I Gave Him My Heart

by Krystal Armstead

  “Don’t try to play a nigga then. I’m workin’ with a muthafuckin’ monster. Ain’t nothin’ kindergarten about this shit. You always got jokes, Ma.” Knox watched me cracking up.

  I laughed so hard that I started crying. Like really crying, bawling my eyes out.

  Knox sighed, pulling me closer to him, wrapping me in his arms. He knew why I was crying. I needed someone to make me laugh the way that he was doing. I needed a good time. I needed some pain reliever.

  “Don’t cry. Come on; let’s have some fun. Even if it’s only for a little while. A’ight?” Knox whispered in my ear.

  I sighed, exhaling deeply as he let me go. He was so soft and warm. I looked up into his face as he took my hair, swooping it to one side, over my shoulder.

  Knox looked me over a little before he reached for my face, drying my tears. “I need you to lay on your stomach, propped up on your elbows, bend your legs at the knees, and cross your ankles. A’ight?”

  I nodded, turning around, walking over to the carpet, popping open the bag of gummie bears. “So,” I sniffed, “how many other girls have you painted like this?” I felt Knox’s eyes all over me. I got down on the floor, posing the way he’d said, after I took a few long sips of my beer.

  “None. You’re the first. Hopefully the last.” Knox looked me over before bending down before me, in front of his paint cans, tubes of paint and paintbrushes. He reached for the tiny remote that sat on the floor, picked it up, and then aimed at the stereo system that sat in the far corner of the suite. I hadn’t seen a stereo system that huge in a long time. The sounds of 2Pac flowed through the speakers.

  I grinned, watching this little nigga bobbing his head to “Me Against the World.” The words to that song matched my entire state of mind at that point. Knox sure did know what to say and do when I needed it; I could give dude points for that.

  “What’cha know about this song, Knox?” I grinned, watching him mix oil paints together on a wooden pallet.

  “I know I was a muthafuckin’ five-year-old nigga singing every lyric to this joint when the song came out.” Knox sounded irritated that I kept trying to clown his age. He glanced at me before looking back at his paint. “I got the shit beat out of me by my stepmom for singing this song at the dinner table. I was all,” Knox cleared his throat before spittin’ a verse. “‘Always do your best, don’t let the pressure make you panic. And when you get stranded and things don’t go the way you planned it. Dreaming of riches, in a position of making a difference. Politicians and hypocrites they don’t wanna listen. If I’m insane, it’s the fame made a brother change. It wasn’t nothing like the game. It’s just me against the world.’”

  I sighed, eyes watering, watching his eyes watering.

  “Man, that woman hated the fact that I was black, but hated the fact that her husband was my father even worse. I was a reminder that her husband was fuckin’ her maid.” Knox laughed out loud. “My favorite part is what Pac said at the end of the song. He said, ‘I know it seems hard sometimes, but remember one thing: through every dark night, there’s a bright day after that. So no matter how hard it get, stick your chest out, keep your head up, and handle it.’ That right there, what he said, got a nigga through some dark nights for real.” Knox shook his head to himself. “I handled my shit. I made it through all the things designed to rip me apart me. A nigga made it.”

  I watched this dude biting his lip, choking back the tears. I wanted to cry for him. I felt bad for him. He had secrets, too. Maybe we really did need one another. “You need a sip, boo?” I whispered, handing him the Heineken.

  Knox exhaled deeply, taking the bottle from me, drinking all the way to the middle of the bottle before handing it back to me. “I’ve been through some shit, too, shorty. My tattoos cover my past. They cover up some deep wounds. Literal wounds, not figuratively speaking. Try being black, growing up in a family of racists. You can’t even imagine the modern-day slavery shit I’ve been through. I’m young, but I’m far from being inexperienced when it comes to the facts of this fucked-up life. You wouldn’t even understand these tears I’ve cried.”

  I watched Knox squirt some more paint onto the pallet.

  “Ummm,” I cleared my throat. “I hate Tims because there was this guy in high school, named Tim, who used me to get even with his girlfriend, the girlfriend I didn’t even know he had. He had me in his bathroom, sucking his dick, me not knowing that he’d call his girlfriend to come over. The bitch walked in on us. I had to damn near beat the bitch’s head into that sink after she tried to kill me over this nigga!”

  Tim grinned, shaking his head, probably thinking my life couldn’t compare to his.

  “Another Tim I hate is Nina’s Aunt Toni’s husband, who raped me on my aunt’s kitchen table when I was nineteen.” I sighed, watching Knox’s eyebrows knitting together before he looked at me. “I’m tired of being mistreated, Knox.” I whispered.

  “I can relate.” Knox nodded, eying the cougar tatted on my back. “A cougar, Kourtney?” Knox grinned a little. “What’s with the cougar?”

  I shrugged, watching Knox swipe the paintbrush across every color on the pallet. “It was the first tattoo that Nina inked at her shop in Goldsboro, North Carolina. It’s pretty bad, huh? She’s got me feeling some type of way about life right now, but I can’t deny her skills with the tattoo gun.”

  Knox nodded. “Want me to cover it up or paint around it? I can paint you a backless dress if you want.” He dipped his paintbrush in a cup of water.

  I nodded. “Yeah, backless dress is good.”

  Knox exhaled deeply, frowning a little, concentrating on my shoulders.

  I squealed a little as the cold paintbrush slid down my shoulder. “Oh my goodness!” I squealed. “How short or long are you gonna make this dress?”

  Knox laughed, making short strokes down my shoulder blade. “I’m gonna make it short. Probably about to right here.” Knox’s free hand rubbed my booty a little. And it felt good as a muthafucka.

  I sighed a little, taking another sip from the bottle.

  “I saw that tattoo on your thigh, too. You used to fuck with that nigga, Tyson Unique? ‘Niq’, that’s what you call him, right? I seen that shit on your thigh.” Knox scoffed, breathing down my back as he dipped his brush in some more paint.

  “That’s really - That’s really none of your business.” I stuttered, still thinking of this dude’s hands on my behind. “Whatever I have going on with him ain’t got shit to do with you, Pre-K. That’s my new name for you—Pre-K.”

  Knox paused for a few seconds before he tossed his paintbrush to the side and then took a purple tube of oil paint and squeezed a fair amount of paint from the tube on my back. I squealed out as this dude slid his hands down my back and over my behind, to the part of my ass where he said that the painted dress was going to stop. He spread the paint over my ass in both directions, even sliding the paint between my got-damn ass cheeks. I almost died, I swear.

  I looked back at him, heart pounding in my chest. “Nigga!”

  Knox grinned. “What you say my name was? Pre-K, right? Well, I don’t remember using a paintbrush in Pre-K. In Pre-K, we used our got-damn hands, homie.”

  I sat up, watching this nigga pop open a tube of yellow paint.

  “I want to paint something like a tie-dyed dress, Kourtney Marie. You want a long-sleeved backless dress? Or a short-sleeved dress?” Knox looked me in the face. “Whichever dress you decide, I’ll make sure it’s sexy as a muthafucka. Oil paint takes at least three days to dry on a canvas, so I can take my time on your skin, not having to worry about it drying out on me. So, what’s it gonna be?” Knox grinned, just as the lyrics to “How Do You Want It” flowed through the speakers.

  “Ummm.” I hesitated, watching him try to finger out how he was going to cover the nipple rings. “Long-sleeved, I guess.”

  “Yeah, lemme start with the front. I think I wanna start taking pictures from the front first.” He watched me sit, knees underneath me
, butt resting on my ankles. He looked at my breasts again, shaking his head, exhaling deeply. “Can I take these out?” That nigga rubbed my nipples between his fingers before he held the bead on one end of the barbell, and he started unscrewing the ball counterclockwise from the barbell of my left tittie.

  My mouth dropped open a little as he pulled the barbell straight out of my nipple, pulling it horizontally. “Did you just take my—” I stuttered as he started removing the other.

  “How am I supposed to paint’cha dress on with this shit on? What made you even get these?” Knox shook his head at me.

  “For sexual stimulation. See, I told you your young ass can’t hang with us.” I shook my head as he slipped the other barbell out of my right nipple.

  “Sexual stimulation? Oh, I’ma a pro at that. You don’t need all this extra shit to be stimulated. If you do, the nigga ain’t doing it right. Trust me, I got all the tools you need.” Knox sat the barbells on the white sheet that I was laying on. He picked up the tube that he had popped open and squeezed the yellow paint into his hand. And he spread the paint over my collarbone. I had no idea what the dress would look like in the end, but I learned by watching enough painters that the painting didn’t end up looking the way that it started out. I felt this nigga sliding paint all over my neck, shoulders, breasts, abs, arms. It may have taken him twenty minutes to intricately design the front of my dress. I looked at my arms as he made the designs of the dress with his hands. The dress looked like it was tie-dyed cotton. It was blue, red, yellow, white, orange, pink, amazing. This nigga had skills.

  “I would rock the shit out of this dress! I mean, I would literally wear this shit out in public!” I was in awe, watching him kneading the paint into my thighs, sliding his hands in between my thighs just enough to get the dress effect that he wanted.

  Knox grinned up at me for a second and then his eyes traced over my body. “You never had a massage like this before, huh, Kourtney Marie?”

  I grinned a little, looking his face and haircut over. “No, I can’t say that I have, Pre-K. I’ve never had a message period. Niggas wanna fuck me, not please me.”

  Knox glanced into my face, shaking his head at me.

  I shrugged. “Hey, it is what it is, Knox. Which is why I stopped having sex. Period.” I watched as Knox grabbed the towel that sat next to him and dried his hands off. “Done?”

  Knox nodded, looking me over a little.

  “Do I need to freshen my face? Ya know, touch up my makeup?” I asked, watching Knox’s forehead wrinkle a little.

  “Nah, Ma.” Knox watched me attempt to mess with my hair. “Hold up, Kourtney, don’t move. You’re gonna make the paint crease.”

  “Well,” I tried to blow the strands of hair that had fallen in my face. “Can you push the hair out of my face, please? I have a comb in my purse if you need to use it.”

  Knox grinned, smoothing out my hair, combing my hair with his fingers. He watched me eyeing the 14-k gold solid rope chains that hung around his neck, one of which had a diamond encrusted “K” charm hanging from it. Knox grinned, reaching behind his neck to unlatch the chain from his neck that held the “K”.

  I looked into his face as he latched the necklace around my neck, chain dangling between my breasts. My heart beat fast as Knox got up from the white sheet. I watched as he got his camera equipment together, bringing the camera right in front of me. He didn’t move any of his paintbrushes, paint cans, or art tools from around me. The dress looked so real, I guess he wanted the people who were going to see this portrait of me to know that it was painted on.

  I must admit, I had the time of my life that afternoon at Knox’s place. Once I could relax and have fun, the photo shoot ran smoothly. After he took shots of the front of the dress, he got around to painting the back of it. For one of the poses, he had me sit in a chair, legs spread, facing the back of the chair, my back to the camera. You should have seen Knox’s facial expression when I turned around, facing him, legs spread, telling him that pose was for him. We ended up outside in the backyard of the villa. The backyard was enclosed in stone. The backyard looked like a garden. It was beautiful. Knox had me take pictures by the water fountain that stood in the middle of the yard. Knox’s stereo system in the penthouse was remotely connected to every speaker in the house. I felt like I was in a concert, surrounded by music in every room of the house that we were in. We listened to just about the same music. I knew every word to every song that flowed through the speakers. The music really helped loosen me up for the photos. By the time we were done taking pictures, I think the both of us might have drank the entire six pack of beer, plus half of another pack. You knew we were some got-damn alcoholics. We weren’t even drunk, but we sure were tipsy as hell.

  We were trippin’, looking through Knox’s camera at my photos. I’d admit, he had me looking super sexy. He was a beast with the camera as well as the paintbrush, not to mention, his hands, sheesh. The angles he captured were amazing. The lighting was perfect, both in and out of the house. Though most of the dress was smoothed over my body with his hands, the texture of the “fabric” of the dress was crafted with his paintbrushes. The dress looked like it was made of a woven fabric.

  “These pictures are amazing, Knox. Damnnnnn, that shit is dope!” I shoved Knox in his shoulder as he swiped through the pictures on his camera. “You’re gonna kill it at this art exhibit.”

  “Nah, we’re gonna kill it. Yeah, that’s right—your ass is coming, too. Don’t play.” Knox scoffed.

  I rolled my eyes. “I start school this month in Baltimore, my club opens in two weeks, and not to mention, my shop opens next month in Baltimore, Knox. When am I gonna have time for an art exhibit?”

  “Shit, make some got-damn time, Kourtney. I made time to come here to spend some time with you, Ma. You can make some time for me, too.” Knox looked my face over. “Please.”

  “Well,” I tried to ignore that sad-puppy look on his face. “What about your boys that I saw you with at the shop? Won’t they be there to support you?”

  Knox shook his head. “Nah, those are my niggas that run my shop. I grew up with most of ‘em. Most are the children I grew up with in my father’s mansion in California. They were the children of the maids, too, just like me.”

  I just looked at him.

  Knox exhaled deeply, eyes tracing my face, before he looked back at the camera. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’m used to doing shit alone. I guess I’ll be a’ight.”

  I sighed, watching him swipe through the pictures until he got to the picture where I was giving his ass a full frontal. I looked at Knox, tilting his head a little, licking those juicy ass lips of his. I rolled my eyes, though I was blushing a little.

  “Knox, you better not show anyone that shit!” I pushed him in his shoulder.

  “I’ma blow this picture up, put this beauty right above my headboard at my crib in Baltimore.” Knox grinned to himself. “Pussy looks fat as a muthafucka, got damn. When are you gonna let me take a bite out of it? I bet it’s juicy, too.” Knox chomped his teeth together like he was taking a huge bite out of something.

  I laughed out loud, standing there next to him. “You’re crazy as hell!” I grabbed his arm, looking at the time on his Rolex. It was 6:00. “I better get back to my place. I need to start packing. I’m leaving for Baltimore in a few days. School starts next week.”

  Knox looked at me. “What school are you going to?”

  “The Knoxberry School of Arts.” I watched his eyebrows knit together. “What’s wrong with that school?”

  “It’s a great school.” Knox walked over to his equipment and started cleaning up. He looked frustrated as hell.

  “Why are you getting frustrated, Knox? What did I say wrong?” I asked him.

  “Just stay away from the family. Once they see you have talent, they will use you up and spit you out. I wish I could tell you not to tell them that you’re affiliated with me, but once they see me on the show, they’r
e gonna know. Just be careful with them; that’s all I’m saying. They’re crocks.” Knox huffed. “Racist muthafuckas. Anyway, Ma,” Knox changed the subject. “You don’t wanna chill with me? Go get something to eat? Eat here? I can order in, or you can cook me something. I heard you can cook.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, boo, I gotta get going. My girls have been blowing my phone up. I need to meet up with my B-more chicks; they’re staying at my place. But before I go, I can help you straighten up.”

  Knox grinned. “Nah, I’m good.” He watched as I started to remove the heavy gold chain from around my neck. He caught my arm. “Nah, you keep it.”

  I shook my head. “Knox, seriously? I already know that whatever you have on cost a grip. I’m not keeping this. No, Knox, here.” I started to take it off, but he caught my arm again.

  “Nah, Ma, keep it. Before I forget…” Knox dug into the pocket of his sweatpants to pull out my two nipple rings. “You gonna let me put ‘em back in? Or you gonna shower first?”

  I completely forgot that I was standing there in paint and not an actual got-damn dress. “Oh my goodness; you got this ‘dress’ layered on so thick that I forgot it’s not an actual dress! It’s gonna take forever to get all of this paint off. You’re right; I need to stay here a few more hours to use your got-damn shower. Get paint all over your shit.”

  Knox grinned. “Did you have a good time?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t deny the fact that I was having so much fun with him. “Yeah, I did. Too bad it’s over.”

  The girls had been blowing up my phone. Not to mention, Trench called a few times. When I went to use the bathroom earlier, I checked my messages. Trench was cursing me out over my voicemail, telling me that the executives at Reelz TV said the press was camped outside of the station all day, trying to get the real story behind what happened between me and Priscilla. Knox was right. The drama was just beginning.

  “It doesn’t have to be over. Just stay with me, at least for the night.” Knox grabbed me closer to him by my forearms.