Lainey’s Story

****

I sat on the unmade bed, in a nest of various blankets, plushies, and pillows, watching him crawl on hands and knees in search of the teeny-tiny shard he swore he dropped the night prior. There was no shard. His cluck-ass smoked that shit already. He was pissed off that I wouldn't help him look, but I fucking told him, "You smoked it already, babe. I saw you."

Krist had stared at me like I was a fucking liar, his jaw clenched. "If you ain't going to help me look, you can get the fuck out." He told me.

Bitch, this was my apartment. You leave.

I held my phone up, the iPhone 6s (it was 2017, so don't judge me!), and went on Facebook Live. I did this shit every time Krist started acting like a fiend. Petty? Yes. But it got old him being blacked out high because his ass wouldn't sleep and then tripping out on me.

"Y'all," I began and giggled, "Look at this fiend ass muhfucker."

Krist's head jolted up, his icy grey eyes burning, "Bro, I fucking told you to stop doing that shit," he told me.

"And I told you to stop crawling around my floor like a cluck," I grinned. He hated when I called him that, but oh my god, who crawls around carpet surfing for shards? Clucks. And Mr. Krist Samson was acting like a straight-up cluck.

People began to comment on the live, making jokes about tweaker shit, telling me if I needed a real man to holla at them, if he needed a hookup to get at them. Mainly a lot of laughing emojis.

Every so often, someone would hop on my lives and tell me it was wrong of me to exploit his addiction for likes on Facebook. I'd tell them if they wanna hop on his dick, they know where his DMs are. I wasn't exploiting nothing. I was showing this dumb ass how he acts when he don't sleep because he would deny it after he came down.

Krist stood up, kicking a pile of my clothes across the small stupid apartment, "You wanna embarrass someone, show 'em how fucking dirty you keep this place. Show 'em your nasty ass period stained underwear," he snapped.

I could see in his eyes he was about to snap. "Krist, you live here, too. Your bitch ass doesn't even work. You just live off your momma's money."

"You don't have no problem spending that money on dope, though," he retorted, stepping towards me.

"Take another step towards me, I swear," I warned him, holding my phone so he understood I was still streaming.

"You really think anyone watching gives a fuck? They only watching because they know you are a straight bag bitch who sells her pussy to old men on the internet," he laughed. "Tell 'em thumbs up if you think Lainey is a bag bitch whore."

Several "thumbs up" replies crossed the screen. Most of them were from my old boyfriend, pre-Krist, Jonathan, who steady watched my lives talking shit on me and telling Krist to "sock her ass up."

Jonathan, like Krist, was a dope fiend cluck who never had a job and also had his drug habit supported by his parents. He'd had no problem with me getting money from other dudes when our money ran out but held the fact I was, essentially, a prostitute, over my head, and that meant he could fuck with other girls when I was out making money.

Krist, being a jealous prick, had told me he was not cool with the escorting, sugar-baby life, but he would suck up to me doing Camwork. Not that I had given him an option to tell me no.

He took most of my pictures and videos. Occasionally, I had subscribers pay me to make content with him, and he obliged so long as his face wasn't shown. Whatever, bro, we can hide your face.

I also did a lot of content with my friend, Madi. Krist was not allowed to be present, participate, or even see the pictures and video. Telling him no had been a big ol' deal. He was like, "Oh, but I just want to see you with another girl. I don't get a fuck about the other chick."

Yeah, ok. I had seen him checking out Madi, and she'd made some comments the night I met him about how if I hadn't gone for him, she would have. So yeah. It was not happening. He could be a salty turd all he wanted over that, but I wasn't going to budge.

"So you think it's cute to call your girlfriend a bag whore?" I asked him.

I could see he was getting pissed off and considering leaving. He was packing his stuff up into a duffel bag. Again. The first couple times he left, I'd chased after him and cried. He always came back, and we always worked it out. It was just what we did.

"Gonna go find yourself a real bag bitch?" I taunted him. "Is that why you're leaving?"

"I'm leaving so I don't sock your stupid ass. For real," he glared at me, shoving a pair of Dickies into his bag.

I ended the live, following him around our tiny studio as he packed up his belongings, shooting me hateful glances now and then.

"So, where are you going?"

"Away from you," he snapped, "And if you don't back the fuck up away, I'm gonna lose my shit."

I rolled my eyes, taking my place back on the bed, slipping off my fuzzy Hello Kitty slippers, and wrapping myself in a blanket.

One thing I'd learned the hard way was not to try to stop Krist when he got like that. Just let him go. Especially when I knew he'd been up for too long because if I did interfere, shit would wind up bloody. And by shit, I mean me.

"Krist prob gunna need a ride lmaooooo," I texted Cami, adding a couple of laugh emojis at the end.

"Jeordie is already on his way," she told me.

I put my phone down on the bed, watching him intently—man on a mission. I rolled my eyes to myself.

"Krist bitch ass is leaving if u wanna come over n shoot sum content," I texted Madi, watching Krist grab a fistful of bills from the metal coffee can that we stored our dope money in. Whatever dude. Constantly tripping on me for being an addict, but that dude was always, always on some straight fiend shit.

Krist glared at me again before grabbing his bag and phone charger and heading to the door. I felt like he'd wanted me to say something to stop him or beg him to stay.

I had shit to do and didn't want to waste my energy on begging him to come back when it was inevitable that he would. Most nobody could stand him as it was, even his own family. Not that I wasn't in a similar boat. That's why we were together.

****

And just like I predicted, Krist came back a few mornings later. He looked like he slept, at least, but he was still pretty bitchy, so I kept to myself.

I'd cleaned the apartment and done all our laundry while he was gone and felt super peeved that he didn't even say thank you or look good in here. He just put his clothes away and went out back to smoke weed.

I debated on going outside with him but knew if he wanted me out there, he would call me over. Interrupting Krist when he was in a mood was dumb as hell.

I went into the bathroom, sitting on the counter, my feet in the sink, and started to apply primer to my face. I turned Lady Gaga on, singing along to Bad Romance at the top of my lungs as I blended my foundation.

Krist rapped on the bathroom door, "Aye, turn that shit off and let me in," he demanded.

I hit pause on my Spotify, "It's not even locked, ya dummy," I laughed. Krist glared at me, not amused. "Oh my god, it's a joke, not a dick. Don't take it so hard."

"My mom is gonna meet me down at the Fred Meyer. She said she's gonna give me some money and buy us groceries. I need you to come with me," he told me flatly.

I curled my upper lip, "Krist, gah, no," I complained, "Do I have to?"

Krist's eyes flashed dark, "Yeah if you want to share the bag I'm getting."

"Fine, babe," I rolled my eyes, "Only 'cause I love you."

"Yeah, ok," he muttered before leaving the bathroom.

I hated when he acted like that. In the two and a half months that I'd known him, he would get into these crybaby emo periods where he would sulk and pout and cry that nobody loves him. Liiiike, clearly I loved him. Why else would I let him move in and keep forgiving him when he acts like a dick?

Whatever. He'd cheer up when we got our shit, and he took that first hit.

I finished my makeup and straightened my hair, then dressed in a pair of black leggings with a long-sleeved baggy black and white crop top with my black Jadon Doc Martens.

"I'm ready to go, babe," I called, exiting the bathroom. Krist was standing by the front door in an oversized plain flannel Dickies jacket and grey Dickies pants. "Lighten up," I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He hugged me back, burying his face in my neck and kissing my exposed skin.

"I'm fine," he told me, brushing a hair from my eyes, "Did you miss me?"

Bipolar ass muhfucker.

"I did, babe. I could have told you that if you didn't shut your phone off!" I told him, a hint of bitterness in my voice.

"Bro, I needed to sleep and couldn't if your weird ass was blowing me up," he snapped.

"I'm just playing with you, babe, settle down," I told him, hugging him again.

Krist pulled away from me and headed outside, putting his hood up. I followed a few feet behind him, the charms on my giant tote bag jangling as I walked.

I unlocked the doors to my Jetta and plopped down in the driver's seat, throwing on a pair of oversized Gucci sunglasses.

"You good babe?" I asked, backing out of the parking space.

Krist lit a cigarette, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I was just asking," I snapped, "So anyway, what did you do the whole time you were MIA?"

Krist blew smoke out the cracked window, "Nothing really, just kicked it. Slept."

"Were there any other girls there?" I wanted to know; my heart skipping rope in my chest.

He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, "Other than Cami? No. Why do you ask such stupid questions? How 'bout you, you kick it with a gang of dudes?"

I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses, "Of course, Krist and I fucked all of them. At the same time."

"Prolly did," he muttered.

I wanted to say something so badly but kept my mouth shut, turning the music up. I caught Krist scrolling through his phone, messaging someone.

"Whose that?" I wanted to know.

"My fuckin' mom, who else would it be?" he snapped, slipping his phone back into this jacket.

"Who knows with you? Have you eaten today?" He shook his head, "We should have your mom take us to lunch."

He took a drag off his cigarette, "I'm sure she will."

Krist was quiet the rest of the drive, steady scrolling through his phone. I wanted to talk, but he would have just shut me down anyway.

For someone who supposedly loved me, he sure the hell acted like he hated me.Start writing here…