by Love Belvin
This sounded like old world politics.
“That did something to Chéri. She’d always had self-esteem issues. Always wanted to be something bigger and better than her Bridgeton upbringing, even found a way to travel abroad to investigate her new identity.”
That confused me. And just like the sharp lawyer he was, George picked it up.
“You don’t think a woman, birthing her child in urban South Jersey would name her Chéri, do you? God bless the dead, but Ms. Patty wouldn’t know to accent the ‘e’. My dear wife was born Sherileen Brown. Her family knows her as Sherry. She changed the name on her birth certificate to match her new persona after giving birth to her daughter.”
Shit…
“So, these issues of needing to fit in and not having the strongest sense of self came from Jade’s mother. They were passed on, but not through DNA; through a broken mother, pushing her to be things she wished she was to be accepted by men like her father…and me.” His face turned hard. “And you.”
That hit me hard.
“All those flaws are what Chéri battled with, coming of age. She even tried to step up her game with Jade’s father, who rejected her for being common. And that’s what my wife thought she was doing to her only child—a female like herself. She was grooming her to not be average or subpar. She wanted her extraordinary, only Jade was that naturally. She didn’t need the fillers of grooming schools and social clubs.”
George laughed, more to himself. “You know, it was like the Kris Kardashian/Nicole Brown/Faye Resnick affect.”
He paused waiting for it to click for me.
I shook my head. “I ‘on’t get it.”
“You know, the single women who know the right circle of wealth to infiltrate to become the next Mrs. Millionaire. Some women know where to go to snag a man with money. The ones who breed their daughters to strategically marry the ‘right’ pedigree. That was my Chéri. It’s what she thought she could do with Jade until Jade charted her own course and hooked up with Ryder.” That name dripped from his mouth with disgust.
I shared the same feelings.
“Chéri looked the part: nice body, gorgeous face, elegant manner of speaking, perfect posture—even manufactured her resume. She knew how to play the role. She was sure to be in social circles where business men like myself retreated to. That’s how I met her.”
He stepped closer. “But I saw a broken—but determined—young woman, who needed help with her little girl. Eventually, I fell in love with her. It didn’t take much time. I can take the pretentiousness. I can deal with the self-consciousness and heavy concern about appearances. The one thing I couldn’t stomach was how she treated that little girl. She put her in every class she could to enhance her etiquette and breed, overworked Jade with her own expectations. But Jade is a fighter. It’s already in her. She’d already arrived. Her mother tried putting layers on top of what was already there.”
George swung his hands in the air, taking a deep breath. “And I kept silent for years because, at the end of the day, I believe it’s a woman’s role to raise children. And Jade was not mine. But I loved her. I paid for every request made by Chéri without flinching. When they reconnected a couple of years ago through Kyree, I thought I’d come to a place of believing my silence was worth it. But now that there’s been another break between them, I don’t know what to do. So,” George offered me his hand for a shake. “I bid you good luck. But this is what I’ve known of them since Jade came into my world.”
I joined him in a handshake and now felt the burden he claimed to have been drowning in for years. My mind racing, trying to fight the image of a young hazel-eyed girl being told she wasn’t smart enough, pretty enough, or just enough. That shit hurt. Jade worked hard every day to tell Ky and me how special we are—good looking, talented, and capable. At first it was weird and I thought it was her way of securing me—although I’d already fallen for her. Then I got used to it and learned to depend on it. Now, I see it was because she didn’t want us to feel like she had under her mother’s strong hand.
“Well,” George’s sigh broke me from my thoughts. “I know you got to get out of here. I know Jade and how demanding she is.” He laughed. “In some respects, she’s like her mother. She likes to make sure Poppa Bear is taken care of. So, I’m going to let you go on your way.”
He turned first, headed back up to the front of the house. I followed with haunted thoughts. I swear, the only reason why his story had any effect on me at all was because I could relate to not being accepted by your mother.
George and I shook hands again before we parted ways: he went left for the front door, I kept straight ahead for the waiting truck where my security sat. Then I stopped.
“Yo, McDowell!” I called out. He turned to me, first over his shoulder, then full body. “You know whatever happened to her pops?”
George frowned, the bright sun in his eyes as he thought. “You know… I haven’t heard much about him over the years. Haven’t heard his name around the circles. But I remember he’s from Bernardsville. Kincaid. David Kincaid. They ain’t hard to locate.” He smiled, that expression I was used to seeing on him.
I couldn’t do the same if I tried, but managed a nod.
~Thirteen
“You’re not listening, Renee. That wasn’t his first time belittling me since he’s been home,” my vocals dragged like I was bored…because I was.
“Yeah. I heard that part, but I’m saying don’t involve KyKy in y’all’s bullshit, Jade. He say stupid shit to me all the damn time and I ignore his lil ass ‘cause I know that’s just how he is. He got a good heart, though.” I rolled my eyes, holding my cell between my head and shoulder.
I used one hand to massage my itchy, stinky scalp, and the other to scroll down my Facebook timeline, something I rarely did lately. And I saw why I’d stopped. There wasn’t much going on in people’s lives other than memes and celebrating Brielle’s birthday. I mean, people who had never met the girl were posting pictures of her with birthday greetings. Dang! You would think her birthday was a national holiday.
“Yeah,” I exhaled. “But he’s your son. You have to love and deal with him unconditionally. I don’t. I’m over it. Until he apologizes to me and promises never to disrespect me again, he will remain blocked from calling me.”
“For how long, Jade? He’s Ky’s father. You can’t block him, baby.”
“And she blocked me from my son’s phone, too!” Ryshon shouted in the background.
I wanted to remind him Kyree didn’t have a phone. He was too young for one. He had an iPod. But that would’ve been useless. He’d been that disconnected from his son.
I sat back at the kitchen table, one hand going to my growing belly without thought. It was a recently developed habit. It was also hard to avoid considering I was wearing one of my old small t-shirts.
“I’m not going to continue going back and forth over this. He’s hotheaded and unpredictable. He almost got into a fight with my fiancé’s pastor over disrespecting his wife, Renee!”
Me saying her name reminded me that we shared it. My mother’s influence of the name Renee was purely French, though.
“Oh, shit! You’s about to fight a preacher, Ryder?” she asked him.
“He wasn’t no preacher. That nigga too young to be a preacher. He was just a stick that was flexin’ ‘cause his wife kept fuckin’ with me! They all kept fuckin’ with me. One lady said Ky gone be a Bailey ‘cause TB taught him how da dance! Ask her ass about that!” I heard him yell.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. April did say that. I’d forgotten all about it, and had no idea it offended Ryshon. Trent and Ky danced around here all the time. They always battled—or at least Ky thought he could compete with Trent. When those two did the JuJu dance down in the basement, I had to check myself. I was getting aroused as though no one else was in the bowling alley but Trent and me. He was lost in his playful state, bouncing his shoulder, thrusting his pelvis, and sticking out that ton
gue as he smiled beautifully. Ugh! That was one of the few occasions where Trent behaved as a big kid and I wanted to take advantage of him. Sexually. I didn’t allow myself too much time in arousal land that day. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was sex. It’s what got me into the predicament I was currently in.
“Jade, now that ain’t right,” Renee argued. “That man ain’t KyKy’s daddy.”
I sat up. “Errrrrr!” I felt like a kid doing this. I didn’t want to speak to Ryshon or his mother. “Renee, Kyree only has one father. He only calls one man daddy.” I was painfully aware of that after Trent made it clear he would not shut Ryshon out—before he got a taste of his childishness. “One father that will lose contact with him for a while until he learns how to respect his mother. I’ve got no problem doing it.”
“Jade, you can’t keep KyKy away from his father!”
“She can’t! She can’t!” Ryshon screamed. “Fuck that! I’m getting a lawyer on her dumb ass!”
Lawyer? Really, Ryshon? Where?
“Shut the fuck up, Ryder! You sound all types of stupid as hell. You on parole. Who ya dumb ass gone get to help you? You gots to stay outta the damn pen first!”
“Yo! Facts, yo! Facts. I take care all my kids. They got clothes, shoes, and food! Facts, yo! I dare anybody to say I don’t!” Ryshon screamed to the top of his lungs with a passion I’d never heard from him.
“Renee, Ryshon hasn’t sent a red dime my way since early 2015. Did he tell you we got evicted? Did he tell you the same time we got put out, Shontel and little Renee got a house and a Benz?”
“Wait a minute now!” Renee demanded. “I know everything. And that house ain’t what it seems, Jade.”
I rolled my eyes, had moved on to a gossip blog now, seeing Brielle celebrated again. At this point, I had no idea what annoyed me most: seeing a stranger well-wish a super celebrity, who was probably on an exotic island unbothered, or this fruitless conversation I was engaged in.
“Why? Because it’s in someone else’s name? Ask him how much he contributed to it? Kyree requires food, clothes, shelter, school supplies, medicine, and those are just the necessities. I was busting my ass in school and between two jobs to make ends meet for him, by myself!”
“Hold up, honey!” Renee gave more bite than she had this entire twenty minute call. “You know if my grandson needs anything, all you gots to do is pick up the phone and call his grandmother! Don’t flex ‘cause you tryna’ play super girl!”
My neck snapped back and eyes shot wide. “Renee, I didn’t know you wanted to be a grandmother anymore! You haven’t asked for Kyree since Ryshon went in this last time. I shouldn’t have to beg for anything. If you choose to help and you know your son has been incarcerated and cannot provide, why would you not even call and check on him.”
“Oh, I gotta call? I’m the grandmother. I got five grands and I gotta be the one to reach out all the time?”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to and clearly you didn’t want to, which is why I never called. I don’t beg for help anymore.”
“See, Ma! She got all this attitude now!” Ryshon declared. “I told you that life done gone to her head.”
“Jade, you is acting different,” Renee observed.
This was getting ridiculous and we weren’t getting anywhere. It all reminded me of how I used to drag Ryshon’s mother into our fights, thinking she could talk some sense into him. Also, to win her favor. The tables had now turned. He ran to his mother, and they reached out to me. The problem was, I was over it. Over Ryshon and everything attached to him other than our son. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted respect and privacy. I wanted out of their circus.
“You’re right, Renee. I have changed. I don’t want the drama anymore. I have no interest in Ryshon anymore. I won’t beg anymore. I won’t ask you guys to do right by Ky or Ryshon to respect me anymore. I’m done. I don’t have to bring Kyree with me, but I will if I feel I can’t trust Ryshon not to do anything repulsive or vindictive. I can’t risk sending him to Ryshon and have his head filled with poison about me. I’ve never spoken ill about his father to him. But after hearing what he said to my friends, I see he’s capable of anything, and I won’t have it.” I took a deep breath, closed my laptop and pushed away from the table. “Unless he’s prepared to apologize to me and swears to change his attitude toward me, I’m done with this conversation.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I disconnected the call and slid my phone near the laptop. My arms went up for a stretch above my head, the cool air hitting my exposed belly. That had my arms flying back down and my eyes rolling again. I still couldn’t believe I was pregnant. My belly had still been growing, not waiting on my preparedness.
I stalked from the table towards the stairs, remembering I never brought down my wide tooth comb for when I applied the deep conditioner. It was a Friday, nearly two weeks since Ky’s party, and I’d finally taken out my weave. I’d been thinking about going without it for a while. At least until Trent’s birthday then I’d decide my next move. But for now, I needed to clean and deep condition it.
As I made it to the stairs, I massaged my scalp with both hands. My foot hit the first step and the doorbell rang. I froze. The doorbell never rang. The gate would ring from time to time with deliveries or service people, but not the house door. I suddenly recalled having left the gate open for the patio furniture delivery. But that earlier.
Shoot!
I’d forgotten to close it after. As I padded through the house to the front door, I grew more and more curious. I was inappropriately dressed with tight cropped sweat pants, ankle socks, and the small tee that didn’t cover my full belly, and exposed my braless breasts that were now huge!
This is why I should’ve never taken Renee’s call…
Not that it mattered. I would’ve been indecent anyways. Normally no one rang the doorbell. Even though the Rogers’ had the code to the gate, they would still be expected to ring the gate bell. It couldn’t be Stenton. He was out of town. I’d taken the boys to school today and would be picking them up in a few hours. April had a set of keys. Even so, she was down in Macen Beach with her girlfriend, needing to be near Shank. She wouldn’t be back until Sunday.
As I approached the door, I could see two figures through the glass. The bell rang again, startling me.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Terrell…” a male’s voice, masked with femininity eventually answered. “…and B.” Then I heard a snicker.
My brows furrowed. Trent once told me about kids in the neighborhood finding out it was him living on this property and popped up once or twice, but in the year and a half I’d been here, there had been no such strange occurrences.
That’s why I went ahead and unlocked then opened the door. Slowly, two small figures appeared. One was a male, rather short with a brown fur coat and matching fur Cossack cap. My mom had about a half a dozen of them. His mustache and five o’clock shadow were cut with precision just as the high arch in his brows. He wore foundation and light eyeliner.
And he snickered. Again.
His eyes slid to the figure next to him, and that’s when I almost went weak at the knees. My hand ached to touch my wild, dirty, and foul-smelling hair standing on top of my scalp. My other jumped in place, was en route to my swollen and unrestrained breasts. And my—
My eyes flew down to my exposed belly. It wasn’t that big, but definitely too round and oblong to be dismissed as fat. Slowly, my eyes rolled up to her light brown orbs underneath long curled lashes and recognized the betrayal, shock, and pain in her aghast expression.
Again, the guy snickered, but this time, it appeared difficult to keep to a minimum and he sputtered a laugh…it seemed at her.
Brielle.
With her mouth agape, she turned to who I assumed was Terrell, with a blazing glare.
He was definitely laughing at her.
“I’m sorry, B!” He tried against roaring laughter that had him cupping his
mouth. “But…” he sputtered. “This nigga done got her knocked the entire…” He tried. “…fuck up!”
Brielle’s eyes swung back over to me. I was too stunned to speak at first, unable to decide if this was a dream or a damn nightmare. Who opens their front door and sees pop-star, multi-Grammy winning, Global Globe winner Brielle? There was a running limo waiting behind her on the cobblestone, circular driveway.
“Who are you?” she asked, snatching me out of my own head.
The entitlement in that question rang loud.
“Ja—” I cleared my throat. “Jade, and you?”
Terrell fell into laughter again. My eyes closed, immediately understanding why. Who didn’t know who Brielle was? After issuing him a warning glower, she turned back to me.
“Trent’s friend. Please let him know I’m here.”
I hated her tone. She had a beef with me and I didn’t understand why. She didn’t even know me.
“You never answered my question,” the confidence in my voice returned with each word I spoke. Her whole aura told me to get on guard. “But it doesn’t matter. Trent’s not home.”
“But you are,” Terrell sputtered, laughing again.
His eyes were on Brielle as he referred to me, but she wasn’t with him in humor.
Who was he?
Terrell straightened, or at least tried. “Look, he’s not even available here. Just drop it. It’s clear he’s…into something here.” His French manicured hands gestured to me. “Let’s try to make this flight, darling.”
—and me with my peeking belly…and untamed breasts…and weaveless head…and makeup-less face.
Brielle didn’t like that suggestion at all. Her eyes warred with deciding what to do. They landed on me intermittently.
“But I can’t get him anywhere. How else am I supposed to reach him? It’s been two years now!” she argued to Terrell. “What else am I going to do?”
