Can I Talk to You (G Street Chronicles Presents)

by Nicole Jackson

“What the fuck?!” Chantez shouted.

  “That’s a baby!” Red exclaimed.

  I finally opened my eyes to look down; sure enough, there was a small fleshy baby hanging out of me. It actually had a head and little hands.

  “Oh my God! Baby, come lay down,” Slim pleaded, as he guided me back to the bed. “Ay, call the ambulance, nigga,” he told to his friend with urgency.

  I was trying to avoid sitting on my baby as I sat on the bed. “Baby, I am so, so, sorry. I had no idea that you were pregnant,” he cried. He was saying all types of shit, but I wasn’t listening. I was in total shock. My periods had been irregular, but I never even thought about the possibility of being pregnant…and this nigga had just killed it!

  Everything was a blur as the paramedics arrived on the scene and took me to the hospital. Chantez was right there with me acting like some sort of caring spouse in front of the doctors. Every time we were left alone, he’d apologize. I didn’t know how to feel. I lost my baby before I even knew it existed. They say that you can’t miss what you never had, but I didn’t know about all that. A huge part of me felt like I’d really taken a tremendous loss.

  I thought that there wasn’t going to be much left to do once I was admitted into the hospital, but I was wrong. It was crazy how I was damn near four months’ pregnant and hadn’t realized it. The baby’s afterbirth was still inside of me and the doctors were having trouble removing it, so I had to undergo a D&C procedure. I had to be put to sleep while they performed the surgery, but I was definitely uncomfortable when I woke up. My womb was extremely sore and it burned like hell when I pissed. Hell, it hurt when I even held my piss to avoid the burning. The guilt was written all over Slim’s face as he sat and watched me endure all of that.

  Eventually, I called my family. A few of my cousins came by to visit during my brief stay in the hospital. My mama came and wanted to know exactly what happened when I lost the baby. Chantez told her that I tripped over some shoes in the middle of the floor, but I could tell that she didn’t believe him. Really it wouldn’t have mattered if he was telling the truth or not because she didn’t like him from the first time she laid eyes on him. When I brought him to our apartment, she said that he seemed sneaky. But then later I got the real reason out of her as to why she didn’t like him. She said that he seemed like the type that attracted a lot of women and couldn’t possibly mean me any good. She claimed that a playboy like him had plenty of women and would only take advantage of me every time that he could. I was listening to her point of view, but couldn’t help but get offended. Why couldn’t any man be genuinely attracted to me and simply want to be my man?

  After spending a day and a half in the hospital, I was released. I was still upset with Slim but I was kind of glad that he’d been there for me. So, when we went home, I just got some rest and didn’t put up a fuss about him having to leave. I couldn’t go to work for the next two weeks and he was right there nursing me back to health.

  Chapter 6

  Keirah

  It had been two months since my miscarriage and my relationship with Chantez had taken a turn. With every day that passed, he became more controlling. Everything was about him or nothing at all. I hadn’t seen my friends in weeks. When I would try to spend some time with them I had to fight it out with him; literally. He called me at work throughout the day to make sure that I was exactly where I claimed to be. He’d show up on my lunch breaks and shit. I was about to lose the last piece of sanity that I had left. The only comfort that I had was Xanax. The pills eased the pain of me losing my baby and dealing with his calculating ways.

  It was sad that shit was so bad at home that I actually started looking forward to going to work every day. It was the only place that gave me a break from him. Even my physical appearance was suffering because of my deteriorating relationship. I hadn’t been to the beauty shop in almost a month and that was unheard of with me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford to pamper myself, but it was easier to deal with Slim while I was less primped up. When I would go out of my way to look nice, he would throw extra shade at me which would lead to a fight and then he’d fuck my shit up anyway. He claimed that I was trying to look good for the next man.

  I was so stressed out that I was losing weight and all my clothes were beginning to sag on me. I think that I was depressed. Slim still went out and hustled, but because he wasn’t on someone’s time clock he would stop and check on me whenever the mood struck him. So I never knew when he’d come home or show up at my job. He’d accused me of flirting with a couple of my co-workers and slapped the hell out of me the minute I made it home for that. He liked to hit me with an open hand because it was less likely to leave a bruise. There were holes in the walls and a couple of the doors throughout the apartment resulting from his fits of rage. I would flinch when he’d move his hands too quick. I never knew when he’d strike. It was to the point where any little thing could set him off. He’d been kicking my ass damn near every day since about four days after I officially healed from the miscarriage. The first fight started because I told him that I was going to the grocery store which was exactly what I did. The thing is that I stopped at Tameka’s sister’s apartment for a few hours while I was out. We chilled and blew back a few and I lost track of time. By the time I made it home, it was a little after eleven and he went off. Of course he accused me of cheating and even threw a glass with Kool-Aid in it at me to “cool off my hot pussy.” Thankfully the glass missed, but the red Kool-Aid was dead on. He slapped me around until the sun came up the following morning.

  I had never felt more trapped in all of my life. One day when I told him that I’d had enough and I wanted out of the relationship, he threatened to call my job and tell my supervisor that I’d been using drugs. He knew that I smoked a little weed and popped pills, so a random drug test would definitely expose me. He went so far as to call and get a manager on the phone until I gave in and told him that I would work things out with him. That was the day that I knew that I was dealing with a new kind of evil.

  “Bitch, you think that you can just toss a nigga to the side when you ready?” he asked me.

  “I’m just tired of the fighting. I can’t take this,” I cried.

  “What the fuck you crying for?!” he shouted, obviously not bothered by my tears. “It’s your fault that we’re always fighting!”

  “Are you serious?!” I roared. “Everything that I do is a problem! I don’t understand why you don’t just leave if you feel like I can’t do shit right.”

  “Leave, huh? That’s all you want is for a nigga to leave. Then that way you can go back to running the streets and fucking with these niggas. Those niggas out there ain’t gon love you like I do. All they gon want from you is a dick suck.”

  “So that’s what you think of me?” I asked in disbelief.

  “No. That’s what these other niggas gon want from you. I’m trying to build something with you and show you how a woman is supposed to conduct herself.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you talking to? Since I’m not a size five, I can’t find a man that loves me for me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that not too many niggas are going to love you the way that I do.”

  I dried my eyes and took a long look at him. I guess he thought that I was some fat bitch with such low self-esteem that I was going to actually fall for his bullshit. True, I had insecurities, but I wasn’t that far removed from reality. I wasn’t some bitch on Maury that was afraid to even look another man in the eyes; but I think that that was exactly the angle he was going for. He was trying to take me down some notches, but he would have to come harder than that in order to do so.

  “If this is love, then I don’t want it anymore,” I revealed.

  “Bitch, you want to play these games?” he gritted as he grabbed me by the neck. I will kill you. You know that? Huh?”

  I clawed at his hands and when that didn’t work I stuck my finger in his e
ye. After putting pressure on that eye he finally released me.

  “I hate you!” I screamed as I went crazy on him. I was swinging wildly letting go of all my frustrations.

  Instead of him beating my ass like I thought he would, he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. He threw me on the bed as I continued to swing at his ass. He then jumped on top of me and pinned my hands together. He tried to move his head in for a kiss, but I turned my head away. He somehow managed to grab my wrists with one hand which freed his other hand. He held my face still and placed his lips on mine. I struggled against him, but he still was able to push his tongue inside of my mouth. He kissed me deeply. After a while I gave in, hoping that he would soon finish. After what seemed like a lifetime, he relented; only to trail down to my neck. He kissed my sensually which made me tingle down below. I wanted to slap myself for enjoying his touch. Soon he was gnawing on my breasts through my shirt. He knew that my breasts were my hot spot, so I wasn’t surprised when he lifted my shirt and bra and took a nipple into his mouth. He sucked nice and slow, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over it just the way I liked it. After a while, I could feel my own wetness. I knew that my panties were ruined.

  I hated how Slim was so in tune with my body. It wasn’t long before I was dry humping him as he lay between my legs. I was actually on the verge of an orgasm when he took me out of my misery by plunging his ten inches inside of me. We compressed our bodies so tightly together that it would have taken the Jaws of Life to separate us. I didn’t know where his body ended and mine began. He was trying his best to go where no man had gone before. He drove himself deeper and deeper with every stroke as I wrapped my legs tightly around his slim waist. It was like I had no control over myself as I met every thrust. This encouraged him to pound deeper inside of me. I was in another zone and I couldn’t stop. He flipped me over so that I was now on top. I sat up and slithered my body and enjoyed the feeling of him sliding in and out of me. He grabbed my waist trying to control my pace, but I slapped his hands away. This was about me; damn what he was feeling. I was in some nasty, freaky, exotic parallel universe. I wanted his hands on my tits so I grabbed his hands and placed them there. He stroked one of my nipples just like he was supposed to, but that wasn’t enough for me so I took it upon myself to take my own nipple into my mouth. I then slammed down hard on his dick.

  Chantez refused to be outdone as he surprised me by sitting up, grabbing my thighs, and wrapping my legs around his waist. He then lifted us out the bed and leaned my body up against the wall. I hadn’t been handled like that since Ken, and I was about thirty pounds lighter at the time, so I was amazed at how Chantez was handling me as if I weighed nothing. He held me up by my thighs as he drove deep inside of me. Before long, I was screaming at the top of my lungs not caring who heard me. His stroke was the death stroke and I couldn’t stop myself from cumming if I wanted to. I could feel my wetness dripping between our bodies. Just when I thought that I couldn’t take any more, he crashed our bodies into the wall as he came.

  He stood me on my feet as I caught my breath. My chest was heaving up and down and my body was drenched in sweat. I couldn’t help but stare at Chantez with his beautiful body. He was all muscle without a hint of fat. His six packs were contracting as he struggled to catch his breath as well. I couldn’t understand how he take me from one emotion to the next so quickly. I could go from being mad as hell at him to feeling overwhelming desire for him. He was definitely my bad habit and I knew that I needed to get away from his ass because he was all wrong for me. The question was how could I get away?

  Chapter 7

  Killah

  “Nigga, the next time your ass get in some shit, don’t call me,” I said to my younger brother. He was just two years younger than me, but you’d think that I had a whole decade on his ass. I had just bonded him out of jail. He’d been arrested for trespassing on private property. He was getting his hustle on in someone’s projects, no doubt. He was going to fuck around and lose his damn job at the HEB warehouse while trying to make some money on the side.

  “It ain’t gon be a next time, nigga,” he rebutted.

  “Whatever,” I shook my head. That was the same damn thing he said each and every time. “So, where do you want me to drop your ass off?”

  “Take me by Shay’s house.”

  “Shay? I thought that you stopped fucking with her after she put your ass in jail the last time?”

  “Yeah, I did; but I went back to her after Denise put me out,” he explained.

  I shook my head again. “I don’t understand why you just don’t get your own place. Then you won’t have to worry about some bitch putting you out.”

  “Fuck that shit. I ain’t trying to pay all those bills by myself.”

  “Nigga, you sound just like a bitch. You rather depend on these raggedy ass hoes before you go out and get something for yourself. You ain’t gon never have shit with that mentality.”

  “You saying that shit cause you don’t know how these hoes are. Man…half of these bitches are happy if a nigga even want to come home to them. Then, the fact that I work is like the icing on the cake. A bitch that’s living on a fixed income will feel like she hit the lottery.”

  “So, why they keep putting your ass out then?” I asked with a raised brow not falling for his bullshit for one second.

  “Cause, I can’t stop calling that chat line,” he chuckled. “Man, it’s like a buffet on the bitch; all I can fuck! Every time I try to act right with the broad I’m with, I come across something new on the line. I’m addicted.”

  “You stupid, nigga; that’s what you are,” I laughed.

  “Fuck you. I’m telling you, nigga…you need to call that line. Not all the bitches are fucked up. You might actually come across something that you like,” my brother tried to convince me. He had no clue that I’d taken his advice about calling the line a long time ago. That was my business, though.

  “Naw, I’m going to leave that to you,” I smirked as I focused on the road.

  * * * * *

  As soon as I dropped my little bro off, I called the chat line. There weren’t too many chicks to choose from that night. I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to find anybody to talk to when I came across that broad Kerry’s ad. I thought about that shot of head that she gave a nigga and my dick stood at attention. Then it went right back down as I thought about the drama that came along with her. I decided to pass. Right after her ad, I heard something that caught my attention. She described herself as thick, red, and with long hair. I had to get at mama.

  Not even ten minutes after leaving my number, the girl hit me back.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Hi, is this Killer?” she asked all proper like.

  “Yeah, this Killah.” I corrected her.

  She giggled a bit. “Well, excuse me.”

  I chuckled, “You good.”

  “Okay, this is Karen. You just left your number in my mailbox.”

  “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

  “Not much. Just trying to find some intelligent conversation.”

  “Really? Well, I think that you’ve come to the right place,” I said, throwing on my white boy accent.

  “Great. So tell me about yourself, starting with your real name. I know that your mom didn’t name you Killah.”

  I let out a light chuckle. “No, my mom didn’t name me Killah. My name is Trent.”

  “Trent? Well, I like that name much better,” she giggled.

  “Really? So, how old are you?” I asked her.

  “Let’s just get all of this out of the way, okay. I’m twenty-five, I live alone, I’m a college graduate, I’m a teacher, I have no kids, and I live on the far northwest side of Houston. I’m looking for a friend first and then we can take it from there. If you’d like to see how I look, we could exchange pictures and I would prefer that we talk before we do that.”

  “You did cover most of the bases, huh?” I laughed, knowin
g that she was used to talking to niggas off the line.

  “Yes, now tell me about Trent.”

  “Well, I’m twenty-seven. I’m self-employed. I live alone. I don’t have any kids. I finished school, and I live on the far northwest side of Houston as well. I’m looking for a friend first too, and I’m cool with talking before we exchange pictures.”

  “That sounds good. Are you currently involved with anyone?”

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “If we become fast friends and become involved,” I laughed.

  “You’re a comedian, right?” she giggled.

  “All day; but no…seriously I’m single.”

  “How long have you been single?”

  “For two years.”

  “What happened? You couldn’t act right?” she laughed.

  “No, actually she was killed by a drunk driver,” I said solemnly.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is the drunk driver in jail?”

  “Yeah, I think so. He was the last time I heard,” I lied.

  “That’s good. I hope that they keep him there.”

  “Me too.”

  “So, have you dated anyone since your loss?”

  “Not really. I met a few women, but none of them have yet to gain my interest.”

  “Why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m searching for a woman who has her shit together. I’m good over here; and I don’t want a woman that’s waiting for me, or any other man, to save her.”

  “I heard that! You want an independent chick, right?” she asked.

  “Already!” I laughed. “On paper you sound good, so why is it that you’re single?”

  “Believe it or not it’s hard for me to find someone. I grew up in Greenspoint and I always dated guys from around the way, which translates into street brothers. That’s what I’m attracted to even though I know that they’re always the worse choice. All throughout college, I dated hustlers and didn’t think twice about the lifestyles they were living. That was cool then, but now I’m an educator and it’s my job to teach young impressionable children. So now I find it difficult trying to teach students about staying out of trouble when I haven’t quite learned that same lesson myself. Now I find myself trying different avenues to meet men from diverse backgrounds. So here I am calling the chat line in hopes of finding someone that has a mixture of the things that I like.”