The Black Widow Clique

by Genesis Woods

  I heard everything Benji was saying, but I wasn’t trying to hear that shit. It was because of Melonee and her ho-ass mama that I had to grow up without my father or my mother. It was because of them same two bitches that I had to do things no fifteen-year-old should have to do, and I wouldn’t have been subjected to this had my parents been around. It was because of Melonee that my life had been pure hell since the day she came into it. When we were young, I noticed the way my father would coddle her and give her more attention whenever she and Shaunie came around. I also noticed how whenever my father bought me something, he would make sure Melonee got the same thing. And as if her robbing my childhood wasn’t enough, the bitch was about to try to stop my cash flow with the BWC, something I wasn’t seeing eye to eye with her about. Before that shit went down, though, I was going to make Melonee’s life a living hell.

  “Well, well. Who do we have here?” Benji’s mother said as she sashayed into the room like the ice queen that she was. “Fiona dear, Benjamin didn’t mention that you were coming over today. What brought this visit about?”

  I got up from my seat on the couch to hug Julia and continued to stand. I didn’t trust her old ass for shit. “I wanted to talk to Benji about some shit.”

  “Carmen, will you please do me a favor and go to the parlor and make me a White Russian?” Julia said. Then she turned back around to me. “Would you like something to drink, Fiona dear?” The expression on Carmen’s face was hard.

  “Naw, I’m good. If I can’t watch her make my shit, then I don’t want it.”

  Julia smiled. “Good girl. I don’t know why my Benjamin has to have all these exotic pets around when he has the perfect woman in you. Cunning, manipulative, cutthroat, and loves money. Reminds me of someone else I know.” She winked her eye at me and went and sat on the couch. Patting the spot next to her, Julia summoned me to sit back down. I did. “Now, what is it that you needed to talk to Benjamin about?”

  By the time I finished telling them everything that was on my mind, from the money that Mel had told me about to the fact that she thought the baby she was carrying actually belonged to Roman, Carmen had returned with Julia’s drink—and with the last person I expected to see.

  “I see the party is all here and is making plans without me,” the newcomer said.

  “April, you know we never make a move without everyone in the group being privy to what’s going on,” Julia replied before she took a sip of her White Russian. “Now play nice and say hello to your daughter.”

  April looked at me and smirked. “How’s your jaw doing, baby girl? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, but you were giving my man so much lip.”

  If you haven’t figured it out already, the person who was there with Uncle Dro the day he broke into my house was my long-lost mother. The same woman who had knocked me out and had had one gun pointed at the back of my head and one at my back, ready to kill me if Uncle Dro gave the word.

  The second I laid eyes on her now, I knew who she was. She was somewhat identical to me: my mother and I shared the same height, the same dark brown eye color, the same petite body frame and, apparently, the same attitude. The only thing that I had got from my father was his skin tone and his hair. Everything else I had inherited from April. Despite the fact that ours was a dysfunctional relationship, you would have thought that our little reunion would be all emotional and shit, but April was more interested in the fifty K Benji had dropped off than any of the questions I had for her. Her intention was to talk about money, then bounce.

  Looking at my mother, I couldn’t help it when my eyes became a little misty. But I regretted this after she noticed and laughed.

  “Come on now, Fiona,” she said with a smug look on her face. “I know you’re not about to get sentimental on me again. Like I told you before, street bitches don’t have emotions. It’s the law of the land. Money is the motive, and money is what makes you cum. You know that. I used to whisper that shit to you every night, before I put you to bed.”

  “April, don’t be so hard on the girl. I mean, you just popped back up in her life, with no explanation about where you’ve been for the past twenty years. How do you think she’s supposed to feel?” Julia interjected, coming to my defense.

  “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck how she feels. Maxwell raised her right, and she didn’t end up in no foster-care system when his dumb ass ended up in jail, so what is she feeling some type of way about? Yeah, money was scarce in the beginning, but she got her shit together. And she obviously isn’t hurting for nothing, with those Gianvito Rossi boots on her feet and that presidential Rolex hanging from her wrist.”

  Julia laughed. “You’ve always had an eye for fashion. Between you and Shaunie, I don’t know who stayed in the mall more, boosting that expensive shit from Neiman Marcus, Saks, and Barneys.”

  “Shaunie?” I asked, assuming they were talking about Melonee’s mom. “You all were friends?”

  “Friends?” Julia scoffed, as if I had offended her. “Who do you think started the original Black Widow Clique in the first place? I know when you met Benji all those years ago, you didn’t think the little seed he planted in your ear about setting men up for money came from him, right?” Her boisterous laughter filled the room. “Oh no, no, no, honey. Your mother, myself, and Shaunie started it all. And if I might say, we were quite the crew back in the day.”

  My eyes traveled over to Benji for some type of confirmation, but he was too busy whispering something in Carmen’s ear while she sat on his lap and rubbed his chest.

  “See? That’s your problem right there. Opening up your heart to emotions when it should only open for money,” my mother said as she walked over to the two lovebirds. Before Carmen had a chance to place her lips on Benji’s, April grabbed a handful of her hair and threw the Mexican ho down on the white-carpeted floor. Her body hit the floor with the same thud that a sack of potatoes might make when thrown. A loud yelp tore from Carmen’s lips.

  “Really, April?” Julia snarled. “Now the bitch’s blood will be on my son’s carpet. Do you know how long it took me to find this? How much it cost per square foot?”

  April shrugged her shoulder, leaned over the piano, and pressed a few keys like she knew what she was doing. An all-black outfit hugged her body, the same way one had the last time I saw her. “I told you that I didn’t like the bitch when I first met her. Fiona having a problem with her only gave me the okay to do something about it.”

  “I told you that your motherly instinct would hit you once you started to be around her,” Julia commented. She finished her drink and sat the cup on the glass end table, then looked at me. “Now, I like the little idea you just told us about, Fiona dear, but I think I have one that is much better. Especially if this DNA test comes back and shows that Roman is indeed the father of this baby Melonee just gave birth to.”

  Carmen groaned and tried to rise up from the floor, but she fell back down when my mother accidentally bumped her as she passed by her.

  “What’s on your mind, Julia? You know you’ve always been the brains behind this operation,” April said.

  “Benjamin, honey, help Carmen up and do something with her. I don’t want her around when we start talking official widows’ business,” Julia said.

  April laughed. “Widows’ business? Your husband isn’t dead.”

  “You forgot to add yet to the end of your statement.” Julia smiled as she looked at me.

  “Hold up. Wait one minute. What makes you think I want to do anything with the two of you or cut you in on any of this money?” I said. My eyes went over to my mother, who was smirking and shaking her head, as always. She moved from her spot at the piano and sat on the couch across from me and Julia.

  “You don’t have no other choice, Fiona, because you’re already in too deep, baby girl. I know I’m your mother and all, but I will kill you if you come between me and this money. So shut up, listen up, and take some fucking notes.”

  Melonee

  “S
o it was all a setup, huh?” Roman said as he sat in the chair near my hospital bed.

  I looked at the flowers and balloons, tokens of well wishes and congratulations, that filled my room, trying to avoid eye contact with Roman, which was kind of hard to do. For the past few days, ever since my surgery, we had been in my hospital room, getting to know each other on a personal, emotional, and at times spiritual level. In between his visits to see his father, who was still in bad shape after his heart attack, and his visits to see my son in NICU, we’d had some very interesting conversations with each other. And the connection that we’d shared since the first time I laid eyes on him seemed to be getting stronger every day.

  Spending time with Roman had been great. Not only did I know pretty much everything about him and his family now, but I’d also had the pleasure of meeting some very important people in his life, like his best friend, Marques; his lawyer and good friend, Chasin, who, by the way, had been sniffing behind Aunt Bree like a love-struck puppy; and his strikingly beautiful and very smart cousin Viktoria. The half-Russian and half-black siren had an attitude that was out of this world. She’d been a little standoffish when we first met, but once she’d realized that I didn’t have a problem with having a DNA test performed on my baby, and that my feelings for Roman were genuine, she kind of opened up to me. Her ass was here just as much as Roman was, when she wasn’t working on his case. We had kind of developed a little friendship, and in all honesty, I liked it.

  Although I was celebrating the birth of my second child with my new set of friends, I still felt some type of way about Fiona not showing up at the hospital at all. She was a straight no-call, no-show. Even though I’d called her phone over a dozen times, I still hadn’t heard anything back from her. I’d even sent pictures of my baby in his little incubator and all, and still no response. Bree had told me to let sleeping dogs lie and to take this as a sign that Fiona and I had finally reached the point in our friendship where it was best for us to part ways, but I couldn’t let it end like this. At least not without an explanation. I mean, Fiona had been there for my whole pregnancy and for the birth of Madison, so I had assumed she would be here for this one as well, regardless of how he was conceived. But I guessed I was wrong. The last time we spoke to each other at Bree’s house, the conversation had got a little heated, but that wasn’t out of the norm for us. Looking at my phone, which was on the makeshift nightstand, I thought about sending her another text message but did not. Maybe I should just take Bree’s advice, seeing as she’d been right about Mr. Black here.

  The atmosphere in the room had shifted a little, owing to the conversation we had been having for the past hour or so, and I could feel it. There was a little tension now, and I didn’t like it. But when Roman had asked me what I did for a living, I didn’t know why, but I had told him the truth. I had told him about everything I’d done since the day my mother died up until now. Told him about the Black Widow Clique, what we were about, and how we got our money. Told him how he had been our newest mark, and how he was supposed to be the wealthy bachelor that Fiona snagged and everything.

  I knew telling him the truth was probably the dumbest thing on my part, but if we were going to have any chance to raise a baby and be a family together, he had to know the truth. I didn’t want any secrets between us. Besides, I would rather he hear it from me than from somebody else. That someone else mainly being Fiona. She’d threatened to expose what I’d done a few times when I wouldn’t agree to lie about Roman being my attacker and when I first told her that I wanted out of the BWC. The fact that our friendship was dissolving would probably give her the jump to do it now.

  I looked at Roman, and those green eyes that mirrored my son’s stared back at me. After an emergency C-section, I was now the proud mother of a bouncing baby boy. At twenty-nine weeks, he was what the hospital considered a very premature baby, so he had a few complications right now. I wished like hell I could have carried him to full term, but I guessed this was a bit of karma for me. My heart broke every time I went to the NICU to visit him. All the IVs stuck in his little body, helping with his digestive system; the big tube going through his nose to help him breath; and all the stickers on his chest, wrists, and feet, monitoring his heart rate, breathing rate, and oxygen saturation, always had my eyes filling with tears and me praying that my little boy would be okay.

  The daily progress he was making was the only thing that kept me from breaking down completely. Like this morning, when I got the opportunity to feed him with a bottle instead of through a tube, my heart damn near exploded. When I looked up and saw Roman watching us from behind the large window that looked onto the nursery, with this prideful look on his face, I fell in love with both of these Black men all over again. But after admitting to him what I’d done in my life, I just hoped that Roman found some way in his heart to forgive me.

  An awkward yet comfortable silence passed between us before he spoke again.

  “The waitress at Decadence, the one who was in our VIP section that night, trying to get my attention, she was in on it too?”

  I slowly nodded my head. “Fiona is actually the brains behind everything. She finds the men we target, does the research, then gives us the information.”

  “And your daughter’s father? He’s a part of this clique thing as well?”

  I nodded my head again, and Roman shook his head in disbelief.

  He and Proof had met briefly the night that I was brought to the hospital. I hadn’t been out there to see everything that went down, but Bree had told me that shit went way left the second Proof walked into the nursery and saw Roman standing there, looking at the baby. What started out as a shouting match in the hallway turned into a full-out brawl by the time they got to the lobby. Proof didn’t understand why Roman was there, and Roman was simply trying to defend himself from Proof. Some dumb shit, if you asked me. Especially since Madison was out there with them. Too tired to deal with everything that was going on, and not in the mood to explain my reasons for wanting Roman to be here with me, I asked Proof to leave. Aunt Bree ended up taking the munchkin for the night, giving her father some time to cool off and me some time to spend with Roman alone for the first time since the night we last saw each other.

  Somewhere down the line, though, paparazzi had got word of the birth of my child and had started doing any and everything they could do to get a shot of Roman and me together or of my baby. The foot traffic in and out of the hospital had got so bad that I was moved to a more private room, one normally reserved for celebrity patients.

  Newspapers as well as blogs had been reporting all types of crazy things. One newspaper had gone so far as to say that Roman’s presence at the same hospital I was in was in no way a coincidence. According to the paper, he was here to finish the job he had started—and that meant getting rid of the baby in order to stop any DNA test from being performed and proving his guilt—so that he wouldn’t spend one single night in jail. The sleezy tabloid stories were geared toward me a bit more, saying that I was suffering from some type of psychological trauma that had me confusing the hatred I should have for my attacker with lust. It was crazy, because even after I had the DA drop the charges against Roman, people were still speculating that he was engineering some type of foul play.

  I smoothed back my hair, which was in a high bun on top of my head, and pulled at the ugly hospital gown, which was falling off my shoulder. After throwing the sheets off my legs, I carefully got out of the uncomfortable bed, pulled the IV pole alongside me, and went to the bathroom. Still a little sore from the big-ass gash across the lower part of my belly, I handled my business. As I washed my hands, I finally answered Roman’s question.

  “Yes, Proof . . . I mean Jaylen, is a part of it too. His position is what we like to call the enforcer. Pretty much the muscle we need just in case some shit doesn’t go right.” I slowly walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of it and looked at Roman.

  His eyes were a little misty, and he looked away when
he noticed me staring at him. Sitting back in his chair, he ran his hand down his handsome face, and I couldn’t help the tingle that shot through me just by my looking at the sexy sight in front of me. The five o’clock shadow covering almost half his profile did nothing but enhance his strong jawline. His curly caramel-blond locks were a little longer than they were when I first met him. His skin was a little pale today, despite his tan, but it didn’t take away from his sexiness. I wanted to grab him by his ears and kiss away any doubt he had about my love for him, but I waited for him to get off whatever else he had on his chest.

  The silence was killing me.

  “Will you say something?” I urged.

  Roman flexed the muscles in his jaw. “What do you want me to say, Melonee? What could you possibly want to hear me say?”

  “I don’t know. Something. I’m—” I began, but he cut me off.

  “You just told me that you and your friends were planning to kill me,” he said, his voice a little louder now. “I’m still trying to figure out how exactly am I supposed to respond to that. Or even try to understand that in my mind without feeling some type of way. The woman who has literally invaded every waking thought I’ve had since the day I met her, the woman whom I’ve craved since the night you let me inside you, the woman who just gave birth to my son wanted to kill me. And for some shit that I would’ve traded for you, had you given me the chance.”

  “The DNA test hasn’t come back yet, Roman.” Despite everything he had just said, this was the only thing I could think of to say in response. I was feeling guilty and ashamed, and all I wanted to do was make everything right—if I could.

  “DNA test? Melonee, I don’t need a test to tell me that that’s my son out there. From the top of his tiny head to the bottom of his small feet, all three pounds and three ounces of him is me. You don’t think I’ve noticed the color of his eyes whenever he opens them? Or the blond hairs on his tiny body, which seem to sprout from somewhere new every day? You don’t see the way our son responds to me whenever I hold his small body in my hands? If the Black characteristics weren’t a sign for me, that feeling I get in my chest whenever I hear his little cries or am simply in his presence, period, lets me know that I am his father. I didn’t need a test. It was you and Viktoria who wanted one done.”