The Untelling of Love & Happiness

Like Reconstructive Surgery; cont'd 3

Chp. 3: Royals

"Everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece/ Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash..."
-Lorde

By the skin of our teeth, I know that's country but I don't have any other way to say how lucky we were. Remember when I said that Kenneth looked suspicious when he turned to rush back to the car? Well, the sheriff thought so too. He followed and cornered Kenneth, asking him where we were going and where we were coming from. Then he pulled me to the side to ask a bunch of questions about Kenneth as if he thought I was being held against my will or something. Thank God he didn't get his dog out the squad car to have a sniff around. I guess without probable cause, he couldn't. Jesus! Bless you!

Back on the road, once again, I stared out the window. The radio had started to static so Kenneth handed me the aux cord. I wasn't in the mood for music but obliged him. I plugged the cord into my phone. Kendrick Lamar's 'King Kunta' came pouring through the speakers. I smiled instantly. Kendrick Lamar is so sexy to me and his music speaks to me also. I like that he seems intelligent but like, he's still hood with it, too. And I like that he's Pro-Black, like woke as fuck, Pro-Black. It's all just extra sexy! So eventually, I forgot about being mad. I rapped along to the lyrics. Kenneth noticed my change in demeanor.

"You still mad at me?" He asked.

"Stop asking me that!" I smacked. "Ask me that shit when I'm not in fucking pain and I don't have bricks of coke stuffed up my coochie!"

"Aight. Damn. My bad." Kenneth pouted, frowning into the rearview mirror.

Huffing, "You should figure that I'm still mad. I got my ass back into the backseat, didn't I?" I sassed. "Make me sick!"

Kenneth huffed. He kept driving. I continued to rap along to the 'King Kunta' lyrics. I looked at the time—12:23p. Time was moving in slow motion. I was worried about this stuff being inside of me for too long. And now I had to pee. Fuck!

"How much longer?" I wondered.

Kenneth informed, "About another hour and a half."

I sighed, "Kenny, I gotta pee! Can I pee with this in me?"

"I don't know." He hunched his shoulders.

"You don't know?! Nigga, you didn't ask?" My 'crazy girlfriend' was about the come out. I didn't like how reckless he was being with me—with my life. Granted, I'm lowkey, highkey being careless with my own life but he is supposed to protect me. I'm supposed to be able to trust him. But 'How Sway?' He didn't even ask no fucking questions. Who does that? "I'm yo' gal! Why the fuck you letting them niggas make you treat me like some thot bitch? Did you volunteer me for this or did they ask for me?"

"Ashton." Kenneth huffed.

"No fuck that, nigga! So what happened? Them niggas called and was like, 'Bring that bitch with you. We got some stupid dumb shit for her to do! She gon' do it, right?' And you was like, 'Oh yeah, I got y'all! Her dumb ass gon' do whatever I tell her to.' Had to be, Ken, 'cause like, this is crazy! Florida is four fucking hours away and you didn't be like, 'What if she gotta use the restroom? Let me go through all the worse case scenarios!'"