Arm Candy

by T. C. Littles

  My fist landed dead in the center of his face and came back speckled with blood. I’d cracked the skin between his eyes open to the white meat. My knuckles were throbbing from connecting with his bone.

  “Aw hell naw, dis shit crazy than a motherfucka on da real,” Fresh laughed out in the background. “Ay, dog, ya better keep cool, ’cause fella right here lookin’ like he’ll leave ya in a body bag or some shit like dat.”

  Fresh shook his head at Johnie with a hood smirk on his face. Lighting a blunt up, he took a seat in my chair and played back the track he’d just been spitting. Yeah, Fresh was a cool dude. There was no question about that.

  Through the blood trickling down Johnie’s face, I could see the rage he still had inside for me. I was sure it was no match for the aggression I was ready to work out on his ass, though. This nigga had gone against the grain in the worst way. I could tell he was debating leaping toward me but thought not only twice but a third time, too. That punch to the face must’ve knocked some sense into his high-yellow ass. Looking back and forth between me and Fresh, he swallowed his pride then walked out of the studio without mumbling a word. I’d won the war this time, but me and that cat were gonna scrap again. I knew it.

  “Yo, Fresh, that right there wasn’t even cool, but ol’ boy drew blood a few days ago that required me to step out of character,” I began explaining to him. I didn’t want us to start out on the wrong foot.

  “Oh, we tight, brody. Hunnad grand on that. It’s good ta know ya know how ta jump gutter on a nigga. I’m ’bout making bread, not jumping in niggas’ beefs. Dat shit ain’t got nuthin’ ta do wit’ me.”

  “I respect that. Good looking. And on that note, let’s get back to laying that track.”

  He jumped back in the booth, and I stepped right back into my producer shoes like nothing happened. This cat made my job easy by doing all the work. I was angry at myself for letting my personal drama interfere with this new business venture, because quiet as it’s kept, both Samira and Johnie should’ve been old news the moment Jamila let the cat out of the bag.

  I kept blinking out between lines and verses, thinking about Johnie and what he’d said about Samira being community pussy. The more his words played over in my head, the angrier I got. Samira wasn’t supposed to spread her legs and give away my goods no matter how much dirt I did with bitches in the streets.

  I was tensing back up at the thought of putting hands on Johnie again. It was a good thing Fresh came to grind and was passionate, because he was the only reason we finished the song so quickly.

  Johnie

  With a busted face and hurt pride, I rushed out of the studio with vengeance in my footsteps. If K.P. thought this was the last he was gonna see of me, he was more brain-dead than his ditzy-ass wife. She’d made him, and I’d destroy him, just not by the power of my fist. I wasn’t a fighter. I was a singer and a ladies’ man.

  Whipping out of the parking lot, headed home, I was about to put together a revenge song so cold it would demolish him in the music world. I hurried and accepted all of my pending followers so I’d have more of a platform to clown in front of. Since K.P. wanted to play hardball, I’d give him the fight of his life.

  I’d shown up at the studio to flush out a few of the songs I’d remixed from earlier, and I ended up running into him surprisingly. The tension in his voice was immediately heard loud and clear on my voicemail, but I hadn’t expected him to ambush me on some punk shit. He and whoever ol’ boy was who was rapping over my beat were both gonna get it on my comeback, believe that.

  * * *

  I went extra hard on a diss track, putting all of King’s business out there without saying his name. Once it got a buzz on the internet, I knew people would start questioning what ho-ass nigga I was talking about then go crazy finding out it was him. The song was like Usher’s song “You Got it Bad” from back in the day. Hopefully, cats would want follow-ups from my shot at stardom, too. This was a win-win situation for me because the shine would be on me by the time I dropped my album. King might’ve wanted to scrap with me like an animal, but I was mentally focused on ruining his entire brand.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Samira

  “I’m not going to sit on this phone listening to you blame that boy you are foolishly attracted to for all your misfortune, Samira. I raised you better than to be some man’s doormat, chile. For some reason, you like what doesn’t make sense. I’m so angry I can’t even talk to you.” My mother sounded gravely disappointed.

  She’d been berating me for the last thirty minutes straight about King, their house, my choices, and how this was the final straw. It was so bad that I withheld the fact that I was married. I took the tongue-thrashing with a lump in my chest. They weren’t wrong for refusing to help me any further, since I’d let burn the first house they purchased as a newlywed couple.

  “Well, Samira, you’ve ruined your mother’s day and probably her whole week with this devastating news. I’m not that thrilled with you myself. That house had a lot of sentimental value for us both.” My father sounded more disappointed than my mom did. “But you knew that and didn’t care.”

  “I did know, and I did care. I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I sympathetically apologized. “Please know that my intentions were never to hurt you or Mom. I know I’ve frustrated you over and over again by not following your advice, but this is the worst. I know it’ll be hard to come back from this.”

  “Quit with the speech, Samira. We’ve heard it time and time again since you’ve met this boy. We can’t control who you love, but we can control our actions. Giving you a safety net is like us helping you support him. That scruffy failure of a man met you with nothing but lint in his pockets, and you cleaned him up. You busted your ass working at the hospital and have even screwed up your credit with all those student loans just to help him become a record producer. Ha! I don’t know where we went wrong raising you, but we’ll be right from this point on. Whatever monies are paid out by the insurance company for personal property within the house will be yours. From there you can start a new life. The payout for the structure will be ours.”

  I’d always been a daddy’s girl and spoiled rotten by him. I knew he was hurt behind my behavior with King. He always taught me that a man was supposed to provide for, protect, and cherish his special woman, and here I was accepting everything otherwise. They were teaching me an ultimate lesson by cutting the cord. I’d never not had the help of my parents, so who knew how this shit was about to go.

  My mom didn’t get back on the phone, and my dad chewed me out for only a few additional minutes before ending the call. I knew they’d be infuriated. That’s why I tried avoiding the call altogether. Now that it was said and done, all I could hope was that the insurance company would replace all of my and King’s personal property. The premiums had always been paid on time and not a cent short, so maybe they’d issue a check as quickly as they’d cashed ’em.

  Besides the checks I’d get from working, I wouldn’t have anything else to start over with. I only had about ten grand set aside. Saving money hadn’t been possible since K.P. was always needing shit. The music business he was taking so seriously better start popping enough to carry more weight. ’Cause without my parents, things were about to change.

  Ripping my clothes off, I jumped in the bed, quickly snatching the covers over my head. I felt an anxiety attack coming on. My whole life was in shambles because of my addiction to King. This shit was déjà vu. I was just crying in a hotel room, trying to sort my life out, and now I was crying because I didn’t have a life to sort out. I didn’t have a house, a car, or the backing of my parents to hold me down. I let my tears soak the pillow and my cries fill the hotel suite.

  King had been staying here to supposedly clear his mind, but he was the one responsible for all this bullshit. Both hurt and anger consumed me. I hated being stuck while he was free to run the streets. He still had a vehicle, wasn’t out of much with regard to the house ’cause he hadn
’t invested much, and was gonna run to fuck Rayna as soon as she healed. It was time for me to come up out my private pity party, because he wasn’t living in one.

  Instead of calling King to be ignored again, I grabbed the complimentary notepad along with the pen off the nightstand and began writing down a task list to complete in the morning. So far, I’d plotted to call a claim in on my car and the renter’s insurance I’d been paying, call my job to pick up a few more hours once I returned, and call the financial institutions to reissue my credit and debit cards. I also was gonna inquire about the process for getting a small loan just in case I ended up needing one. The final thing I did was think about where I wanted to live. There was no way I was staying within the confines of this room longer than I needed to. Something was about to give big time.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tiana

  Me and my dude had just gotten done smashing smoked sausages, French fries, and damn near a whole pitcher of grape Kool-Aid. Our bellies were on swoll as we lounged across the couch watching back-to-back episodes of Power on Hulu. Me and Deon had been off and on for almost a year, but he’d only been acting right for the last three months.

  When he was lucky enough to stay out of jail, Deon had commitment issues when it came to moving out of his momma’s project unit and at least into his own. So, whenever I got tired of him lying up in my shit without lifting a finger or offering rent, I started tripping. That’s when he got to cheating. I couldn’t tell you how many hoes’ heads I’d had to knock off behind him dipping his dick behind my back.

  This was the longest we’d gone without repeating the cycle, and he was talking a good game about getting his own spot. The only reason I didn’t invite him here was because Rayna was my roommate. But if things kept going downhill with that bitch, she’d get put out, and I’d be on his back about him staying booed up with me twenty-four seven.

  “Come here, girl, and show daddy some special attention.” Deon pulled his shorts and drawers down.

  I eagerly slid off my clothes, ready to oblige. His dick was still limp, so I knew what had to be done first. Dropping to my knees, I put my head into his lap and put my mouth to work. I slurped, sucked, and tugged at his balls until he was hard enough to fuck me right. That’s when I climbed on him like a cum-chaser and rode him like a horse.

  Deon loved for me to get freaky, and I loved him giving it to me rough. He yanked my hair, gripped my neck firmly, bounced me up and down on his manhood, and then spread my booty cheeks as far apart as they could go so he could drive his dick in farther. Deon was hitting spots within my coochie that I didn’t even know existed. I loved when he was a thug with my pussy.

  Rayna walked in, but I didn’t let that stop my hips from rotating or my pussy lips from clamping down on Deon’s dick. She could keep it moving if she had a problem and address it with me later. Getting my nut was the one and only thing I cared about. I heard her smack her lips then stomp up the stairs, but I never heard her speak a word.

  Five minutes later, my thighs were sore from all the riding I’d done while my coochie was rubbed raw. He’d rammed me relentlessly to the point my period was probably gonna come down early. We were both sweaty and sticky from cum. I peeled myself off him and trailed my happy, naked ass upstairs to get our shower going. Deon was right behind me but was sliding on his shorts. Rayna was used to seeing me nude, but seeing my nigga wasn’t an option.

  Rayna poked her head out her bedroom door. “Um, Tiana, we need to talk.”

  “Can it wait? I’m kinda still in the middle of something.” I gave her a dumb look because she should’ve picked up on what was going on.

  She slammed her door then turned her music up even louder than it already was instead of giving me a verbal response. I didn’t care about that petty shit. The louder Future rapped meant the louder I could moan while me and Deon got down with some seconds. So hey, she was doing us both a favor.

  I got the shower temperature just right, climbed in, and waited on him to join me.

  * * *

  Deon didn’t end up leaving for a few hours. We finished the whole first season of Power and even grubbed on some fried chicken I ordered from the “you buy, we fry” store. Rayna never came out of her room or turned the music down. I did smell some strong-ass loud lingering from upstairs, though. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten word about the anonymous complaint I’d called into the social worker.

  Once he was out the door to deliver a few dope packages, I eased up the stairs to my bedroom and got prepped for the talk Rayna wanted to have. There was no way of me knowing if she and I were gonna beef since we almost scrapped in Cameron’s backseat. So I wasn’t about to take any chances. I pulled my weave into a ponytail, replaced my tiny booty shorts with a pair of leggings, and put a sports bra on underneath my spaghetti-string shirt. If Rayna wanted to pop off, I’d fa’sho clap back.

  Music was still blaring from her room when I knocked on the door. “Yeah,” she called out, turning the sound down.

  “Deon just left. Are you ready to talk or nah?”

  Swinging the door open, she let out an exasperated breath. One look at her face and I knew she wasn’t the tough girl she’d played the role of earlier. Rayna’s pitiful, puppy-dog expression reminded me of how our dynamic started in the first place. Her eyes were red, puffy, and full of tears. There were even dark circles around them and black bags drooping beneath. Part of me felt bad for pulling that snake move on her earlier, but the other part of me was satisfied she was broke down. All I wanted in the first place was for Rayna to be grateful for all I’ve done to hold her down.

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you in there having an emotional breakdown over King or some shit?”

  “Nope. I haven’t even talked to him since the phone call in Cameron’s car. He hasn’t texted or nothing, not even about K.J.” She sniffed.

  “That’s ’cause he’s busy consoling that bitch and licking his own wounds from us clapping back so hard. That nigga probably lost a lot of shit behind that fire,” I chuckled. “He’ll get over it though, so don’t trip. I’m sure that uppity-ass wife of his has insurance.”

  “You’re probably right, T, but he could’ve at least called to check on his son. Shit is crazy. You don’t know the half of it.” She shook her head then began breaking down some more. “A lot of stuff popped off at the hospital earlier, and long story short, the social worker got an anonymous call that I was an unfit mother. She won’t release K.J. into my care until she investigates the complaint.”

  “What? Are you serious? Get the fuck out of here.” I acted shocked when really I was only playing it off.

  “Yup, I’m serious. It’s fucked up, right? I’ve been down in the dumps ever since I met with the lady. I swear I’m tired of going through bullshit. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.”

  “I’m sure everything with that social worker will die down. Try to stay cool. K.J. will be home in no time, crying and screaming and keeping us both up all night.” I tried to lighten the mood some.

  Rayna wasn’t acting like she knew I was the caller, and I wanted to keep it that way. The only way to do that was to manipulate her and the situation. Since she and King weren’t gonna reconcile anyway, I threw heat his way by suggesting him as the culprit.

  “Maybe that’s why your funky-ass baby daddy ain’t called. Do you think he could’ve been the one who flagged you since you threatened him with child support?”

  “Wow! That never even crossed my mind. I know you’re gonna call me dumb, but I don’t think he’d be that coldhearted toward me. King knows his role in all of this drama. I just can’t see him doing something as foul as trying to take my son from me. At least I don’t think so.” She was trying to reason with me while convincing herself. It was evident in the tone of her voice that my suggestion made her question herself. “But his arrogant-ass wife, she has every reason in the world to.”

  “I swear, if that broad started this bullshit with K.J., it’s go
nna be me and her but mostly me. You won’t be able to even calm me down, Rayna! My nephew don’t deserve to be in the middle of y’all drama or raised in a foster home behind ol’ girl being jealous. If that bitch couldn’t have his baby as long as they’ve been kicking it, that’s her dumb-ass fault.” I was going in.

  Rayna was eating my reaction up and should’ve been. I was acting my ass off, to the point where I was actually starting to believe myself.

  “You always have my back, T. And I’m gonna need you to keep holding me down until this investigation is closed. I owe you an apology about earlier. I was pissed, but I do appreciate you.” She seemed sincere.

  “Don’t worry about it, sis. Whatever you need, I’ve got you no doubt. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. So that’s my bad for flexing on you in Cam’s car,” I apologized back. If only we could’ve had this conversation earlier.

  No doubt I was foul for lying in her face about being the one who was making her life more miserable, but I had to do it. I’d gone too far to go back. At this point, I sorta felt like scum ’cause I’d let a silly argument between us put K.J. in harm’s way. It might’ve been too late for me to right the wrong. The only thing I could do was play along with everything she needed me to do with the social worker.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Rayna

  Tiana and I sat up talking like we used to back in the day. I cried on her shoulder about my whole relationship with King, the drama with Samira, and how afraid I was of the social worker finding me unfit. I knew she said she’d help me, but I couldn’t help but be fearful. Fuck all the drama I’d endured since delivering him. The only thing that mattered was that my li’l man came home.

  When Deon came back from selling his stash of pure white weight, Tiana excused herself but not before giving me a Valium. I eagerly popped the pill, praying it would stop my constant crying spells and anxiety attacks. At one point, it felt like my chest was caving in.