Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 17- Le'Shelle

It's been all over the news for two days.

Snake's momma—who, for some damn reason, I thought was long dead—escaped a mental hospital and went all Freddy Krueger on everybody. I don't know what the hell is going on. Suddenly, Snake has family members coming out of the woodwork. Snake has calmed down, but he's still not thinking clearly. He still wants some grand family reunion.

I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do about him. I've worked too hard to get where I am to lose this shit now, but I swear to God I can feel it all slipping through my fingers like the hot water in this shower. What trips me out is that Snake is acting like he doesn't care. I ain't never had to ride his ass to fight for the throne before. Hell, I don't understand him at all anymore—and I married his ass. There has to be a way for us to get back on the same page.

I need for him to get his head back into the game before he hands control of the Vice Disciples to some pussy-ass fuck nigga from the A. Sheeeiit. I lower my head under the shower spray and wait for the hot water to do something about the tension coiling my muscles. The only thing that happens is the fuckin' water turns ice cold on me. Some fuckin' honeymoon this shit has turned out to be.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The bathroom door jumps around on its hinges. "C'mon, Shelle. We gotta roll," Snake barks. Annoyed, I huff out a breath and shut off the water.

But while rushing to dry off, my gaze snags on my reflection in the mirror. Fuck. I lean in squinting. Same petite frame, same sick curves, yet still at certain angles, I don't look like myself. This is what happens when you sell your soul for a crown—or a man. My gaze sweeps across the dozens of keloids spread across my chest. Stab wounds courtesy of my lil sis—same for my chewedup right earlobe, but at least I can hide it with my hair.

"Bitch." As I touch each wound, I can't help but feel pride.

I underestimated her. If shit had gone down differently and I could've taken Brielle under my wing—made her a real boss bitch with the Queen Gs. She has heart and an underlying ruthlessness inside of her that's dying to get out.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"Fuck, girl. Let's go!"

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"All right. All right! I'm comin'. Shit." Rolling my eyes, I turn from the mirror and rush to get dressed. Black jeans, white tee—I pull my wet hair into a low ponytail and then jet out of the bathroom to strap up with two burners.

"It's about time," Snake grumbles, eyeballing me like I'm the reason his ass is in a bad mood. I'm not biting today. I'm tired of dealing with his confused ass.

"I'm ready." Snake's face twists, but he pumps his brakes on fuckin' with me as we head out the door.

The first thing I see when I step out is June Bug and Kane jacking my Crown Vic on a tow truck. "Yo, yo. What the fuck are they doin'?" I take off after them. "Yo, hey! Put my shit down."

Snake grabs me and pulls me back. "They're doing what the fuck I told them, to get rid of the car that was splashed all over the news in front of that fire project you were involved in last night." Our eyes lock.

"Sloppy." He's baiting me, but again I let the shit slide.

A sweet white c400 Mercedes rolls up to us—I have to step back and admire the ride. "Now this shit is what I'm talkin' about."

"You like it?"

"Hell yeah. I fucks with this." Snake's face softens as he opens the back door. I hop inside, feeling for the first time since I married his ass like the queen he promised I'd be. I sink into the soft, white leather seats and glance up at the dashboard, which looks like a slick-ass spaceship. Hell. It still has that fresh brand new car smell.