When I pulled into the lot, I searched for his car. He told me that he’d be driving a ‘06 blue CTS Sports Sudan Cadillac as if I was going to be impressed. That was basically the cheaper version of Trent’s car. I spotted his car and I parked my Beamer right next to it. He was still sitting in the driver’s seat. He was sitting all the way up in his car checking out my ride before he even knew who I was.
I hopped out of my car and said, “Are you going to stare at my car or get out and talk to me?”
“Keirah?” he asked in shock as he got out his car.
“Yeah, I’m Keirah,” I nodded as I checked him out. He was like 6’6” in height and had a medium built body. He had a light skin complexion and a nice grade of hair. He kind of reminded me of a thugged out version of Allen Payne with all the tattoos he had.
“You ready to eat?” he asked me.
“Yeah,” I smiled.
“Well, come on with your fat ass,” he joked as he headed toward the Denny’s entrance.
“Thank you,” I whispered as he held the door for me.
“My pleasure,” he replied.
The waitress quickly sat us and I couldn’t wait to order. I felt unusually hungry. I had been feeling that way for a minute, but I brushed it off. I figured that it was because of the long hours I put in at work. His cell phone started ringing and he looked at the screen but didn’t bother to answer.
“I see you, playa,” I teased.
“No, that was my baby mama. She don’t want shit,” he explained.
“You ain’t gotta explain yourself to me,” I shrugged.
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled.
“Where is that waitress? I’m ready to order,” I sighed.
“So, what do you think about me? Am I what you expected?” he asked.
“I didn’t have any expectations, honestly.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the chat line. You gotta hope for the best and expect the worse.”
“I heard that,” he laughed.
The waitress came to take our order and then we did more small-talking. His whole attitude shifted from when we were on the phone. He was now a little humble. I guess that was because he knew that I wasn’t going to be impressed with the little change he had. I wasn’t rich, but I had my own, so I guess he had to find another angle.
“You know you pretty as fuck?” he charmed.
“Oh yeah?” I smiled.
“Hell, yeah,” he chuckled. “So, I know that you ain’t single.”
“So, you just gon throw that out there, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
I nodded. “Okay, there is somebody.”
“Somebody? Are y’all committed?”
“Supposedly.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Chilling.”
“And he’s cool with that?”
I lifted a brow. “If you were my man would you be cool with it?”
“Hell naw, but I wouldn’t be in his shoes.”
“And why is that?”
“I would never do anything to make you want to go out with another nigga.”
“Umm,” was all I could say. I knew that he was full of shit, and technically, I didn’t know if Trent had done anything yet, so that made me feel just a twinge of guilt. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I bet you taste good too.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
“Why are you always so laid back about everything?” he asked.
“That’s just me, I guess.”
He nodded. “I know what you need.”
“And what is that?”
“This dick.”
“Really?” I asked dryly.
Why did niggas fuck up a mood with sex talk? I know damn well that I didn’t look like some desperate broad who was ready to fuck him just cause.
“And not just the dick. You need a real nigga in your life, period. I know that you probably been dealing with these lames that don’t know how to handle a woman like you.”
What made him think that he could handle me? “Tell me, what’s a woman like me?” I asked.
“I mean…a sexy ass female with her shit together. All you need is me to make the picture perfect,” he winked. I guess that I was supposed to be impressed.
I passed away a couple of hours with Footie because there was nothing else to do. We ended up at the mall after breakfast, just window shopping. I saw some cute Coach tennis that I wanted. I hadn’t planned on buying anything, but I had to have them. Right when I was about to go into my purse he stopped me.
“No, I got it,” he told me.
“You sure?” I asked him.
“Yeah. It’s cool,” he nodded as he pulled out a nice knot. The shoes were right at $300, but he claimed that it was nothing. To me it really wasn’t because I damn sure could have bought them myself, but who am I to turn down free shoes?
It was now five o’clock in the evening and I was still with Footie. He was a cool dude once I got past all the bragging he did. I guess that it was a tactic he used when trying to impress women. He just didn’t know that he wasn’t going to meet any real women with that game. He was a handsome man that really didn’t need to do all that, but I think that he was so used to capping that he couldn’t stop, even if he tried.
Right when he was talking about taking me to dinner, my cell rung. I didn’t recognize the number, so I let the voicemail catch the call only for the caller to call right back. After the fifth call, I decided to answer.
“Hello,” I spoke into my cell while I sat right next to Footie on a bench in the mall.
“Got damn, what were you doing that you couldn’t answer the phone?”
“Trent?”
“Who the fuck else is it supposed to be?” he snapped.
“Why are you calling me from another number?”
“Cause I broke my shit the other day.”
“Oh.”
“You coming to get me from the airport or what?”
I’d dropped him off at the airport, but he’d told me that he wouldn’t be back until Monday sometime.
“Yeah. Are you there yet?”
“Yeah. I been touched down about an hour ago. I been calling you from a payphone since.”
“My bad,” I apologized.
“Let you tell it.”
“Well, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes,” I promised.
“Okay,” he exhaled.
“Where do you want me to pick you up?”
“At the same spot you dropped me off at.”
“Okay, I’ll be there,” I said before hanging up.
“You gotta go?” Footie questioned.
“Yeah,” I stood up.
“You gon call me?” he asked as he handed me my Coach shopping bag.
“Yeah,” I offered quickly. “I gotta go, but thank you again for the shoes.”
“You’re welcome,” he cheesed as I walked away.
* * * * *
Killah
I was trying not to get pissed about Keirah not picking up as soon as I called, but something seemed fishy. I hadn’t talked to her since Friday and she didn’t leave any messages on my voicemail after that. Even though my phone was broken, I could still check the voicemail, and it seemed that everybody and they mama had left a message except for Keirah, and I spent enough time around her to notice a few things about her. She always answered her phone, even when she didn’t recognize the number. Unless, I was knee-deep in that pussy.
When Keirah came to pick me up it seemed like she had been out and about. She was dressed up and had a few shopping bags in the backseat. Then I knew I wasn’t tripping when I smelled cologne on her when she leaned in for a kiss. I was about to go straight the fuck off and had to force myself to remain calm.
“So, where were you coming from?” I asked her as she drove us to her spot.
“The mall.”
“Yeah? You got yourself some Coach shit, huh?”
“
Yeah,” she sighed.
“That’s what’s up,” I nodded. I had bought her a whole gang of shit, but I wasn’t about to tell her that with the way I was feeling. Shit, I was thinking about not even giving her the shit.
When we were getting out of the car I took a glance at Keirah’s ass and I swear that it was even fatter than the last time I saw her. She was picking up weight and I liked it. But then I snapped back into reality. She was up to no good and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Baby, let me use your phone,” I told her as we made it in the condo.
“Here,” she handed me the phone. “I gotta pee,” she unzipped her pants and headed to the guest bathroom.
I took a seat on the couch and called my voicemail. Before I could even listen to the first message her line beeped.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Uh, is this Keirah’s phone?” some nigga asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, well let me holla at her.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Who is this?”
“This Footie. Where’s Keirah at?” the nigga persisted.
“Say man, how do you know Keirah?” I asked him, trying to keep my cool.
“Who is you? Questioning me and shit,” he snapped.
“Say bitch ass nigga, you calling my bitch’s phone,” I growled.
“Your bitch? She told me that she was single.”
“Well, she lied then.”
“That dirty ass broad. Man, we talked on the chat line all last night and we met early this morning. We been with each other all day. I bought the bitch some shoes and everything. You must be the nigga that kept calling her.”
I was on fire. “Yeah, I was calling her.”
“No shit? Well, you tell that broad to keep the shoes cause it’s nothing,” he claimed right before he hung up the phone.
I listened to the toilet flush and then Keirah strolled out of the bathroom. “Baby, who were you talking to?” she inquired.
“Oh, I was talking to my boy, Footie,” I revealed.
“What?” she asked with a worried look on her face.
“You heard me,” I growled, as I stood up.
Immediately she started crying. “Ba…babbbyy…let me explain,” she stuttered.
“There ain’t nothing to explain. You turning tricks on the chat line for shoes and shit,” I shrugged.
“If that’s what that nigga told you, he’s a motherfuckin liar. We ate breakfast and went to the mall. He offered to buy the shoes and I accepted it.”
“So, you letting niggas buy you shoes when you got a nigga willing to buy you anything that you want?!” I roared. I was so pissed that my eyes were getting watery. “And why the fuck would you even call the chat line in the first place?”
“Cause Trent, I was scared,” she cried.
“Scared of what, Keirah?”
“Scared that you were playing with my heart.”
“Why the fuck would you think that?!”
“Cause when you didn’t answer your phone, I assumed that you were with some bitch out there in Miami. And I figured if I let some man keep me company, that it would ease the sting when your shit hit the fan.”
“Wow. That makes a lot of sense don’t it? I don’t answer the phone for a half a day and you just give up on a nigga. Where’s the trust, Keirah?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” she wept as she tried to move in closer.
I backed up. “Nah, you need to stay your distance before I do something that we both gon regret.”
“I said I’m sorry! What the fuck do you want from me?!”
“I don’t want shit from you now. I wanted your respect. I wanted your trust. I wanted your fucking love, but I now know that you just can’t give that to me.”
“Yes I can, Trent.”
“No you can’t. You can’t even bring yourself to tell me that you love me.”
“But I do love you,” she sobbed uncontrollably.
“Man, I’m outta here,” I griped, as I tried to walk out. She grabbed my arm.
“Please don’t leave,” she begged.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I pushed her off. “You want to beg me not to leave now?! Every day I work to prove my love to you, but you fight me at every turn. If I tell you that you look good you have to go check yourself in the mirror. If I tell you that somebody is jealous of you, you point out a reason that they shouldn’t be. You are so fucking insecure and it’s so damn ugly on you. I can’t love somebody that don’t love themselves enough to accept that they deserve the best. Not just the best job or the best car, but the best everything! You so fucked up that you can’t even accept when a nigga without a million hang ups wants to be with you. But you know what, I’m done!” I lashed as I headed for the door.
“Well, fuck you then!” she snapped. “That’s exactly what you were going to eventually do anyway! I just sped up the inevitable!”
“You’re pitiful,” I shook my head as I walked to the garage. I used the keys she gave me to open the trunk of her car and grabbed all of my shit. I then opened the back of my Escalade and threw everything in. I opened the garage door then hopped in my truck. I backed out and never looked back.
* * * * *
Keirah
Days went by before I was able to bring myself to go to work. I called in claiming a family crisis and took a few personal days. For days I laid around and cried until there were no more tears left. Up until the point I thought that I’d had my heart broken, but I was naive. The feeling that I felt after Trent left was like no other. I just knew that my life had come crashing down. I really didn’t see a point in going on with life if I had to go on without him. I just couldn’t see it.
I figured that he had moved on. He was too fine and too good of a man to remain single for too long. Man, had I really fucked up. I had it in the palm of my hand and threw it all away. I knew that Trent was a rare breed of man, yet I played games. I’d been on the defense from the beginning. I kept asking myself why he would want me when he could have any woman he wanted. Like he said, I couldn’t accept that all he wanted was me. Maybe I didn’t love myself the way that I should. Maybe other people’s criticism had wounded more than I wanted to admit. All I knew was that I had pushed away my one true source of happiness.
I had even swallowed a little pride and called him a few times. For the most part, he didn’t answer and when he did, he’d cussed my ass out. I mean…he would really put me in my place; but like a dummy, I kept trying. I’d call crying my eyes out, only for him to hang up on me. I was about to pull my damn hair out.
Having your heart broken had to be what hell felt like, because every day was a waking pain for me. I didn’t want to eat and I couldn’t sleep. My dreams were always filled with memories of Trent. Sometimes in my dreams, he’d forgive me and just as he’d take me into his arms I would wake up. I would cry myself back to sleep once I realized that the dream wasn’t real.
I thought that missing Trent was making me physically sick until I laid around thinking about the last time I’d had a period. It had been so long that I only had a vague recollection of spotting right before me and Trent went to a Texans’ game. That was almost four months ago. I couldn’t be pregnant; hell, I wasn’t even showing. According to my last period, I should be at least three to four months, but I didn’t have a belly. I started thinking about what Trent had been saying. He’d called it to my attention a couple of times and I guess that I was in denial. A part of me didn’t want to believe that every time I blinked my eyes I was pregnant again. I wanted to think that I was smarter than that.
I had a habit of trying to sweep things under the rug until I’d trip over that same pile of shit. But I just couldn’t leave that lingering question above my head, so I went out and purchased a pregnancy test. I sat in denial as I stared at the plus and minus sign. I was pregnant again. I had to be the unluckiest broad alive. I never seemed to come up pregnant until shit was all fucked up.
I wanted to pic
k the phone up and call Trent, but something just wouldn’t let me do it. I wasn’t going to beg any nigga to be a part of my life and I didn’t want a baby to be the only reason he dealt with me.
Abortion crossed my mind for just a brief second. But as fast as the thought came, it left. It was crazy, but I already loved the baby growing inside of me. That baby had Trent’s blood flowing through its veins and I could never get rid of something that precious. Besides, I’d made a promise to God to never terminate another pregnancy. So, it was decided that the baby would be mine and mine alone. Come hell, or high water, I was going to deal with the situation I created for myself. Still, I knew that I would eventually let him know that he had a baby on the way. But I wasn’t in a hurry, especially since he knew that I was drowning in my own tears, and had done nothing to save me.
Chapter 22
Killah
2006
It had been damn near a month since I’d seen or heard from Keirah. At first she would call me all day every day. Even though I wouldn’t really talk to her, it brought me comfort knowing that she wasn’t ready to let me go. I wanted to forgive her, but the wounds were still so fresh. I could hear the pain in her voice. She was sorry, but I just needed time. Why did she have to fuck everything up?
I spent Christmas and New Year’s with my aunts and cousins. I was miserable because I had planned on spending my holidays with her. I tried like hell to forget about her, but the shit just wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t watch anything on TV without thinking about how we used to watch it together. I couldn’t listen to the radio without hearing a song that made me think of her.
A couple of times I had to fight myself not to call her. I wasn’t going to give her stubborn ass the satisfaction, just yet. She never wanted to admit when she was wrong. Shit, even when she apologized, she never really admitted to what she’d done. I never saw such an insecure person with so much damn pride. She was all fucked up in the head; but for some reason, I still loved her crazy ass. That much I knew.
Can I Talk to You (G Street Chronicles Presents) Page 21