Don't Mess With the Carter Boys: The Carter Boys 3

by Desirée

  I pulled myself away from his weight, backing up just as Jahiem stepped out of his room, wearing his Batman boxers that I’d bought him.

  Nigga, you better come save my ass if you trying to wear those, because this right here? This shit right here, nigga? This is on some whole ’nother shit I don’t want to deal with.

  Rubbing his eyes, he looked at Elijah. “Bruh,” Jahiem started slowly. “This better be—”

  “She got a boyfriend,” Elijah mumbled, fists tightening. “I told her to give me that nigga’s name and address. She won’t do it. Asked her, what the fuck you need a nigga for when you got me? Everybody loves mothafucking Jodie Carter. I’m the nigga every bitch wants!” he snapped, getting up, trying to steady himself. “I’m that nigga!” he screamed before randomly punching the nearest wall, putting a decent-sized hole in it.

  “Bruh! What the—nigga!” Jahiem cried out, hands in the air, trying to control a wild Elijah. “Not my fucking walls, man! Damn!”

  “She said she don’t love me no more,” he mumbled suddenly.

  My heart dropped, feeling for Elijah. So, Jordyn broke it off with him. Damn, she was a coldhearted bitch like I knew her to be.

  “Do you love her?” I asked.

  He looked at me, eyes struggling to stay open. He was on something more, something other than alcohol. Had to be. Licking his lips in a sloppy fashion, he slowly smiled, leaning against the wall.

  “You told Jahiem you fucked Trent the night before you fucked him?” he asked with a sick laugh.

  I gripped my chest, feeling my breath leave me. Jahiem turned to look at me, mouth agape.

  “Nah? Jordyn used to laugh at yo’ dumb ass, talking about you don’t know who the baby’s daddy—”

  “Elijah,” I started, but the look on Jahiem’s face could have killed me on the spot.

  “He’s lying?” he questioned, looking hard at me. “Tell me that nigga is lying, Tiana. After I fucking asked you was there any chance this baby wouldn’t be mine? I asked you!” he screamed.

  The tears started to come down. “I’m sorry,” I struggled to say, voice shaking.

  “Nah, there’s more!” Elijah laughed. “My bitch Jordyn ran her mouth like water. Ahhh, get it! Water? Jordyn?”

  “Nigga, shut the fuck up!” Jahiem snapped at him.

  “Nah, nah, she told me Trent and Tia been fucking around for a minute! Tell yo’ option-number-two nigga everything. He the backup baby daddy, because you already know Trent ain’t claiming that shit. Fucking ho,” Elijah spat just as Jahiem hauled off and punched him dead in his face.

  “Jahiem!” I cried out, trying to keep him off Elijah, who probably felt no pain at this point.

  He snatched his arm away from my grip, looking hard at me. “Get out. Get the fuck out. I don’t care where the fuck you go, but you getting out of here, out my shit,” he said in a low voice, grabbing his phone. “Both of y’all get the fuck on.”

  “Trent and I only happened—”

  He held his hand up as he put the phone to his ear. “Yo, come get yo’ fuck-ass brother out my house before I fuck him up some more! Now!”

  “You ain’t finna do shit,” Elijah mumbled.

  Jahiem turned around and stomped so hard on his chest, causing him to cry out in pain. “Nigga, you a half-brother! We ain’t all the way related, which means I can halfway beat yo’ bitch ass and halfway not give a fuck!” Jahiem spat, stomping hard on him again. “Fuck outta here! Nigga, come pick up yo’ brother!” he snapped into the phone before hanging up.

  He stormed back to the room as I watched in a panic. He was grabbing my things, throwing them all out on the floor.

  “Jah—”

  “Tiana, baby.” He laughed slowly. “Get the fuck on before I beat that baby out of ya. I’m not playing with you.”

  I quickly tried grabbing my things, but he pushed them aside with his foot.

  “Nah, fuck that. You going out on the street how we found yo’ ho ass! Go! You ain’t had shit then, so you not gonna have shit now.”

  “I’m not—”

  He scooped me up, and I started screaming, trying to fight to get down, telling him I loved him more than anything. He opened the front door, putting me out into the cold, concrete hallway, nearly dropping me before slamming the door shut. I lay there, tears pouring down, with no shoes or socks on. As I tried to get back in, I had to keep the flimsy T-shirt from rising up, because I had nothing underneath.

  “Jahiem, I’m sorry! I still love you! You—”

  The door swung open, and he tossed Elijah out in front of me, causing us both to fall back hard to the ground.

  “Should have never took a ho’s word to heart,” I could hear him say as he closed the door. “You ain’t shit but a ho, Tia! Legs stay open for any nigga!”

  “Fuck!” Elijah coughed, spitting up blood on my leg as I tried moving out of the way. It was freezing cold, and I didn’t have on shit but a shirt, with a nigga coughing up blood on me. Still, my mind was on Jahiem, hoping he would hear me out. I wasn’t the type to beg no nigga for anything, but he was the only man I’d ever truly fallen in love with. If this nigga had any love for me, he would hear me out just the same.

  I was about to start trying again when Elijah coughed up more blood, going in and out of consciousness.

  “Jahiem!” I screamed, banging hard on the door as I looked back at Elijah, who looked like death, covered in his own blood.

  “Aye!” I heard someone yell out. I looked down the hallway, seeing Trent and Shiloh rushing toward us.

  “What happened?” Trent panicked, coming to his brother, trying to hold his head up. “What the fuck are you even doing here, Tia?” he questioned, confused.

  He has no idea.

  “Ahh, fuck nah,” Shiloh muttered, looking at Elijah before banging hard on the door. As soon as the door swung open, Jahiem’s eyes went to Trent, who had no clue what was going on. Jahiem went the fuck in. Bypassing Shiloh, he started hitting Trent.

  Shiloh came in between them, trying to hold Jahiem back as he slammed him hard against the wall of the apartment. Neighbors were peeking through cracked doors, trying to see what was going on.

  “Nigga! What the fuck is the problem? You think I’ma let you beat on my brothers like that?” Shiloh snapped, pulling his sweats up. “Leh-go! Fight me if you feeling like you ’bout it, nigga!”

  Jahiem was twice Shiloh’s size, but even he wasn’t trying to go there. He kept still against the wall, mouth tightening up.

  “Take yo’ drunk-ass bitch nigga of a brother Elijah, and yo’ fucking punk-ass, sleep-with-everybody bitch of a brother Trent away from here,” Jahiem said in a low voice as his eyes cut to me.

  Without warning, Trent, who was in his feelings, getting caught in the moment, caught Jahiem on the side of his jaw, starting another series of fights between all three brothers. I tried to intervene, screaming, grabbing at Jahiem to get him to chill. Everything came to a stop when Shiloh suddenly reached behind him, pulling out his gun, and aimed it at Jahiem’s head with no mercy, causing everyone to go completely still. I, like an idiot, ran to stand in front of Jahiem, crying and pleading for him not to do anything, but Shiloh didn’t see me. His dark, empty eyes were cold as ice.

  “What you tryna do, Jahiem?” he questioned. “Move yo’ bitch out the way and tell me what the fuck is going on. Why you got my brother on the ground covered in blood, and then come at the other one? You got a problem with them, you come to me, my nigga!”

  “Ask Trent,” Jahiem spat, gun still aimed at his head.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you talking about!” Trent argued, jaw fucked up, with a bruise right under his eye.

  “You fucked Tia?” Jahiem pressed, and Trent’s eyes grew wide.

  “One time, nigga. I didn’t even—”

  Shiloh dropped the gun as he looked at Trent, Jahiem, and then stayed focused on me. “All this shit over a bitch?” Shiloh questioned before grabbing Elijah’s limp body off the ground
, slinging him over his shoulder. “Over a mothafucking ho!” he snapped. “Got me out the fucking house over a fucking ho! All of this is some dumb-ass shit! I’m too old for it!”

  I felt my body jerk forward as Jahiem pushed me away before going back in the house, slamming the door shut. Trent stared at me, still confused.

  “You been fucking with him this whole time? Before or after—”

  “Nigga, after!” I snapped. “I don’t, nor will I ever, want yo’ ass like that! Jahiem, please open the door, baby!” I was banging hard on the door with my other hand on my stomach.

  “He thinks you’re pregnant by me?” Trent asked, suddenly connecting the dots. “I didn’t even nut in you.”

  “Well, tell him that!” I snapped.

  Shiloh called out to him. “Trent! Leave her the fuck alone, nigga. We leaving! I need to get him to the hospital!”

  He rushed off. I stayed against the door, calling Jahiem, praying he would open the door. I was cold, nose running, and my feet felt numb from the freezing concrete. I didn’t have a cell phone to call anyone to come get me, nor did I have money to take the train back. I continued to knock on the door hard until I heard music being played.

  Fuck it, nigga. If it takes me spending the night out here in the cold for you to see how serious I am about us, and how I knew in my heart you’re the daddy of my baby, then I’ll stay my ass right here. Love will make you do some crazy-ass shit. I swear. I went to jail with yo’ ass. Staying out like this is nothing.

  The next time that door opened, he walked out completely dressed. I stood up, trembling in defeat, face filled with dried tears.

  “Jahiem?” I called out, watching him lock the door, duffle bag on his shoulders as he slipped his hands in his coat. “Baby, can you—”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asked in a dull voice as he looked me dead in the eyes. “I don’t know who you are, but I tell you what—you got five minutes to get the fuck on from my door, or I’m calling the cops on you, shawty. Real talk. When I come back, you better be gone.” With that, he walked down the hallway, getting on the phone as he cut the corner.

  I felt myself about to cry once more when a door just across the hall opened. An older black man stuck his head out and looked at me with pity. “Come here, young lady. You need to call someone to pick you up,” he said, walking back into his place, leaving the door open.

  I was hesitant at first, but if the nigga was going to try something, now was not the time to do it, because I don’t fight fair. Young or old, you touched a bitch, you’re going down. Period. I walked to his place, seeing a set of basketball sweats on the table, folded neatly.

  “My son got those for me. Never had no use for them,” he said softly, handing me the house phone. His was the only number I knew by heart. We rarely spoke to each other since we didn’t get along, but right now, he was all I had. My parents still, even after knowing I was pregnant, didn’t want shit to do with me—especially my daddy.

  “Hello?” he answered, sounding like he was asleep.

  I immediately started crying, telling him everything that had happened. “Can you just come get me and take me to Mama and Daddy’s house?”

  “Where you at, T?” He groaned with a frustrated sigh.

  A Night with the Gays

  Taylor

  “Have you spoken to him?” I asked Olivia, pressing for information on where Trent could possibly be. She sighed with a roll of her eyes. I knew I was annoying her about her brother, but the nigga wasn’t picking up his phone. It had been a whole damn two weeks since he broke up with his girlfriend, and not one call or text from him since.

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot going on with the boys right now.” Olivia sighed, going through a magazine as she sat on the bed, with me sitting on the edge. “Ain’t nobody really talking to nobody at this point. I’m just trying to figure out how to squash all of this.”

  “That doesn’t mean he can’t call me,” I mumbled, getting up to walk to my room.

  It was a quiet Wednesday evening. Both of us had gotten off work early since Thanksgiving was the next day. Schools were out, places were closed, and we were attempting to have dinner here, but nobody was coming. Whatever the fuck happened, it had divided the entire tight-knit group of boys. Even though the Carter Boys as a music group still had work they needed to do, behind the face, nobody was speaking to no one.

  Sitting on my bed, tucking my feet underneath me, I tried calling him again. I must have called Trent at least fifty times in the span of two weeks.

  Am I crazy? Fuck no. He would tell me during sex we were meant to be together, and that sex with me is better than with his girlfriend. He said he felt more connected to me, and I feel it too. Everyone likes us together, so why igno—

  “Hello ?” Trent answered. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sound of his voice.

  “Nigga, I’ve been trying to call you for—”

  “I know.” He sighed. “It’s a lot of shit going on right now, Taylor. You know I got my exams coming up, and the whole fuck shit with Jahiem—”

  “What happened?” I asked, sitting back on the bed, eyeing my toes. I needed a fresh coat of polish.

  “Just a lot. Too much to explain.” I heard a few of his fraternity brothers in the background, laughing it up. “Just do me a favor and leave me alone for a minute. I need space and time to think some shit over.”

  “I thought we were—”

  “Nah, Taylor, we not nothing right now,” he said in a low voice before hanging up. My body went completely numb, with my heart nearly hurting to beat. I went completely still, frozen in sadness and rejection. How did we go from the best time of our lives to him suddenly cutting me off?

  “Helloooooo!” Someone called out as the door opened and closed. I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to get Trent’s rejection out of my head: We not nothing right now. If he was going to fucking dump me, the nigga could have at least used basic correct English.

  “Trelly!” Olivia called out in excitement.

  I watched her run up to her younger brother, who smiled, hugging her. His boyfriend, Tyree, poked his head in my room, looking at me with squinting eyes.

  “What’s the matter, boo?” he asked, coming into my room, looking around. He stood tall, built like a slim, muscular man, with a Polo skull cap on, long gray scarf, black trenchcoat, and cute, random red rain boots. New Yorkers do shit like that.

  “Nothing.” I smiled, watching the rest come in.

  Ontrell always dressed almost identical to his brother Elijah, wearing a flashy color sweatshirt with FCUK U on the front, Rolex on the wrist, dark blue straight-leg jeans, and high-top sneakers that were probably hella expensive. Chains decorated his neck, with his top locs pulled back in a ball, with his sides and the back of his head in a low fade. Nigga was straight looking like Young Thug right now. Him and Tyree were so different. I didn’t even know how they made it work this long. Tyree was so sophisticated; Trell was just . . . wild. No other way to describe him.

  “What’s good with you, Tay Tay?” Trell teased as he came in for a hug. “You rolling with us tonight?”

  “Where are y’all going?” I asked, wiping my eyes, trying to conceal the fact that I was about to start crying over a fuck-ass nigga.

  “We stepping out, shawty,” he said, trying to dance with Olivia, who playfully pushed him away.

  “Nigga, ain’t nothing open,” I retorted.

  He smiled, looking at Tyree.

  “Gurl, look, I told him the same shit, but he claims he knows a few people, so we just gotta mind what the nigga says and go with it,” Tyree let out with a roll of his eyes.

  “Man, just get dressed and come on. Wear whatever the fuck you want,” Trell cut in. “I’m trying to turn up before I go up north with this nigga in the morning. You know New Yorkers don’t know how to fucking party like Georgia boys,” he boasted, tongue sticking out as Tyree rolled his eyes again.

  “That’s why y’all got all these mo
thafucking AIDS down here,” Tyree mumbled, walking out the room as I laughed. “Turn up in that mothafucking death bed, nigga.”

  “He a hater,” Trell mumbled before looking around. “Come on, Tay. Get dressed. You too, Livie.”

  “Oh, you already know I’m sooo coming,” she stated as they walked out of my room.

  I sighed. I needed to take my mind off Trent anyway, so throwing on something cute, letting my hair be wild and kinky-curly free, I slipped on my riding boots, leggings, cute long-sleeve shirt that covered just enough ass, and a cute jacket. Bangles, a few rings, and a necklace topped it off with light makeup. Never go nowhere without looking like you trying to impress.

  So, when we all piled in Ontrell’s Hummer H2, Olivia and I sat in the back, eyeing the interior like we’d never been inside a car this nice before.

  “Uh, how much was this, and how can you afford this if you just bought a house?” I pressed. Tyree looked back at me, lips turned up like he was ready to cop an attitude.

  “We just renting it for tonight, ma’am, but uh, thank you for worrying about our finances, boo,” he snapped, and I laughed. “We straight on this end. Don’t worry.”

  “Aye, you heard our song is already number two on iTunes?” Ontrell beamed excitedly, trying to look for a radio station while letting the truck warm up. “They talking about wanting us to go overseas next month.”

  “Overseas where?”

  “UK,” he said excitedly. “I already got my passport and everything. I’m just waiting on them to say go. Like, nigga, leh go! We can do this shit!” he said with a laugh. “Y’all ready for a night of foolishness and fuckery?”

  “I’m ready!” Olivia shouted.

  “Me too!” I chimed in. “I wanna see how y’all get down when nobody’s watching.”

  “You’ll be okay being around a bunch of gay niggas and women?” Ontrell asked, looking back at me as he backed out the driveway, hand on the back of Tyree’s seat, trying to whip the truck like it was a small car.

  “I’ll be okay. It will be nice to be surrounded by niggas who will give you attention but still want dick,” I joked.