Arm Candy

by T. C. Littles

  The peaceful and serene feeling I’d been missing since leaving K.J. was returned as soon as I sat in the rocker with him in my arms. I watched him with love. I was proud of him being strong and resilient already at such a young age. As he chugged down the bottle I was feeding him, he was looking up like he recognized me as his dad. I found a new motivation to work things out with Samira. I wanted to give K.J. a little sister or brother to grow up with, bond with, and have as a partner in this world like me and Samira didn’t have. I wanted all of us to be a family.

  “Wow, you’ve got some nerve to have ya black ass up in here after you left his moms bleeding on the pavement.” Tiana came into the nursery, disturbing my visiting time. If she was here, that meant Rayna was here, which meant hella drama for me.

  “Not here and not now,” I cut her off. “If you think I’m about to argue with you over my son, you’ve got the game twisted.” I rudely dismissed her then gave my attention back to Junior.

  After sticking up her middle finger and mouthing the words “Fuck you,” she stormed out of the nursery just as quickly as she’d come in. That was just the calm before the storm.

  Thus far, Rayna hadn’t pulled her baby momma card on me. However, after what went down earlier with Samira, I knew she’d be trying to trump me as soon as the doctor got done stitching her up. Once I finished coddling K.J. until he dozed back off to sleep, I placed him back in the crib then snuck out. It might’ve been a punk move, but I wasn’t trying to get into any more escalated incidents at the hospital.

  Rayna

  Once again, had it not been for Tiana coming to the rescue over some shit that involved King, I would’ve been up shit’s creek without a paddle. The doctor said the slit to my incision didn’t do much damage but would extend my healing process after giving birth. It didn’t take Dr. Wang long to disinfect the area, stitch me again where I was sliced, and chew me out for not following the after-care directions.

  I took Dr. Wang’s words with a golf ball stuck in my throat. It was true I should’ve been preparing for K.J. coming home instead of fighting Samira, but if she came back for round two, I’d be willing and waiting to swing. Samira and I were officially enemies.

  “Girl . . .” Tiana frantically burst through the door then covered her mouth. “Oh, my bad, I didn’t know you were in here, Doctor.” She fell back but kept her eyes locked with mine.

  With Tiana shaking like she had a nervous condition, it was hard focusing on Dr. Wang thoroughly going over the same suggestions for a healthy recovery that I ignored the first time. After he asked me if I needed to speak to a social worker and I declined, I was willing to play whatever positive role he needed me to play to not be caught up in the system. I wasn’t trying to have K.J. taken from me by someone snooping around my crib like I was unfit.

  “All of this extra nonsense because King’s wife can’t accept his real family,” I blurted out, making Dr. Wang’s brow rise.

  Once he wrote my scripts for some additional antibiotics and pain meds, he walked out to get me a referral list for some psychiatrists he thought would be beneficial for me to see. I didn’t have a chance to react to the hurdles I’d have to jump through before Tiana exploded.

  “Yo’ punk-ass baby daddy is in the nursery with K.J., Rayna. Get up so you can get down there to check his ass.” She rushed to my side in an effort to help me up.

  “I can’t, Tiana. You heard what the doctor said.” I fell back, gripping her hand with anger. “But trust and believe him and ol’ girl are gonna feel it hard when I heal.”

  I wanted to react. Matter of fact, I was itching, too. The hotter I got, the more flushed red I became. My temper was flared to the point of my skin burning. King had me all the way fucked up, him and his wannabe wife who had one coming.

  “I can’t blame you for that, and I support you for making sure li’l man can come home.” She fell back from giving me a hard time. “However, I’m on their head like a savage before you heal. I don’t like how that uppity bitch showed up trying to stunt or how that ho-ass, beat-bopping flop artist left you on the pavement. You know how we roll in the PJ’s when an insider tries to get tough in our territory. Them two ain’t did nothing but up the ante in our revenge,” she spoke sweetly, exposing her hot-and-cold personality.

  Caught between a rock and a hard place, I couldn’t pop off the way I wanted to on King. He deserved to feel my wrath in the worst way, but I was already under the microscope in the hospital. Any false move I made that presented an unsafe environment for K.J. was only a lose-lose situation for me.

  Nonetheless, just like Samira was gonna catch her payback in the streets because my law wasn’t the same law as the cops, King was added to my list too. The quickest way to hurt a nigga’s heart was to consistently dig his pockets raw. He could play Daddy all day long as long as my checks rolled in. As soon as I could, I’d be down to Michigan’s child support office, Friend of the Court.

  “Right now, Tiana, can you just help me down the hall to my son?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  King

  My luck must’ve been looking up, because I escaped the hospital without having a run-in with Rayna. I knew without a doubt our relationship was about to take a negative spiral downward, especially with Tiana’s hateful ass running the show. If I could still wrap Rayna around my finger long enough, my plan was still to move her up out of the hood, more so now than ever. I still desired to be the type of father Junior could count on, no matter how many times I failed these chicks on the streets.

  I checked my phone and saw Samira hadn’t returned any of my calls, and then I tried hitting her back once again. After getting her voicemail before it had a chance to ring, I knew it was still off, and wherever she was, she didn’t want to be bothered. To lay it on thicker for my case, I left another message dedicating my love. In time, if she hadn’t already, she’d receive my messages and call back.

  Turning the radio up, I rode back through the streets of Detroit and past my house to see if the scenery had changed. Everything was the same, which meant Samira hadn’t been home. The uneasy feeling had me wrecked. So much so that I barely recognized a beat I’d made playing through the speakers.

  Simultaneously, my phone began blowing up with notifications that another K.P.-made track was on 107.5. The DJ made good on his word, so all I needed was for the public to receive it well, therefore blowing it up.

  When I pulled up to the room, I sent Jamila a text message of where I was staying and then went in to blow a blunt and wind down. Too much shit was heavy on my mind to wait on her to arrive before starting. That’s when my day got even worse. Not only was our record live on the radio, but so was Johnie behind my back.

  Johnie

  “What motivates you to write? What hits are in the making for you and King the Producer?”

  Ignoring the vibration coming from the phone on my hip, I stayed mentally focused on taking care of business. “It’s nothing but fire coming from our camp.” I leaned up to the mic. “We’ve been putting in hours at the studio working on a few love tracks to help the fellas get the ladies wet,” I spoke like a true debonair pimp. I used whatever tactics at my disposal to sell records, make fans, and leave lasting impressions.

  “Ahh, so are you saying the brothers around the city are falling short? Come on, man, kick it to me. Spit a verse to teach a lesson and make the ladies weak right quick.” The disc jockey signaled for me to sing a rhyme.

  I wasn’t here to be a show piece. I was here because King said he was dropping off a few tracks for 107.5 to play. The snake in me, of course, wanted to jump on the opportunity to get some solo shine time.

  Not long after me and King hung up, Jamila played me to the left, and Samira fell back foolish in love. I made my way to the station to try my luck for a spur-of-the-moment interview. It didn’t take much persuasion. Not only was the host a fan of our work, but he also respected our grind as artists, having been one himself.

  I sang a few verses during
the show, took a few calls, and even answered a few questions for the host. All in all, it was a hella good look for me, and even my personal Instagram page friend requests went up. Of course, I made sure to speak about K.P. and our plans as a group to do it big. Looking like a snake out in the open could ruin me. Yet and still, promoting myself and the talent I had to offer a major record company was my first, last, and unspoken goal.

  K.P. could keep his pussy problems to himself, including Samira’s confused ass. I had fun hitting her, no doubt, and I even thought we had a good thing going for more sessions of fucking for fun. But since that was a no-go, I had to fuck him out of something he loved just as much if not more: music. The game was on, much hotter than before.

  King

  I was in a complete trance. 107.5 was blasting through the speakers as I listened to Johnie’s interview. Every word that he said stuck to my membrane like glue. I was in complete disbelief that he was doing an interview without my knowledge. Yeah, he name-dropped a few times and spoke on us as a team, but any real nigga, especially me, saw that Johnie’s hand was exposed. Not wanting the disc jockey to sense sloppiness on my end, I stuck to calling Johnie’s personal phone instead of the radio station, but I didn’t get an answer. As far as I was concerned, bad milk was officially spilled between us.

  When the interview finally closed out and the show went to commercial, I finally shut the car off and made my way into the hotel. Johnie couldn’t continue being an artist under contract with me if he was gonna be making underhanded moves. It wasn’t wrong for him to want to do publicity or represent himself more at venues. The suspicious flag was that we’d kicked it earlier, I’d mentioned the station, but I couldn’t recall hearing him say he had an interview scheduled.

  The more I thought about the questions and answers spat back and forth between him and the disc jockey, the more blurred my judgment became. Popping the cork on my personal bottle of Patrón, I guzzled almost a fourth of the bottle down before taking a breather. I was breaking bread with a dude I barely knew and breeding kids with a chick I’d just begun banging.

  Samira grounded me, and I needed a dose of her badly to get right. She’d help me put things in perspective while helping me clean up the mess I’d allowed to spiral out of control. Before I could get lost in my thoughts about Samira, taps on the door disturbed me. I swung it open to see Jamila standing with a bag in her hand and a slight grin on her face.

  “I hope you’re ready to unwind. I came with goodies.”

  “That’s what’s up. Did you get in touch with Samira?” Jamila didn’t get a chance to get through the door good before I bombarded her with questions. I didn’t care about her li’l stash. I was already turned-up tipsy.

  “Yeah, we spoke for a hot second right after we hung up. She ran some shit down about needing some space to think.” She pulled another bottle of Patrón from the bag. “My suggestion is that you quit worrying about her, though. Take a drink and start celebrating all your hard work. I heard Johnie on the way over.”

  I was already holding on by a thin thread, and something inside of me snapped. “Fuck some goodies. Did you know that grime-ball-ass nigga Johnie was up to that slick shit? Huh? You better start talking, and I want the truth.” Not only was she banging Johnie, but she’d called me with alleged news only days before the interview. I was tired of her holding out on shit she knew. If another thing blew up in my face, I was sure I’d ice a nigga.

  “Um, naw, I didn’t know about the interview, but I did know his ass was shady.” Jamila began dropping the ball.

  “How so? Elaborate.” Clutching my bottle, I swigged a few more sips then took a few steps toward her. “I ain’t got time to get played on my music, Jamila. So whatever you know you better spit it out.”

  She fumbled with the cork to her bottle of Patrón, popped it open, then guzzled down damn near a fourth just as I’d done earlier. Watching her sudden moves to get drunk, I knew the news she was about to drop wasn’t favorable to me.

  “When he was at my house earlier, I went through his phone and saw a bunch of inbox messages to people in the industry. From what I read, he’s been trying to get a solo career jumping. All he needed was a better portfolio, which you helped him with.”

  “Damn.” I shook my head in disbelief. “So I’m not going crazy? This nigga is using my brand to come up.” It’s not like I didn’t know the game could be disloyal and grimy. Cats jump ship all the time to different labels for different perks. Yet and still, me and Johnie were supposed to be on another level and more like friends.

  “That’s not the only thing he’s doing right up under your nose, K.P.” She dropped a not-so-subtle hint that she was hiding something. “I guess you’ve been too caught up with the drama that is your love life.”

  “Cut the introduction to whatever it is you’ve been itching to tell me already, Mila.” I got tired of the cat-and-mouse game. “A nigga has had a real long last couple of days, as you already know. So trying to figure out your riddles is only gonna piss me off further.” I couldn’t continue to beg for her one-up on Johnie.

  “Fine, fuck it! There’s no nice way to tell you about your first hit artist smashing your newlywed wife.” She spat a sentence of words out that crushed my heart.

  “What in the fuck did you say? Say the exact same motherfucking thing you said, but this time, enunciate every damn syllable. I need to be sure I heard you right.” I was seconds away from exploding. No matter how much dirt I’d done in the streets, my manhood wasn’t allowing me to believe I’d been gettin’ played by Johnie and Samira.

  “You heard me, King. Samira and Johnie got down.” This time Jamila spoke confidently. “Matter of fact, I’ll give you a few more details so you can confront them face-to-face and read the truth. When you went to see K.J. be born, they fucked on your living room floor. Your little wifey called me afterward bragging and shit.”

  I looked up between Jamila and the floor. Then Jamila and the door. Then Jamila and my dick. A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to remember either Mira or Johnie giving off clues that they’d been attracted to one another. It was messing me up mentally that I couldn’t remember one solitary time of Samira even giving his joker ass a second glance. And now Jamila was staring me boldly in the face saying I’d been betrayed. Damn, I couldn’t believe Samira had that shit in her.

  The more I tried to put things into perspective and/ or discredit Jamila, Samira’s words from earlier of “not making a man move” and her “finding another nigga” played back. I thought back on the moment in time, wondering if she was parading her trophy right under my nose. If Jamila’s story checked out, by the time I’d conversed with Samira she’d already made the ultimate move by banging my boy. So now was she investing in Johnie like she’d done me? Was that who he got the bright idea from to go behind my back? Nothing was making sense.

  “Hey, K.P., snap out of it.” Jamila snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  I was hot. I didn’t want to snap out of it. I wanted to snap a nigga’s neck, preferably Johnie’s. He’d come to the studio after banging my bitch, grinning all in my face about being brothers. This motherfucker used my connects and probably had Samira dangling on the sideline juicing his ego.

  “King, hello! Damn, if I’d known you were gonna go all traumatic and shit into a mute, I wouldn’t have said anything at all.” Her words were only background noise to the voices in my head.

  In my living room? While my son was struggling to get into this world? While I was going through the worst moments of my life? I thought of him licking, sticking, and pounding Samira with the intentions of filling my shoes. I knew she wasn’t shit to him but a trophy and a flag for him to wave in my face. I didn’t know what he was to her, but I was hoping Samira only used him as a pawn.

  The more Jamila tried getting my attention, the more I focused on what her role in the game could be. “Yo, why in the fuck are you here anyway? What do you get from snitching on ya best friend?”<
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  “The real question is, how much do you appreciate my honesty and loyalty to you?”

  When she saw the confused expression on my face, coupled with my hesitation in answering, she continued. “I mean, come on, King. Don’t play foolish now that the cards on the table. I kept the secret about Rayna being pregnant between us when I could’ve blown your spot up when the trick first posted it on Instagram, but I didn’t. Then when your women crossed paths at Flood’s, I dragged your side chick up out of there without a second blink. I didn’t do that for Samira’s benefit. I did it for yours. It’s been all about you in my mind for a while now.” Jamila confirmed what I’d been wondering off and on for a while.

  I tried warning Samira about keeping female friends too close to her happiness, fortune, and success. As I watched Jamila bite at her bottom lip, trying to read what I was thinking, I thought back to when I told Samira about keeping her around in the first place. Being a dude, I peeped the pettiness that erupted between women. Jamila couldn’t dog Samira enough back in the day for getting with a broke nigga who required cleanup. But her negative judgments tuned into praises the more my music popped off. Samira was too wrapped up in having a friend to cut the strings with the slithering snake. If only I could’ve read my own situation so clear.

  “I think it’s about time I give you exactly what you came here looking for.” I pushed her down onto the bed.

  Her face lit up as she watched me pull my dick from my pants. Before I could attempt to, she ripped her own clothes off then began fingering her coochie. It was a bit too hairy for me to lick, but I fa’damn sure was about to stick it. If Samira wanted to go around fucking my friends, I was gonna fuck hers too. And as an added cherry to place on top of the sundae, she was officially Johnie’s groupie, too.

  “Ahh, yes, King. This is where you belong,” Jamila screamed and moaned when I slipped inside of her raw.