Page 10 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

She went quiet.

“You know my brother didn’t even do what they locked him up for.

You KNOW how hard that time hit my mama.

My pops. Me. And you got the fucking audacity to bring up his situation like you were part of the healing?

You just watched the hurt and made sure you was close enough to get credit if we all survived it. ”

“… I didn’t mean it like that, Kendrix.”

“Man, fuck this whole conversation. You toxic. You selfish. And you got this weird-ass fantasy that you still got access to me when really, I shoulda cut you off when you crossed that first line.”

“I say one thing about your family and you going off.”

“Don’t you ever bring up my family again.” My voice dropped low because I was so aggravated and done with her shit. “I know you wish you had a family like mine. Loving. Supportive. Actually gives a fuck about you. Get off my line.”

Click.

I hung up before she could even say anything back. I turned the TV off and tossed the remote across the bed. At that point, I needed to take my ass to sleep before I got in the car, drove to wherever Arlette was, and choked her ass out with one of her own wigs.

I laid back, took a deep breath, and said a little prayer.

“Lord, please don’t let me catch a case tonight.”

I closed my eyes and tried to drift, but my phone started ringing again. I snatched it off the charger.

“What the FUCK do you want now, Arlette?!” I barked.

“EXCUSE ME?! This ain’t no damn Arlette?!”

That voice stopped me dead.

“Oh—shit. My bad. My bad, Pretty—”

“Uh-uh! I don’t play that messy shit! You told me to call your phone and you got it blowing up with angry hoes like it’s Love & Hip Hop Season. I’ll hang up this motherfucking phone and go do my sugar scrub in peace.”

I blinked, stunned.

“You quiet now, huh?” she said, voice getting sassier. “Tell whoever got access to your line and yo dick to go take that up with God ‘cause I ain’t the one to be caught in the middle of your drama.”

“Nah, Pretty, I swear—”

“Don’t ‘Pretty’ me unless you got peace in your life and boundaries set with your hoes.”

I couldn’t help it, so I laughed.

“Damn,” I said. “You really like that, huh?”

“I’m like that, like this, and a lil’ bit of whatever else your last girl was missing. You still wanna talk or you wanna keep playing Ring Around the Toxic Rosie?”

I laid back. My whole mood flipped.

“Yeah… I wanna talk.”

“Then talk. But say the wrong shit and I will ghost your ass before you blink twice. Start with your full name and a fun fact. Let’s go.”

“Alright. My name is Kendrix Givelle.”

I laughed. “A fun fact is, the first time I ever had sex was in a church parking lot, and I made the girl catch the Holy Ghost for real.”

She snorted. “You play too much. Tell me something real.”

“Aight. Real? My brother got locked up a few years ago. Whole family been tryna keep it together ever since. Shit changed me. Made me different.”

She got quiet. Like she was listening for real.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t do drama. Arlette is gone be around the club. And I’m not about to mess up my bag putting pleasure before business.”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that,” I said. “Arlette doesn’t have any dealing with me.”

“That’s what niggas always say before somebody get to fighting over them.”

I laughed. “Ain’t nothing coming in between this connection I’m tryna build, Pretty.”

She didn’t say anything at first, so I decided to just keep it all the way real.

“Truthfully, we kicked it heavy back in the day,” I said.

“Then my brother got locked. I didn’t realize how much I leaned on him until he wasn’t there.

And around that same time, she was just always there.

Checking in. Bringing me food. Keeping me company.

She has a brother in the system too, so we trauma bonded off that.

That was my first fuck-up. The red flag I ignored is that she don’t talk to her folks.

At all. Her mama, her sisters—they all see each other in the store and act like strangers.

My mama ain’t never even met her, and that’s for a reason. ”

“She ever wanted to meet your mom?”

“She did. But I knew better. My mama is the type that if you tell her you’re beefing with the woman who birthed you, for no real reason outside of jealousy, she immediately doesn't trust you. She feel like if you don’t respect the one who brought you in this world, you don’t give a fuck about nobody. ”

“Whew. Your mama sounds like she doesn't play.”

“Nah, she just real. But, I shoulda let Arlette go a long time ago. But she made shit easy. Comfortable. I could disappear for a week, and when I came back around, she’d be right there like nothing happened.”

She let out a breath. “That’s not a woman, that’s a DoorDash order.”

“Exactly.”

She laughed again. “She doing all this extra shit like she still hurt over everything.”

“I told her the truth. Invited her over, made dinner, and she thought I was about to propose or some shit. Nah. I told her I was done. She went nuts. Screaming, crying, throwing shit. Then she throws a box at me… and it’s a pregnancy test and an ultrasound.”

“Wait—”

“Yeah. She said she was tryna surprise me.”

“Oh my God.”

“I ain’t know what to say. I froze. She left, flying down the street like Fast & Furious. Wrecked her car. Broke her arm and leg… and lost the baby.”

“Damn.”

“I felt like shit and guilty. Like even though we wasn’t together, I owed her. That was my kid. I couldn’t just act like she didn’t exist after that, so I stuck around. But when she got better? That’s when the real Arlette showed up. All over my homeboy, tryna make me jealous.”

“And you didn’t beat his ass?”

“Hell nah. He called me and told me what was up. I said, ‘Go ahead and smash. Treat her like a Lyft ride. Get in, get out, don’t speak on it. She thought she was being slick. Tryna make me jealous. He smashed. Then she went and fucked my other homeboy.”

She hollered.

“I swear. So nah. I don’t give a fuck about Arlette. She for the streets, the alleys, the potholes… all that.”

She wheezed laughing.

“I’m serious. She thought she was playing chess. Didn’t know the whole crew was in a group chat clowning her.”

“Okay,” she said, catching her breath. “I get it now. Y’all history is toxic-tales level tragic. But why you tell me all this?”

“Because I ain’t tryna lie to you,” I said. “And I’d rather you know the mess than hear it from somebody else.”

She got quiet again.

“Well. I still don’t know about this between us. But… you’re interesting. And I like how you tell stories.”

“That’s just my voice, Pretty. Wait till I really start telling you shit.”

“Oh Lord.”

There was a pause. The kind of pause that isn’t awkward. Then she hummed, low and sweet.

“Where are your hands at right now?” she whispered.

I swallowed. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” she said. “Where are your hands, Kendrix?”

I smirked, dragging a hand across my chest under the sheets. “One on the phone. The other… wondering where it should be.”

“Mmm.” She moaned softly, and I swear that shit went straight through my body like current.

“And yours?”

She giggled, breathy. “You already know.”

That sound had my whole body tightening.

“Let me FaceTime you,” I said quick, already reaching for the button.

“No,” she said, firm but playful. “I want you to use your imagination. Let me speak to your mind.”

“Pretty…” I groaned, running my hand lower.

“Shhh.” She hushed me like she had the right. “Tell me what you’d be doing if I was there.”

I closed my eyes, giving in. “I’d lay you on your stomach first. Spread you out on these sheets. Hands full of your ass while I kiss down your spine.”

She gasped. “Mm. And then?”

“I’d flip you over… slide between your thighs and take my time. Have you begging before I even—”

“Fuck,” she cut in, moaning like I was already there. “Keep talking.”

I cursed under my breath. “Pretty…”

Her moan was soft, but deliberate. “You hear that? You hear how wet I am just thinking about you?”

I gripped myself hard, biting back a groan. “Goddamn.”

“Answer me something,” she whispered.

“What?”

“You like it sloppy… or you like to take your time?”

I groaned. “Both. Start slow, finish messy.”

She giggled, breath uneven. “Exactly how I like it.”

Her breathing picked up. My grip tightened. She whispered every detail like she was choreographing my thoughts. How she’d arch her back, how she’d grab my shoulders, how she’d make me lose every ounce of control I swore I had.

Her voice painted every picture so clear, I didn’t even need the FaceTime. She had me right there with her.

“Say my name,” I muttered.

“Kendrix,” she moaned, drawing it out like a melody.

That was it. That was the breaking point.

Her voice quickened. My hand did too. The sound of her gasps had me losing it. And just like that—together, breathless, separate beds but the same rhythm—we came.

“…Damn,” I said, still trying to catch air. “You really just… did that through a phone.”

She laughed softly. “And you let me. Mr. Control, became undone by a voice.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re dangerous, Pretty.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

I cleared my throat and leaned back against the headboard like I wasn’t already ten toes in over a woman I just met.

“So… you gone let me take you out for breakfast?” I asked.

“Nigga… breakfast is in a few hours.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Just enough time for you to take a nap and get dressed. Hell, if you need a midday nap, we can take one together. I’m a gentleman. I’ll let you pick the side of the bed and everything.”

“Boy, please,” she laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

I smirked. “See, that ‘I’ll think about it’ already sounds like a soft yes. Just text me your address. I’ll scoop you around 9.”

“Mm-mm. You can send the location. I’ll Uber. You don’t need to know where I stay… just like my name, you gotta earn that too.”

I nodded like she could see me. “Damn. Fair enough.”

“Goodnight, Kendrix.”

“Goodnight, MissCommunication.”

The call ended, but my brain didn’t. I set the phone down on my chest and stared at the ceiling like a certified simp-ass nigga. Had me smiling and shit. Thinking about brunch spots and mimosas and if she’d like the playlist I’d make just for her ride.