Love on the Brain (Rihanna X Kehlani X Nicki Minaj) GxG

Kiss Kiss

"Get dat nigga in the studio. We ain't got all day." Robyn barked.

Chris' eyes were red, he had track marks all over his arms and he was scratching profusely at his raw arms.

"What do you- what do you want?" He stuttered, clenching his teeth.

"I wan' ya sing for me Chris." Robyn said.

"Come again?" Chris asked. His beady eyes were darting all over the room and he kept slapping at imaginary ticks that he swore he could feel on his body.

"She said she wants you to sing." Robyn's security repeated, stepping closer and folding his broad arms over his chest. He remembered this nigga.

Chris huffed and rubbed roughly at the scabs he had all over his body. "Sing? I can sing all right. I can do more than that though," he twitched and clawed at his neck, which was beyond red with his constant scratching and picking, "I'll even suck ya dick man. Just ten dollars man, and I'll suck the soul out of you just-"

"Ight, ight, that's enough ya gwan make me sick talkin' like dat. Somebody put dis nigga in the booth so we can get dis started." Robyn ordered, cackling at her security guard's disgusted face.

Two security guards, wearing white hospital gloves for protection, because they really had no idea what kind of shit Chris got into, firmly grabbed the strung out singer and escorted him into the booth.

One held up Chris in front of the mic and the other placed a pair of Beats Studio headphones over his ears.

Robyn had Onika's producer send her the track. She pressed play on her laptop from the other side of the booth, but not before giving Chris the rundown with a few commands on the side.

"Ight, dis is what's gwan on," Robyn started to say, "ya gwan listen to dis track. Then ima replay it, and ya gwan sing. Then ya get da prize I promised ya. Clear?"

Chris simply dug his fingernails into his collarbone and twitched his neck. Robyn took that as a "yes" and proceeded. She played the song. Chris' dilated pupils shot all over the room rapidly. As he was listening to the track, Robyn took this time to take in his appearance.

To say the least, Chris looked battered. His face was sunken in, his teeth were yellow, he was bony as hell, every few seconds he would twitch, cough, and scratch himself vigorously, his clothes looked dirty and they were torn up. His hair was unkempt and frizzy and his hairline looked like a ski slope. Robyn hadn't seen a worser crackhead since Orlando Brown.

The track quickly finished. "Can I get some water or something?" Chris asked.

"Security! Water for da chi chi bwoy!" Robyn hollered. The door to the booth opened and another security guard chucked a plastic bottle of water at Chris. He caught it like he had spidey senses and ripped the top off of it and poured the water right over his head, like it was the thing to do.

Everybody looked on as Chris emptied the entire container over himself. Everybody's reaction was the same, "what the fuck?"

"I'm thirsty." He simply said.

"Dats wat da fuckin water was for, ya damn animal!" Robyn shouted. Chris was crazy and his weirdo behavior was starting to irritate her.

"Don't," he twitched, "call me names!" Chris fussed.

She just stared at him. Dude had some serious problems. But drugs could do that to you.