Shorty Gotta Be Grown by T.C. Littles

Author:T.C. Littles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2020-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

CALVIN

As soon as Fame hopped from the back seat to go in his house, I reversed from his backyard, going off on Trinity again. Did she have a legitimate reason for being upset with me? Yes. Had I been disloyal to her by breaking the vows of our marriage? Yes. Should me and shorty I’d stepped out with still be catching heat behind our li’l affair although I’d apologized time and time again? Yeah, I could be a man and admit that as well. A woman scorned ain’t never a woman you should try reasoning with, especially when you’re the one who caused her heart to ache in the first place. Yet and still, Trinity had chosen a bad time to retaliate.

“Trin, I can’t believe you let that insignificant-ass bitch cloud your judgment.”

“Calvin, sweetheart, you’re not in the position to tell me about my judgment calls,” she sarcastically replied. “My bad, because you said y’all was in the middle of a shootout or whatever, but you’re not getting any more sympathy than that. So please, please, please stop talking to me,” she huffed, threw her hand up, and then got back to rolling up a blunt. “We need to be focused on who was shooting and why. Real talk, yeah, focus on that.”

As she antagonized me with a condescending voice, I was itching to pull over and hash it out with my wife, as physical or critical as it might get. Her mouth, although I loved it wrapped around my meat, was too damn vicious at times. It was a great weapon when working against others, but it worked as the force that drove me crazy at the same time.

“Yeah, lemme take yo’ advice before I catch a domestic violence case and beat on you like Spade did that girl Jakia.”

“Uh-huh, whatever. I know you must be coming down off yo’ high and can’t function to be talking that asinine bullshit to me, Calvin Jackson. Spade wouldn’t have lived through the first night if I had been wearing that poor girl’s shoes. I love you, but that’s that Graveyard Love drama that T.C. Littles writes about. Believe it, and I’m sure you already know it. Let me hurry up and roll this weed up so you can hit it and get ya mind right.”

Ring, ring.

“Let that be that ho calling you, and I swear before my Lord, you’re gonna drive this vehicle straight to her house,” Trinity threatened, getting hyped in her seat.

I was infuriated by my wife’s performance tonight. She could have been the government’s special weapon in a war, I was sure. She was going hard, but for nothing. “Chill yo’ terrorist ass the hell out. That bitch ain’t called me since you knocked her teeth down her throat, so you wasting all yo’ energy for nothing. I keep telling your silly ass that. It’s Fame.”

“Oh,” she responded nonchalantly, then waved me off with her hand. “Then answer it and leave me alone.” Trinity seldom admitted when she was wrong.

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