troy
The Uber pulled off behind Troy as he stood on the sidewalk staring at the two story, stucco and stone house ahead of him and fixing the baby blue cap on his head. A noise snatched his gaze to the side of the residence and immediately realized it was the garage door lifting, and she came out in her brown sugar gorgeousness.The presence the older woman just commanded anyone's attention and held it for as long as she desired, especially Troy at the very moment. Cara dressed down in a sweatshirt and leggings that hugged her pert and juicy derrière with toned legs to match. She wore her hair in a tight bun on top of her head with her silk edges swooped gracefully.
"Hey," Her soft voice spoke, breaking his gaze off her legs and to her eyes. "You didn't drive?"
"Nah. I took a Uber."
Cara's brow lifted. "You rich. You don't have a car?"
"Fucked it up," he said plainly.
Cara nodded, knowing about his addiction; she read the tabloids. "We've all been there," she said. "You ready to come in and see the wall?"
Troy nodded. She led the mural artist inside through the garage where her two cars were parked. When they walked in, the inside smelled clean and tropical. The kitchen was straight ahead and to his left was the straight staircase that led to the second floor. He also smelled the scent of food, and his gaze went to the breakfast counter with a blue and pink kid divided plates with matching cups; confirming for him that Cara cooked.
"Grandkids?" Troy asked, gesturing to the plates on the table.
"Yeah. They mama had a visit today, so, they just left." She told him, stacking the plates and grabbing the cups to put in the sink. "You want some? I made too much." She sat the dishes in the sink.
"Prolly in a li'l bit."
Cara nodded and walked around by him; her sweet perfume traveling up his nostrils. "Aight, this the wall I want it on," she pointed to the wall beside the stone fireplace. "Do you need anything?"
"Only a picture of him." he said, placing his bookbag on the floor beside the couch.
"Shit I got em hung everywhere, but the one I want of him is on the fireplace. You can go grab it."
Troy pushed forward for the fireplace and stopped to look at the photos. They family photos professionally taken, and one held his eye the longest. It was of a younger Cara in her prime. She rocked a distressed dress with a low v-neckline and a baby blue fur coat; diamonds on her neck and wrists. The setting behind her looked as if she was at a video.
"You used to be in videos?" Troy asked, glancing back to Cara, who lights her cigarette and nod her head.
"I was the late 90s and Y2K fucking finest." Cara smile, standing and walking to stand behind him. "I met every rapper you listen to today. I even had a kid by one; Wyno. But he got killed, so, me and that nigga don't have a relationship. That picture is Antwan, though."
YOU ARE READING
Headline
General FictionBOOK #9 || One thing the two young adults have in common: being the headline.