Derby City Vertical | Bryson Tiller (Completed)

XXVIII.

Two Weeks Later...

"He's kicking." I said smiling at Michael moving his hand to where he was kicking.

"Damn, lil nigga kick hard as hell." He said.

"He keeps me up all night with the kicking."

"Don't that shit hurt?" He asked.

"Not really, it just feels like a little thump."

Over the little bit of time I've known him, I've grown close to Michael. We weren't in any type of relationship or anything right now, but we were good friends. I haven't seen Bryson ever since our last argument, but we've been texting each other about baby names and nothing else. We wouldn't talk unless it was regarding our son or work since we just don't get along anymore.

On the good side of all this, Bryson and I finally agreed on something for once and that was our son's name. We decided to name him Trenton Bryson Anthony Tiller, but we would call him Trent for short.

"You really live here with ya ex?"Michael asked.

"Unfortunately, I do." I sighed.

"Ain't that weird?"

"You weren't the first that asked us that. TMZ already did a whole episode on our whole situation, but living together works out for us."

"Once the baby comes, you ain't gon have have no privacy with the paparazzi and the media."

"I know Bryson's famous and all, but sometimes I just feel that people need to mind their business. That's why when Trent comes along, I'm gonna wait to show him to the public."

"Why?"

"It's gonna be too much for me to handle after giving birth to him then worrying about what people say online about him and all the controversy and rumors that'll go around. I already had one girl post on Instagram saying that the baby wasn't Bryson's. I'm not worried about those stupid rumors though, I'm 100% sure that this is Bryson's baby, so I just ignored it."

"Whatchu gon do when you plan ya baby shower? Once the media finds out, the paparazzi finds out and once the paparazzi finds out they're gonna surround the whole place. You know they'll do anything for some pics."

"Yeah, I thought about that.
I was just planning on having something here and try to keep it lowkey, but somehow the paparazzi always find out."

"You better kiss ya privacy goodbye now."

"Sometimes, I just wish that Bryson wasn't famous." I sighed.

"Why?" He questioned.

"For one, there would be no tours. That's my main concern. There would also be no groupies, no hoes, no paparazzi. I guess it isn't all that bad as long as he finds a way to support his son and make frequent visits."

"Why can't ya just get back wit him? Ion see no problem with that."

"It's not that easy. We can barely have a simple conversation with each other now."

"It ain't arguin' if ya ain't engagin' in it. Jus' be the bigger person and try ta' talk ta' him."

"I don't even know if he's the country,
Michael."

"He's always one phone call away."

I thought about it for a quick second.

"He's not worth my minutes." I replied getting up rummaging something in the pantry.

Eating was basically my life now.

Once I found a bag of popcorn, I returned to the living room where Michael was.

"But I'm done talking about Bryson, that's a touchy subject."

Michael reached over to grab the TV remote surfing through the channels.

"What you inna mood ta' watch though?"

"Anything's fine." I said munching on the popcorn.

All of a sudden, the sound of a door knob jiggling rang throughout the living room.

"Shit." I mumbled to myself.

Bryson was the only other person that had to key to the house besides me.
Michael and I didn't even have any time to react before Bryson came into the living room.

"Who the fuck is this nigga?" Bryson asked raising his voice.

"Ayo calm all that yellin' shit." Michael said standing up.

"Nah nigga, you got the shit wrong as long as I'm in my house I do whatever the fuck I want." He said stepping closer to Michael.

"How this yo house when you ain't even here 99.9% of the time."

"Really? This ain't my house? Whose name is the house in? Who pays the mortgage? Who pays all the fuckin' bills in this house? Me nigga. Now yo ass better get to steppin' befo' I open a can of whoop ass in here."

"Aight nigga. Ion want no problems up in here." Michael said grabbing his jacket off of the house and giving me a hug.

"Aye, don't be touchin' all over her." Bryson warned as he left.

I stood in front of him with my arms folded.

"Are you happy Bryson?" I sarcastically asked.

"I just did what I had to. Ain't no nigga gon be in my house all over you."

"Since it's such a concern to you if he's touching me, I should be concerned about all the groupies that be touching all over you?"

"It ain't the fact that he was touchin' you. It's the fact that you invited a nigga into my house. That shit's disrespectful."

"How's it disrespectful when we supposed to live here together Bryson?!"

"Don't be gettin' loud with me in my house. I can have your ass kicked out I a heartbeat."

"I wish you would."

"You lucky you pregnant. If I was to throw you out that would fuck up my image."

I didn't even say anything. I just disgustedly looked at him before going into the bedroom with him following behind me.

"Can I please just have a break Bryson?!" I complained rolling my eyes.

"So now a nigga can't even go into his bedroom without you complainin'? You think you tough and shit now that you got a nigga?"

I gave him that "nigga what?" face before pulling the covers over me.

"Goodnight Bryson." I said before tuning out everything he said from that point on.