My Baby Is a West Coast King 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  “A friend? Really? Because when she called, she sounded like she was pretty attached to you, Chaz Benjamin.”

  “Called? When?” I sat up.

  “Oh, it’s like that? Hearing that she called gave you a sudden boost of energy?” Her brow raised.

  “Jade, just answer the question.”

  “Yes, she called and she explained everything to me. She told me how you guys have been intimate and that you told her you were leaving the baby and me. Was that true?” Jade cocked her head with tears in her eyes.

  At first I was angry because Jade had answered my phone, but I was angrier that Erynne had lied. I understood she was probably jealous of my wife, but purposely trying to sabotage what we have when I told her I wasn’t fucking with her anymore, had me ready to fly over to Chicago and knock her ass upside the head.

  “Look, baby, listen. I’m gonna be honest with you because I’m always honest in my relationships, especially the one I have with you.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I met Erynne and yes, I did like her. I invited her to be in my video—”

  “That’s the bitch in your video?” Jade shrieked, mouth twisted all up.

  “Jade, let me fucking finish, aight? Yes, she was in my video, and after that, we talked on the phone and texted a few times here and there. Things did go too far the night of one of my shows, but I didn’t do anything too bad. I umm, I— we got close but I didn’t fuck her.”

  “You ate that bitch out!” she slammed the pillow onto my head, prompting my hand to gravitate towards her neck and grip it. Realizing what I was doing when her eyes widened while she clawed at my hand so she could breathe, I let her go.

  “I’m sorry, Jade, I— I told you not to put your hands on me. That’s no excuse though, so I’m sorry.” I climbed out of the bed, allowing the cool air to calm me down. I couldn’t sit next to her any longer or I may kill her. And I mean literally kill her ass.

  “All you Benjamins are fucking crazy! You promised you were nothing like them but I knew you were all along! I don’t want to be with you if you’re gonna be like Mischief, Kordell, and your father!” she cried, tears running down her face. I just closed my eyes as I clutched the edge of the dresser, then exhaled before looking at myself in the mirror.

  What she said was true, we all had tempers, but I was better at covering mine up. It’s just when people pushed me over the edge, which usually took a little more than it did for my brothers, I went hard. I would never lay my hands on a woman, but Jade kept lighting the already burning fire inside of me by answering my fucking phone behind my back and then running her stupid ass mouth while I was talking. Like I said before, I become someone else when I’m upset.

  Finally feeling like I was calm, I turned from the mirror and looked at my crying wife. She looked beautiful, and also vulnerable. I loved seeing her like this; not scared but just soft since she was always so rah rah with shit.

  “Baby, I’m sorry for putting my hands on you and I’m sorry about Erynne. I did not eat her out or stick my dick in her. But I did have a moment of weakness—”

  “Since when do you have moments of weakness, Chaz? That’s one thing I can say about you, is that you never have periods where you can’t control your cravings for the opposite sex. So how was she able to get you to do whatever you did to her in the hotel room?”

  I was wondering the same thing and the shit was scary.

  “I’m a man, Jade. Sometimes my wants become stronger than I am and that’s all that it was. It won’t happen again though, and I’m gonna check her ass for coming at you.”

  “Do it then.” I nodded and grabbed my phone before turning to leave for some privacy. “No, I want to hear it.”

  I usually would have ignored her, but I had fucked up and she was willing to give me another chance. I didn’t have the upper hand here; not if I wanted to remain married.

  “Aight,” I mumbled, going into my texts and tapping Erynne’s information to call her. “She’s in Illinois so she may not answer. It’s like 2am out there.”

  Jade said nothing. She just leaned her back up against the headboard and stared at me.

  The line trilled, and a part of me hoped Erynne didn’t answer, while the majority of me did. Not for Jade necessarily, but for me. I wanted to get in Erynne’s ass because of some shit I’d found out. I wasn’t going to be able to actually say what it was because of Jade’s presence, but it helped me get as angry as I needed to be.

  “Chaz?” Erynne whispered, and hearing her smile through the phone had that quickly softened me. But fuck that, she was a lying ass hoe. “I’ve been hoping you called—”

  “Aye, check this out,” I started, tone stern. “Don’t call my fucking line any more, I don’t care what it’s for. And if you ever in life spew some bullshit to my wife like you recently did, I will break yo’ fucking neck with my bare hands. I don’t want you. I will never want you. You were just something to keep my mind off the small problem I was having at home. That’s what hoes are for. Stop taking this shit so seriously. I’m married and anything I do outside of my marriage is just for fun. Are we clear or are we clear?”

  I closed my eyes when I heard sniffling and light crying, just before she hung up the phone without another word.

  “Thank you, ba—”

  I left the bedroom, slamming the door behind myself before Jade could finish her sentence. That shit just high-key killed my ass for some reason.

  Kordell

  I made it up to Brooke’s apartment in Gardena, and beat on her door like I was trying to break it down. Shit, maybe I was. She’d been dodging me, and getting away with it since I was a little wrapped up in Cassie and Melody. Being with Melody though, reminded me that I needed to make sure my biological kid was straight too, even if he wasn’t here yet. I had all Brooke’s appointment dates, but when my homie Bonds told me he saw her ass scoping the scene outside of my brother’s house for two days in a row, I decided to pop up on her stupid ass.

  “What?” she yanked the door open, rubbing her belly. She was seven months, and her stomach was round as hell. Walking ‘round here looking a like a mini whale with a pretty face.

  “Fuck was you doing rolling around my brother’s crib for?” I slipped into her spot, which was a mess, and sat down on the couch. “And it fucking stinks in here.”

  “Look, nigga, unless you’re gonna pay for a maid to come through here and clean this shit up, don’t complain, aight?” She sat next to me.

  “And I was riding over there for Shaina. Her nigga happens to live in the same complex as Mischief and she needed a spy. Preferably one with a different car than her.”

  “So you rode around for your funky ass homegirl for two days, but you can’t pick up these fast food wrappers and other shit?” I hissed, snatching the trash up so I could toss it.

  I hated dirty hoes. If her shit was dirty, so was her pussy. From experience with Brooke’s body I knew hers was clean, but so was her crib… at the time. I guess that pregnant puss was probably rancid these days.

  “Fuck you, Kordell. Worry about that ugly hoe you’ve been fucking with and parading all over L.A. Trying to make me jealous won’t work anymore. I’m over you.”

  I sat back down after washing my hands and said, “Ain’t nobody trying to make you jealous. And let’s get something straight right now before we go any further in this conversation. Don’t ever come out yo’ mouth and call her a hoe again. She don’t say shit about you, and you are to do the same, or there will be some repercussions.”

  Brooke was a pistol, but she knew when and when not to push me. So, instead of coming back at me with a smart comment, she just looked away and shook her head. Like clockwork, tears ran down her cheeks but she quickly wiped them. It was a pattern for her to go crazy then cry when I responded.

  “You never cared for me like that,” she whined.

  “Brooke, kill that. You know damn well I would have never allowed some chick I was smashing on the side to com
e out her mouth disrespectfully at you. Even now that we ain’t together, I’m not gonna let anybody say whatever the fuck they want to you, out of respect for the mother of my child.”

  “Not even her?” She glanced at me.

  “No, not even Cassie. But she wouldn’t do that. Only way she’d be rude is if you were rude to her, which you won’t be, right?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “What?” I playfully clawed at her side, making her screech and laugh. “Answer me!”

  “Okay, okay!” she chuckled, hands out to her side to block me, not wanting me to touch her.

  Brooke was ticklish as fuck. She didn’t say anything so I continued, and when we got close, she kissed my lips gently.

  “We can’t.”

  “Whyyyy?” she pouted as I sat back and wiped that thick ass gloss of hers off of my lips.

  “Because for one, Brooke, we don’t mix well together. And secondly, I have a girlfriend. I wanna be with her, that’s why I made her my girl.” I palmed my chest, pleading with my tone.

  “How do you even know she’s the one?”

  “I don’t! Shit, we may only last four months, who knows? But right now, today, that’s where I want to be, Brooke.”

  “Whatever.”

  I talked with Brooke for a little longer, mainly discussing my son and how we were gonna work out the time spent with him. He was gonna live here with her, and I of course would come by to spend time with him. I planned to do shit the right way so that I wouldn’t upset Brooke, and that I wouldn’t have Cassie nor Melody feeling neglected.

  Leaving Brooke’s, I decided to go home and get some rest because tonight I had another show at the Roxy Theatre on Sunset. Chaz and I had performed there before, but we’d recently moved up in the game, so a few A&R’s were coming to check us out. We were excited about a few, but mainly Static Records, the label that brought my brother in to work.

  Static was always our first choice because they did well with both rap artists and singers. I didn’t want to be somewhere that only had the formula for one type of group, regardless of whether or not I was mainly a rapper. And a super plus was that my brother was now working with them, and obviously, Chaz and I preferred Mischief as a producer for our music.

  As I drove towards my house, I decided to stop at the 7-Eleven on Long Beach Boulevard to get a slushy. I didn’t know why I drank them damn things so much, knowing I was gonna get fucking brain freeze and be bugging out.

  After getting my shit, I went home to my apartment and laid back on the couch with the lights low, ready to roll a blunt to enhance my nap.

  As I rolled, my phone buzzed and I looked down to see it was Cassie. I finished fixing my shit, lit the tip, and then took a pull before grabbing my phone up.

  Cassie: I can’t wait to see you tonight. Tell them groupie hoes you’re coming home to me.

  Me: You know I will.

  I chuckled. She posted me on her Snapchat the other day and females were going dumb on her, saying stupid shit like she Photoshopped it. Females will say anything to make themselves feel better. And since I was a petty ass nigga at times, I went ahead and posted Cassie’s fine ass on my Instagram to let these hoes know that no Photoshop was needed, she actually had me.

  Cassie ain’t have shit to worry about in this moment. Right now, I legit enjoyed being around her, and the pussy being off the muthafucking chain helped too. Little Melody was also a plus. I prayed my feelings never changed, because for once, I would like to have some solid shit. I didn’t realize how good it felt to have a woman that you could chill and talk with, without her biting your head off about bullshit every other day like Brooke. Cassie was laid back, and it wasn’t because she was a punk either; she was as feisty as they came. She only turned it on when needed though and I loved that.

  As I got high as hell, thinking about how exciting tonight was gonna be, and praying the Hunnit Boyz got a deal, my phone rang. I looked down to see it was my father. Sucking my teeth in irritation, I picked the phone up.

  “What?” I answered.

  “Someone needs an etiquette class or two. Look, I was wondering if you could drop something off for ya old man.”

  “Drop something off? I’m not no fuckin’ errand boy. And I told you I’m not trying to fuck with that shit no more.”

  “Come on, son. I would do it, but I promised I would take your mother to dinner. If I do this, we will miss our reservation.”

  My mother. She was sort of a soft spot for me because in my opinion, she was a horrible person because my father made her that way. Mischief said she was born with rotten insides, and Chaz just didn’t care anymore. Hearing that my father would be giving my mom something she’d always wanted, his attention, made me change my tune.”

  “Earth calling, nigga!” my dad barked.

  “Y-yeah, I’ll do it. What is it?”

  “Just money. It’s a duffle bag. It’ll be in the closet of my office. Take it to Paramount—”

  “Paramount? Man, that’s low-key far. And depending on what time you need me to drop this shit off, it may be too far for me to handle for you. I got a show tonight.”

  “A show,” he chuckled. “How much they paying you?”

  “A cool twenty-five hundred a piece.”

  He just cleared his throat, something he always did when he didn’t know what to say. My dad didn’t too much support my music career, so the last time he checked, I was making $400 a show, and only doing them once every three months. Chaz and I had been working though, and he would have known that had he been more involved or just asked.

  “I guess. Your auntie told me she heard you on the radio. A lot of artists have one hit and not another. But anyhow, take this for me in an hour, and I will pay you $5000. So you’ll have the $2500 from the show on top of my $5000.”

  Sold!

  “Cool.”

  “You’re gonna meet Viggo. He’ll be wearing a gray Brooklyn Nets hoodie. He’ll be standing on the corner of Paramount and Howe, next to an all-black Suburban. Give him the money but keep my bag. He should have his own. Don’t fuck this up.”

  “Peace.” I hung up. I knew I was supposed to leave this shit alone, but my dad had never offered me that much money for such a small task. Believe me, I wasn’t rich nor was I hurting at all, but who didn’t like extra money?

  ***

  I hopped off the freeway and made a right onto Paramount Boulevard. Slowing down, I scoped the scene just in case this Viggo cat wasn’t where he was supposed to be. As I approached Howe, I saw a nigga in a black Suburban roll his window down and stare at me, so I made a left onto Howe and parked my car. We both got out at the same time, and he was grinning, silver caps shining.

  “So you’re one of boss’s precious kids, huh?”

  “Look, I got somewhere to be, get ya shit out so I can handle this and be on my way.”

  Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, he chuckled, looking up at me. I was taller than every damn body.

  “My bad, Mr. Kordell Benjamin.” He pulled open his back door, so I rested my hand on my .45 that was locked in my waist. When he retrieved a duffel bag, shaking it out, I pulled my hand away from my weapon. “I like that song you got on the radio. When your pops said y’all were some lowball ass musicians, he was mistaken. Lowballs don’t get radio play like that.”

  “Hurry up, man.”

  We got into my car and quickly moved the money from my father’s bag to his. It was getting pretty dark now, so I wasn’t too worried about someone walking by and seeing. When we were done, he tried to dap me up but I just stared straight ahead.

  Chuckling, he opened the door to my car and said, “That was a fine ass bitch you put on the gram the other day—”

  Gun pressed to his head, I gritted, “You’ve been testing me for the last ten minutes, my nigga. Get yo’ yuck mouth ass out of my whip before I splatter what little brains you have. And I don’t care about getting caught.”

  Nodding with his hands up and eyes bucked
, he slowly slid out. I knew he thought that since I wasn’t heavily into drugs and shit that I was a punk. Niggas thought Mischief was the only crazy muthafucka outside of my dad, but that wasn’t the case at all. Chaz and I just hid it better, whereas Mischief didn’t give a fuck.

  Making a U-turn after putting my gun in the floorboard of my car, I made a right onto Paramount so I could get to the freeway. I needed to get home, shower and dress, so I could be fresh and clean for the show.

  Right when I got to the stoplight, located by the Shell gas station and Popeyes, a police officer got behind me and turned his lights on. Blowing out hot air, I pulled over and waited for him to come up. When he made it to my window, he told me to roll it down with his flashlight.

  “You don’t have on a seatbelt, young man.”

  “I literally just pulled off, officer. I was about to put it on right before you appeared.” I was irritated, but trying to keep my composure since I had somewhere to be.

  “That’s the problem with you black kids, always thinking you’re invincible.”

  Chuckling angrily, I looked off for a second. Why did he have to go there? Now I was hot.

  “Aye, officer, I understand y’all get a kick out of fucking with niggas, but I have a show tonight and I would really appreciate it if you just let me go, or hurry the fuck up and write that ticket.”

  I felt like a teakettle, almost ready to blow.

  “Get out of the car,” he said, before nodding to who I guess was his partner.

  “For what? You said I didn’t have on my seatbelt, which honestly I don’t even think you really witnessed, and I’m telling you to just write the damn ticket!”

  “Get out of the got damn car!” he roared.

  Inhaling deeply, I opened the car door and stepped out. He cuffed me, sat me on the curb, and then he and his partner started to search through my car. I knew they wouldn’t find my gun, and the black duffel was empty so I wasn’t tripping. But as my luck would have it, the second officer ripped a hole in the wall of the bag, and retrieved two baggies of heroin with a smile.