Baby Momma Saga

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  I pulled up and parked beside Big’s Durango. The usually polished-up jet-black truck looked pathetic. Dried mud splatters covered it from tire to mid-door. I meant to joke the nigga thoroughly.

  “Nigga, you been out muddin’ wit’ dem white boys or som’n?” Big Baby was sittin’ at the bar wit’ Chris, and anotha nigga I’d seen around but didn’t know.

  “Rah, whatup.” Big got up to greet me as the other two sat like gargoyle statues, heads down and quiet.

  “Rememba that shit you asked me to take care of befo’ shit got hot? That situation.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, these the two niggas who worked off that fifty grand you gave me.”

  “It’s done?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “Yeah, nig. Wasn’t much to it. My soldiers thorough like that.”

  “Well shit, sound like we need to have us a fuckin’ celebration. All dances, drinks, whateva the fuck y’all want on me tonight, niggas. Y’all VIP in this bitch!”

  Neither of the two niggas budged. I was frontin’ extra hard, puttin’ on airs like I was God Almighty and my lightning bolt hit its mark. We shoulda all been throwin’ back shots by now, commendin’ each other for mowin’ over the snake in our grass instead of steppin’ around it. Instead, I was greeted by silence and long faces that mirrored the shame and disgust I myself felt pulling at the pit of my stomach. My confidant, homeboy, hell the nigga I called brother was no more. I’d slain Able and underneath all my bravado I still felt a sinner’s shame. I took a seat beside Chris at the bar. He looked like he was on the verge of bein’ sick.

  “Well, nigga, guess I got ya cherry the way you lookin’ right now. We all been there. You good, right?” He didn’t even look at me. We both jumped as a chair clamored to the floor. His boy stood abruptly and walked outside.

  “Nah, Rah, my hands been bloody, nigga. When shit got hot Big told us hold off on the contract. I ain’t a patient nigga, but I waited. I was so fuckin’ amped. I really needed dat dough. A few weeks ago, Big said it was on again, so I camped out an’ hit the nigga at night when he was pullin’ up at his crib. I swear, I ain’ know, man. I pulled up beside the car but . . .” Chris’s voice broke and he lowered his head into his hands.

  Frustrated, eyebrow raised, I looked up at Big for clarification. If this nigga was ’bout to have a breakdown and run off to confess some shit, I might have to have him taken care of.

  Big Baby cleared his throat hard and looked away. His usually boisterous voice was barely above a whisper. “Rah . . . they got the kid too.”

  My heart sank in my chest. The phrase “casualty of war” floated ’round in my head.

  “Chris, I need to know what happened.” All I could think ’bout was how the fuck I dodged one bullet to get hit by anotha. If Danita found out, it was gonna be the end fa sure. Chris gave me a recap. They pulled up beside Derrick as he’d jus’ got home from the grocery store. Chris’s boy was drivin’ and Chris was the one who opened fire. He didn’t see the li’l boy asleep in the back seat ’til it was too late. I said a silent prayer for forgiveness. At least the li’l nigga died in his sleep.

  Nothin’ was goin’ right. I was startin’ to feel defeated. I needed to figure out how the fuck I was gonna get through this. I wondered if Michelle knew what had happened yet. I left the club, pullin’ my keys out of my pocket, and walked out into a cold, grey, misting rain. The weather matched my mood perfectly. I couldn’t believe I was responsible for the death of Danita’s son. His face was hauntin’ me, eyes like Dee’s, lips like Dee’s. What the fuck had I done? Derrick may have deserved what he had comin’, but not the kid. Hell, I didn’t even know the li’l nigga’s name. I sat in my car for a few minutes, tryin’ to figure out how I would face my own son, or even Michelle for that matter. Shit, I ain’ pull the trigga, but I ain’t warn them niggas eitha.

  Michelle called my cell and I simply hit the IGNORE button. I couldn’t talk to her right then. I jus’ needed to put this shit behind me an’ man up. This was the life I chose. Mufuckas come an’ go. Derrick chose to disrespect me in the biz an’ on the personal. He was a liability I couldn’t afford. I put the car in drive and drove home, content that what was done needed to be done. I would deal wit’ Danita when the issue arose. No one knew her son was with Derrick, and Big said they’d driven the bodies out into the woods and buried ’em afterward. Hopefully, it would be a while before she got any idea what had happened.

  I parked outside my house. The blinds were open and I could see Chelle and Trey sittin’ in front of the TV. I gave myself the luxury of imaginin’ it was Honey wit’ a li’l girl who looked jus’ like her. I shook my head to clear the image of my caged angel. She was on the verge of suicide before me, before I gave her a job at the club. Maybe her role in my life was exactly how she played it. I walked into my home and hugged Michelle and Trey. Maybe it was time I worked on bein’ a new, betta nigga for her. Too many people were bein’ bodied behind the old me.

  * * *

  The holiday wasn’t goin’ by as easily as I thought it would. As much as I appreciated Chelle and Trey, I felt like shit ere time I thought ’bout Honey and my baby girl in prison. I was gradually sinkin’ into a depression, and not havin’ my ace there to talk shit out was leavin’ me no choice but to hold erething in. I didn’t sleep much. My guilty conscience kept me awake most nights, and when I did try to sleep I had nightmares. Even though Michelle could sense somethin’ was wrong, she never said anything. I was startin’ to think she knew ’bout Derrick and maybe felt jus’ as guilty as I was feelin’.

  I’d been spendin’ more and more time at the club. I didn’t want anyone pushin’ product for a while. We needed to wait ’til I was sure shit had cooled off. The brothas weren’t happy, but they undastood and did whateva they needed to do so their fams could have a good Christmas. I was in my office when Diamond came in.

  “Merry Christmas, Rah. I know you ain’t gonna spend Christmas Eve waitin’ for Santa wit’ us.”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d decided to keep the place open, but som’n told me there might be a few lonely-ass niggas or angry baby daddies who ain’t wanna be alone. I was right; it almost looked like any otha night.

  “Whatup, Di? You come in here to give me my present or what?” It’d been a while since I’d done anything. I guessed stress’d do that to a nigga.

  Diamond was standin’ there in her festive-ass Mrs. Claus outfit. She had on a stripper’s version of one anyway: red fishnets and knee-high black leather boots. Her weave was so long it hung down to her ass, and she was lickin’ her full lips, waitin’ for me to finish my eye exam. I sat on top of my desk and extended my finger for her to come over. It went without sayin’; she knew what was up and kneeled in between my legs. She undid my pants and slid my dick out through the slit in my boxers. I was immediately straight as an arrow as I closed my eyes. Damn, it’d been a minute. I jus’ knew I was gonna embarrass myself and bust right there in her hand.

  I looked down an’ watched Diamond wrap her lips ’round my dick. I put my head back and tried to enjoy the moment, but my mind was still distracted. I needed to get home and put Trey’s Power Wheel Escalade together. I’d bought Chelle an engagement ring and was gonna propose to her in the mornin’. I figured proposin’ meant I’d have at least anotha year or two before we’d have to walk down the aisle. I was gonna do my best to make her happy. Guessed I would start that shit tomorrow. Diamond was goin’ in and a nigga was ’bout to let the fuck go. I wrapped my fingers in her weave and forced myself farther down her throat.

  My heart was slammin’ in my ears and the music from the club drowned out Diamond’s moans as she sucked every fuckin’ drop outta me. I heard my office door close and jumped, snappin’ my eyes in its direction. Musta been Big Baby. I smiled down at Diamond.

  “Damn Di! You know you jus’ earned the night off, right?”

  “Boy, stop! I ain’t got no fuckin’ kids. I’m ’bout to go out he’ an’ get this mufuckin’ p
apa. Them niggas is depressed an’ droppin’ dolla’s!”

  I chuckled. Diamond was always ’bout gettin’ her money, that was for sure.

  “All right, momma. Go handle ya biz.” I smacked her on the ass as she hopped up and sashayed outta my office.

  Well, now that I’d gotten that outta my system. Whew. Ya boy was feelin’ ready to take on the world. I buttoned my pants, makin’ sure I looked presentable before headin’ out to find Big Baby. He was standin’ ova by the bar, talkin’ to Annette.

  “Yo, was you lookin’ fa me?” He shook his head no and leaned toward me so I could hear him ova the music.

  “Yo, ya girl can cook her ass off. Rah, you one lucky nigga.”

  “What girl? What the hell you talkin’ ’bout?” Damn. Big Shirley musta brought plates. My eyes roved the crowd, lookin’ for her so I could ask for mine.

  “Damn, nigga. Don’t tell me you in da doghouse again. Chelle must really be pissed if she came out the house to bring erebody a dinner plate ’cept yo’ ass!”

  A lump had formed in my throat. All the enthusiasm and relief I felt a few moments ago evaporated instantly. No, I didn’t see Michelle. But I was sure as fuck she’d seen me.

  Heart for a Heart

  26

  I walked back to my office and sat at my desk. I knew Michelle well enough to know she’d run home, grab Trey, and go either to her mom’s or one of her girls’ cribs. I knew she’d seen Diamond toppin’ me off, and for once I had no explanation. Here I was ready to propose to her, tryin’ to do right by her, hell, I was even thinkin’ ’bout her while I was gettin’ head. And I was still fuckin’ up.

  I spent Christmas Day alone. The tree was eerie and dark with all of Trey’s presents wrapped and piled up underneath it. I flipped on the TV more for background noise than anything. The remote fell from my hand, crashin’ onto the floor after bashin’ my foot. Shock and pain seared through my core like lightning. A special report bulletin streamed across the screen, putting me face to face with my demons.

  Derrick never smiled in any of his pictures and the irony was foreboding, as his sarcastic smirk now mocked my manhood, reminding me of the blood on my hands. Stains on my soul. The hair on the back of my neck was on edge, and I felt ice cold inside and out as I stared at the image of my eighteen-year-old partner in crime. Lack of a recent photo made the news crew resort to using D’s high school photo. I always considered myself a calculated, heartless, cold-blooded nigga. You could walk up to ten muthafuckas on the street and any of ’em would say Rasheed was a boss-ass dude. Name anyone who ever did me wrong and I could tell you off top that they ass was met with an appropriate consequence.

  Suddenly, none of that bullshit meant anything to me as the news reporter mentioned the li’l boy slain along with Derrick. Tears clouded my vision as everything that reminded me of Danita burned into the upper left corner of my flat screen. A frail, dark-skinned elderly woman was kneeling with a football clutched to her chest, head lowered with a pain so evident the news reporter stood by, outwardly emotional and at a loss for words. The old woman was Danita’s great aunt and only surviving relative.

  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 gave T 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’t 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 eye
s 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.”