Sianni McWashington-Maddox
After using the bathroom, I walked back into the room and saw Kyrie still stretched across the couch, knocked the hell out.
I smiled a little.
I still couldn’t believe this man had really gone out his way to turn a whole room into an art space just for me. Honestly, I hadn’t even been thinking about painting lately. Life had been too chaotic for me to really sit down and focus on it.
But standing here looking around at everything? I knew this was exactly what I needed.
Walking over to one of the blank canvases, I grabbed some paint and started mixing colors together. I didn’t even know what I wanted to create for real. I just wanted to feel something besides stress for once.
After a few minutes, my eyes drifted back to Kyrie. That man looked too damn good lying there with his arm stretched out over his head while his chest rose slowly with every breath, tattoos covering his skin like somebody had turned his whole body into art.
And honestly? That alone gave me inspiration. Before I even realized it, I had already started painting him.
The room stayed quiet except for the soft sound of my brush moving across the canvas until Kyrie’s phone suddenly started ringing from somewhere near the couch.
I frowned. Getting up from the chair, I walked over to his jeans lying on the floor before pulling the phone out of his pocket.
Unknown number. I hesitated for a second before answering anyway.
“Hello?”
For a moment, all I heard was breathing on the other end.
Then, I heard.
“Is this Sianni?” a familiar voice asked.
My whole face twisted instantly. I knew exactly who the hell this was, and why the fuck was she calling Kyrie’s phone?
“Yeah, this is her,” I replied, already irritated. “Why the fuck are you calling my husband’s phone? Do I need to give you another ass-whooping?”
A smirk pulled at my lips automatically.
Apparently, dragging her ass around that movie theater bathroom wasn’t enough because Marissa still seemed confused about boundaries.
And honestly? I was trying real hard not to put my hands on her again.
But she kept playing. Like shit was funny or something.
“Girl, I ain’t worried about none of that shit.” She sucked her teeth loudly. “That little ass fight you think you won ain’t do nothing. If we are being honest, you can’t even fight for real.”
That made me laugh. Not a funny laugh either. The kind that people got right before they slapped the shit out of somebody.
“You sound really brave over the phone,” I said, leaning against the counter while keeping my voice calm. “But every time I see you in person, yo’ ass end up looking stupid.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “You only got him because I let you.”
That made my jaw tighten instantly.
“Bitch, what?”
“I said what I said. Kyrie knows who he really wants.”
“Marissa, let me explain something to you real quick,” I snapped, lowering my voice. “You calling my husband while he laid up sleeping beside me, sounding desperate, that shit is embarrassing.”
“What’s embarrassing is you thinking he really gon’ stay faithful to yo’ ass.”
Before I could even respond, I heard movement behind me.
“Who the fuck is that?” Kyrie’s raspy voice cut through the room.
I turned around and saw him sitting up on the couch now, rubbing his hand down his face while staring at me hard as hell.
And the second he noticed my face, his whole expression changed.
“Kyrie,” I said, holding the phone out toward him. “It’s Marissa.”
The second her name left my mouth, his whole face darkened.
“Why the fuck is she calling my phone?” he muttered, snatching the phone out of my hand.
I folded my arms across my chest while he put the phone to his ear.
“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped immediately.
I heard Marissa start talking fast on the other end, but Kyrie cut her off quick as hell.
“Nah, bitch. Don’t call my phone, talking about you miss me or any of that weird shit. Matter fact, why the fuck you still got my number?”
His jaw tightened while he listened for a second before laughing coldly.
“You’re delusional as hell.” He shook his head before standing up from the couch. “Ain’t nobody checking for you over here. You’re calling while I’m laid up with my wife, looking stupid as fuck right now.”
The second he said wife, my stomach did a little flip.
Marissa must’ve said something slick because Kyrie’s expression got even darker.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said, his voice dropping low in that dangerous-ass tone he got. “You keep calling my phone, bothering my wife, and inserting yourself where the fuck you don’t belong, and I’ma stop being nice about this shit.”
He started pacing slowly across the room while rubbing his hand over his beard.
“I don’t want you. I’m not finna choose you. And whatever little fantasy you got in yo’ head about me leaving Sianni? Kill that shit immediately.”
I stayed quietly, watching him go off.
As a matter of fact, watching him defend me like that did something to me.
“And another thing,” Kyrie continued. “You lucky Sianni ain’t beat yo’ ass worse than she already did, because if a nigga ever put hands on her the way she did you? I would’ve put his ass in the ground.”
I blinked, looking over at him.
He meant that shit too.
Marissa started yelling through the phone loud enough for both of us to hear her.
Kyrie pulled the phone away from his ear with an irritated look before putting it back.
“Bitch, are you done?”
More yelling.
“Yeah, aight.” He nodded slowly. “Keep playing if you want to. But stop calling my damn phone. Matter fact—” He looked over at me. “Baby, what happened the last time you saw her?”
A smirk pulled at my lips instantly. “I beat her ass in the movie theater bathroom.”
Kyrie looked back ahead. “Exactly. So why the fuck would you willingly sign up for another ass-whooping?”
I heard Marissa start cussing on the other end.
Kyrie started laughing.
Not funny laughing either. The dangerous kind.
“Yeah, you mad now.” He rubbed his beard before shaking his head. “You embarrassing yourself, shawty.”
Then his face suddenly went blank.
“Lose this number.”
And just like that, he hung up on her.
“Kyrie, the next time I see that hoe, I’m gon’ do more than I did before. I’m breaking her fucking jaw,” I muttered.
“No, you not.” He shook his head immediately.
“And why the hell not?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “This bitch keeps trying me, and I’m over here trying to play it cool.”
“I know you are,” he replied calmly, “but you can’t be out here moving recklessly, baby.”
“But you said I could.”
The fact that he was switching up now was crazy as hell to me.
Kyrie let out a breath before rubbing his hand over his beard. “I know what I said,” he muttered, “but after what happened to me, I’m not trying to have shit happen to you.”
His voice got lower toward the end, more serious.
“I don’t know what that hoe got up her sleeve, and I’m not taking no chances with you.”
He pushed himself up from the couch before walking over to where I was standing. The second his arm wrapped around my waist, he pulled me against his chest like he needed to feel me there.
“I guess.” I sighed, rolling my eyes a little.
Truth was, I still wanted to beat Marissa’s ass again. Bad. Cause in my mind, shawty still ain’t get enough the first time.
“Don’t ‘I guess’ me,” Kyrie muttered before his eyes landed on the canvas nearby.
“But damn…” He walked over toward it slowly, then looked at the painting more closely. “You painted me while I was asleep?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged a little. “I was just doing something. I’m rusty as hell, though.”
Kyrie sucked his teeth before turning around to look at me.
“Man, stop saying that,” he muttered, walking back over to me. “You talented as hell.”
A small smile pulled at my lips. “Thank you.”
“You welcome,” he replied before lifting his head to look at me. “But you know what else is good as hell?”
“What?”
He smirked instantly. “That damn—”
“Kyrie.” I already knew where he was going with it.
“What?” he asked innocently, even though the grin on his face gave him away completely.
“Why you always gotta turn everything nasty?”
“’Cause you got a nigga addicted,” he replied shamelessly, rubbing his hand slowly against my waist. “I ain’t never had a female do me how you do me.”
“I guess,” I muttered. “I’m pretty sure you done had some good females before.”
I wasn’t buying that shit completely. Kyrie had been with too many women for me to believe nobody else ever put it on him.
I wasn’t buying that shit completely. Kyrie had been with too many women for me to believe nobody else ever had him acting crazy.
“Man,” Kyrie muttered, pulling me closer against his chest. “Why you always trying to argue with me about how much I want your ass?”
“Because you dramatic.”
“I am dramatic,” he replied shamelessly. “But I’m serious too.”
I rolled my eyes while fighting a smile.
Kyrie looked back over toward the painting on the canvas before shaking his head slowly.
“Shit still crazy to me,” he muttered. “You really painted me.”
“You act like I painted a celebrity or something.”
“You did.” He smirked before flexing his arm a little. “The fuck you talking ’bout? I’m really that nigga.”
I sucked my teeth while he laughed softly against my neck.
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. We just stood there wrapped around each other while Kyrie kept staring over at the painting every now and then like he still couldn’t believe I did it.
And honestly? This was probably the calmest I had seen him in a long time.
? ?
THE NEXT AFTERNOON…
I pulled up to Brunch Cove, the little spot Drayla and I had stumbled across a while back and promised we’d come back to. As soon as I got out of the car and headed inside, I spotted her sitting toward the back outside section with her sunglasses on and a drink already in her hand.