The Devil Wears Stilettos

Thirteen

[B]

"Fuck them Nicki! I'm not in any kind of mood to deal with their shit." I said, finally getting off the couch.

"Maybe just see what they want? Solange even texted me to try to get to you." Nicki said. I groaned.

"I couldn't give two shits about them. They know what they did. They can go to hell." I said, going into the fridge and grabbing a Dr. Pepper.

"Believe me, I'm just as pissed as you are at them. But, you should at least see what's going on?" Nicki said. I chuckled.

"They didn't give a fuck about me the past six years. Why should I care now that they suddenly need me?" I asked. Nicki sighed.

"I'm not saying you have to respond, just, look." Nicki said, passing me my phone. She walked away, I guess to her room. I hovered over the message icon, trying to see if I really wanted to go through with this.

Swallowing, I pressed the button. Both threads of my mom and Solange said the same thing. Several variations of "call me" or "call mom."

"Fuck this shit." I mumbled. Just as I was about to delete their messages, a call came in. It was my sister. I stared at the phone, thinking about whether I should pick it up or not. Cracking my neck, I pressed answer.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Beyoncé, oh my god!" Solange said.

"Don't act so surprised." I said.

"I mean, I haven't heard from you in literal years. We didn't think we'd get through to you." She said.

"You almost didn't. I was actually about to block y'all. Quit blowing up my shit." I said.

"Beyoncé, don't be like that." Solange said. I laughed.

"Girl, fuck you? You do not get to tell me how to act, not after what y'all put me through. After all the shit I did for you?" I said. Her end was silent for a bit.

"I was thirteen, Bey."

"And I was seventeen? Don't make shit any different?" I said. She sighed.

"I didn't call to argue with you." She said.

"I'm not giving you shit." I told her. "I'm letting you know that now, so you dead any of that."

"Just shut up and listen to me!" She said. I held my phone away from my face, laughing.

"You called me. Don't get cute, because I will end this call and block you. I already don't want to be here." I said.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"Mhm. What do you want? If mom and dad want me to come home, tell them to suck my dick. I'm not coming back, fuck all of you." I said, sipping my soda.

"I forgot how delightful you are." Solange said. I chuckled.

"Thin fucking ice, Piaget." I said.

"Well, we do need you to come back." She rushed. I laughed.

"Goodbye." I said, about to end the call.

"No! No, Bey, don't! Daddy's dying!" She blurted. I frowned.

"What?"

"His liver... it's failing. He's dying." She said. I chuckled, knowing where this was going.

"You're not a match, are you?" I said.

"No." She said lowly. That made me laugh louder.

"How fucking ironic is this? The bitch who will do anything to make her dad happy, even if it means stabbing her sister in the back, isn't a match?" I started.