After much deliberation, some advice, and just overall wanting toooo, Iâve decided to shift this story and [ @brokenpicassoff ] over to Wattpad. NO WORRIES (for those of yâall that donât fool with it too much đ) Iâll still update over here as well. Not to mention link all updates. There wonât be any rewriting of this storyâs entirety, aside from the revamp already being done with Broken Picasso, but some minor tweaks (grammatically, third person POV, graphics, etc.) will be done. Please HMU, babes with any questions and/or concerns.
Chapter 7 (Pt. 1): Big bank, and Pocket Full of Dreams...
EVA
âI saw potential in you from the go, you know what I did. I donât know if you know, but I know who you are. You could be big as MadonnaâŠâ - MADONNA DRAKE
âEva, donât lock those knees! I need to see more extended arms in that leap!â
âEsta señora es una locura.â She muttered feeling the tortilla espanola settle deep in her stomach from this morningâs heavy dish her abuela slaved over the kitchen to prepare. Coddled on the corner of 54th street in the Bronx was the two bedroom apartment she shared with her mother, where weekly a festive Sunday dinner was traditionally provided; the rich spices of various Spanish meals was to blame for the expanded hips, thick and toned thighs she possessed on her tiny 5â2 frame. A bitch already gained three poundsâŠfuck. She zipped through the combination of petit allegros to much of Ms. Duponteâs dismay, the deep frown indicating just how much.
âAlright.â Two double claps sounded off. âIâm overwhelmed with how hideous you guys are looking right now, so class will be ending early. Please, practice. People we only have seven more rehearsals. And trust me, itâs not too late to cut people. EvaâŠâ Gulping she hit an about face on her pointe shoes turning towards the boom of the voice. âMy office, please.â
Dios mio, what now? The clock warned her an extra forty minutes she had to spare before it reached five, and she made a beeline for her belongings straight to where Ms. Duponteâs office. She could feel the perspiration coat her skin, adding a glossy dew above her brow she wiped off. The trickles sliding down her back causing her leotard to stick. Entering, she was motioned to take a seat with worry now scattering all over her.
âShe donât believe in shootinâ stars, but she believe in shoes and cars. Wood floors in the new apartment, Couture from the storeâs departmentâŠâ - FLASHING LIGHTS KANYE WESTÂ
The room was similar to a secret vault where nostalgia lingered in the space. Memories of teenage moments that shaped the trio up until their semi adulthood could be recollected from them all. In the back of the remodeled closet now strictly for Londonâs shoes, were Debutante balls, and pageant dresses used as their capsule of tween accomplishments where sashes and trophies hung against the wall. A ten year old London, and Brooklyne, with Spice Girls concert tees each kissed the cheek of the birthday girl Kiersten on her eleventh birthday. All three them could remember as if it was yesterday taking the photo with all five spices that was framed on the wall; their years of development spent in the very room they now settled together in as their style idol Carrie Bradshaw was shown on the plasma screen TV; one of her many love scene fiascos with Big being shown.
âI want a love like that somedayâŠâ The gentle sigh that left her lips startled Kiersten, who while sitting under London getting her hair braided into two French braids.
âCome again, Grinch?â Her brow raised.
âOh fuck off, Iâm serious. Love is a beautiful thingâŠwhen itâs the real thing, however. Iâm justâŠâ
âSoâŠsoâŠâ Kiersten interjected.
âMake me use those scissors two inches away. DonâtâŠâ
Chapter 9 - Canât Buy Me Love, Even At a Discount...
MESSIAH
âShe wants that old thing back, uh-uh-uh, she want those Heroin tracks. She likes meâŠshe fiends for me nightlyâŠâ I KNOW X JAY Z
He wiped the remnants of Danimals yogurt, the sticky stubborn substance of strawberry juice, and cookie crumbs off the marble countertop chuckling casually. The mini trail of crumbs leading to the play room strictly for Toriâs benefit, where he heard Hey Arnold! playing. On this particular saturday, the second of each month he was granted the full weekend of his daughterâs presence, Messiah was in serene peace. The tiny replica of him, that shared akin his nose, beautiful light brown eyes, and dark brown coils of soft curls made pretty by her mother, had his full attention. The record label, any drug transaction, and everything else taking a back seat. Like his money, loved ones, and peace of mind he prioritized the importance to the letter; his daughter being the tip top tier.
His gaze focused on the matching marble flooring of black, and gold swirled patterning, the $17,000 price tag of the renovation he found himself now grimacing at. It didnât mean shit, all of it, not an ounce. But if felt a lot better, and far more comfortable to rest his head on sheets of silk imported from Italy, than a roach infested one that lied on the broken homes, and projects of Marcy.
âDaddy! You promised youâd watch cartoons with me, but youâre still in hereeee!â Her little head of pigtails peeked out of the doorway; face scowled and paired with pouted lips deepening by the seconds. Â
âI had to clean your mess, baby girl. Now you got daddy all tired I donât think I can even make it to the room anymore.â
âShe dealinâ with some issues that you canât believeâŠSingle black female addicted to retail. And wellâŠâ - KANYE WEST X ALL FALLS DOWN
Circling the block once more, his frustration grew now killing the engine, that softly purred; it took more than two weeks to build up the courage, but he found himself in front of her building wheeling back and forth within his thoughts to escape the scene, or stay.
âFuck this shit.â He thought it best to leave out of the ridiculousness he now felt. Unbeknownst to him, the person he was in search for casually watched from a distance amused. Right at this moment for the possibility of getting his ass handed to him with verbal assaults she was good for, was Jordan walking towards his car.
âYou wanna move before you get a ticket mothafucka?â
âShit! Jorda-âŠâ He exhaled placing a hand over his heart.
âYou canât park here niggaâŠâ Damn she got some little ass feet. He zoomed focus on her crisp white Nike Air Forces, and trailed up to the skin tight orange body suit that hugged her petite frame. The vintage red and orange Nike windbreaker to compliment her athleisure attire, concealed the throb causing assets: huge breasts.
âIâm straight. Listen, I need to talk to you.â
âThatâs still up for questioning honestly, what you want Kaden? I got shit to do. Iâm not up for your bullshit.â
âShe dealinâ with some issues that you canât believe...Single black female addicted to retail. And well...â - KANYE WEST X ALL FALLS DOWN
Circling the block once more, his frustration grew now killing the engine, that softly purred; it took more than two weeks to build up the courage, but he found himself in front of her building wheeling back and forth within his thoughts to escape the scene, or stay.
âFuck this shit.â He thought it best to leave out of the ridiculousness he now felt. Unbeknownst to him, the person he was in search for casually watched from a distance amused. Right at this moment for the possibility of getting his ass handed to him with verbal assaults she was good for, was Jordan walking towards his car.
âYou wanna move before you get a ticket mothafucka?â
âShit! Jorda-...â He exhaled placing a hand over his heart.
âYou canât park here niggaâŠâ Damn she got some little ass feet. He zoomed focus on her crisp white Nike Air Forces, and trailed up to the skin tight orange body suit that hugged her petite frame. The vintage red and orange Nike windbreaker to compliment her athleisure attire, concealed the throb causing assets: huge breasts.
âIâm straight. Listen, I need to talk to you.â
âThatâs still up for questioning honestly, what you want Kaden? I got shit to do. Iâm not up for your bullshit.â
âWhat are yo-...why is your mouth so fuckinâ reckless? Like, whatâs good with you?â
âSo you- okay.â She quickly did an About Face headed for the crosswalk, leaving Kaden dumbfounded momentarily until he eventually stepped out his truck hitting his alarm and followed.
âYo! Jordan, man!â
âNigga you either catch the fuck up, or Iâll see you later!â
He didnât do shit like this, and technically he couldnât. Gaining notoriety and recognition from his blessing of being a second year Wide Receiver in the NFL came with its perks, and downfalls. People actually noticed him now. And not in the pedestrian way either. He signed his third autograph this week for a five year old, who told him he was his biggest fan, and that one day he wanted to be just like him. Fans. He winced at the poor little boy wanting to be like the critically acclaim asshole, with a horrific track record to match. He shook the apprehension off seeing the subway entrance come to view in which Jordan speedily descended. He didn't take the subway. I don't have to. He never explained himself to anyone aside from the very few he held in high regards. There's no reason to. And certainly he never chased after a female especially in the physical sense because he never felt the urge to. This is just...
His eyes scattered about the congested space, in search for some breathing room and a bright orange jacket with the signature Nike emblem. Shoving her way through a boisterous crowd of prep school students he could see was Jordan stepping onto the train. He shoved his way through and searched for a space to squish in. Conveniently it was close to her, as they stood side by side latching on the standee seething. The abrupt smell of funk, and her antics he had just about enough of. Kaden didn't understand how or when the dynamics of whatever relation one would call this, got so conflicting. How he couldn't stand her so intensely. They were way past grade school spats, or any juvenile issues that any guy had with their best friendâs little sister. But as easy as it was to provoke, and get a rise out of her it was hard to deny the real reason why. They silently stared at each other, until she eventually sucked her teeth looking off.
âYou so damn hollywood. What? You afraid the act of the common folk will rub off? Hm?â As Kaden grimaced feeling a sweaty arm collide on his skin for the fourth time, he looked down at her beyond annoyed. Blame it on hypochondria and slight claustrophobia, he couldnât endure for too long even if it was the latter.
âYou donât know shit about me.â
âI know youâre full of shit...I know that. I know whatever it is you have to say would be utter bullshit too, so you shouldnât even waste me or your time.â She shoved him off as they continued bumping into each other with each sway the subway was causing.
âYou got a stick so far up your ass, nobody can get through to you.â
âGood. I like it that way.â
âWhere the fuck you got me goinâ Jo?â
âGot you goinâ!?â She hissed, attempting to whisper but failing miserably. â Nigga you hopped your happy ass on here, I didn't force you to follow me!â A lady in earshot, Kaden could spot in his peripheral, shifted in her seat following the clear of her throat as she continued looking ahead. Damn. We're really doing this...in public.
âIt's that hard though!? For you to just open your fuckinâ mouth and spit it ou-â More eyes shifted in their direction, causing Kaden to grit his teeth as Jordan maneuvered to the exit to get off finally as they came to a stop. She jetted up the stairs and walked up 135 street. For several blocks they dwelled in silence. Him attempting to keep up with her swift steps and glares with an occasional reminder that he didnât have to follow her. But he wasnât budging. I came this damn far anyway. They reached the Harlem Hospital Center, and immediately Kaden grew confused and concerned. Slowly turning his way, Jordan folded her lips in. Her eyes closing before bringing her hands clasp in a prayer motion to her lips.
âDonât say shit you hear me? Just stay...stay your ass in the background.â They entered as she went towards the front desk greeted by a nurse. âHi uh...I-Iâm here to visit one of your patients.â
LONDON
âOuch, Milan! Shit!â
âKeep your damn head still, then. Big ass head.â
It's worth it. The woven lines of strings crisscrossed and zigzagged through her masterpiece of a braided beehive, truly was. London didn't trust her brother to be her landline if she secured a spot on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Or have the expectation from him that he will ever arrive at any place on time. But Miles âMilanâ Pierre if not anything knows hair. Even to much of their fatherâs dismay, having a secured hairstylist for every recital, every fashion show, and event was much of a blessing and for him a curse.
The moment his son traded a football for a hot comb, the soured hope of doom courtesy of Monty Pierre was placed. Where he shunned Miles total existence, only acknowledging his presence when it suited him, and was forced to at any social gathering. As Milan would put it: âSome just can't take the fabulousness even if the DNA is shared.â
So it was important to affirm through every tug, rip, and yank that the flawless honey blonde tresses of virgin Malaysian hair was worth it. Milan allowed the flat irons and comb glide through the tresses, before fluffing out the ends. Silky.
âDon't trim shit either. l want all 28ââ inches of lush down to the crack of my ass.â
âYeah, I know...cause you're extra. And you bitches think I'm about to be doing the same hair twice every two weeks too, huh? Ha! Think again. Call Brooklyne and tell her little ass she has an hour to get here. And I wants my bag.â The rat tail comb was directed towards her nose. His eyes squinting looking down at her.Â
âAlright mighty mouth Milan, sheesh.â She pushed the comb away, while typing a text to Brooklyne. Like always his false promises went in one of Londonâs ears where a princess cut stone from Cartier could be found and out the other as she typed away, and hissed at another yank of the sewing string.
âSo...Kiersten. Heard from her?â
âYup.â
âReally, now? How long ago was this?â
âTwo days ago.â Short, clipped, and sweet. He ainât slick. London wasn't too fond of Kiersten recent choices, in fact she despised them. With her association of Imaniâs brother being one of them, and her recent disappearing acts being a close second. It didn't take Einstein to figure he had to be the one occupying her time if it wasn't herself, and Brooklyne especially with her keeping it short with them both. But the secrecy was Kierstenâs way of ducking and diving from Londonâs typical interrogations.
âYou know London BridgeâŠâ Here we go. âAs your favorite brother on this dreading universeâŠâ
âNigga you're my only brother.â
âShit as far as we know.â London sneered up in his direction watching him through the mirror. â...I know you wouldn't, of course, keep secrets from me would you? Like, you shouldn't...it would totally go against sibling code.â
âThere's nothing to tell, Milan.â
âHmph. So riddle me thisâŠâ
Milan held a picture in her direction posted on E! news. There in a grainy picture was a snapshot of Messiah and Kiersten leaving Rime sneaker boutique in Brooklyn. The caption identifying them as the daughter of Supermodel legend with an unidentifiable specimen of a hottie. Oh, heavens...
â...yeah, hoe. And you were sayinâ?â
-----------
âThis incognito...ass...bitch.â
Brooklyne spat while gawking at Kiersten crossing the street heading in their direction. Huddled as a duo at the signature rustic tables, London hoped that a frappe courtesy of Maman Coffee, would aid in settling the trauma ahead. She reckoned Kiersten even looked the part of a person not wanting to be seen or acknowledged. Frames concealing the majority upper region of her face, so big twice they were pushed up at the nose bridge. A huge scarf to shield the cold, and from what London could also see, provide some form of warmth to make up for Kierstens icy demeanor. She finally took a seat setting her huge crimson Celine duffle on the adjacent seat.
âHey.â
âKiersten where have you-â Brooklyn raised her hand halting London as she interjected.
âWhatâs up mama, howâre you? Where you cominâ from?â
âJust left my only class for the day. But Iâm fine...why? Whatâs so urgent?â She typed away on her cellular device ever so casually. London raised a brow, and dipped forward fighting away a scowl.
âListen, Ki. I want you to know that not only do we love you, we're here for you through any, and everything. You do know that right?â
âWhy wouldnât I Brooklyne?â
âWell, jee Kiersten maybe your absenteeism could be a clue?â Even the huge shaded lenses couldnât shake Londonâs stare she could see Kiersten fidget under. Itâs truly never her intentions to ever come off condescending...well half of the time admittedly so, but London just couldnât help herself. Kiersten could just be so...dense.
âLondon!â
âWhat, Brooklyne!?â
âAs I was saying...we love you. So you shutting us out makes no sense. Like whatâs really the matter?â
When they scheduled the mock âconferenceâ, intervention in the words of London, a âsimple girl talk to get to the bottom of the issueâ to Brooklyne, they didnât expect for it to go like this. Especially foodless with a flat frappe she reckoned to add insult to injury. Why was she being so defensive? For the life of her London couldnât figure it out. Cute shades or not.
âCan you tell your sister not to bore holes into me like Iâm some nutcase, or freakshow.â
âBrooklyne can you tell your friend that she should acknowledge me cause I am sitting right the fuck here, and maybe Iâm staring at her cause she's avoiding eye contact?!
âYou bitches are going to drive me to drink. And itâs only 11a-fuckinâ-m! Please, alright? Kiersten real shit, though? Take the damn glasses off! I donât know what kind of super duper spy shit you got goinâ on, and London pipe it the fuck down cause youâre doing a lot at a smooth eight, bring it down to like a three. I know itâs finals, and the end of the semester is approaching but, damn!â
âSheâs just so judgy! I get enough of that from Fiona, from my professors, from everyone. The one person I donât need it from is the person I should be confiding in the most; my best friend! And then when I find someone that doesnât do those things...that respects me, and my opinions, acknowledge my efforts, and furthermore doesnât treat me like a child? Thatâs a problem too!â
Silence. For a lengthy two minutes that followed a sniffle, and finally the removal of those big ass frames that presented liquid duds pouring in droplets of two. Brooklyn immediately reached over and wiped her face, causing London to feel slightly shitty.
âI just worry about you Ki, and want whatâs bes-â
âWant whatâs best for me. Yes, Iâm always hearing that you, but your opposition to my wants, doesnât warrant judgement. Cause youâre not always right.â An obnoxious sound of intense suction came from Brooklynâs straw, as she sipped her iced tea and divided her gaze amongst the two.
âHmph. Well isnât this tea just lovely?â She muttered. London, cut her eyes at her before refocusing them back on Kiersten.
âOkay, so this is about Messiah? Alright, fine. If you like it? Then I love it...so be it then Ki.â
âNo, London...Messiah is just the half. I need you and everyone else? To realize that Iâm grown. So the next time my mother or your father goes around looking for me, tell them just that.â She pushed her seat back grabbing her shades, and bag.
âKiersten! Really!?â The duo watched as she stepped on to the street hailing a taxi, that came in such perfect timing one would've thought it was planned.
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