My Baby Is a West Coast King

by Shvonne Latrice

  “I don’t need you to walk me to my car, Kordell.”

  “I ain’t ask you what you need. It’s nighttime and you’re a lady who came to see me. I’m not about to let something happen to you.”

  “Whatever.” She snatched the door open so I followed her down to her car.

  “Can I get a hug?” I questioned, still a little taken aback by her actions.

  “No, bye.”

  “Aye, aye, fuck is wrong with you? I asked you to come to my crib and now you’re tripping because I kissed you? I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but it’s really not that deep. I thought you and I were on the same damn page.”

  “Well we’re not! I have no interest in being one of your fuck buddies.”

  “Who said I wanted you to be?”

  She laughed loudly and then rolled her eyes.

  “You just tried to fuck me and haven’t even asked me what my last name is.”

  “You’re a pretty ass girl, when am I not gonna try to fuck you? Any nigga you date is gonna be trying to fuck you sooner or later.”

  “Bye.” She hopped into her car, slammed the door, and cranked it.

  I watched her until she was down at the end of my street, and just shook my head. Pulling my phone out, I hit up one of my usuals to come through and suck me off. I ain’t have time for that bullshit Cassie was on.

  When I made it up inside of my crib, I pulled out my goods and started rolling one, just as my phone buzzed. I saw it was my ex-girlfriend.

  Brooke: When are we gonna talk about the living situation with the baby, Dell?

  Me: Come through tomorrow.

  Brooke: Okay. I love you.

  Shaking my head, I locked my phone and leaned back to inhale on my blunt. By the time my fun for the night, Izzy got here, I’d be good and high.

  Mischief

  A couple days later…Around 10pm at night…

  “Here all alone?” Laine walked into my studio with the biggest smile on her pretty ass face.

  “Yeah, come over here.”

  She made her way over and tried to sit in the chair next to me, but I yanked her into my lap. She giggled, showing her dimples, and then leaned down to kiss me a couple of times. Looking at her, I was still in hella disbelief that I was in an actual relationship. Some days I was bugging because I just knew I was gonna fuck shit up soon, and other days I felt strong like I could rock with it. Today was the latter; I was good.

  “I missed you, baby. I thought about you the whole time at the photo shoot.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, and pushed the bill of my hat up a little to see my face better.

  “Yeah? So how did that shit go? You had all your damn clothes on, right?”

  “Yes I had my clothes on. It was a bust shoot, so they only took pictures from my collarbone up. It was for that liquid lipstick line I told you about.”

  “How much they pay us?” I grinned and so did she.

  “Us?”

  “Yeah us, fuck you thought? You’re my girl so that’s my money too.”

  “Nigga, please. When you put a ring on here and sign some papers, then I will think about sharing my money with you,” she laughed.

  “Nah, I’m fucking with you. I would never want you to have to share your money with me or feel like you have to take care of a nigga. That’s some sucka shit.”

  “What if we’re married?”

  “Then my money would be our money, and your money would be your own. Where I’m from, a man is a provider, and there ain’t no reason why I should be coming up to you with my damn hand out. If I do, leave my ass.”

  That was how I was raised. My father instilled in my brothers and me that a man needed to provide, protect, and show no emotion whatsoever. If one of us cried, we got beat badly as hell, which is why nowadays Chaz, Kordell, and I stayed so stone faced. It was like we couldn’t help that shit, it was natural now.

  “I wouldn’t leave you just because you were going through hard times. I know what it’s like to be broke, and I don’t like it. I don’t miss the days of me having to ask my best friend for money at times.”

  Jerking my neck back, I said, “I thought you said you had a nigga back home.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why he wasn’t breaking you off when you needed it? If you got a nigga and still have to ask others for money, you don’t have a nigga.”

  “Well he didn’t have money like that,” she shrugged, as she seemed to be in deep thought about what I’d said.

  “Don’t matter.”

  “So if I asked you for forty bucks and you only had fifty, you’d give it to me.”

  “I would.” My face was serious, maybe lacking emotion as people always told me. But I was being honest. I fucked with Laine the long way, obviously because I made her my girl, so there was no way I would have her out in these streets begging others for money.

  “Okay, what if you didn’t have any money?”

  “I will never not have any money. If I say I’m broke, that just means I can’t do too much, it doesn’t mean I’m flat. I’m never flat, baby.”

  “Well just pretend that one day you’re flat broke, and I need fifty bucks. At that point I would have to ask someone else.”

  “No, because I would flip some shit and get you the money with some extra.”

  “Flip some shit?” she quizzed and I nodded coolly. “I hate the way you make me feel, Mischief.”

  “Explain.”

  She straddled me so that we could be face to face, and let her arms drape over my shoulders as her eyes searched me. I placed my hands on her smooth thighs, gripping them gently as I rubbed up and down them slowly.

  “I love being with you, sleeping with you, cuddling, talking, and the things you say; the way you see life…”

  “But?”

  “But I…” she looked off for a second, not because she needed time to think, more like she was nervous to continue.

  “Speak your mind, babe.” I gripped her chin to make her look at me again, and she smiled shyly.

  “I know myself, and I can tell that I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “A lot if you don’t love me back. I just don’t want to get too attached to you, and then something happens and I’m just sitting there with feelings while you’re out fucking hoes.”

  Laughing, I replied, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but what I don’t want is for you to purposely prevent some shit. So if you feel like you love a nigga one day, let me know, aight? And I will do the same.” I sat up so that I was in her face, with my hands still gripping and rubbing her sexy ass thighs.

  She nodded slowly before hugging my neck tighter and pressing her lips against mine. Our soft pecks turned into deep kisses and lip sucking, before we introduced our tongues to one another. Thoughts of fucking her entered my mind. Her shit was so damn good that I wanted my name tatted on that shit. Maybe one day.

  “I like you a lot,” she whispered against my lips before kissing me again.

  “I like you a lot too.” I pressed her further into me by grasping her ass, so I could feel the warmth of her pussy against my boxers as we kissed like we hadn’t seen one another in a long ass time.

  “Show me how you do it.” She pulled away.

  “Do what?” My mind was elsewhere, namely on beating her box out the frame.

  “Make a beat. That’s what you do right, make beats?” she smiled and got off my lap to sit in the chair next to me. She was looking at my soundboard and computers in awe like she was someone from the olden days and had never seen technology. Shit was cute as fuck.

  “Uh, actually, nah, I’m insulted. There is a difference between a beat maker and a producer. So yeah, I make beats, but I also mold the song, make it easier for the artist to just add their words to it. I produce it.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “I usually have one of my brothers demo it so the artist I’m selling it to knows how it’s supposed to g
o. They can use it how they want, but most of the time they use my mold.”

  “How long does it take you?”

  “Depends on the beat. Rap beats usually take me about two, three days, but R&B beats are a little easier because you don’t want too much going on since it may outshine the vocals.”

  “And how much did all this equipment cost you?”

  I’d never had a girl be this interested in the shit I loved. With every question she asked, I became more and more taken aback.

  “Damn, so long ago I don’t remember. I think altogether I spent like eight or ten grand for everything. Then I pay studio time in bulk by the month, which is like two grand.”

  “How did you come up with all of that money?”

  “Selling beats, robbing niggas, unfortunately, selling for my father, and I worked at Best Buy overnight for a little bit to stack money too.”

  “Dang, you really wanted this stuff, huh?”

  “Yeah, I did. I’ve always been a hungry ass nigga. So I did what I had to do to get all this shit and get studio time.”

  “What did you sell for your father?”

  “Dope, women—”

  “Women?” she shrieked.

  “Yeah, like I would hook niggas up with hoes that worked for my father and shit.”

  “What haven’t you done?”

  “Can’t think of anything right now. You never told me who you left back in Illinois.”

  “My umm, Grandma, that was it.”

  “Where your parents at and shit?”

  “Mom is in Arkansas, my dad is someone I have never met, and that’s all. I have no siblings or anything.”

  “Well, let your grandma know that Big Daddy Shai got you while you’re out here,” I smirked and she chuckled before shivering.

  “You cold, baby?”

  “No not really—”

  “Here.” I took my red bomber jacket off and helped her put it on.

  “It smells so good and it’s so warm,” she cheesed, closing the jacket around her even though it was already swallowing her up. “And now I’m from Bompton too!”

  I couldn’t help but give a closed mouth smile back. She was different as fuck for me and I liked that shit. She didn’t remind me of the bullshit I grew up with, and that was a major plus.

  “I’m like ten times your fuckin’ size, man,” I chuckled, seeing how she got lost in my jacket.

  “I’m small but strong.”

  “I know. I can tell by the way you’ve been taking this dick lately.”

  “Shai!”

  “I’m serious. You used to run from it the first few times, but now you don’t.”

  “Probably because you always lock me in positions to where I can’t even move.”

  “That’s the point. Gotta train my pussy.” I leaned over and kissed her so hard she had to lean back in her chair.

  ***

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  I heard someone beating on my door like they ain’t have no fucking sense, pulling me from my sleep. My head was already hurting since Laine and I stayed up half the night talking, fucking, and smoking.

  The banging on my front door continued, so I climbed out of the bed and grabbed my boxers to slip on, along with some sweats. Because I worked on my own time and no one else’s, I brushed my teeth to make their asses wait a little longer, then grabbed my gun.

  “You fucking serious?” I mumbled after looking through the peephole to see my fuck ass father standing there. Nigga’s outfit cost more than this whole damn complex, not including his flashy ass jewelry. “What’s good?” I opened the door, and his eyes darted down to my 9mm, before he chuckled and slipped inside of my spot.

  “How have you been? You ain’t been by to see me or your mama in two damn months.” He plopped down onto my couch and adjusted his suit jacket.

  “Mama came by a few weeks ago. I been good, man. Fuck are you doing here and at eight in the fuckin’ morning? You beating on my damn door like I owe you some money,” I hissed.

  My dad had always just been a sperm donor to me, nothing more. I wasn’t sure if I loved his ass or not, him or my mother. Did I try? Yeah, when I was younger, but now I didn’t give a fuck. When they said not everybody was meant to have kids, they were talking about them two muthafuckas.

  “Relax. You should be up by now. Early bird gets the worm,” he sighed, scanning my living room. “You could be living in a nicer neighborhood if you just work with me, Mischief.”

  Funny thing, my father never called me Shai, maybe once in my entire life. My aunt Doreen told me that he started calling me Mischief when I was two years old, because I was already a troublemaker, as she put it. My mother only called me things like baby and shit, so by the time I got to grade school, I didn’t even know my real name. I still remember being perplexed by the fact that my name was Shai, and that was what I had to answer to in my kindergarten class.

  “I don’t wanna work with you, I have a job.”

  “Oh yes, I heard a song on the radio the other day, produced by you. Male singer, and it was pretty good… I was surprised.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Shai—”

  “Go back in the room, baby!” I hollered to Laine, who stood there in just her panties.

  “Well who do we have—” my father started to get up from the couch.

  “Close and lock the door!” I barked to Laine, cutting my father off. She quickly did as I asked before my father could see her, and that was just what I wanted.

  “Listen, Mischief. I’m getting old now and in some years, I want to pass this thing down. I know you’d do my empire a great justice if—”

  “I don’t sell drugs anymore. I have a job, and that’s my music. Now get the fuck up outta my crib with that bullshit.”

  “I just complimented you and you wanna kick me out?” he roared, trying to scare somebody, but I wasn’t one of his fucking flunkies so that shit didn’t work. My dad was six feet nine, and not a scrawny dude by any means, just like my brothers and I.

  “Complimented me? You making it seem like my music is a fucking hobby or some shit.” I looked him up and down with a face full of disgust.

  “Mischief, it’s great that you can somewhat make a living off your talent, but you can be wealthy as hell if you—”

  “Get up outta my crib before I use my hammer.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes for a little bit. It was quiet, and the only sound heard was of me removing the safety on my heat.

  Sucking his teeth and laughing, my father snatched the door open and left, slamming it so hard a deck of cards fell onto the floor. I plopped down onto the couch, and put the safety back on before exhaling heavily. After a few moments, my bedroom door cracked, and Laine peeked her face out.

  “You can come.”

  She walked out of the bedroom and came right over to me in just a t-shirt. She straddled my lap, and then hugged my head into her chest. I sat there for a moment, before draping my arms around her small waist.

  Chapter Five: Laine

  I was inside of Mischief’s shower, upset that I’d accidentally brought an empty Olay soap bottle with me over here. Now I had to wash off with his manly ass shower gel, but since it was some natural stuff by Burt’s Bees, it wasn’t too strong. And although it smelled really good, I enjoyed my stuff and wish I’d brought it.

  After rinsing all the soap off, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me so I could spray on some body oil. Once I was finished, I brushed, flossed, and rinsed, before using my face scrub.

  “Fuck are you even doing in there?” Mischief yelled from his bedroom. I just laughed as I stepped out, still in my towel.

  “It takes time to look as good as me,” I smirked, walking into his bedroom and dropping the towel to reach for my panties.

  “No it doesn’t. You’re naturally beautiful, so whatever the fuck you’re doing in there can be cut out.” He slipped his socks on and then his Nike Roshe sneakers.

  I loved how
simple his style was. He mainly wore red, black, white, or a combination of those colors. And his outfits usually consisted of a t-shirt or polo, hoodie or bomber jacket, dark colored jeans, a cap, and some type of clean sleek sneaker with black jewelry, and one small gold chain that stayed tucked. His cologne was always sweet, clean, yet manly. I just liked everything about him.

  “Maybe I’m a man and needed to tuck a few things before I came out here,” I joked, pulling my spaghetti strapped dress over my head.

  “Nah, that pussy gets too wet, you definitely ain’t no man. And where the fuck is ya bra at? I can see that you got ya damn titties pierced.” His brows were furrowed.

  “The straps are too thin for a bra, baby.”

  “So you just gon’ walk around with ya friends with ya titties out, letting niggas look at what’s mine like you single or some shit?”

  Smiling, I replied, “They’re not out, Mischief. The piercings are just poking through.”

  “Well, when you figure out how to cover that shit up, then you can leave.” He said it so calmly as he texted on his phone, that I knew he was dead serious.

  “I have to go buy some nipple guards from the pharmacy. What’s the closest one?”

  “CVS. Come on, I will take you.” He walked past me out of the bedroom, so I grabbed my purse and phone before following him.

  “No, I have to pick Erynne up from the airport, so I will stop by CVS and get them myself…”

  I just stopped talking because he’d already pulled the door open, and was waiting for me with a stale expression on his face, so I knew my words were entering one ear and leaving out of the other.

  We made it downstairs, but instead of going towards his car on the street, we went into the back parking area and up to an all-black Crown Victoria with illegal tint and shiny rims, just like his Impala.

  “What the hell is this?” I turned my lip up as he stuck his key in the passenger side to open it for me.

  “My other car.”

  Inside smelled like sweet cherries, and was really clean. I still couldn’t believe he had this vehicle, and was kind of wondering why.