Baby Momma

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  I’d always considered myself a goon, a thug, a warrior. But nothing in or out of this world could have possibly prepared me for the moment my heart shattered into stone shards and stabbed me back a thousand times harder than any blade or screwdriver ever had. The news reporter described the area in Hampton where D lived as a “war zone.” Kids had gathered on a street corner and were laying toy trucks and teddy bears down at a cross that displayed the boy’s photo. His name seared itself into my cornea; etched forever into my memory, just the same as it was engraved in jagged script into the roughly made white wooden cross and plastered on my screen in stark white letters: Rasheed Lavan White Jr.

  A man had found the bodies while out hikin’ in the woods lookin’ for a Christmas tree. Just my luck he’d pick the tree next to the shallow grave Big Baby and his boys dug. The ground must have been next to impossible to get a shovel into with it bein’ so cold. They did a piss-ass job. The media had been kept out of the loop until they could properly ID the bodies and notify the families.

  My legs crumpled from beneath me and I sank to the floor in a lump of misery and contempt. I hated my life, I hated what I’d become, and I could never take back what the fuck I’d done. I tried to replay every second of my encounter with the curly haired li‘l boy who was my exact complexion with Danita’s looks. He was too tall for his age, pro’ly because I was the same way when I was that age. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me? She musta jus’ found out, couldn’t have been no more than a month along when I’d caught her stealin’ from me. The physical pain that contorted my body and gripped my insides was nothing I’d ever felt before. I cried for my oldest son who I was supposed to be takin’ care of, and I cried for the pain of not havin’ the chance to get to know the li’l nigga who was my junior. The realization that I was a senior weighed on my chest like a herd of elephants. Anger seared through me aimed solely at Danita; she should have fuckin’ told me! I wouldn’t have believed her, but she could have at least tried to tell me!

  I don’t know how long I lay on the floor, but it had started to get dark outside. My cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I was certain it was Honey. For the first time since she’d been locked up I had absolutely nothing to say to her and I ignored the call. I stayed in that same spot until I fell asleep. I felt cold, miserable, drained, and all I wanted to do was stay asleep. My phone went off and pulled me back to reality. It was a text from Big Baby.

  Accordin’ to the news they were launchin’ an investigation to determine who committed the murders and the motive behind it. He needed me to meet him at the club in twenty. Self-preservation kicked in and I forced myself up to shower. I might have to take care of Chris and his boy. How much more money would it cost me to bury this forever?

  I pulled up beside Big Baby’s Durango and gathered my thoughts. I had roughly one mil in the safe, I figured $200K would be enough to keep us outta trouble. I got out of my car and started to make my way into the club. I heard everything before I saw it. Black undercover police cars zoomed in at me from all directions, completely surroundin’ me. They swarmed and buzzed around me as a dozen barrels now bull’s-eyed my forehead. I gaveT a puzzled glance as he got outta one of the cars and walked over to me, weapon drawn.

  “Nigga! What the fuck is goin’ on? You need to call ya dogs off!” I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible, fear makin’ my hands shake and sweat.

  “I’m sorry, Rasheed. It’s over, man. Get down on the ground.”

  “What the fuck for? I ain’ did a muthafuckin’ thing, nigga! All the money I done laced y‘all bitches wit’ and I can’t even get approached with respect?” I was livid. I stood beside my car and stared into a sea of familiar faces. I’d paid these niggas, clothed they kids when they li‘l bullshit-ass police salary wasn’t cuttin’ it, entertained they dumb asses on my own fuckin’ dollar, and they had the fuckin’ nerve to come at me like this? I had a pistol under the driver’s seat in my car. I could just say fuck it and go out in a blaze of glory like Denzel in Training Day. Take a few of these bitches with me.

  “Y‘all can at least tell me what the fuck you tryin’ to arrest me for!” A pudgy white cocksucker got the balls to raise his voice up. He was obviously the new chief.

  “Rasheed Lavan White Sr., you are under arrest for the murders of Derrick Richards an’ Rasheed Lavan White Jr.”

  His voice hit me like a death sentence. My stomach twisted and I just knew I was gonna be sick. I felt like a trapped pit bull. I was trained to fight and kill. Fight poverty, fight the system, fight other niggas. If I wanted to solidify my place at the top I had to fight and kill or be killed. I faced the same corrupt muthafuckas who helped me become the monster I was, and I fought every instinct that drove me to fight and kill even now, with all the odds stacked against me. My eyes roved around, lookin’ for an escape, some way out. Big Baby was sittin’ in the back of one of the other cars and a few cops were walkin’ out of the club with some of my stuff in plastic bags. My time was up. I turned my back and raised my hands over my head and felt the wind get knocked out of me as I was tackled to the hard, dank ground. I was searched and hefted up to my feet, my hands were cuffed in front of me, and I was placed in the back of T’s car.

  He got in and handed me an envelope through the chicken wire separator.

  “My nigga, I couldn’t give y‘all any kinda heads-up. Shit hit me jus’ as I reported for my shift. I been out on vacation for Christmas. When the word got to me that they were tellin’ Danita who killed her son, I ain’t have no time to warn anyone.” He was lookin’ straight ahead as he drove me to the precinct, mouth barely movin’ as he spoke.

  “You were an honestly loyal nigga, Rah. I’m so sorry, dawg. You know I always appreciated you, nigga. But, God, I’m sorry. She ain’t deserve that shit.”

  “T, what the fuck you talkin’ ’bout, nigga?”

  We pulled up at a light and he turned slightly so he could see me outta the corner of his eye. “’Bout Honey. I’m so sorry, nigga.” He cleared his throat.

  “Honey was cellmates wit’ Danita. They seemed to been gettin’ along fine. Honey was waitin’ on a spot in the maternity ward an’ was s’posed to get moved today.”

  I was still lost. Honey was in prison wit’ Dee? That’s who she was dikin’ wit’?

  “They found Honey this mornin’. I guess when Danita got news ’bout her son she went off. She stabbed Honey, Rasheed. An’ then she used the shank an’ killed herself. You got a li‘l girl, nigga. She was born this mornin’.” He took a deep breath. “Honey lost too much blood; she’s not gonna make it. My boy works ova at the prison an’ found that letter when they went to clear the cell. He knew I’d get it to you.”

  I looked down at the letter, and the paper darkened in a spot as a tear slid down my cheek.

  “You need to read it quick, I don’t know if anything’s in it that might hurt ya case, but they ain’ gonna let you keep it when we get to processing.”

  All I could do was nod at T, and I opened the letter.

  Hey daddy,

  We ain really been talkin lately so Dee suggested I write you sometimes. I miss you so much baby. The girls in here are ok. Now they know I’m pregnant so it’s not too many bitches that’ll fuck wit me. I was mad as hell at u for hangin’ up on me cuz Dee ain’ no dike baby. She actually used to be one of ya girlfriends a long time ago. She told me bout y‘all and I ain’t even get mad cuz that was waaay before you knew me. Baby, Dee told me what happened an that you had her face cut up. She refuse to tell you herself but she was pregnant wit y’all’s son and was tryin to get money for an abortion, she wasn’t stealin from u. Your baby mama called her an‘told her bout y’all an’ you broke her heart, baby. She say you takin care of him now so I’m hopin you bondin’ wit your son. If you ain figured it out for yourself yet, then yes that’s what I’m telling u. I seen his picture an he look like a mini U! He so cute. I wish I could be there, I‘ma need u to be a good man
and not let him pick on Paris when she come. I hope you ok wit da name. I always wanted to go and I’m hopin she will get to one day. Thank you for the extra money on my card for Christmas. Paris got me up in here eatin’ honey buns, Fritos, anything I can get my hands on. I love you, daddy. I‘ma try to call you on Christmas Day, but if not then I’ma put this in the mail to the club. xoxoxo Honey—ps in case you didn’t know them lil xo’s I wrote mean hugs an kisses

  27

  Baby Momma

  I parked across the street and watched as Rasheed was handcuffed and placed into a police car. My windshield was the movie screen and I was sitting front and center in the director’s chair. I’d spent the last eight years directin’ my ass off and this was the grand finale. Some women professionally chase athletes, actors, and rappers. They look for anyone who can turn their broke and ordinary lives into a fairy tale. You’ll see ’em running behind these niggas with Cinderella dreams, hoping and praying that if they suck and fuck him just right, maybe they’ll get spoiled and catered to. Hoping if they put it down better than all the other women on his roster, they’ll eventually win the grand prize and be the Mrs. Married to the money and the misery, constantly fighting off younger, better-looking competition.

  Then you have women like me. We stuck with the nobodies through whatever we had to, and helped turn them into that successful rapper or basketball player, praying they didn’t leave us for another woman after all was said and done. Well, that’s my story with Rasheed, anyway. From the beginning he’d always been determined to be a “have,” makin’ profit off of the “have-nots.”

  We first met at a party he was having at his aunt’s house when I was sixteen. Back then his vision was no bigger than making enough to buy the next pair of Jordans, but I saw more. Rasheed could have been good at anything he put his mind to. Not only did he have the drive and intelligence, but he looked damn good, still does. We being from two different worlds had people shocked when we first started dating. It took me a little getting used to as well, but let me just say it wasn’t hard to adjust to a six foot plus well-built nigga with all the right tools in his toolbox.

  It was always my personal goal to turn Rah into the successful man I knew he could be. He knew the streets and he knew the drug game. I went to college for business but you might as well say we both got a degree out of the deal. I brought home everything I learned about investing and marketing, and I molded a nickel-and-dime corner boy into a business-sawy boss nigga.

  I always knew there would be a day when I would need to make up my mind: choose the life I wanted over the life I was living, or sit back and accept things and just remain miserable. When things with Rasheed were good and he was consciously trying to do right by me, life was great. But our bad memories far outweighed the good ones. I’d fallen out of love with Rasheed a long time ago. In the beginning, I loved him so much that I sometimes blamed myself for him cheating on me, lying to me, treating me like I was nothing. I became one of those women I despised. I wanted the money and the fairy tale. I wanted the companionship, huge wedding, possibly three kids, and beautiful home.

  My BlackBerry buzzed from somewhere in the bottom of my purse. Digging to find it, I wondered why I didn’t just put the damn thing in my pants pocket. I finally located it and smiled at Larissa’s picture smiling back at me on the caller ID.

  “Hey, sweetie, I was just thinkin’ about you.”

  “I bet you were! I be thinkin’ ’bout me a damn lot too.”

  I laughed. Ris was probably the only person I knew who could fit “damn” or “fuck” in between any regular phrase to make a new one, and she was cocky with it too.

  “Is everything okay? Trey’s not actin’ up, is he?” I asked.

  “You know he’s fine but, Chelly, really, are you okay right now?”

  She sounded so concerned, and I honestly didn’t think I’d given reality a chance to really sink in. Maybe because I’d already imagined this day a thousand times in my head. Or, maybe, because in my spirit I felt like this was the way things needed to be and I accepted it as such. I took a deep breath. I needed to wrap my mind around what I’d done—what we’d done.

  “Yes, Ris, I’m really okay, I promise.” I tried to add a little lightness to my tone to put her at ease.

  “Good, ‘cause we been puttin’ up wit’ dat nigga’s bullshit long e-fuckin’-nough. He too stupid to ‘preciate a good bitch when he got one, then fuck ’em!”

  Me and Ris had had this conversation so many times. Me going through drama, trying to leave Rah only to turn around and give him chance after chance. Except this time the conversation was entirely different, this time her words were reality.

  “I know, girl, I know. He just got picked up. I need to go home, grab a few things, and then I’ll be over,” I told her.

  “Well hurry up, ‘cause I got us a couple bottles an’ we pop-pop-poppin’ dem bitches tonight!”

  I pulled up at what Ris liked to call her mini mansion, the place I always referred to it as my getaway. My house with Rasheed was home only when it was convenient for him. I had just left from over there and I stayed just long enough to grab a few of Trey’s toys and his favorite pj’s. The lights were out on the tree and the place looked exactly how I finally felt inside about Rasheed: empty. I had absolutely nothing left for him.

  I saw Ris appear in the front door, holding Trey, before I could even put the car in park.

  “Look, Trey, there’s Mommeeee! Say Merry Christmas, Mommy!”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He did his best, but could only get out what sounded like “Ma-Chris, Mommy.” He was the only good thing Rasheed had ever given me.

  “Aw, hello, my babies.” I kissed them both on the cheek. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold, feels like it might snow.” I followed them inside, glad to be out of the cold.

  Ris’s mini mansion was exactly that; there were five bedrooms, two and a half baths, it even had fireplaces in the master bedroom and family room. Everything was decorated in warm, comfy colors: dark chocolate and green, tan, and blues. It had a real modern, cozy feel to it. My touch consisted of a few bright yellow throw pillows that were lyin’ on the floor, indicating Trey had been playing around. Ris liked to burn patchouli candles in just about every room, and the scent always reminded me of her and subconsciously I relaxed. I sat in front of the fireplace in the living room, enjoying the painful tingle as my fingers and toes warmed up while Ris went to put Trey down for the night. The police would probably be contacting me for a statement or something to that degree. I seriously needed to pull myself together.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would be hungry or not. I ordered pizza for me an’ Trey if you want some.”

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear Larissa come back downstairs. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m good right now. I could really use a glass of that champagne, though.”

  “Girl, you ain’ said nothin’ but a mufuckin’ word! I got Patrón an’ ...” The rest of her sentence trailed off as she scampered into the kitchen.

  I shook my head. Messing around with this girl would have my face in the toilet all day tomorrow if she had her way. She used to get me so messed up when we were in college. Ris could probably drink most niggas under the table if she put her mind to it.

  “Whoo! Baby, we toastin’ tonight!” Ris returned, dancing toward me, and landed on the couch, clanking champagne glasses between her fingers.

  “Yeah, I guess we can start our celebration a little early. Shit ain’t over until the gavel drops but we can talk about that some other time. Pour my ass a draank.”

  Ris fought with the cork for a few seconds before it went flying out of the bottle with a loud “pop.” We toasted to ourselves. I’d never been a huge fan of champagne, especially the dry stuff; tastes like grapefruit rinds and club soda, if you asked me. But Ris loved it, and if she was buying you had no choice but drink what she liked to drink.

  I hadn’t eaten much today so it wouldn’t take more than a couple of gla
sses to get me completely fucked up. I needed to pace myself. I sure as hell ain’t want a headache to fight with in the morning. We sat in silence, enjoying the relaxing warmth from the fire. The orange glow danced off of the walls, reminding me of a summer sunset—reminding me of my last night in the Bahamas with Rah. That was my last good memory of us together. Giggling and teasing each other, kissing like we were back in high school and nothing could ever come between us. Ris set her glass on the coffee table in front of the couch and turned to face me, her demeanor suddenly serious and quiet.

  “Michelle, how long have we known each other?” she asked.

  “Shit, girl, I don’t know. Feels like forever! Why, what the hell you done went and did now?” Usually when Ris got quiet on me it was time for a confession, like the time she used my credit card to order a five-hundred-dollar wig off the Internet, or when she got our initials tattooed on the back of her neck. Ris never did anything small or half-assed. I had to give her credit for having balls when it came to living life.

  “Baby, marry me.”

  I stared at her wide-eyed with disbelief. I was waiting for a giggle or a laugh, something to signal this was a joke. When none came, I realized Ris was actually being dead serious. I couldn’t believe my ears. We’d been together so long and we’d been dealing with the issue of me and Rasheed for so many years that I never considered the possibility of marriage. What would my parents think? Hell, what would my friends and neighbors think?

  “Ris, baby, I... I don’t know what to say right now.” My eyes filled with tears. It was just too much coming at me too soon, and too fast. I wasn’t even fully at grips with what we’d done to Rasheed and, now, another life-changing decision. I did my best to keep my voice from shaking as I looked into Ris’s hurt-filled emerald eyes that were slowly brimming with tears.