Baby Momma

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  “You know I’m not like you with this whole thing. Ris, I’m not out. My job is so conservative. Baby, I’m almost a VP and it’s taken me so long to get to this point.” I didn’t know what else to say. Yes, I loved Larissa, but for some reason I always kept a picture in the back of my mind of myself finally married to a man, married to Rasheed. It was selfish of me to go between the two of them like I’d been doing, and without Rah in the picture I really needed Ris to be there for me.

  When I met Ris in college, I was still dating Rah. Some skank named Katrice had gone through Rah’s cell and called me, asking who I was and why I was calling her man. That was the same night he claimed he was in a fight with some guys trying to cut in on his territory, and they got in a fight, putting him in the hospital with a knife wound to his shoulder. I was pretty sure ol’ girl did it, but it was also the first time I’d ever dealt with Rah cheating on me and lying to me, and I took it hard. He always acted so in love and so faithful. Saying the right things, doing the right things, I couldn’t imagine him kissing, loving, or even fuckin’ another woman. Yeah, I had ulterior motives going in but he didn’t know any of that, and I couldn’t help fallin’ in love with him.

  Back then, I was too into Rah to even notice Ris was infatuated with me. It was my first year in college and I was still trying to adjust to the whole dorm lifestyle. I remembered meeting my new roommate, who was this beautiful honey-skinned woman with eyes the color of one of those jade dragons you see in Chinese restaurants. I always envied her long, thick reddish brown hair and killer body. I initially couldn’t figure out why she was never with any guys, or why she never had any boyfriends. Even then I should have known Rah was a dawg. Ris told me he’d tried to holla at her one day when he came to see me on campus and I wasn’t in my room. I defended him, told her she was probably just misreading his signals. Of course, when I confronted him about it he agreed with me, calling Ris a hater, and said she was probably just jealous that I had a man and she didn’t.

  The first time Rasheed broke my heart, it was Larissa who mended it back together. I’d always looked at other women’s bodies and tried to imagine if I were a man what would be attractive to me. What kind of woman would I want to have in my arms? Would she be light-skinned, did pretty feet really matter, would I take personality over a fat ass? I’d always hated my height; my size often made me feel like less of a woman when I towered over smaller chicks. I found myself admiring Ris. She might have only been five one or so, but what she lacked in height she made up for with aggressiveness, attitude, and ass. Ris was the pursuer in our situation. I would get out of class and find flowers on my bed, or a jacket I’d been looking at in the mall would suddenly appear in my closet. I’d felt so betrayed and so hurt by what Rah did that for once I let my guard down and appreciated being cared for by another person.

  I’ll never forget our first time together. We were both drunk on our asses, lying on the floor, watching Love & Basketball. Ris was telling me about how she used to be obsessed with Sanaa Lathan and thought I looked just like her. One minute I was hysterically laughing my ass off, only to find myself torn between slapping the shit out of Ris and confused as to why my body was reacting like a jolt of electricity was surging through me from the feel of her lips on mine. For the first time in my life, I was made love to. Drunk or not, no man had ever made me feel the way Ris made me feel.

  If I allowed myself to consider the notion of settling down with a woman, she fit every preconceived image of everything I’d ever wanted. She was great with Trey, treated me like a queen, and had such a free spirit. It hurt me to my core to see her right now, looking defeated with tears running silently down her cheeks. All because I hadn’t come to grips with my own sexuality or learned to identify my true self. When it’s all said and done, I’d never been with anyone but Rasheed or Larissa. I set my glass on the coffee table and took her hand.

  “Well, since you asked me, I guess I’m gonna have to take your last name, huh?” I smiled through my tears and sniffled as her eyes widened in surprise and I continued, “Mrs. Larissa Roberts... I think Mrs. Michelle Roberts sounds like a pretty decent name for a VP, don’t you?”

  We’d probably have to go to California or something to make it legit, but my mind was made up and I was willing to do whatever it’d take to make Ris happy.

  28

  Caged Birds

  Four fuckin’ puke-pink walls. For the last two weeks I’d been stuck in this damn cell starin’ at four fuckin’ puke-pink walls. I was bein’ held without bail in bullshit-ass Fairview County Jail, and couldn’t find a decent lawyer anywhere who was willin’ to represent me. From what I could get outta T, forensics matched the bullets they took outta li’l Rasheed and Derrick back to a .45 registered in my name.

  I couldn’t get to Big Baby to find out what the fuck was goin’ on but I only had one .45 and it stayed locked up in my office. It was obvious to me I was bein’ set the fuck up. I’d been tryin‘a hit Michelle with no luck, and really needed to figure out how the hell I was gonna tell her I had a daughter I needed her to take care of until this shit was sorted out. They were still tryin’a locate Honey’s next of kin so, in the mean time, Paris was in foster care. It killed me knowin’ I had a li’l girl out there bein’ raised by some random-ass nigga. I slammed my head back against the cell wall in frustration. How the fuck did shit come to this?

  I was certain the district attorney was tryin‘a set me up with these murder charges since Honey took the wrap on Inferno for me. I needed to get in contact with Michelle, but every time I tried her cell it went straight to voice mail and when I called the house she never picked up. I was sure this ain’ what she needed on top of seein’ me wit’ Diamond, but I needed her right now. I needed to know Trey was okay. I really needed her insight, her guidance. She was always my go-to on the next best course of action I needed to take.

  All this thinkin’ was makin’ me go insane. I got down on the filthy floor and started doin’ pushups to burn some energy. One. Two. Three. Four.

  “Yo, nigga.”

  I heard a voice from the cell beside mine, but ignored it. That nigga always wanted something. Toilet paper, matches, you name it. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

  “Yo, so I heard you da nigga dat was runnin’ da Hot Spot—da nigga dat was puttin’ out dat muthafuckin’ Inferno. Ya let ya bitch take the wrap.”

  Nine. Ten. My shoulders were startin’ to burn. I decided to humor dude and see what the fuck he had to say. “Yeah, an’ if I was?” I didn’t even break my rhythm.

  “If you was that same muthafucka, I’d tell you that one of your bitches was lookin’ into some filthy shit before all dem fien’s was hit wit’ death warrants.” He paused. An officer walked by makin’ the rounds before lights out.

  “My fuckin’ unk died from that bullshit like a month ago, autopsy say it was a fentanyl overdose. Shit like a hundred times stronger than morphine.”

  I started sweatin’ but it wasn’t from the pushups. I got up an’ dusted off my hands.

  “What the fuck you sayin’, nigga?” I was startin’ to get more agitated by the second.

  “I’m sayin’ unless you doin’ some extra, unheard-of cuttin’, somebody was deliberately fuckin’ up yo’ shit, nigga. Nobody use shit like that to cut up no muthafuckin’ horse, nigga! I need to know who you was gettin’ ya shit from. I got business to handle.”

  “Nigga, I already got shit handled, why the fuck you think I’m in here now?” He was startin’ to piss me off. The last thing I needed was accusations, or more shit to link me to Inferno. Honey gave her life for me on that; as far as I was concerned the matter was handled.

  “You might believe yo’ shit square, B, but I was doin’ some diggin’ an’ the one pharmacist mufucka who even sell that typ‘a shit under the table out here told me he sold a lotta shit to some bitch jus’ befo’ all dem ODs started poppin’ up all ova the news. Fuckin’ shame I had to stick his pussy ass to get him to talk, mighta found out who the bitch
was if the muthafucka ain’ die first. I hope you got two charges ’gainst yo’ ass, muthu-fucka, or somebody still out there sittin’ free an’ clear while you in here.”

  With that I heard him shuffle toward the opposite corner of his cell. I reluctantly sat down on the stiff, piss-smellin’ bunk I was given and mulled over what he’d said. After all was said and done, was Honey workin’ wit’ Derrick? I replayed the last time I talked to D in my head and couldn’t make ends meet. Michelle’d picked up the last drop. It took her forever but she said she had a flat. She had enough time to fuck my shit up if she wanted to. If she was fuckin’ Derrick why would she keep meetin’ him at the club like Big said? What if they were plannin’ out shit and swappin’ product? I didn’t know if havin’ nothing else to think ‘bout was makin’ me draw pointless conclusions or what, but suddenly there seemed to be an even greater fuckin’ chance that Michelle could have been doin’ more with Derrick than just fuckin’!

  29

  Baby Mommas

  I had the worst headache imaginable. This was exactly what the hell I was trying to avoid. I opened my eyes and could feel every painful thud of my heartbeat in my temples. My chest felt heavy and hot; Ris was sprawled across me, naked, her face beside mine, still snoring in my ear. For her to be so damn small she sure knew how to take up a lot of space. I closed my eyes and tried to remember specific events from the night before. They came to me in reverse. Ris sprawled out on her stomach, my face buried in her thick, full ass, licking every inch of her pussy from back to front. Tangling my fingers in her hair, tryin’a stop the room from spinning long enough to focus; legs up on her shoulders, begging her for Ike, our strap-on. I’d never seen one in my entire life until Ris brought Ike home a few months ago. It was longer, thicker, and blacker than anything I’d ever imagined.

  Our first night was awkward; she’d never used one, and had to practice the whole thrusting motion that comes more naturally to men. She picked one that strapped between her legs instead of around her waist. This way it rubbed against her sensitive parts and the harder she fucked me the better it felt to us both. I’d never experienced that side of Ris, the demanding and domineering side. It was like she literally transformed into someone else, and Ike became more of an extension of herself than a toy. Ever since then we’d just decided to call it Ike. She’d strap up and playfully tease me, askin’, “Is you ready to sang the song, Annie-Mae?” and of course I’d start sangin’.

  My heart took a dive in my chest. I’m engaged. To a woman! I felt myself panic. Was I really going to go through with this? Did I want to raise my son in a home with two mommies? How would I explain this to him when he got older? Would the kids in school tease him because of me? I shifted and wrapped my arms around Ris, pulling her closer into me, and closed my eyes. I could count a hundred times that I’d lain on Rah’s chest, or woken up beside him and, yet, not once did I ever feel as complete or as right as I felt right this second. We got along so well considering we were exact opposites. Ris was the loudmouth life of the party, center of attention, sexy and comfortable in her own skin. She naturally brought out the playful side of me. Ris made me forget about bank figures and contract negotiations, and with her I could focus on unwinding and living. I was raised by both my parents in the suburbs. They were strict, normal, and would never understand my current situation. Ris, on the other hand, was raised by her momma in Detroit; she was accustomed to struggle and poverty and they barely ever spoke to each other.

  I sometimes felt like it was my job to erase all of the memories of never having enough by giving her everything she could possibly ever want. I liked men, she liked women ... Okay, so I liked women too, and my relationship with Ris had its bumps, but it had still managed to evolve into a real relationship. She never liked Rasheed, and every time I came to her cryin’ about some new bullshit he’d pulled, she did her best to help me get over him. She hated him so much for me. Maybe I should have felt guilty for my relationship with her. I should have probably been embarrassed or felt uneasy, but she had always given me what Rasheed couldn’t—trust an’ love.

  My BlackBerry dinged on the nightstand. It was after 8:00 A.M. The first time Rah called me from the jail I’d marked the number to go straight to voice mail. My phone wouldn’t ring when he called, I’d just get a notification. I wasn’t ready to talk to his ass yet. I was still too angry to talk rationally with him but I needed to let him know how all of the cheating, lying, and bullshit made me into a bitter woman. Eventually, I was going to have to put all that aside and, finally, tell him why things had to be the way they were going to be. As much as I felt that he deserved exactly what he was getting, I was not looking forward to the conversation.

  Something told me back when I found out about one of his other side chicks, Danita, I should have walked away and never looked back. It always hurt Ris so much every time I decided to go back to him, and I didn’t know what I would do if I ever lost her for good. The worst part about using a person to rebound from being with someone else is that your heart is never completely available. Every time I tried to focus on Ris to get over the hurt from dealing with Rasheed, a part of me still longed for him. I hadn’t seen or heard from Rah for nearly six months after the incident when Katrice stabbed him. I was pretty certain what she told me about him was the truth and I was doing everything in my power to get over him. One day, out of the blue, he texted to ask my advice on some business. One thing led to another and, even though he hadn’t fully regained my trust, we got back together.

  Everything seemed normal for the first few months. Back then me and Ris never called what we had a relationship. When I took Rah back she kind of just fell back in place as a good friend, no questions asked. It’d always been like that between us. She would act jealous and not speak to me for days at a time whenever I went home to visit or stayed the night at a hotel with him, but I looked at Ris as my so-called college experiment and I was quite certain that I just wasn’t cut out to be a lesbian. I missed my daddy dick-downs entirely too much. That was way before Ris and I discovered the wonders of Ike.

  When Rah and I had gotten back together he was the perfect gentleman, for a little while anyway. It wasn’t until he started cancelling trips to come see me or not answering my calls late at night that I knew he was up to something. Everything Rah had ever had had always been in my name. His cars, his cell phones, even his Costco membership was under mine. He’d always kept his phone locked and glued to his side so I knew if I ever wanted to know anything I would need access to it. One day I was switchin’ into a new cell and I learned that the old phone I’d jus’ taken off of my number could still receive every text even though it wasn’t active. The guy in customer service told me it was called cloning. Even though the phone was inactive it could still receive texts an’ voice mail notifications. That’s why they always suggest you erase the memory or simply keep your old cell turned off whenever you get a new one. I bought a spare phone, called customer service, and put it on his line, sayin’ his original phone was stolen, waited an hour, and then called back, sayin’ we found the original. Sure enough a few minutes later a text came through on the cloned phone. I didn’t recognize the number, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t Derrick textin’ to ask if Rah was “ready to tear up dis pussy.” I blocked my number and called to confront the bitch on the other line. I got her voice mail on the first try. I listened to the recording, trying to picture the face that went along with the soft-spoken woman who was fuckin’ my man. Did she look better than me? Was he in love with her? Why her, what did she have that would make him want her so much that he’d lie to me? I redialed her number, prepared to just leave her a damn message.

  “Hello?” It was the voice from the voice mail.

  I was shocked she’d answered. “Hi, um, I’m sure you don’t know me, or even know about me but, um, I’m Rasheed’s fiancée. I need to know what’s up with y’all.” I exaggerated a little, butfuck it. I wanted her to feel fucked up, I wanted her to hurt like I was
hurting.

  “Maybe I need to be askin’ who the fuck you are, ’cause me an’ Rah been together a minute now. He in my bed ere fuckin’ night so I don’t know when he got time to fuck wi’chu. I think you got the wrong person.” Her tone became snappy, far from the soft, playful woman she presented on her voice mail.

  “No, momma, I’ve got the right person. You just sent my man a text and I got it. I’m away at college but we’ve been together since high school. He runs the Hot Spot with his boy Derrick. I’m Michelle. Ask him ’bout me.” And with that I disconnected the call. The ball was in her court. When Ris got in from class I told her what had transpired between myself and another one of Rah’s side chicks.

  “Shit, Michelle! Anotha one? How many bitches you gotta run into befo’ you realize that nigga dirty?” She was agitated, pacing back and forth in front of me while I sat on my bed, teary-eyed, hugging one of his T-shirts I’d taken when I left for college.

  “I don’t know, girl. I mean he was my first love, my first boyfriend. We’ve got a lotta firsts. I helped him buy his first strip club. We’re supposed to be building an empire together.”

  “What about our firsts, Chelle? If all it take is a dick to make you feel happy then, fuck it, I’ll go buy one! You deserve mo’ than what that nigga willin’ to give you, girl. Open ya eyes! Why do you keep fuckin’ wit’ him?” she asked me.

  “I don’t know, Ris, I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”

  But I knew the answer. Call it what you want, sprung, turned out, it was what it was. The dick was better than good. Whenever me and Rah fought, we’d have that “I love you so much I hate you” makeup sex. The type of shit that starts as soon as you open the front door and ends with clothes spread from one side of the house to the other, pictures knocked off the wall, and furniture all out of place. Whenever Rah did anything wrong he used his dick to say sorry, and the more sorry he was the better it would be. At those times I didn’t mind the biting or the roughness. I just wished that sometimes he would switch it up, be a little more gentle, or a little more romantic. Our makeup sex would always hit like a major earthquake, and what I’d done with Ris at the time was like a quiet, calm spring rain in comparison.