Baby Momma

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  Everything was quiet for nearly a month after I spoke with Danita. Rah sent me flowers every day and apologies in the form of letters, cookies, you name it. Ris made it a point to throw away any- and everything he sent to our dorm. However, once again after relying on Ris to get me through I backslid, and it started with me checking his texts. Day to day, he was only getting texts about business from his boys. No new messages from Danita or any other girls ever came through on what I started callin’ the Batphone.

  Rah was being so attentive and apologetic. In a moment of weakness durin’ spring break, Ris left to go see her family and I asked Rah to come talk to me. We were on each other before I could even close the door. We never talked out our problems; I never asked him for explanations, I’d just get my dick-down and then we’d fall back in sync as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Rah was supposed to stay with me for the entire week of spring break but had to cut the trip short because of some sort of emergency. I’d hid the Batphone while he was in town. I went to check it after he’d left and was in tears by the time I’d finished reading texts from her. She was apologizing for accusing him of cheating and wanted him to come home. And he’d actually lied to my face and run off to go be with her. My phone rang and I answered without looking.

  “This is Michelle.” I could barely talk around the lump in my throat.

  “Hi. Michelle, this is Danita. Rasheed was jus’ wit’ you, wasn’t he?” She sounded exactly how I felt.

  “How did you get this number? And, yes, but he left—he said he had an emergency.” I sniffled loudly and tried to find something to wipe my nose with. I made the mistake of using one of his T-shirts from my laundry pile; new tears welled up as I inhaled Issey Miyake and cried loudly into the phone.

  “Michelle, I confronted Rasheed that night you called and I asked him who you were. He got so damn angry an’ defensive. He said you weren’t nobody an’ you ain’t mean shit to him. He gave me your number an’ told me to call you an’ ask you myself if y‘all were fuckin’ or not. He ain’ think I would actually ever call you I guess.”

  It felt like my heart had been split in half. I didn’t have anything to say to her. She continued.

  “I was calling to let you know I think I’m pregnant an‘I ain’ have anyone else to talk to. I called Rahsheed but he wouldn’t answer. But his bitch ass responded to all my texts. I knew somethin’ was up. I really need to thank you for tellin’ me ‘bout his dawg ass. Girl, dat nigga doesn’t deserve either of us, an’ I know he’s been lyin’ to me. All the times he’s been wit’ me when his phone rings an’ he won’t answer it. It stays locked an’ he even takes it in the bathroom wit’ him. What kinda shit is that? Michelle, I’m done. No nigga’s worth my tears.”

  We talked for quite some time. For all the months they were together she just knew he was being one hundred with her. I thought Danita was more upset than I was. It’s hard to be in love with a nigga when you know he’s doing you wrong. Love makes us forgive everything and fall for damn near anything. It’s fucked up that a person can cause you so much pain and still be the only one in the world who can make the hurt go away.

  If Danita hadn’t known about me, she might have considered keeping the baby, but she couldn’t stand the thought of havin’ to deal with Rah for the next eighteen years. She didn’t know any other way to make money if she couldn’t dance at the club. She’d told me she was getting rid of it. As much as I hated her for sharin’ my man, as a woman and a mother, I would never have wished what Rasheed did to her.

  All of this I told to Ris. I told her everything, always had.

  “So, now you know he ain’ fuckin’ wit’ ol’ girl, you gonna take him back again, huh?” She wasn’t even mad that he’d been in our room during spring break, or that once again she was probably going to end up being on the back burner while I tried to make Rah love me the way I felt I deserved to be loved.

  “Momma, I don’t know what to do. Why ain’t I enough for him? All the shit I do for him and put up with, why does he keep looking at other bitches? It feels like I can’t win.” I was getting frustrated and my self-esteem was slowly deteriorating.

  “Look, baby, if you gonna keep fuckin’ wit’ his bitch ass da least you can do is make bank off da muthafucka, damn!”

  Ris had never been more right or made more sense. We hugged and made the decision to change our lives for the better. No matter what, we were going to eat and live the lavish life off that nigga and that, in itself, would compensate for all the bullshit I’d been putting up with. I even managed to keep in touch with Danita and, when she got locked up, I was the one who suggested she send li’l Rah to stay with us. It was time Rah learned about his son anyway. I would have never guessed, not in a million years, that Rah’s jealousy would get the best of him to the degree that he’d actually put a child in danger.

  I’d told Danita a hundred times she needed to tell Rah about his son. Deep down I thought what she wanted was to mete out some kind of silent revenge for what he’d done to her face and her life. I thought about Trey and couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of pain she must have been going through right now.

  “I can hear yo’ ass thinkin’. Them wheels spinnin’ so loud they woke me up.” Ris kissed me on my cheek, stretched, and yawned. “What are you thinkin’ ’bout, baby?”

  She rolled off of my chest and stretched out on her side, facing me. She lightly trailed her fingertips along the arches of my eyebrows.

  “You worry way too much. Black don’t crack, but you damn sure tryin‘a put some creases up here. If you gonna be Mrs. Roberts, we gotta preserve these good looks. I can’t have everyone thinkin’ you my momma an’ not my wife when we go to Pride nex’ year!” She giggled.

  I balked. I had no intention of attending any kind of gay pride celebrations, but I’d have to break that to Ris at another time.

  “Ris, we the same age, stop playin’. I have to worry for all of us. Our web is big, bigger than I’d expected, and we need to make sure all of the flies that get tangled in it are wrapped up tight.” I knew that was probably over her head but it’s the best way I could explain our situation. The more complex things got the more people we had to get involved, and if we weren’t careful it would only take one slip and everything would go completely to shit. I needed to make sure every angle was covered from every direction, every viewpoint, down to every single detail.

  I leaned up and kissed Ris on the forehead. “Okay, this is the last time. I promise. Tell me how much we can trust Shiree on this one? If anything gets out, shit can get real hot for us both, real fast.” I was confident that with all the drug money and all my legit money we could pull this off. But everyone had to play their part, follow their scripts, and if anything switched up we needed to improvise accordingly.

  Never in a million years would I have ever guessed Ris’s li‘l sister Shiree, aka Big Shirley, would end up messin’ with Big Baby and gettin’ burned. I didn’t see it comin’, but I sure as hell saw it as a solution.

  30

  Still Waters Run Deep

  Everything had fallen into place just as I’d hoped, if not better. I had Ris’s reassurance that Shiree would stay in pocket and, since we’d paid her at least three times what she normally saw in a year from dancing at the club, I finally felt more confident in my plan. Things were fitting together flawlessly. I wasn’t sure if it was blind luck or fate, but I never would have thought the day Ris moved her cousin in would be the day to change all of our lives.

  If there’s one thing I had to give Rah credit for, it would definitely be his financial support. Dealing with Rah on a personal level had me accustomed to being home alone and often. He may have never been there, but he sure as hell made sure everything was paid on time. All of our bills were paid in full, the house was paid off, and all the cars. I was the go-to person at the bank, and my salary was almost $100,000 a year. Thanks to Rah I rarely needed to touch my own money. I invested most of it and pa
id for Larissa’s home. If Rasheed had had any idea how much my net worth really was, I doubted he’d have ever stepped a foot back out on the streets to hustle.

  Trenisha, aka Honey, was Ris’s nineteen-year-old first cousin. She was livin’ with their grandmother and basically runnin’ wild, losin’ her damn mind. When she almost died from an OxyContin overdose, she was sent to Larissa’s. Their grandmother swore up and down the girl was tryin’ to kill herself, but I know a little about recreational drug use and it just seemed to be something that ran deep in that family. Don’t get me wrong, Larissa was my heart, but she’d always been the type of person to look for different kinds of highs. It started with liquor in college. Then she started smoking weed, popping ectasy, and when I got pregnant with Trey, Larissa started doin’ coke and Lord knew what else. She’s always tried to hide her drug use from me but I’d accepted her for who she was, flaws and all. Hell, half the niggas out there worked for Rah. Even though they didn’t know Ris was my girlfriend, it bothered me to have her out buying shit off of the street like that. When needed, I could bypass Rasheed and talk Derrick into sellin’ me what I needed to keep her out of trouble but, no matter how much I gave her, it was never enough. I put a lot of the blame on myself since I couldn’t be with her full time. I asked her once if she could quit all the drugs for me and she told me if she had me full time she wouldn’t need a high to feel good. I did that for her.

  I tried putting myself in her shoes a thousand times and if the shoe was on the other foot and she was the one bouncing between me and another nigga, I would have cut her loose a long time ago. I knew I had to have been puttin’ her through hell. She loved me so much an’ had always tried so hard to understand my relationship wit’ Rah. I encouraged her to date other women, go out and meet new people, but she always refused. Telling me that I was enough for her and one day I’d realize she was enough for me. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love a man the same way that I love her. It’s hard to explain the difference between being in love with a man and loving another woman. One is empathetic and understanding, the other can be protective and domineering. I was torn between whether I want to be dominated or be dominating.

  The way Rah provided for me was the way I provide for Ris. She didn’t have to work or worry about money because I took care of all that. I started a stay-at-home business for her a year ago, specializing in sex toys, lubes, you name it, but having Honey come stay at the house didn’t make matters any better. Ris suggested she audition and dance at the club since she was young and didn’t want to seriously hold a regular job, plus she would be under the watchful eye of Shiree to make sure she stayed out of trouble. I wanted no part in that shit. That was one side of the business Rah seemed to never have a problem running by himself. Of course, Honey auditioned and got the job; she was thick, pretty, and a little too hoodish for my standards but just right for the club.

  It didn’t take long before Ris and Honey started combining whatever she earned at the club with Ris’s profits from the business and they’d waste it on pills, alcohol, and whatever else. I was helping Ris with a romance party one night when Honey wandered in right in the middle of my “good head” demonstration. Thankfully, we didn’t have a huge turnout that night; there were only two couples and a few women from my job gathered in our living room.

  “Oh, girl, I need som’a dat for my boo!” She burst into the room wearing what looked like a black spandex cat suit minus the tail, breasts pushed up so high they touched her chin, and she was obviously high as hell.

  I was annoyed. I couldn’t believe she’d just interrupted me during a presentation.

  “Honey, what boo you talking about?” I asked. “You either working at the club or you’re here with Ris. Let me find out y‘all kissin’ cousins.” I smirked, proud of how quickly I’d cut her down, and repositioned myself to finish demonstrating to my clients the best angle to deep throat using a banana.

  “Shiiit, well, I guess you can say I puts in a li‘l ova time wit’ the boss, an’ um’ his fine yella ass pays a bitch bills, so I needs to know how to work him so he drop mo’ of dat serious paper.” She was two-steppin’ in place like she’d won the lottery and cheesin’ at me like the cat that ate the canary.

  I gagged despite the glob of numbing cream dabbed in the back of my throat and my audience stared on in surprise.

  It’s ironic that neither I nor Ris bothered to tell Honey that fine-ass “yella nigga” running the Hot Spot was already taken. It never even crossed my mind to mention it. Maybe somewhere deep down I really wanted Rasheed to fuck up, maybe I just really wanted a reason to finally live my life the way I felt I should be living it. I fought to hide my reaction and avoided making eye contact with Ris, who was giving me an “I told you so” glare. Honey and the rest of our guests were waiting for me to continue with my demonstration, but I was just too shocked and growing even more upset by the second. Ris saved me from embarrassing myself and took over while I went upstairs to cool off.

  “Sorry, y’all. Okay. Ladies, rule number one is that you gotta remember to breathe through ya nose when...”Ris’s words trailed off as I left the room.

  That was it, I was done feeling sorry for myself. Years ago Ris and I had decided Rah would fund our futures, whether he wanted to or not, and at that moment I’d felt that enough had been done to secure our well-being and everything had advanced to the point where we no longer needed him in the picture.

  31

  Questions

  Today was the day. Michelle had finally agreed to come see a nigga! I’d been dreamin’ ’bout her, damn near goin’ crazy in here tryin’ to figure out what she been doin’ or if she been fuckin’ somebody else already. I had so much shit to say an’ ain’t even know where to start. I ain’ neva felt so fucked up in all my life. I had to watch my momma break down at my sentencing. She acted like they was givin’ my ass the death sentence or some shit, but consecutive life sentences is damn close enough I guess. I was appealin’ my sentence ‘cause even though my gun was used in the murders that was all the fuck they had to convict me. When it’s all said an’ done there wasn’t enough circumstantial evidence, an’ talkin’ to a few niggas in here made me think I had a chance at callin’ it a mistrial. I’d asked Chelle not to bring Trey up here. I didn’t really want him to see me like this, an’ even though I know he wouldn’t understand now, I jus’ prayed as he got older he would one day understand why I hustled an’ why he needed to make betta decisions than I had.

  This prison shit ain’t no fuckin’ cakewalk. Yeah, I had connects from my boys outside an’ a few of the guards in here used to be on my roster, but they could only do so much. For the most part a nigga could still get real food, pussy, and my card stayed loaded up wit’ cash regardless of me needin’ shit or not. I needed to know Chelle was gonna support a nigga; until my appeal went through, I needed to make sure she kept my shit in play on the streets and kept the cash flow on point so we would stay set. She didn’t come to my trial and I didn’t want her to. It was important that she not appear to have anything to do with the bullshit I was in. It hurt to sit in front of the judge and have my momma sit and cry as I was handed my sentence, but I pushed all that shit down inside me and ignored the pain and the anger.

  “Inmate, at attention.”

  One of the guards was glarin’ at me from outside my cell. I’d nicknamed his bitch ass “Baby Shit.” He one of them niggas who played like they hard than a mufucka, but really he softer than baby shit. He was one of the few niggas who gave me grief over my special treatment, but he couldn’t do shit about it. He was kinda new and still tryin’a get in where the fuck he fit in with the otha guards. It ain’ take much to realize they had they own social hierarchy in here. A guard who wasn’t down was a liability, and they salary wasn’t shit so they made bank off niggas like me.

  “You know the routine, nigga, solitary.”

  I turned my back and put my hands up to the space in the cell bars behind me. He roughly snapped th
e cold metal cuffs around my wrists behind my back and then shackled my ankles.

  “We need to make this shit quick, my baby momma comin’ to see me today.” I was led out of my cell and down a flight of stairs toward the solitary confinement cells. The entire ambiance changes when you hit solitary. The hallway is dim and most of the lights in the ceiling are either out or flickerin’. The entire wing was designated for high risk, violent, and hard-to-manage inmates. I, however, was none of these.

  “A‘ight, nigga, Officer Reynolds got you for the next hour.” Baby Shit led me toward the last cell at the end of the hall and knocked twice before unlockin’ the door and nudgin’ me inside.

  “Took you long enough to get down here, nigga, you know I don’t like to wait.”

  I tried to wait for my eyes to adjust but couldn’t make out anything in the pitch-black cell. It smelled like bleach, piss, and old body sweat; solitary always smelled that way. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. Cool Water for Women drifted toward me. It was not one of my favorite fragrances but I shuffled in the direction of the perfume anyway.

  “I heard ya baby momma comin’ today so I decided to get you in here early. Don’t want that dick standin’ at attention for nobody but me. Ya hear me, nigga?”

  I could hear her moving toward me from the opposite side of the cell. She struck a match, lightin’ the room up jus’ long enough for me to see her as she stopped in front of me, naked, her uniform crumpled in the corner.