I'd Rather Be Single 2 (2 page)

Rosslyn found a
remote spot behind some tall bushes across the street from Terry’s house and nestled herself behind it. She was waiting for a chance to make her move. Her exhausted eyes never left the view of his beautiful home, watching and hoping that one of them would exit soon.

About an
hour later, Rosslyn’s head was nodding back and forth as she struggled to stay awake. Her medication was wearing off, and it made her drowsy. Finally, she saw Terry’s white front door open and his dolled up new girlfriend came out with her expensive looking black pleated skirt, yellow tank top and round brown Chanel glasses.

She clicked her alarm to
open the doors of her blue Benz, and then stopped in her tracks. “Damn, I left my phone inside,” she said.

This was music to Rosslyn’s ears. As the girl
jogged back inside, Rosslyn darted toward the Benz, let herself inside, and crunched down in the back. She felt lucky when she spotted a black blanket on the backseat. She used it to hide herself behind the driver’s seat.

T
he house door opened, and this time, Terry came to the front stoop to see his new woman off. “I’ll see you later, babe. I miss you already.”

She blew
him a kiss as he waved her off. Rosslyn’s anger grew intense again. To Rosslyn, Terry was hers, and no bitch or no nigga was supposed to come between what she felt was hers.

The girl put her key into
the ignition and then turned up her radio. Rick Ross’s
“Hustlin’”
resounded through her speakers. “Every day I’m hustling, every day I’m hustling uh, uh.” The girl sang along with the radio while she maneuvered to the first red light.

This light
was just about the only stop light near Terry’s house. He lived far away from the city, so there weren’t many houses around. His neighborhood was saturated with trees and dirt roads. She took off her glasses, placed them in the passenger seat, and began fixing her bob in the rear view mirror. She reached for her pink lip-gloss and caked some on.

Rossl
yn peeked her head up to glance out of the back window to see if any other cars were around. There weren’t. She quietly slid a pen out of her back pocket and began to slowly creep up.

Terry’s new boo noticed something moving while she was looking in
the mirror, and before she could say anything, Rosslyn wrapped her arms around her face from the back and held her mouth closed.

“Ah
—” the girl tried to scream, but Rosslyn had her hand over her mouth so hard, she was pushing her fingernails into her cheek.

“Every
day you hustling, bitch? You ain’t hustling with my man, he’s mine! No bitch can EVER take what belongs to me! Your ass is gonna learn that shit today! I’m Rosslyn, hoe, I’m
that
bitch!”

T
error filled the girl’s face. Her eyes grew wide, and she tried to scream once she saw Rosslyn’s arm draw back. With the sharpest point of the pen, Rosslyn forcefully jabbed the scared girl in both eyes, repeatedly.

PLUCK
! PLUCK! PLUCK!
The sound of the pen destroying her skin filled the car. Rosslyn kept stabbing her intensely until there was no air left in the girl’s body. Rosslyn’s white shirt was now dark red. She let the girl’s body slump over into the passenger seat and then began stabbing the back of her head with the pen until it broke off in her skull. Once she felt the job was done, and the girl was no longer alive, Rosslyn laughed. She felt like she had won. She had successfully taken the power back. Vengeance was hers, and Terry’s new girl got exactly what she deserved.

“No bitch w
ill EVER take anyone or anything that’s mine away from me, EVER again. I put that on my life!” she smiled at all the blood that covered her body and began to laugh loudly. “Haaaaa!!! Rest in peace, bitch!”

“Tyra, Tyra! Wake up!”

I felt someone shaking my shoulders. I
opened my eyes, raised my head off my desk, and saw Dalia standing in front of me. “Bitch you tryna get fired? How are you going to fall asleep up here at the front desk? You’re lucky it’s me that caught you sleeping, instead of a client.” she whispered.

“Man
, I didn’t even realize I was asleep.” I rubbed my eyes, yawned and recapped my dream. “Yo, I had a crazy ass dream. It felt so real.”

“Well girl, get it together
. You know Dr. Raphael be on some other shit. If she would have caught you out here sleeping, her ass would have probably fired you on the spot.”

Dalia was right.
I quickly pulled myself together. I was lucky enough to get my job back, and I couldn’t afford to get caught slipping. I needed my job. I thanked GOD every day that the dental office was kind enough to re-hire me. My position as a receptionist hadn’t been filled after my dumb ass quit to depend on a man, so I lucked up. Although I wasn’t making much, it was the only experience I had, and I needed my job.

Dalia unloaded her things on
to her side of the front desk and I zoned out again, thinking about my dream. The shit felt all too real. I guess ever since I got word about Rosslyn’s release, I was on edge. Word on the streets was that the crazy bitch was released from the Shattuck Hospital in Jamaica Plain.

The Shattuck Hospital wa
s a damn mental institution! Back in the day, I used to take the bus to work in that area and I remembered seeing all types of crazy people outside of the fenced in haunted looking brick building. They were in robes, with their hair disheveled, smoking cigarettes, talking to themselves, and blurting out all types of crazy shit as if they were hallucinating. Everyone in Boston knew that hospital housed people with mental illness, so I knew Rosslyn’s reputation was a wrap! Nobody wants to fuck with a board 730 certified crazy bitch, no matter how pretty they are! When Rosslyn and I were friends, I sensed that she was a little off but I never knew that she was clinically ill. All I could do at this point was pray for her, and hope that we would never EVER cross paths again!

“
So Tyra, what were you dreaming about?” Dalia asked, sitting in her plush chair in front of her computer.

“Girl
, you don’t even wanna know, but it was crazy. Let’s just say Rosslyn was a part of my dream.”

“Oh no, not t
he psycho bitch!”

“Yes, the
psycho bitch.” I repeated.

Clutching my beating chest, I
exhaled. The weak ass coffee I drank earlier didn’t do shit, because I was still tired. I reached for my mouse and proceeded to shut down my computer. It was the end of my shift. Dalia was relieving me, and it was time for me to head home to my expensive apartment that I still couldn’t afford. All I wanted to do was slip in the tub and de-stress. I had way too much shit on my plate.

Dalia
got up, grabbed the universal remote, and turned up the volume on both of the lobby TVs. When I glanced at the screens, I instantly grew annoyed.

“Can we turn this
off?” I snapped.

The Celtics were playing
, and my ex-boyfriend Michael Slinks was getting it in on the court. I hated watching anything relating to him, because I was still trying to get him out of my system. My co-worker, Dalia, on the other hand, was so star struck by all of the stories I told her about my escapades with athletes, that she loved rubbing it in my face.

She
posed in front of me, smiling while glancing back and forth at the TV.

Dalia was a
very pretty girl; she was tall and petite with small boobs and curved hips. Viewing her from the front, one would expect to see a fat ass when she turned around. However, she had a small butt. It wasn’t flat, but just a handful, as she describes it. Her face was classically beautiful. She looked like a young, luminous version of Lisa Raye. She had moist, creamy light caramel skin that really didn’t require too much make-up. She was cool for the most part, but to be so pretty, she really didn’t dress that well. You could definitely tell thatshe wasn’t fashion forward. Some of the shit she wore had me wishing that she would step her glam up. But shit, on a salary like ours, I couldn’t afford to buy any new, good shit anymore either.

Dalia
sighed sarcastically. “Nope, I’m not turning the game off, Tyra. You need to watch this. Shit, I don’t know what woman would turn the man of her dreams away after he shows up at your front door with the ring in his hand to re-propose to you.”

I snatched the remote out of her hand and
clicked the power off on both of the flat screens. “You damn right, I turned him down. I had just lost our baby, and he shouldn’t have let the skeletons of my past break us up in the first place. He didn’t deserve me. He was supposed to love me, flaws and all.”

Ding Dong!

The entry doors sounded and a young couple walked through the glass doors of the office. Dalia spun around to greet them. “Welcome to Boston Family First Dental.”

She rushed behind the front desk to
handle the client’s paperwork. I gathered my things to leave, tossing my keys into my purse.

My dream about Rosslyn already had me a bit out
of my zone, and Dalia throwing Michael in my face pissed me off even more. I resented her a little, for making me think about my relationship with him. I gave that man my heart, my soul, and all my love, only to have him break it over rumors he heard about my past. Although there was truth to most of the rumors, I never denied anything. I confessed to everything, but he still broke my heart. I was pregnant with his child at the time, and he had the nerve to tell me to get an abortion, which is what crushed me the most.

The stress over the break up caused me to lose the baby
, and it made me develop a lot of resentment toward him. When he showed up at my door to re-propose, I swear I heard the beat of my heart when I saw him. It took everything inside me not to tell him how much I loved him and missed him, but I had to gather my strength. I turned him down. It literally killed me, and I hadn’t heard from him since.

Four
months of crying and withdrawal from his love, later, here I am. Behind in my rent, shit, behind in almost all of my bills,
and
I’m still heart broken. Lucky me!

I drove home
, blasting 2Chainz, “I’m Different”. I bobbed my head, drowning my sorrows in the beat. This is what I called my turn-up music. It seemed that music was the only thing I had, to keep me in good spirits. During the first few months after I denied Michael’s second proposal, I drowned myself in love songs. Mrs. Beyonce and Melanie Fiona were my best friends, because I replayed every heartbreak song they ever made, over and over. I even got on my Taylor Swift shit, crying in the tub as I related to most of the lyrics.

At this point
in my life, I’m over being sad and feeling sorry for myself. I only play turn-up music to pick up my spirits and remind myself that what I’m going through is temporary, and I will get through it. My days of mourning are over, and it is time for me to face reality head on.

When I
arrived at home, I strategically tried to hit the elevators before anyone from the rental office could see me. I patted my foot on the floor, rushing the elevators. “Come on, come on.” I whispered.

Ding!

I quickly rushed inside when Emma from the rental office spotted me.

I heard her
heels clicking fast toward the elevator doors. “Tyra, Tyra! You are backed up for three months. I'm trying to work with you, but if you don't make a payment, we are going to have to send out an eviction notice.”

I kept hitting the
‘door close’ button. “Emma, I'll be down to talk to you first thing in the morning.” I lied.

The double doors closed
and I bent my head against the brown elevator wall. I shut my eyes, wondering how the fuck I was going to catch up with all the debt I was in. I couldn't lose my apartment because I didn't have anywhere to go. I was on stuck mode.

Once I entered my
home, the large pile of bills that I hadn't paid were staring at me. All I could do was put my purse next to the bills and pour myself a glass of wine. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at my purse and all the bills.
Fuck it
. I decided to sell all the luxurious bags that my exes bought me, and post them shits on Craigslist.