." When Cleo didn't move, Liberty lightly bumped her with her hip. "Gone now. I said I got this. Go hold down yo' step or something. Heard you ain't been doin' ya job lately. They say you wasn't on that step the whole weekend I was gone. Talk to me. Tell me about that."

Cleo's gaze dropped to the floor as she attempted to piece together a smoking lie. "What you wanna know?" Folding her arms across her chest, she watched Liberty dump the meat into the frying pan.

"If you weren't here then where the hell were you at? With that boy?" Liberty questioned, using a fork to push the beef around the scorching pan.

Cleo ducked her head, avoiding her mom's sideways stare. As many lies as Liberty had told, she could spot one before it even had the chance to take shape in her head. So she decided to remain as close to the truth as possible.

"His mom's knew you weren't here," Cleo said with a shrug. "She didn't think it was responsible to let me come home without nobody being here."

"Who, Angela?" The fork slipped from Liberty's grasp as she turned to face her. "Ask me if I give a shit about what that bitch gotta say. All up in my damn business." She jabbed her finger in the center of Cleo's chest. "Next time you go off, you better bring yo' butt back home before the time that, busted ass, street light is supposed to come on. Mess around and let that moon beat you home. Humph! I'ma stomp you and that nosey hoe. Think it's a game."

Cleo's eyebrows collided in the middle of her forehead. That was the second time she'd talked about...his folks as if she'd known them. "Where you know his folks from?"

"Don't worry about all that. It ain't your concern." Liberty's shoulders sagged like someone had poked a hole in her and released all of the hot air out of her. "You betta listen to what the hell I just said, because I won't say it twice. You hear me?"