No Love, Just Sex

Chapter 2

Rhianna

"Girl," Erica mugged me with a piece of the outfit I was going to make in her hand. "I swear you're trying to kill me. Your damn shirt almost took my life."

"Sorry," I winced and smiled sheepily. "I was wondering where I...left that." I felt bad for her. Erica had finally made it to where she could fend for herself and live on her own and here I come along, messing things up. My own outfits take up almost all the closet space, but since I'm working from home making clothes, I've basically taken over her apartment.

Erica rolled her eyes. "Keep making me bomb ass outfits and I'll happily break a neck for you."

"Okay," I laughed.

"Did you make your payment?" She dug around in her purse as she walked towards the door.

"I've been behind in some of my outfits so I couldn't come up with the rest of it. I'll get it later."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "It's on the way to work so I'll swing by there."

"You don't-"

"But I'm still going to. Seriously Rhi, you've got enough on your plate. You know we've got you."

"I feel like I'm using y'all," I sighed. "You let me into your home and invade your space. You've even been making payments for me and paying my bills on top of yours. I wish there's more I can do than make a few outfits."

"Don't beat yourself up," she smiled. "We're sisters. I'm not complaining and you've been a big help. I wasted enough money buying new clothes every other week. Cuts back on a lot more than you think."

"Not enough though."

"For me it is. Everyone has a right to follow their dreams and I'm supporting you like a loving sister would."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"No problem. Now I'm going to try and not die while I finish getting ready."

I sat down on the couch and sighed. I'm so thankful for my sister. Without her, I wouldn't survive this place. It's depressing really. I'm twenty-five and shacked up in my older sister's condo. I'm invading her space while she handles all the bills mostly alone.

Growing up, I didn't even know I had a sister. She lived here in New York with our mother while I lived in Georgia with my dad. And let me tell you, it was excruciating. My father had met this woman when I was younger and ever since he had been a total nutcase. He owned a bank so money was almost nothing to him. He was also a deacon at our church. He was a control freak. Everything I did had to be approved by him. He picked the fanciest and most expensive schools to send me to, he picked the clothes I wore, he picked the people he wanted me to be friends with, he even went so far as to pick the guy I would date and marry. He even picked what HE wanted me to do career wise.

Yes, I had a roof over my head, didn't go one day hungry, and a successful father in my life. But everyone's hell is different. From the outside, we looked like we had it all. But that pretty picture was there to cover up the ugly behind the wall. My step-mother, who was really nice in the beginning, turned into the boujiest bitch I ever did meet. She let the money and recognition boost her head up. She buries all of her worries in thousands of dollars worth of Gucci and Louis Vutton.

My father was not only a control freak but a complete hypocrite and scum bag. Him and my stepmother had been together for about twenty years now, even though they've only been married for seventeen of those, and he has the nerve to keep a line of mistresses. It's not like he hides it. I remember telling her about it and she told me to stop lying, I think that's when she stopped liking me. Oh well. Tried to save you bitch.