Chauncey
Ionly went with Simmy because he was pulling up to see Bianca, and Rhy was with her. A couple of women from around the way tried to holler when I walked in—women I used to deal with—but I’m not on that now, because I’m here with my wife. Respect that and keep it moving.
The older I get, the more I realize attention ain’t rare… discipline and restraint are. Any man can fold for nostalgia and a body in a dim section. Standing beside the woman you built with while temptation is breathing down your neck? That’s the real flex.
Rhy jumped in her Bentley coupe, tossed me the keys… Damn near knocked my head off, then slammed the door so hard the whole car shook. That slam wasn’t just anger… it felt like hurt, pride, and the real problem between us hitting at once.
I knew Rhy was in her feelings, and that’s the last thing I wanted. The energy shifted too fast. One minute we were cool, vibing, then boom… the whole night tightened around my neck, like I could feel the distance between us opening up.
And the crazy part is, I ain’t even said shit to them. Ain’t smile. Ain’t entertain it. I saw them looking and whispering, thirsty as hell, and I kept it moving.
Yeah, I fucked them. A few of them actually. But that was a few weeks after Rhy and I split, over a year ago, so it wasn’t love, and it wasn’t meaningful. I did it because I could, and they were willing. That’s it. Empty distractions dressed up as revenge and ego.
I could’ve cleared the air right then. Could’ve told Rhy exactly what it was and what it wasn’t. But sometimes explaining yourself sounds too much like confession, so I couldn’t put more cracks in the thing between us I’ve been trying to glue back together with bare hands.
So, I just gripped the steering wheel and drove.
And the silence between us? It was louder than the club, heavier too, like it was saying what neither of us would: that this wasn’t just about those women, it was about us.
It ain’t made shit any better that these women kept blowing up my phone either. Vibrating in the cup holder, like they were trying to crack something that was already breaking.
I already know how this looks, and that’s the problem. Sometimes perception hits harder than the truth, and that difference changes everything.
But one thing about it, I got a slug waiting for any bitch bold enough to play messy games while I’m sitting beside my wife.
Ain’t nobody about to keep throwing rocks at my marriage and think shit sweet.
Trust me… all this shit is getting handled because it’s threatening what me and Rhy got. Quietly. Permanently.
I kept my eyes on the road and ignored the phone completely.
A nigga scared to look the wrong fucking way.
I didn’t even reach for it because I could feel Rhy looking at me out of the corner of her eye, trying not to, but doing it anyway.
She was watching my movements and reactions, trying to read me without asking questions.
That’s the thing about broken trust… even silence starts sounding suspicious.
The dashboard lights painted across her face while she stared out the window pretending she wasn’t bothered, but I know my wife. The way her jaw tightens? The way she crosses her legs when she’s pissed? Yeah… she was fighting herself not to crash out in that passenger seat.
And me?
I’m sitting there, realizing how one bad season can follow a man for years after he swore he changed, and how it keeps coming back to haunt my marriage in ways I can’t ignore.
“You can respond to those bitches. Don’t try to respond because I’m in the car. You should’ve responded back there.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter because I knew it was only a matter of time before Rhy started going in on me. The silence was too heavy to stay quiet for long.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Not a got damn thing.”
And that’s how I knew everything was wrong.
Her tone carried more heat than yelling ever could, because calm Rhy was dangerous. That sharp, controlled voice? Yeah… that meant she was overthinking, and I could feel it building.
“Say what’s on your mind.”
She let out this dry laugh and shook her head while staring straight out the windshield.
“I’ll keep my comments to myself, because I’m liable to take it there, and right about now it’s not worth it.”
Damn.
That one hit harder than screaming would’ve, because when Rhy stops talking, it means she is trying not to destroy something. Maybe me. Maybe us. And that silence says more than words ever could. Maybe the peace she’s trying to keep while still holding on to what this is worth to her.
I glanced over at her for a second. Her nails tapped against the door, jaw tight as hell, eyes glossy but mean. She was fighting tears and rage at the same damn time.
And the fucked-up part? I understood why.
Women remember emotional details differently.
To me, them hoes ain’t mean nothing. Forgettable bodies attached to a rough patch in my life.
But to Rhy? Them females got names, faces, timestamps, outfits, locations…
because betrayal turns every reminder into proof, and it keeps hitting our marriage every time it comes up.
It keeps making her feel like she has to carry this hurt every time somebody new pops up.
“You are acting like I’m entertaining this shit.”
“No,” she snapped quickly. “I’m acting like you opened the door for it.”
Whew.
That truth sat in the car like smoke, because sometimes the problem ain’t what a man is doing now… It’s what he did that made every little thing look guilty after that.
“Get that shit off your chest, Rhy.”
“For what? You won’t be truthful anyway.”
There it goes.
I knew this shit was coming the moment she threw me those keys.
“What you wanna know?”
“How many?”
“How many what?”
She finally turned and looked at me fully, and that almost made me look away because the hurt sitting in her eyes was real. It was the kind of hurt that doesn’t leave just because time passed.
“How many whores have you fucked in this city after me?”
“Rhy, chill.”
“No. Don’t do that. You asked me what I wanted to know, and I’m telling you.” Her voice cracked a little before she caught herself.
“Damn, I know Teflon Hills is small, but every time I turn around, it’s another bitch popping out trying to be seen, so I know she fucked on you. And every time one of them shows up, it makes me feel like I’m fighting for my place all over again.”
I stayed quiet.
Wrong move.
I know both of them hoes back there fucked you.” She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Chauncey, we got soul ties I wish I could’ve broken years ago, and that’s the part I can’t shake.
That line punched straight through me.
“I just wanna know how many more hoes there are.” Her voice got lower then, tired.
“One of the reasons I don’t even wanna live in this city anymore is because every time I step outside, I’m reminded of your infidelities, and it keeps tearing at what we’re trying to hold together.
It makes me feel like I can’t breathe in my own life here, not with all this still hanging over us. ”
Damn.
That wasn’t anger talking anymore. That was humiliation.
Fatigue.
A woman exhausted from competing with ghosts she never invited into her life.
I swallowed hard and loosened my grip from the steering wheel before I bent the leather. Because the truth was ugly either way. If I answered honestly, I’d destroy her. If I lied, she’d feel it. Rhy always felt it.
And that’s the curse of loving somebody who really know you. They can hear your dishonesty before the words even leave your mouth.
I looked over at Rhy, but she turned quickly and buried her face toward the window before I could really catch her expression. Streetlights kept flashing across her skin in quick gold streaks, but she wouldn’t look at me anymore.
“Rhy… I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, and I don’t want my past to keep fucking up our future.”
“Future?” she asked flatly.
“Yeah.”
“Take me to my granny’s house, please.”
That one caught me off guard.
“Why?”
“I need to clear my mind so I can see how I wanna proceed.”
My stomach tightened instantly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I need space for a few hours.”
“Are you coming back home?”
Silence.
The kind that makes your thoughts start fighting each other.
“I know you hear me talking to you.”
“I never said I was leaving.”
“You never gave me a time to come back either.”
Then she finally looked at me, and somehow that shit felt worse than her avoiding me.
“You don’t care, Chauncey.”
“I do, Rhy.”
“You got a funny way of showing it.”
Damn.
“Every action doesn’t need a reaction.”
“You should’ve checked those hoes.” She cut her eyes at me. “It was the perfect fucking time.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was. Anytime a bitch feels the need to be disrespectful while we’re together, I expect you to check them.” Her voice started shaking, then, frustration bleeding all through it. “I’m tired of expecting you to do so much, and you fail every fucking time.”
That shit hit me hard because she wasn’t just talking about tonight. She was talking about how every time I let something slide, it made her feel unprotected. Every time my silence made another woman feel comfortable enough to play in her fucking face.
“But I’m done talking.”
“I’m not, though.”
“We can end this conversation, Chauncey, because we’re not getting anywhere. The more I talk, the angrier I become.” She folded her arms tight across her chest. “Drop me off because I need to reevaluate a lot of shit.”
“You and I don’t need to be reevaluated.”
Rhy ain’t say another word after that.
And honestly? That silence scared me more than yelling ever could.
That silence scared me more than yelling ever could.
The rest of the ride to her granny’s house felt cold as hell. No music. No attitude. Just tension thick enough to fucking choke on. I kept glancing over at her while driving, wondering how somebody can sit right beside you but already feel halfway gone.
I’m trying hard as fuck to get this shit right with Rhy. I know I fucked up a lot. More than she probably even knows.
And truthfully?
I’ll never tell her how many bodies I caught after her.
Not because I’m proud of it.
Because I’m ashamed of it.
Half of them weren’t even about desire fr. That shit was ego. Emptiness. Me trying to outrun heartbreak by stacking temporary distractions on top of each other until I couldn’t feel anything.
But now every reckless decision has a face. A memory. A possible encounter is waiting around every corner in Teflon Hills.
And I can finally admit it to myself… Rhy ain’t just battling my past.
She is battling the public evidence of it.
My phone kept ringing back-to-back.
The same number. Persistent as hell.
“Answer it.”
“For what?”
“Because I said so, Chauncey.” Her voice was calm now, and somehow that shit was worse. “Now is the perfect time to start checking these hoes.”
I exhaled hard and tightened my jaw.
“I say answer your phone. If not, pull back up to the bar so we can address this shit face-to-face. I wanna know why these bitches keep calling if they see I’m with you.”
Fuck.
“If we are doing this again, you gotta check these hoes before I start crashing the fuck out.”
Yeah, she was dead serious.
I answered the phone and put it on speakerphone.
“Yeah.”
“What took you so long to answer?” the female laughed. “You had to ditch your wife?”
I felt Rhy’s energy shift beside me instantly. One wrong word and this whole night was going straight to hell.
“Who the fuck are you talking to, hoe?” My voice came out sharp enough to cut glass. “Why the fuck would I ditch my wife?”
Silence.
“I ain’t answer the phone because I ain’t feel like spazzing on your goofy ass tonight.”
“Excuse me?—”
“Nah, you heard me.” I cut her off quickly. “Why the fuck are you calling my line like we got business together? We ain’t got shit going on. I fucked and ducked your ass over a year ago.”
Rhy folded her arms, but I could feel her listening to every syllable.
“I ain’t passing out dick, hoe. And anytime you see me out with my wife, look the other way and keep moving. Because next time you get outta pocket trying to play in her face, it’s gone be some fucking problems.”
“Fuck you and fuck your wife?—”
Rhy snatched the phone so fast it almost flew out of my hand.
“Fuck you, lame ass bitch!” she snapped. “You heard what the fuck he said.”
Then she hung up.
The car went quiet again, but it was a different type of silence this time. Heavy breathing. Adrenaline. Hurt mixed with validation.
I glanced over at Rhy while she stared straight ahead, gripping my phone in her hand.
And truthfully, I ain’t wanna take it there with ol’ girl like that. I really didn’t. But some situations demand a line be drawn in permanent ink.
Because Rhy wasn’t asking me to fight over her.
She was asking me to make it clear that I no longer had access to her.
And honestly, I should’ve done that.
“Chauncey, I need you to do one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Change your fucking number.”
I looked over at her quickly. She wasn’t yelling more. Wasn’t emotional either. And somehow that shit felt way more serious.
“If hoes can’t get the picture when they see us together, they’ll get it once they decide to call your number and realize that shit disconnected.”
“I will. Call AT you got the information.”
“I want you to do it.”
Straight like that. No hesitation.
“Bet.” I nodded slowly. “You still want me to take you to your granny’s house?”
“Yep.”
Damn.
Rhy was not fucking around tonight. Not even a little bit.
And truthfully, I was scared to look the wrong way, breathe wrong, hell… even blink too long.
Tired women move differently.
They stop arguing for sport. Stop crashing out immediately. Stop begging for reassurance. Instead, they start requiring proof. Action. Sacrifice.
And changing my number?
That wasn’t really about the number.
That was her asking, “Are you willing to inconvenience yourself to protect us?”
That question hit harder than anything she said all night.
Ipulled onto her granny’s street slowly, gripping the wheel while porch lights glowed against the dark. Rhy sat beside me, scrolling through my phone silently, probably seeing just how many females still had access to me.
That’s when the guilt settled in my chest. Because I kept telling myself my past was my past. The whole time, my past still had my number.