I Gave Him My Heart (18 page)

“Well, I have a pretty good reason.” I sighed, watching him look back at his painting. “She-” I might as well tell him; everyone fuckin’ knows already. “She raped me every weekend, from the age of five until the age of ten.”

              Knox stopped painting. He lowered his head, shaking his head to himself, not saying a work to me for what seemed like the longest minute ever. He looked at me, his light brown eyes sparkling. “Fuck,” he whispered.

I nodded. “She made me do all types of shit to her and her boyfriend. I haven’t talked about this shit since I was a kid. And the fact that I had to see her again after so long, and she had the nerve to tell me that she missed me, that she was going to make sure I worked right under her, made me wanna kill her with my bare hands, no matter the consequences.”

Knox’s eyes traced my face.

“I tried telling Nina about it this morning. And she still said that I needed to grow the fuck up! Nina hasn’t been through the shit that I’ve been through! My actions run deep! She should have known that I wouldn’t have stomped that bitch if it wasn’t for something major!” I exclaimed. “It’s too late to have my cousin arrested for what she’s done to me, but it wasn’t too late to beat the Mac makeup off her ass!”

Knox smiled a little, shaking his head at me.

“I just wanted Nina to be my shoulder to lean on like I’ve always been hers. I’d do anything for her. She’s my sista.” I sighed. “She slapped me in front of everyone at the shop this morning because I told her that I was done being her bitch. That she wasn’t going to run my life anymore.”

Knox’s grin faded; he just looked my face over. He exhaled deeply. “Just let things die down for a few days. You know Nina loves you. You can stay with me for a few days. Since you wanna clown a nigga about being young, I’ve got plenty of toys to play with; I’m talkin’ big wheels and everything, homie.” Knox watched me roll my eyes.

I looked at Knox. “So, whose house is this?”

“Mine.” Knox made a face at me like I must not have realized how much money he had or something.

“You don’t share this big ass house with anyone?” I shook my head at him and the amount of money he had.

“I rent it out to a few of my homeboys when they travel. It’s a great honeymoon spot. Plenty of babies were made in these rooms, shorty.” Knox laughed at me shaking my head at him.

“How many girls have you brought here?” I rolled my neck at him.

“Up here in the Penthouse Suite? None. Out there in the pool house? About two or three. Maybe five or six.” Knox looked back at his painting, dragging long, even strokes across the canvas.

I sighed. “Well, at least you’re honest. I can give your young ass that much credit.” I looked at his painting. “This painting is going to be beautiful when you’re done. That painting you did of me with my cousin, Knox, that painting was awesome! You’re fuckin’ awesome!”

Knox scoffed. “Even though I’m in kindergarten, as you say?”

I laughed at my own jokes. “I mean, kindergarten is fun. You get to eat snacks, color, take naps, and shit! I’m pretty sure your life is like an after school special. Shit, you’re probably too young to remember those ol’ corny ass movies back in the 80s. When were you born? 2012?”

Knox laughed out loud. “April 1, 1990, yo! Why the fuck you always trying to play me?” He watched me laughing out loud.

I ended my laugh with a sigh. “Because you actually think that you have a chance with me, that’s why. I don’t want just sex from a nigga.”

“Why makes you think that’s all I have to offer?” Knox looked down at his tank top, which was splattered with blue, white, and yellow paint. He pulled the shirt up and over his head, tossing it over in my lap.

I looked his tatted body over. His body was amazing; his muscles had muscles. That nigga had to have at least a hundred tattoos. There wasn’t a spot on his back that wasn’t covered in tattoos. His chest, ribs, and abdomen were covered in song lyrics, scriptures, names.

“‘Body Party’?” I looked at a line from Ciara’s song etched across his chest. “You have a line from ‘Body Party’ on your chest, boy?”

Knox grinned. “One of my sista’s friends is a dancer. The first time I saw shorty dance was to this song. Shorty was bad. She wasn’t feeling me too much either. Said I was too hood for her; she didn’t know who I was, and probably could care less. But anyway, shorty won my heart with this song a few years ago.”

I looked over his tattoos. “Umm-hmm. So why aren’t you with the girl?”

“She’s with Jamie Green. But after meeting you, I can see why it never worked out with anyone else. I was supposed to meet you; that’s what I think.” I felt his eyes watching me as I looked over the tattoos.

I tried to not pay him any mind. “So, why so many tattoos?”

Knox sighed. “I tried covering up old memories with new ones.”

I looked up into his face. “What do you mean?”

“Not sure if you’re ready to hear about my life, Kourtney. Not even sure if I’m ready to talk about it. But I’m sure as hell tired of holding it in. Trench Carter called me a little while ago, asking if I’d do the show. He said they’d consider keeping you on the show if I made some appearances. I told him if I did, I wanted to only be known as Knox. That I didn’t want my full name to come up. Not sure if I can trust the nigga though. It’s reality TV. The shit on Reelz TV isn’t scripted; the drama is real. Trench lives for that shit. He likes airing dirty laundry, and I have a feeling that is why he wanted to do a show about the Nicolas family. They want to find out all the dirt they can on the family. So be careful. Your secrets will probably come out first.” Knox watched me reading over his body.

I scoffed. “Messy muthafuckas.”

“Can you sculpt?” Knox asked me, changing the subject.

I shrugged, looking over at the potter’s wheel that had a huge lump of clay thrown on top of it. “I’ve never tried it, but I’m sure I could.” I looked back at Knox. “You brought me here to paint, color, and shit? Oh yeah, this is so kindergarten!”

Knox smiled, shaking his head at me. “Nah, I brought you here to relax. To get away from everyone. And I brought you here because I wanted to paint you and then take your picture.”

I made a face, watching him get up from off of the stool, walking over to the corner of the room where he had a white sheet laid out of the floor with paint buckets and paintbrushes laid out all over it. Camera equipment was set up around the white sheet. I looked at Knox as he went over to pop open the paint cans.

“So, ummm, you wanna paint my picture and then take a picture of the portrait? Is that what you mean?” I asked, clearing my throat.

“Nah, I meant take your got-damn clothes off, so I can paint you. Then, I wanna take a picture of my art work, which would be you.” Knox grinned, watching me swallow hard.

There I sat on the bench, gripping it tightly in my hands. Man, this boy was seriously working my nerves, in a good way. I sighed, watching him open up all six cans of paint.

“I was thinking about this last night when I carried you to the car in that skintight dress.” I watched him organize a few tubes of acrylic paint alongside the cans of paint. “It was so tight; it looked like it was painted on. Just the inspiration I needed for my art show next month. I was trying to decide what to do for my photography pieces. And you’re perfect. So, come on. Take everything off and come lay on this sheet, so I can paint the perfect picture.” Knox watched me shaking my head. “Let me cheer you up, Kourtney Marie.”

I looked at him. This fool knew my middle name. My mother used to call me Kourtney Marie every time she was trying to butter me up. As fucked up as my mother was, I really missed her. I’d give anything just to argue with her again. I sighed, getting up from the bench. “I’m gonna need a beer, a Heineken, a Bud Light, something, bruh.”

Knox grinned. “A’ight. I got you. I have drinks in the ‘fridge down the hall.”

“And snacks.” I spoke up. “Like chocolate or gummie bears or something. I know kindergarteners keep snacks on deck.”

“I’ma have to go down to the kitchen, Ma. But I got’cha.” Knox grinned.

By the time Knox came back upstairs with the sweets and the beer, I was already naked. I stood there, in the middle of the white sheet, naked, ready to get to work. The nigga was lucky I’d shaved everything the night before, or he was going to be SOL, Shit Out of Luck like a muthafucka. I wasn’t going to get naked in front of his ass, looking like Big Foot’s sister.

Knox laughed out loud, not so much at me, but at the fact that I wasn’t nervous or scared of his ass. “That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about.” He chuckled.

I walked up to him, taking the Heineken bottle from his hands and a pack of Haribo Gummies. “So, where do you want me?” I asked, taking a sip from the bottle. “Standing up, laying down, legs spread, what, nigga?”

Knox laughed, looking me over a little. His eyes danced around my nipple rings before tracing down my abdomen to my shaved pussy. Knox squinted his eyes a little as if he was trying to get a closer view. This nigga grabbed me by my waist with one hand, and then with his other hand, this nigga spread my pussy lips open a little to get a better view of my pierced clit.

Oh my goodness, I burst out laughing. I pushed him in his chest. “Hey, nigga, don’t touch!”

“You got’cha clit pierced?” Knox grinned, watching me back up a little “Huh? Why you laughin’ at me? Come here, let me see that pussy.”

“No, nigga! You can see without touching it!” I laughed. “That area is sensitive as hell, dude. The idiot who did the shit had to pierce it twice because she did it wrong the first time.”

“When is the last time somebody played with that ring between their teeth?” Knox asked, tilting his head a little, still trying to get a glimpse at it. He tried to reach for it.

I pushed his hand away. “Like a year and a half. Nigga, would you stop!”

Knox’s eyes widened a little, “Since you had sex? Your pussy hasn’t had any visitors in a year and a half?”

I laughed out loud. “No, fool; I meant it’s been a year and a half since I let anyone taste it! It’s only been a year since I’ve had sex.”

“The pussy was workin’ mad overtime, wasn’t it?” Knox grinned at me, gaze making its way back to the hood of my clit. He reached for it again, that time rubbing the ring between his two fingers.

I pushed his hand away, dying laughing at his bold ass. I think what got me was that as flirtatious as he was, his playfulness made me feel like a teenager. I could actually have a good time with this guy. I needed a good time after all of the bad times that I had.

“Man,” Knox shook his head. “I’m over here thinking about fuckin’ the shit out of you, and you’re probably gonna fuck the shit outta’ me! I can’t wait for you to put the pussy on me. You probably gonna have a nigga screaming like a little girl, huh? Just don’t hurt Timmy too bad, okay?”

“Oh my goodness, Timmy? That’s what you call the nigga? Lil’ Timmy?” I was dying laughing.

“Nah,” Knox tried to correct himself. “Don’t try to play me. ‘Li’l’ Timmy’ my ass. You wanna see my shit?” This nigga was about to whip it out.

I grabbed his arm to stop him from pulling it out. “Oh my goodness, no!”

“Don’t try to play a nigga then. I’m workin’ with a muthafuckin’ monster. Ain’t nothin’ kindergarten about this shit. You always got jokes, Ma.” Knox watched me cracking up.

I laughed so hard that I started crying. Like really crying, bawling my eyes out.

Knox sighed, pulling me closer to him, wrapping me in his arms. He knew why I was crying. I needed someone to make me laugh the way that he was doing. I needed a good time. I needed some pain reliever.

“Don’t cry. Come on; let’s have some fun. Even if it’s only for a little while. A’ight?” Knox whispered in my ear.

I sighed, exhaling deeply as he let me go. He was so soft and warm. I looked up into his face as he took my hair, swooping it to one side, over my shoulder.

Knox looked me over a little before he reached for my face, drying my tears. “I need you to lay on your stomach, propped up on your elbows, bend your legs at the knees, and cross your ankles. A’ight?”

I nodded, turning around, walking over to the carpet, popping open the bag of gummie bears. “So,” I sniffed, “how many other girls have you painted like this?” I felt Knox’s eyes all over me. I got down on the floor, posing the way he’d said, after I took a few long sips of my beer.

“None. You’re the first. Hopefully the last.” Knox looked me over before bending down before me, in front of his paint cans, tubes of paint and paintbrushes. He reached for the tiny remote that sat on the floor, picked it up, and then aimed at the stereo system that sat in the far corner of the suite. I hadn’t seen a stereo system that huge in a long time. The sounds of 2Pac flowed through the speakers.

I grinned, watching this little nigga bobbing his head to “Me Against the World.” The words to that song matched my entire state of mind at that point. Knox sure did know what to say and do when I needed it; I could give dude points for that.

“What’cha know about this song, Knox?” I grinned, watching him mix oil paints together on a wooden pallet.

“I know I was a muthafuckin’ five-year-old nigga singing every lyric to this joint when the song came out.” Knox sounded irritated that I kept trying to clown his age. He glanced at me before looking back at his paint. “I got the shit beat out of me by my stepmom for singing this song at the dinner table. I was all,” Knox cleared his throat before spittin’ a verse. “‘Always do your best, don’t let the pressure make you panic. And when you get stranded and things don’t go the way you planned it. Dreaming of riches, in a position of making a difference. Politicians and hypocrites they don’t wanna listen. If I’m insane, it’s the fame made a brother change. It wasn’t nothing like the game. It’s just me against the world.’”