Baby Momma 2

by Ni'chelle Genovese

Traffic was backed up on the I-95 expressway in both directions. Cursing to myself I dialed the house phone. Something told me I should’ve just gone straight home after meeting with Key. It was already going on six and Larissa was probably jumping to all kinds of conclusions. Times like this made me miss Virginia; at least there I could hop on the midtown or downtown tunnel and be home in twenty minutes, or get off on any of the side streets and still be there like it was nothing. Not here; I had to cut clear across town to get back home, and this shit this time of year with the tourists and the locals trying to get in and out of town was insane.

  “Hey.” She picked up and that one word said it all: short and shitty mad.

  “Baby, I’m stuck in traffic on the highway. I had to drop the contract off back at the office. You won’t believe who—”

  “No, Michelle, you won’t believe what it’s like stuck up in this house all damn day wit’ two kids waitin’ on somebody to bring they ass home when they say they will. What da hell happened to ‘five-ish’? You know what, don’t even answer dat. I’ll just see you when you get here.” Silence.

  Did she just? Yes, her ass did. Chelle, calm down. Edging through traffic, I gave myself a pep talk. I was on the verge of walking up in that seven-bedroom, $3,000-a-month mortgage house and goin’ slam the fuck off. I alone paid that mortgage and upkeep on that house her unappreciative ass was suddenly so upset about being “stuck up in all day.” Shit, it’s not like she didn’t have a car. Larissa had two cars. Why she refused to leave the house without me by her side was just another argument waiting to happen.

  Forty-five minutes later I parked in front of our garage and braced myself as I walked in through the front door. Even the short distance from the car to the front door broke me out in a mild sweat and the AC gave me an instant chill when I walked in. Normally when I got home from work my babies’ little arms would wrap around my legs. Trey and Lataya, my four-year-old son and two-year-old adopted daughter, would squeal and giggle as I play tugged, dragged, and scuffed up freshly waxed hardwood flooring and let them put runs in my brand new stockings, but the house was dead silent. I walked through the foyer into the living room. The curtains were drawn against the setting sun, casting the room in warm shadows.

  “A’ight. So, where was you really at?” Her tone was half asking and half accusatory.

  I stopped in the entryway. For a brief moment I was alarmed. Was she using again? Was she high on something right now? No, that wasn’t possible. I could clearly hear the shakiness and the tears in her voice. After we’d gotten married and gained legal custody of Lataya, the daughter of her cousin Honey and my ex-fianc é, Ris had managed to stay away from all that shit, just like I’d managed to avoid dick. I erased the negative thought just as soon as it occurred.

  “Ris, I told you. I had to show the Matthews property an’ drop off the paperwork. You know how traffic is this time of year.”

  She was sitting off in a darkened corner of the living room with her legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. Times like this, I exhaled long and hard. It was the times like this that she reminded me of the old hurt and emotionally worn down me. Except I wasn’t intentionally putting her through half the shit I was actually going through back then. I walked toward her slowly with the same cautious, timid approach you’d take with a hurt bird or injured deer, scared to move too quickly out of fear that she’d dart upstairs and lock herself in the bathroom and I’d be stuck outside the door for the rest of the night trying to talk her out.

  “C’mon, you. Now, what’s the one thing I said I’d never do?” My voice was nothing but a low whisper. My emotions were getting the best of me and my own tears slowly started to trail down my cheeks at the sight of her obvious pain.

  “I know wha’chu said, Chelle. But, you’re you, an’ you’re smart an’ beautiful an’ I jus’ don’t see you lovin’ me forever. Not like you try to say you will. Nothin’, not a damn thing, last forever, an’ I rather you jus’ be honest wit’ me an’ say you gonna do some shit or dat you are doin’ some shit than play me for a damn fool.”

  The sun was setting and tiny slits of light were peeking through the thick chocolate-colored drapes that covered the ceiling-to-floor windows in the living room. It was just enough light for me to briefly see dark shadows underneath my wife’s usually bright green eyes. Ris always kept herself up but she was still in her thin pink cotton slip from the night before, her long, shoulder-length red hair was piled up in a messy-ass ponytail on top of her head. It was enough for me to realize that she was seriously worried and all for nothing. God knows I hated when she acted like this. I wasn’t cheating on her and hadn’t thought about it. Ugh. Inwardly I cringed. Okay, until today I hadn’t actually thought about cheating on her. But, let’s be real, that wasn’t an actual, tangible thought until I had it swinging in my damn face. Let’s be honest, it was more of what I’d consider a fleeting whim. A fantasy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Risi-cup, you’ll never enjoy the moments life has to offer if you stay focused on the ending.” I recited some psychobabble I’d read or heard somewhere, and dropped down to my knees in front of her, offering up what I’d hoped would look like a reassuring smile.

  “It ain’t workin’, Chelle. Not this time.” She handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

  “What’s this, baby?” Did I forget to pay the water bill or something crazy? Is that what has her so upset? Puzzled, I took the crumpled sheet of paper from her cold hand and started to unfold and smooth it out as best as I could. It was a tattered piece of notebook paper; the words hit me to my core. Chills ran through my body and it took my mind a second longer to process what my heart almost immediately comprehended. The sheet of paper was wrinkled as if it’d been folded and refolded, balled up, thrown away, and found again, but the letters were still there—in what I guessed would have to be the worst handwriting I’d ever seen—but the blotchy red ink spelled it out unmistakably clear:

  A FAMILY DIVIDED WILL FALL THE FUCK APART

  Out of all the possibilities, I’d rather this shit be the sick joke of one of our neighbors. That would have been much easier to stomach. Ris and I were the only same-sex couple in the neighborhood and I could deal with a pissed-off “Jesus Freak” like it was nothin’. Yet my subconscious was raising flags redder than the words in front of my face. I looked up at Ris, who now had fresh tears welling up in her eyes, and only one name came to my mind.

  “Did that nigga come here? Was he here? Who left this note? Did you see who left this?” I had a million and one questions. None of which Ris could answer fast enough. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour. There was no way he could be out of jail. No way he could have possibly known how to get to us. I changed my last name, changed the kids’ last names. A sense of despair came over me that I fought with all of my being for the sake of my kids alone. Maybe he paid one of his old dope boys to follow us, but the types of men Rasheed dealt with didn’t leave little notes, or calling cards, or any evidence. They handled business, got the fuck out of town, and you’d be lucky if they even left a body for your family to bury when they were done.

  “I was takin’ out the trash last week, an’ it was on the back gate.” She broke out into fresh tears.

  “Last week? And you’re just now showin’ me this.” I smacked the offensive sheet of paper in frustration. “Then, what the hell are you even cryin’ for? I’m the one in shock right now, you’ve had a whole week to marinate with this shit.”

  “I thought that maybe y’all were meetin’ up or somethin’ since you were comin’ home late or whatever blah blah bullshit. I been waitin’ for the right time to say somethin.”

  I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at her dumb-ass logic. “An entire week, Ris? Who knows who’s been watchin’ us. Watchin’ you and the kids, me. Ris, I swear. . . .” My voice trailed off. I’d never put my hands on her in anger, but I swear this one time almost pushed me to my limit. I silently prayed for strength and some kind of restraint
to keep from shaking her for being so damn stupid.

  Ris was obviously under a ton of stress, but for her to think that I’d be seeing Rasheed again after all this time . . . Well, considering my and Rah’s on-again, off-again history, I couldn’t blame her. Her reaction was expected. Hell, I’d be a little suspect about me too if the roles were reversed. Our entire relationship was based on Larissa putting me back together every time Rasheed broke me down. It took years of me dealing with him lying and cheating to finally realize that I loved me too much and Ris loved me all along.

  “Ugh, I need to think.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples, trying to process exactly what this message might mean. “Have you noticed any cars around the house or any strange people since the day you found this note?”

  “No. I mean . . . Well I’ve noticed strange things about you. But—”

  “Larissa, I swear on my life I ain’t doing anything wrong. I need you to fuckin’ focus right now. Where are the kids?” If there was any time for me to “woosah” or “nam-myoho-renge-kyo” meditate and chant, now was it. Out of all the things we needed to worry about concerning my ex and our past I couldn’t believe she was still more worried about whether I was cheating.

  Rasheed was supposedly in prison in Virginia, serving at least a full life term with no hope of probation. He’d lost everything: his family, his freedom, his businesses, hundreds of thousands of dollars. All because of the two of us.

  “The kids upstairs takin’ a nap.”

  Relief momentarily swept through me. At least my babies were in the house and they were safe. I could feel a migraine coming on. I’d have to get in contact with my attorney; there was no way in hell Rah could have found us on his own. I leaned in and hugged Ris, trying to reassure her as best as I could. She was rigid and didn’t return my embrace. Pulling back, I looked at her, praying there was nothing more to go with her story.

  “Baby. It’ll be okay, I promise. Stop worryin’.”

  But it wasn’t worry that I saw in her eyes, it was anger. Glowing, green anger. I was confused. Her face could have been carved out of stone it was so cold and still. Her eyes narrowed into cold green slits, and it was a wonder she could even see me. But I knew that look entirely too well; it meant hell was coming.

  “If you weren’t wit’ da nigga, why you smell like him, Michelle?”

  Fuck. Fuck was the first and only word that came to mind. Fuck Keyshawn and his damn cologne and his damn advances and Ris’s sensitive-ass nose. Fuck and double fuck. She was staring at me so calmly it was scaring the hell out of me. She was gauging my reaction time, watching my pulse, waiting to see if I stuttered or fucked up my answer. The fucked-up part was I was more nervous about all the shit I knew she watching for and I didn’t even do anything to deserve the interrogation I was getting.

  “Ris, I told you I had to show that mansion today. Keyshawn Matthews, he plays basketball for the Miami Legends. I closed the deal. We hugged; his girlfriend was there I hugged her too. I called you on my way home to tell you that we’re all goin’ out to celebrate this weekend, like celebrities. The estate was ten million; it’s a huge deal for us. I wanted you to be proud of me. And yes, he wears that same funky-ass cologne as Rah. I noticed it too. But that’s it; nothing more, nothing less.” I could see the wheels spinning, judging my words as true or false, and I must’ve said everything the right way because her face started to light up with excitement.

  “Wait, the rookie ‘Keys to the City Shawn’ Matthews?”

  I shook my head yes.

  “The one who goes everywhere with Yylannia the supermodel?”

  Once again all I could do was shake my head in agreement, slightly amazed that Ris, A, knew who they were and, B, actually seemed to be impressed.

  “Chelle, they were all ova’ all the celebrity blogs las’ week. Dat fool be up in clubs throwin’ thousands at crowds. Bae, he be goin’ in. I ain’ partied or had a real night out since . . . Ugh. What am I gonna wear? I gotta go shoppin’. We need a babysitter!” She jumped up off the couch so fast she almost knocked me over.

  “Oh an’ you need a shower. You think you can ask him not to wear dat stank-ass cologne when we go out? Tell his ass I’m allergic to it or some shit, ount care.” She took off upstairs in a flurry, mumbling the names of clubs and drinks, dresses and who knew what else.

  Lord, forgive me for the lie I just told. I’ll never tell another one, just please let Key be available this weekend. But, something tells me as soon as I say the words “go on a celebration date with me and my wife,” that fool’s schedule will most likely miraculously clear up.

  CHAPTER 4

  I’LL SCRATCH YOUR BACK—IF YOU SCRATCH MINE

  I waited until Ris left the house to go shopping, making her take both my Mace and the .22 with her just to be safe. Surprisingly the kids were still down for their nap so the house was nice and quiet. Naptime meant playtime so they probably hadn’t actually fallen asleep until just before I’d gotten home. I peeked in just to make sure they were still breathing. I guess it’s a momma thing, but as long as I could see their little faces and hear the ever-so-beautiful sound of their even breathing, I knew everything was fine and I could go about my business. I grabbed my iPhone out of my briefcase and walked into our bedroom, which was a complete mess, as usual. Clothes were everywhere, on the floor, all over the king-sized bed. The doors to both walk-in closets were wide open, and Tornado Ris had blown through, leaving shoes and whatnot every damn where. I hated all the clutter and mess. She was so bad when it came to that shit, but I had too much on my mind to start picking up after her as I usually did.

  I walked up the winding wooden staircase that was secluded off to the corner. It led up to the third floor, or what I liked to call my personal sanctuary. When I furnished the house I wanted one room that would be no one’s but mine. I opted to make the small corner studio my home office instead of using the study downstairs as most of the homes were traditionally set up.

  There was one large rectangular window that ran the entire length of the room, overlooking our view of the pool and beach beyond. Thin white drapes hung from either side and with the window open the breeze would carry the smell of the ocean. Every time I looked out at the ocean I couldn’t help thinking that I had my very own piece of paradise right in my backyard. This was the only area of the house that I allowed white in. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of keeping little fingerprints off my furniture, so everything else in the house consisted of dark earth tones: chocolates, olives, and tans. Everywhere except my sanctuary. The floor was covered in the softest carpeting I could find, the color was called shaved ice, and that’s exactly what it looked like. My desk was made completely out of glass and sat in the center of the window; my executive-edition plush white leather chair was just as I’d left it. Across from that on the other side of the room sat my white microfiber couch and sectional.

  Lying back on the sofa, I kicked off my pumps. For a moment I just stared at the little clownfish—or the “Nemo’s” as the kids called them—swimming around in the hanging tropical fish tank on the wall. Oh well, I thought. Here goes nothing, or better yet here goes hell to pay if I can’t pull this off. I dialed Key’s number. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until his voice mail came on and I was forced to breathe so I could leave a message.

  “Um. Hi, Key. This is Michelle, from the house earlier. I need a huge favor. I’d really appreciate it if you’d give me a call back, hopefully tonight. Thanks.” Great, what the hell am I gonna do if this nigga doesn’t call me back? Think, girl. Think. I could feel the stress knots in my neck, and I closed my eyes and tried to come up with some kind of a backup plan just in case. I must have dozed off because the phone rang and scared me so bad I jumped. About damn time. “Keyshawn, hey.”

  “Well, well. You find me anotha house already?”

  Damn, he ain’t listen to his voice mail. Typical.

  “Umm. No, I actually need a huge favor.”

  “
Ha, okay, I’m listenin’.”

  “Well, remember when I said my wife was crazy? I got home stupid late from our showing an’ she was spazzin’ so I had to kind of lie about closin’ on the house with you. I said we’d be goin’ out tomorrow to celebrate.”

  “So, lemme guess. You want me to get us a table somewhere and chill wit’ y’all right?”

  “You and Yylannia, yes. I can knock maybe twenty percent off of whichever house you decide to close on or maybe throw flat screens in every room, work on that acoustic thing you were so interested in.” I was trying to think of any- and everything to get him to commit. Even if he just showed up for an hour, played his part, and left. As long as Ris was happy and my life went back to normal I didn’t care.

  “How ’bout this? We do a date for a date. I chill wit’ you an’ wifey, an’ say this time nex’ week I treat you like you should be treated and take you out for dinner, drinks?” I could hear him smiling through the phone, dimples and all. He had me. There was no way I could say no, but, I could always cancel on his ass at the last minute.

  “Fine, whatever. I heard LIV in Miami is next to impossible to get into wit’ this late of a notice, but do you think you could get a table? I’ll cover all the—”

  “Woman, I don’t need you coverin’ nothin’. I’ll have my man handle all the details, text me ya info an’ I’ll send a car to pick y’all up. We gonna do this big, since we celebratin’ an’ shit.” He laughed into the phone. His moods were so contagious. It was nice to have someone else take over things, handle the arrangements and all the details.

  “Thank you, Keyshawn. Guess I really do owe you one.”

  “Chelle? You up there?” Larissa was making her way upstairs. I imagined she’d either exhausted herself trying to find something to wear or maxed out another one of my cards. I made a mental note to check all of my balances and pay them all off at the end of the month.