My Baby Is A West Coast King 3

by Shvonne Latrice

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, staring at the three boxes of Nikes that he’d purchased, which were sitting on the floor.

  “Baby, relax. I don’t want you stressing about that shit; not anything. Stress is bad for my kid,” he spoke into my neck, and the warmth of his breath felt so good as his big hand rubbed up and down my stomach. Just that quickly, I was smiling with my eyes closed, hand on top of his.

  For the first time in California since I’d been here, it was starting to get really cold, so cuddling up with him was something I looked forward to every day.

  “How did you feel with your first one?”

  He stopped kissing my shoulder and arm, and paused for a little bit.

  “Well, my first one was when I was eight, and I was a kid, so I felt grown as hell after I did it. But then when I started banging, and actually saw a bullet from my gun hit this dude in the chest and make him collapse, it was weird. I wasn’t sad or anything like that, but I did think about it a lot. Over time I got used to it, and I was hanging around niggas who killed all day so, my small sliver of guilt faded pretty quickly.”

  “I see.”

  “You were defending yourself.”

  “No, he was on the floor when I did it, Shai.”

  “So, you’d rather go back in time and let Erynne go alone? I mean, I wished y’all would have called me or some shit, so that I could have taken care of it, but I admit that you being gangsta is kind of sexy.” He bit my ear, making me chuckle.

  “I’d rather her not have ever even dated that nigga.” I looked over my shoulder at his handsome face and questioned, “Did your friends handle everything okay?”

  “Yeah, got rid of the guns and cleaned the house out. All for a hundred dollars, pills, weed, and some drank,” he said as he grinned. He had such a warm beautiful grin even though he was crazy as a Betsy bug.

  “I hope they knew what they were doing then. You know the saying, cheap usually means bad quality.”

  “Nah, they been doing the shit for years. Never been caught up either.”

  I nodded, feeling at ease upon him confirming. Turning my back to him again, I closed my eyes, basking in the sheets and the heater he’d turned on earlier. His hands moved up and down my hip, before he caressed my thighs, making a moan slip through my lips unintentionally.

  “Jude is a pimp,” I blurted.

  “What’s new?” He chuckled. “Been told you that nigga be selling bitches. Especially now that I’m more in tune with the industry, I hear the shit all the time. Them niggas know that it’s only certain bitches though, because they knew damn well you wasn’t out there like that. Shit, I’ve been waiting for a reason to stomp Jude’s ass out.”

  “Not even. I’m gonna find a new manager. My contract will be up in two months, thankfully.”

  “You better find a new one.”

  Before I could say anything, Mischief turned me onto my back, spread my legs roughly, and slipped his fingers inside of me.

  ***

  The next morning…

  I woke up expecting to see Mischief next to me, but he was gone already. Grabbing my phone from the dresser, I saw it was 9:30 a.m., and last night he said he had to be in the studio by 7 a.m. I shook my head at myself at the fact that I’d slept through him getting ready and leaving.

  I clutched my stomach because I was so hungry that it was starting to hurt. The past two days I’d been trying to eat the same amount as I did before I was pregnant, but every time I woke up, I had some serious hunger pains. I was just gonna go back to giving in and eating whatever the fuck I craved, but work out a few times a week like my doctor suggested.

  Standing up, I went into Mischief’s kitchen and smiled at the plate covered with foil, and a Post-It with my name on it. Peeling back the foil, I saw he’d made me French toast, eggs, bacon, and seasoned breakfast potatoes. It was so funny, because I was sure if I told someone he did stuff like this, they wouldn’t even believe me. My baby was sweet when he wanted to be.

  As I stuffed my face with the food, a text from Cassie came through.

  Cassie: Here is his mom’s number. Kordell said he’d give it to me and I could do what I wanted with it, but he wasn’t gonna give it to you himself out of respect for his brother. :)

  I chuckled.

  Me: Lol. Thanks.

  I’d tried getting Mischief’s mom’s number from him, saying I just wanted to meet her, but he basically told me hell no. I had no other way to get it because for one, Chaz didn’t have it, he said, and I didn’t know where she lived. Mischief didn’t want me having anything to do with her, and I didn’t want shit to do with her either, but I did want to whoop her ass for keeping me from my man, and for being a damn pedophile.

  Every day I contemplated whether or not I should fight her, considering the fact that I was carrying and in the most sensitive term too. She wasn’t worth me losing another baby, but she just had to get fucked up.

  After I finished my food, I brushed, flossed, and rinsed with Listerine, before taking a nice hot bubble bath. When I got out, I rubbed myself down in body butter, and then wrapped up in a towel before going into Mischief’s bedroom. I dialed the number Cassie sent to me, and waited impatiently as the line trilled.

  “Hello?” she answered, Spanish accent thick. The few times I’d met her it was nearly undetectable, so it threw me off hearing her sound so foreign. “Hola?” she questioned, this time in Spanish because I guess she thought I didn’t understand her English greeting.

  “Hi, Mrs. Benjamin, how are you?”

  “I’m fine who is this?” She ran all of her words together, obviously anxious to find out who I was. I could tell she wasn’t in the mood to talk to me, whoever I was.

  “This is Laine, Shai’s girlfriend.” Silence. “Mrs. Benjamin?”

  “Yes, I’m here, honey. What do you want?”

  She spoke so quickly, making it very apparent she was annoyed by me and not concerned about my reason for calling.

  “Well, as you know or may not know, I’m having his baby, and I think we should resolve any issues we may have with one another.”

  “I don’t have any issues with you.”

  “You told the hospital staff not to let me see Shai for the whole week and a half that he was in there.” I tried to keep my tone calm.

  “Well, yes… but that was because he didn’t need anything distracting him. He got shot nine times, and he didn’t need too much company.”

  “I’m his girlfriend.”

  “Exactly, you are not his wife.” Again, her accent was heavy and her tone was laced with attitude.

  Smiling to myself so that I could remain tranquil, I took a deep breath and said, “Anyway, I think we should meet up and have lunch or something. Shai and I will be married one day, and are already in the process of having a child, so I think you and I should be cordial.”

  “Did my baby put you up to this?”

  “I think we both know the answer to that. He’d rather me act like you didn’t exist.”

  She was quiet, and I guess what I’d said had hurt her feelings, but that was my intention anyway so again, I was smiling.

  “I guess having lunch with you is better than nothing, but if something more interesting comes up, like watching paint dry, I may have to cancel.”

  Laughing and sighing because I wanted to choke this bitch, I nodded to myself.

  “How about we meet at—”

  “Mr. Chows at 4 p.m. I will make the reservation so don’t be late. It’s out here in Beverly Hills. I don’t want to have to drive far, especially not to Compton.”

  All I heard after that was the dial tone.

  ***

  I entered Mr. Chows wearing white skinny jeans, white heels, and a white tube top. It was pretty nippy outside, but coming from Chicago, this was nothing to me. I scanned the restaurant until I saw Blanca, Mischief’s mother, sitting at a table looking younger than me. She was wearing a red pantsuit, and her long brown hair was in a straight back ponyta
il.

  “Hello,” I came to the table and sat down.

  Her eyes moved from the top of my head down to my feet, as I pulled the chair out and sat down in it.

  “Pregnant? How many months?” she chuckled as if she just knew I was lying about the baby to trap her son.

  “Just turned three months.”

  She raised both eyebrows as a waiter appeared to take our drink order. Once they walked away, I turned to face her, not really sure where to go with things. I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.

  “My son doesn’t do well with relationships.” She laughed. “Was probably a bad idea getting pregnant by him. And now that he’s famous pretty much, he’s really going to act up.”

  “I’m not worried. He loves me and I have him right where I want him,” I said to upset her.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know.”

  “I just hope you’re right, because they’ll be no turning back once you have that baby. And I will not be stuck with it while you try to chase him.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to be around the baby at all, especially if it’s a little boy. You know, with your track record and all.”

  The waiter set down our drinks and took our order. I got the Beijing Chicken just because it was the only thing that didn’t seem too out there, and Blanca got the Sea Bass. I wasn’t too sure if we’d get to the eating part though.

  Once the waiter left, she inquired, “What do you mean with my track record?”

  “Oh, you like to have sex with little boys.”

  “That is not true!” she whispered harshly, banging her fist onto the table. “I don’t know what that boy told but it never happened.” Her extremely shaky handpicked her cocktail up as she put it to her lips. “He’s mistaken, that’s all.”

  “Mistaken how?” I cocked my head, drinking some of my ice water.

  “I don’t know, alright! He thinks these things happened to him and he doesn’t know what he’s…” she exhaled. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I was a good mother to him! To them all! It is their father they should blame for whatever problems they have!” Her accent was showing out.

  “So you never took him to a motel and—”

  “You know what, fuck you bitch.” She threw her cloth napkin down onto the table and quickly shot up from her seat, grabbing her red Chanel purse and storming towards the door.

  I dropped a twenty on the table, hoping it was enough to cover her cocktail, and then followed her out the door. I wasn’t done with her ass yet.

  “You’re sick and you need help!” I barked as soon as we got outside.

  “You do not know what I need! I am just fine!” She lit her cigarette and started to walk off.

  “You are attracted to your son!”

  “Fuck you!” She turned to face me so quickly, that I stumbled back a little and waved away the smoke she’d talked into my face. “He is my son that I carried around in my body, and I will do what I please with him! And whatever I did to him, he liked it! I’m sure much more than he likes what he does with you!”

  I couldn’t believe what was coming out of her sick mouth. He was a little boy and her child, someone she was supposed to protect, yet she forced him to do sick shit against his will.

  “You’re a disgusting ass bitch!”

  WHAM!

  She slapped me hard as hell, making my face turn to the side and my cheek sting.

  WHAM!

  I turned back slowly to face her, and punched her right in the face. Her head flew back, and she dropped her cigarette to cradle her bleeding nose as she backed away.

  “No, don’t back away now, bitch! You wanna fight let’s fight!”

  WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

  I punched her in the face again, causing her to fall to the floor in the sitting position. I then slapped her as hard as I could, making her screech, and her ponytail loosen. Another slap I sent across her face made her head go the other way.

  “Okay! Okay!” she cried, shielding her face. “No mas! No more!” she sobbed so hard her body shook.

  For some reason, I began to feel sorry for her. Why the fuck did I feel sorry for her? Was it the pregnancy hormones? I think maybe because she was sick in the head; a mental case.

  “Is everything alright?” Someone from inside Mr. Chow’s came outside.

  “Yes, everything is okay,” I replied, nodding. He stared down at a crying Blanca for a little longer, and then he went back inside. “Hey, I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to help her up.

  I got her to her feet, and she snatched from me before storming off. I watched her until she disappeared, and then went to get in my own car feeling like shit.

  When I got to my apartment in West Hollywood, I took my heels off as soon as I closed the door behind myself. Going into my bedroom, I jumped out of my skin damn near when I saw Mischief sitting on the chair in my room, fuming.

  “Hey, baby… is everything okay?”

  “Close the fucking door,” he spoke lowly. To say I was scared was definitely an understatement. Swallowing hard, I shut the door as he rose to his feet, looking as tall as a skyscraper building. “Fuck is wrong with you, Laine?”

  “Wh-what did I do?”

  “This!” he hollered, showing me a picture of his mother’s face. Little snitch.

  “She hit me first!” I started to cry like a little child. Damn, being pregnant, I could cry at the drop of a dime.

  “Why were you even out with her? I told yo’ ass I didn’t want you around her but you just had to take yo’ ass behind my back and do some stupid shit!”

  “She hurt you and I—”

  “I am a man!!!” he roared, and I swear I shit myself. “I don’t need you or any fucking body fighting my damn battles! That shit happened a long time ago and I have to get over it and move the fuck on! She ain’t right in the head so I keep my distance! What if she had have caused you to miscarry, huh? Is my sick ass mama and what she did to me more important than our child!”

  “No! No!” I sobbed, wiping my face.

  “This shit you pulled was stupid as fuck! Beating her ass ain’t gon’ do shit, Laine! You did that and now what, huh? That don’t erase what the fuck she did to me!”

  “Shai—” I reached for him.

  “Don’t touch me.” He moved back, shocking the hell out of me.

  “Shai, stop! Don’t leave!” I tried to grab on him when he moved around me. “I’m sorry! I was just angry with her for multiple reasons! Shai!”

  “Let my fucking shirt go, Laine,” he stated dryly, looking off, avoiding eye contact with me. “I said to let it go.”

  “We’re not broken up,” I shook my head, tears drenching my face.

  “I just want you to let my fucking shirt go so I can leave.” He was calm, but his face was knotted up.

  “Shai—”

  “I told you that shit in confidence, and you run off like some hood rat and fight her for it! Let go of me!!!” He yanked my wrists from his shirt, and gently moved me out of the way before storming out into the living room.

  I rushed after him, but he left too quickly so I opened the door back and started after him. We made it to his car, and he hopped in, locking the doors before I could get in as well. I hit his window with my hand, just before he peeled off down my street, leaving me there on the sidewalk and barefoot.

  My breathing became labored like I was having a panic attack, so I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, attempting to calm myself down as tears skied down my cheeks. My chest rose and fell rapidly, as my skin got hotter and hotter. I took a seat on the sidewalk, and just sat there trying to control my breathing, hand still over my mouth, and tears still coming down abundantly.

  This was one of the worst nights of my life…

  Ishmael Myers

  I'm just young and I'm reckless, I'm just on for my section. I’m just out here on top speed with my top down and I'm revin’…

  I
bobbed my head to “Ocean Views” by Nipsey Hussle, as I dipped through the streets to my mother’s house. I hadn’t seen her in a while, because all I’d been focused on was managing my cousins. And all I did with my spare time, which wasn’t much, was chill with Kady’s difficult ass.

  I ain’t gon’ lie, I was starting to like her and I hadn’t expected that. I was just talking to her mainly because she was fine as hell, low-key funny, and I wanted to fuck eventually. I didn’t give a fuck about her having a dude and going back and forth between wanting him and not wanting his ass. But now, a nigga got irritated as fuck every time she brought his ass up, and I ain’t even want to be like that. Ever since Sammi, I wasn’t trying to take no bitch seriously, but I was fasho developing feelings for Kady’s sexy ass.

  Pulling into my parents’ driveway, I changed gears and shut the engine off. I knew my dad wasn’t home because he rarely ever was. Nigga stayed working. Ever since I could remember, that nigga was always breaking his back day and night to bring home the money. If you wanted his ass to be there for some shit, you had to let him know a month in advance. The upside was that my mom and I were all taken care of and I didn’t ever need shit, but we missed having him around. I needed a dad, and my uncle Melvin damn sure didn’t make the cut. Also, my mom needed her husband, but couldn’t quite have him when she wanted. She used to always say she wished my uncle hadn’t given my pops that startup money, because he wouldn’t have been as successful, aka busy as fuck.

  “Ma!” I called out, entering her nice ass crib in Beverly Hills.

  I missed living in this house sometimes because it was reminder of when life got easier. Living in Compton was never the move, especially because we mainly depended on my uncle Melvin, and he’d moved us around a lot, but within the same city of Compton. We lived on Spruce, then a street over on Maple, and then on Cedar before he brought us all the way out here where the rich folk reside. That area in Compton though was heavily gang populated, which is obviously how Mischief ended up getting put on to TTP.