Issue #2 | You're My Little Secret (pt. 1)
Jazz sets the messy ass scene...
Straps & the City is an ongoing Black and queer-centered fiction about four Detroit-based women navigating life, love, and friendship.
*Set the vibes with the themed playlist in section 2!*
Previously: In a Henny-induced delusional haze, Bria brought her ex-girlfriend back to her apartment hoping to…reconnect.
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“Oh, by the way,” Jazz said nonchalantly as she scrolled her phone. “I fucked Destiny the other day.”
“Destiny? Destiny with the blue box braids?”, Bailey asked, popping a donut hole into her mouth.
“Nah, not her. That ass is fat though,” Jazz said, still scrolling. “I’m talkin’ bout my Destiny. Dimples, long legs, fine as hell?”
Bria, who was sitting cross-legged at the coffee table with her sketchbook, put her pencil down and looked at Jazz like she had three heads.
“Your Destiny?”, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Bitch, that’s Tim’s Destiny. You fuckin’ your homie’s girl?”, she asked with an incredulous look on her face.
Cassidy continued filing her nails, not even looking up to entertain the conversation. She’d come to expect this behavior from Jazz and was too nonplussed to react beyond a subtle headshake.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call him my homie. We just hoop together. And watch the game together sometimes,” she said, sparking up a blunt.
“Oh, and we went to that one Zack Fox DJ set,” she continued. Her leg bounced as she blew smoke through her lips. “But still, he ain’t my nigga nigga.”
“Plus, the heart wants what it wants. This was…well, destiny,” she chuckled, playfully nudging a very clearly unimpressed Bria.
Her eyes darted to Bailey, looking for support. “Right, Bay? You into all that hopeless romantic shit.”
Bailey shook her head, stuffing more donut holes into her mouth. “There’s nothing romantic about this,” she said, voice muffled. “This is dark-sided. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Jazz’s jaw tensed, her temples flexing. Cassidy chuckled softly to herself, still filing her nails.
“Wait. I’m not understanding,” Bria cut in. “You only see Destiny when you’re with Tim, right? So, when did you even get to be alone with her?”
Jazz grinned guiltily. “Well, about that,” she said, rubbing her neck. “Remember that Halloween party Tim threw a couple weeks ago?”
Cassidy stopped filing and looked up at Jazz with wide eyes.
“Biiitch, you didn’t!” she gasped, suddenly finding the tea hot enough to sip.
“I did,” Jazz grimaced. “Trust me, I tried my best not to fuck her. But, in my defense, she was wearing a sexy angel costume. Y’all know how that innocent shit turns me on.”
“Innocent? She fucked you at her man’s party!”, Bria blurted out. “She shoulda been wearin’ a hoe costume. Or a scarlet letter or some shit.”
“Jazz, you’re wrong for this one,” Bailey piped up, a disappointed look on her face. “I know you’re sexually liberated and I support that. But this was messed up, for real.” Bria nodded in agreement.
“How did this even go down?” Cassidy asked, one brow cocked. “Like, I know y’all fucked at Tim’s party — that’s evil as fuck, by the way. But, what were the logistics? Did y’all fuck while he was doing the monster mash?”
Bria cackled, slapping Cassidy on the arm. Jazz sighed out a cloud of smoke, shaking her head. She slumped back against the couch, resigned.
“Damn, y’all jumpin’ down my fuckin’ throat,” she protested. “And she ain’t a hoe. Don’t call her that.” Her voice was laced with irritation.
“Oop! It’s giving protector,” Bria clutched her imaginary pearls. “We just wanna know how this—”
“And why!”, Bailey blurted.
“We just wanna know how and why this happened, Jazz,” Bria said, voice softening, but still harboring judgment.
Bailey stared at her expectantly, arms crossed. Cassidy leaned in intently, nails long forgotten.
“Alright, damn.” Jazz smacked her lips and ashed her blunt in Bailey’s heart-shaped tray. “I’ll tell y’all. But if you mad at me now, you bouta hate me in a minute.”