A spin-off to Ramona Park Legend. This will overlap that story. To better understand this story it is suggested that you read the original story.
cut.throat
1. a murderer or other violent criminal.
2. fierce and intense; involving the use of ruthles...
I got dropped from 36Brickhouse yesterday. Thanks Waka for everything. Time for the next chapter. -Joey Fatts
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• Lift Me Up •
2015
Deja. San Fernando Valley, CA.
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I got on my tip toes trying to reach for something on the top shelf, but I couldn't reach it. When I heard Dyamond laugh I looked over my shoulder to see her looking at me shaking her head. "You could help me. You are taller than me," I say with attitude. We're at Wal-Mart grocery shopping.
"I'm pregnant. I don't need to be doing any heavy lifting," she says looking down at her phone as she leans against the shopping cart.
"Heavy lifting? It's a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and I'm pregnant too."
"But I'm more pregnant than you," she says so seriously. I roll my eyes then she finally comes over to grab it. I stood at a mere 5 feet and Dyamond is like 5'7". She extends it to me and I snatch the box from her. "Don't snatch from me. I'll whoop your ass bitch," she says with a stank face going back over to the cart. That has been me and Dyamond everyday since I moved back into Joey's house...Arguing. I guess it's because we're both pregnant and hormonal. That and we both just have bad attitudes.
When she starts to push the cart walking away from me I say, "Wait!" I catch up throwing the box into the already full cart.
"Are you done? I think we have enough stuff," she says as we go to the next aisle.
"No," I say still looking for stuff.
"Seriously, Deja? We have a budget. Just because Joey gave us his card doesn't mean shit. I know you're probably used to that football player getting anything you want-"
I glared at her then cut her off saying, "Dyme, shut up. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about! I have a growing baby in my belly."
"A growing baby who we're not even sure if it's Joey's," she mumbles.
