Baby Momma 2

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  “Because, Ris, those cameras are real time, we need to access shit that’s already passed. So we need to go back a few hours. After a week the files are archived so we can’t access them.” She sounded irritated. There was no reason for her to talk to me in such a know-it-all tone.

  “Well damn you ain’t gotta snap at my ass. I was jus’ askin’.” Shit, I’ll keep my suggestions to myself. She sure did know a lot about all of this, and my ass just felt more and more alienated as she put in her password and pulled up her site, more shit I was oblivious to. It was a wonder she didn’t spy on me when I was home with the kids.

  She scrolled her finger along the screen and the footage zoomed forward through the day, and I watched us leave in the limo, and a few minutes later a white flower delivery van pulled up, and we watched as a figure got out and walked up to the house with what had to be the largest bouquet of lilies in history. The sun was setting and it was shadowy, so we honestly couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Damn, why hadn’t Darla turned on the front light? We might have been able to see something if she had. He or she had on a huge gardening hat and the lilies completely blocked the side view of their face so watching the video any further was pointless. Michelle groaned and touched stop on the screen.

  “What? It’s just a damn florist. Probably from one of your fuckin’ side hoes.” Jealousy seared through me in an instant, flashed with a mixture of anger and pain. It wasn’t anyone sendin’ me flowers, that was for damn sure. Climbing off her lap I started to make my way upstairs, intent on thinking my way out of this no-win situation with her lying ass. The thought of being close to her and thinking that once again Rasheed or Lania or whoever the fuck else was touching her or sharing her with me was tearing me up inside.

  “Larissa. It doesn’t bother you that this florist had on a sun hat and was trying to deliver flowers damn near in the middle of the night? Every house out here has security cameras somewhere. You don’t think whoever it was wasn’t trying to hide their face on purpose?”

  Her words fell on deaf ears. She was pleading her case, trying to cover up her lover’s tracks because the flowers probably should’ve gone to her fuckin’ office and not to our damn house.

  “And they just happened to know you love lilies. Most deliveries for most normal companies do stop at nine, Michelle.” I couldn’t hide the smirk on my face. Oooh my ass was heated. I stormed out to the garage, intent on rolling me a fat one and putting some clouds up in the air because this bitch done straight chased away all of the buzz I had. She had some nerve having niggas sending flowers and shit up here, and then on top of that Lania’s ass trying to get at her with me right there just feet away.

  I stomped into the garage, the humidity immediately making me break out into a sweat, pissing me off even further. I looked at the layer of dust gathering on my silver Jag and my candy-red Mercedes coupe, both gifts from Michelle. I needed my own got-damn car that I paid for. Not something that was given to me like I was a spoiled brat or someone’s child who needed an allowance and permission to do things. At one point in time I thought this was the life I wanted. To have someone just take care of me and just give. She gave me clothes, gave me money. Michelle gave me everything I had. I realized now that the problem with someone doing all the damn giving is that at any moment they could take it all back. I needed to do something, and I needed to do it fast. If our marriage wasn’t legal in Florida and she wanted me gone or if I decided I wanted to leave.

  The thought of me putting up with so much and walking away with absolutely nothing made my stomach twist into knots. The main reason Michelle even had the nerve to have half of what she had was because of me and did she ever truly show me any appreciation? Fuck no. I helped pull her up from her knees and now she wanted to just walk away. We only had one solid rule between the two of us and to this day as far as I knew neither of us had ever broken it. We’d both sworn to never lock our phones and to respect each other’s privacy by not going through each other’s shit. Pacing in the garage, I couldn’t help feeling like a caged animal. Like one of those damn dwarf leopards I’d seen in Trey’s zoo magazines. Yup, my ass was a damn endangered ocelot and my habitat, my cubs, and everything else was on the verge of being wiped out if I didn’t start fighting. My lifestyle, my way of living, was in jeopardy and so was Lataya’s. My mind was made up.

  CHAPTER 7

  FRENEMIES

  I waited until Michelle’s ass was at work before I called her, and I prayed that this bitch would actually be cool and not turn around and tell Michelle about our conversation.

  “Larissa? Who? Oh, oh I remember your ass. Little Jackie Chan.” She sounded like her ass was half asleep when she’d answered the phone.

  “Oh yeah, ’bout that. I’m so sorry I was hammered. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “It is fine. We’ve all been there. No harm, no foul. What is it you’re wanting?” She yawned loud as hell in my ear. Well, damn, she sure isn’t the sugar-coatin’ type.

  “So um, Lania, I heard you be on some shit, an’ I need to earn some extra money. Fast.” I hadn’t slept one bit all damn night thinking about what I would say, and was nervous as fuck about finally callin’ her, but decided to go ahead an’ go through with it.

  “And what exactly is this you think you have heard?”

  Well, shit, here goes nothin’, I thought. Either I’d heard wrong or I’d heard right.

  “I want to be an escort, no sex though. Just go on a few dates, look pretty or whatever, an’ then bring my ass home. That’s it. I heard you could set that up.” I held my breath.

  “Ahhh. I see, and what does your wife say about this?”

  “She don’t know and ain’t never gonna know.”

  “Okay. As far as you know I am the alpha, I am the queen of this shit. You want to run with the wolves—you must earn your place in the pack. You’re new so no, you won’t get first pick or top choice. You have to work your way up.”

  “So what does that mean, what do I need to do?”

  “You won’t make as much, the girls who make the most do . . . how should I say . . . . um, favors, but you aren’t bad looking so I can work with you. Fix yourself up, text me a picture, full body. I have a client who needs a girl for an event tonight at ten. If you are up to standard, a car will pick you up and drop you off when it’s over. One of my men will follow you all evening.”

  “So when you say ‘special favors,’ you mean what?” My hands were gettin’ sweaty at the excitement an’ possibility of doing something new, dangerous.

  “I mean, I pay you to go on a date, they’ll offer you extra for extra shit. I warn you now, sometimes clients can get a bit testy, especially if they drink or do too much drugs. Don’t drink or do anything with them so you don’t make any kind of decisions you’ll regret. You earn three thou, my cut a thousand of that.”

  Damn. Three grand to sit and look cute. Fuck yes. “Abso-fuckin-lutely. I’ll send you a pic in a minute. Thank you, Lania.”

  I rushed off the phone to get myself sexified. I threw on a red lacy corset that tied up the sides. I glued on some dramatic strip lashes and brushed on a little light makeup. I stood around in the bathroom and played around with the camera on my phone until I had a few pictures I was happy with. I sent them to Lania and waited anxiously for her to let me know if my ass was gonna be able to escort.

  Very very nice. Be ready at 9:15 send me your address. btw dress for a play.

  That was the text I got back not more than ten minutes later. Damn, what the fuck do I have that I can wear to a play, and how the fuck am I gonna get around Michelle? The answer came to me when I was taking my shower.

  Michelle got home at her usual time and I ain’t feel like wearing a damn thing she’d bought me. Until I’d earned some money and bought myself some of my own shit, I’d prefer to just fuckin’ walk around naked. Fuck it.

  I crushed up some valiums that were left over from the time she hurt her back rearranging the living room furnit
ure. Them things always knocked her slam the fuck out. Whenever she got home from work she’d usually go straight to the fridge and get a glass of tea. That was her routine. Well, I’d dumped all the tea outta the pitcher except for like half a glass, and mixed in the crushed pills, adding some extra sugar so it wouldn’t taste bitter.

  “You been home all day, drank all the damn tea, and didn’t think to make any more, Larissa?” were the first words she said when she got home from work. I just looked at her ass and raised my eyebrow.

  “So you’re still doing that no-talking shit I see. Okay. Okay. Well, I’m not making any more. Y’all can all drink water tomorrow for all I care. “

  I watched her ass pour that last little bit of tea into a glass, thinking, yup, drink up, drink up, sweetie. Gigglin’ to myself, I just carried my ass on upstairs to start getting ready for my night.

  I waited out front, smoking some of the shit Shanice had sent me to help calm my nerves. At nine-fifteen two black Lincoln Town Cars pulled up into our driveway and Michelle was on the couch, unconscious, just like I knew she’d be. I tiptoed out the front door, wearing one of her wack-ass black skirts and a red button-down Michael Kors top. I couldn’t resist throwing on a pair of matching red pumps; conservative was not a word in my vocabulary. I was going to be escorting Darnell Wiggs Jr. to see Le . . . Miser . . . Misera . . . Fuck, I couldn’t pronounce that shit. It was some kinda French play. All I knew was I didn’t know this actor and I didn’t know the damn play and they both sounded boring as hell. The three Gs I’d get at the end of the night was the only thing exciting me about the whole damn evening.

  When we pulled up in front of the theatre my ass was immediately turned off by all the old, rigid, stuffy-collared folk in suits and ties walking toward the place. Darnell walked up to my car and my frowned disappeared. It was time for my escort acting to begin. He wasn’t a bad-looking older man; you know, dudes ain’t my thing to begin with any damn way, but he was all right, I guess. He looked around forty-five, brown skin, he was kinda pudgy looking with droopy eyes.

  “Well hello to you, gorgeous. I’ma have to tell Ms. Lania she done sent me a million-dolla one this time.” He grabbed my hand and helped me out of the car. I smiled, not sure what to say back since I ain’t never did this shit before. He extended his arm, and after glancing around nervously I’d seen that some of the other women had their hands on the inside of the guys’ arms, so I placed my hand on the inside of his.

  “How are you doin’, honey?”

  I almost tripped over my own damn feet and fell on my face. Out of all the pet name, he couldn’t have called me sweetie or baby? I smiled at him weakly, trying to push all thoughts of Rasheed and Michelle’s drama out of my head.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  We walked into the darkened theatre and up to the top. He’d gotten us these special box seats; I guessed they were more expensive, I didn’t know. If I was gonna watch a play or anything I’d rather be in the front row than in a seat far up and off to the side, but hey—these rich folk be having they own warped opinions on luxury. I think they just like sitting over top of muthafuckas personally.

  I was half asleep halfway through the play when Darnell leaned over, his breath smelling like he’d gone in on a plate of chitlins with extra shit, all up against the side of my face. I did my best not to turn away completely.

  “Baby, you play wit’ it an’ I’ll give you another three grand.”

  Cringing, I tried to hear the words over the stank comin’ out of his mouth. Play with what? was the first thought that echoed in my brain, but I already knew what the hell he meant. Lania said the girls who sucked, fucked, and did extras made the extra money, but my ass had never even seen a real dick let alone touched one. I shook my head no and watched the stage, silently kissing the thought of $6,000 good-bye.

  Once again, “Yuck-Mouf” was assaultin’ the side of my face, whispering loud as hell, about to melt the fake eyelashes off of my damn eyelids.

  “C’mon, can’t nobody see up here; it’s dark.”

  I heard the zipper of his pants slide down. “Gimme yo’ hand, baby. It’s three thousand more. Easy money. Make Daddy D happy, baby.”

  Maybe it’s because my ass was high and I just wanted this muthafucka to stop whisperin’ air shit all upside my damn head. I closed my eyes and let him take my hand. I was trying to tell myself it was just like one of our straps at home. But nah, our straps ain’t got super nappy taco meat hair all around ’em and fat rolls. It was like trying to grab a hold of a short-ass soggy eggroll. Darnell kept his hand over mind, directin’ it up and down until his li’l eggroll firmed up. I tried to watch the actors and shit on stage and think about what I’d cook for dinner tomorrow—anything but what the fuck was going on with my other hand.

  I almost gagged when I felt his mouth brush the side of my neck. He was breathin’ vapors of shit fumes right into my damn hair. He started to move my hand faster. I felt like either we was gonna start a forest fire or Indian burn the skin off his dick, and then his body jerked like he was having muscle spasms and charley horses at the same time. Snatching my hand back from beneath his I cringed, trying to find some place to wipe away the slimy, hot mass of yuck that was now sliding down my fingers toward my wrist.

  “Honey, you are amazing. Hold on a sec, baby. I got a handkerchief for you.” He handed me the small piece of white cloth and I wiped my hand, still feeling like I needed to scour that muthafucka in bleach.

  When the play ended Darnell walked me to my car and climbed into the back with me to pay me out for the night. He started to hand me six thousand but when I reached for it he pulled it back.

  “Ten if we fuck.”

  What the hell? If this old raggedy stank-breath nigga ain’t give me my damn money . . . His ass was looking like he just knew I was about to say yes, too. “Sorry, Darnell, I don’t have sex.”

  His droopy face scrunched up in anger. “Stuck-up bitch. You gon’ regret that shit.”

  Money flew all around the back seat. He’d thrown all $6,000 at my face and slammed out of the car. Lania’s driver looked back at me through the rearview mirror.

  “You okay back there? Not too many girls tell Darnell no.”

  “Guess my ass ain’t too many girls huh?”

  He smiled and handed me a few of the hundreds that had managed to land up in the front with him, and I texted Lania to let her know everything went well, and she replied fast as hell.

  Good I have another one for you tomorrow night if you’re up to it?

  I stared at the message. She didn’t get a cut of any of the money earned from the extra shit I decided to do. So minus her little thousand, I was up $5,000 for just one night’s worth of work. Not bad, even though I had to touch that nigga’s nasty-ass li’l sausage dick. What the fuck, might as well get it while I can.

  I’m up—down whateva lol.

  We pulled back up at the house late as hell and I crept my ass inside. Michelle was still asleep on the couch where I’d left her ass, so I went upstairs and showered fast as hell and got my ass in bed like I’d been there all along. Damn, how the hell am I gonna get outta the house two nights in a row . . .

  CHAPTER 8

  SPECIAL DELIVERY—SPECIAL K

  Michelle went to work as usual and I had all day to plan a way to get ready for my second official day on the job. I didn’t know what time Lania would need me so I needed to figure out a way to get up outta the damn house without comin’ off kinda suspicious. The damn pill bottle only had two valiums left in it and if there was only one or none left up in there, who was the first person you think she’d look at? My ass. So the valiums were not an option. I texted Lania.

  Don’t think I can do tonight. Put da wife to sleep and now I’m outta pills.

  I stared out the kitchen window at the pool. Damn shame I ain’t never learn how to swim. That water was lookin’ nice as fuck and it was hot as hell outside. My phone beeped.

  I’ll send Key over with s
omethin jus put a few drops of it on the brim of her glass or in the bottom–night night I promise.

  No more than twenty minutes later the doorbell rang.

  “Who’s at the door, Mommy? Who’s that?” Trey’s li’l nosey ass was all in the damn way.

  “It’s ya damn daddy. Li’l nigga, it ain’t for you, now get the hell on upstairs before I beat yo’ li’l ass.”

  I was surprised to see that Keyshawn actually brought me a signed ball.

  “You remembered. Damn, thanks.” I was already tryin’ to figure out how much I could sell that shit on eBay for.

  “Cute kid. He look jus’ like Michelle.”

  I looked back. Trey was still at the top of the stairs. I frowned up at his ass, which sent him runnin’. “Whateva. Lania said you was bringin’ me somethin.” I ain’ have time to be dawdlin’ with this nigga. We walked into the livin’ room and he handed me a little brown bottle.

  “It’s Special K, strong shit. You don’t need a lot; just a couple of drops or she could die okay?”

  I nodded. “So what else can y’all get?” My weed stash was damn near gone, and if I was gonna be doin’ any more of these jobs, I was gonna need to re-up or somethin’ quick.

  “We can get anything you want. Just say the word.”

  Damn, I thought, now that is what the fuck I’m talkin’ about. Florida wasn’t looking so bad after all.

  I walked in the house at my usual time and all was quiet, surprisingly. There was no sign of Larissa or the kids. I set my briefcase down and walked into the living room, no toys all over the place, no babies, no wife. This was strange. Kicking off my shoes I made my way into the kitchen, thinking everyone must be in there, but no, it was empty. I was shocked to see a plate sitting in the middle of the counter with a lonely tuna salad sandwich on it and a glass of iced tea beside it. There was no way I was eatin’ that shit. Larissa put so much sugar and sweet pickle relish in her tuna and chicken salad it’s a wonder she ain’t have diabetes by now. I would do that glass of tea though; that’s the only thing she made perfect. It was all impressive; maybe this was her way of saying sorry.