wrong number.

thirty-six;

arizoné.

We woke up in the living room, all hungover. I slowly sat up, getting ibuprofen and water for everyone. "Fuck, my head hurts," I groaned. Once the painkillers kicked in, I felt better, but still like shit. That's when I decided to eat before showering. If them niggas want food, they better make it themselves.

I ended up making a buffet of food. I contradicted myself, wow. As soon as everyone smelled food, they came into the kitchen. Nothing new. Chanel was first, then Jahseh, Pump, Stokeley, Naomi, Isaiah, and lastly, Isaiah. They had food piled high as hell on their plates, and managed to eat it all.

"Greedy niggas," I mumbled.

"This shit good as hell, Ari." Isaiah was basically the only one with manners, so he was my favorite. Don't tell the others though.

"Damn, you always suckinh up to her," Pump complained.

"That's because I'm her favorite," he reached up to his hair, trying to flip it.

Everyone stared at me as I washed dishes, ignoring it. It was true, though.

"Damn, Ari, you gon' do me like that though? Bet," Pump said.