Baby Momma Saga

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  I was still lost. Honey was in prison wit’ Dee? That’s who she was dikin’ wit’?

  “They found Honey this mornin’. I guess when Danita got news ’bout her son she went off. She stabbed Honey, Rasheed. An’ then she used the shank an’ killed herself. You got a li’l girl, nigga. She was born this mornin’.” He took a deep breath. “Honey lost too much blood; she’s not gonna make it. My boy works ova at the prison an’ found that letter when they went to clear the cell. He knew I’d get it to you.”

  I looked down at the letter, and the paper darkened in a spot as a tear slid down my cheek.

  “You need to read it quick, I don’t know if anything’s in it that might hurt ya case, but they ain’t gonna let you keep it when we get to processing.”

  All I could do was nod at T, and I opened the letter.

  Hey daddy,

  We ain’t really been talkin lately so Dee suggested I write you sometimes. I miss you so much baby. The girls in here are ok. Now they know I’m pregnant so it’s not too many bitches that’ll fuck wit’ me. I was mad as hell at u for hangin’ up on me cuz Dee ain’t no dike baby. She actually used to be one of ya girlfriends a long time ago. She told me ’bout y’all and I ain’t even get mad cuz that was waaay before you knew me. Baby, Dee told me what happened an’ that you had her face cut up. She refuse to tell you herself, but she was pregnant wit’ y’all’s son and was tryin’ to get money for an abortion, she wasn’t stealin’ from u. Your baby mama called her an’ told her ’bout y’all an’ you broke her heart, baby. She say you takin’ care of him now so I’m hopin you bondin’ wit’ your son. If you ain’ figured it out for yourself yet, then yes that’s what I’m telling u. I seen his picture an he look like a mini U! He so cute. I wish I could be there, I’ma need u to be a good man and not let him pick on Paris when she come. I hope you ok wit’ da name. I always wanted to go and I’m hopin she will get to one day. Thank you for the extra money on my card for Christmas. Paris got me up in here eatin’ honey buns, Fritos, anything I can get my hands on. I love you, daddy. I’ma try to call you on Christmas Day, but if not then I’ma put this in the mail to the club.

  xoxoxo Honey—P.S. in case you didn’t know them lil’ xo’s I wrote mean hugs an kisses.

  Baby Momma

  27

  I parked across the street and watched as Rasheed was handcuffed and placed into a police car. My windshield was the movie screen and I was sitting front and center in the director’s chair. I’d spent the last eight years directin’ my ass off and this was the grand finale. Some women professionally chase athletes, actors, and rappers. They look for anyone who can turn their broke and ordinary lives into a fairy tale. You’ll see ’em running behind these niggas with Cinderella dreams, hoping and praying that if they suck and fuck him just right, maybe they’ll get spoiled and catered to. Hoping if they put it down better than all the other women on his roster, they’ll eventually win the grand prize and be the Mrs. Married to the money and the misery, constantly fighting off younger, better-looking competition.

  Then you have women like me. We stuck with the nobodies through whatever we had to, and helped turn them into that successful rapper or basketball player, praying they didn’t leave us for another woman after all was said and done. Well, that’s my story with Rasheed, anyway. From the beginning he’d always been determined to be a “have,” makin’ profit off of the “have-nots.”

  We first met at a party he was having at his aunt’s house when I was sixteen. Back then his vision was no bigger than making enough to buy the next pair of Jordans, but I saw more. Rasheed could have been good at anything he put his mind to. Not only did he have the drive and intelligence, but he looked damn good, still does. We, being from two different worlds had people shocked when we first started dating. It took me a little getting used to as well, but let me just say it wasn’t hard to adjust to a six foot plus well-built nigga with all the right tools in his toolbox.

  It was always my personal goal to turn Rah into the successful man I knew he could be. He knew the streets and he knew the drug game. I went to college for business, but you might as well say we both got a degree out of the deal. I brought home everything I learned about investing and marketing, and I molded a nickel-and-dime corner boy into a business-savvy boss nigga.

  I always knew there would be a day when I would need to make up my mind: choose the life I wanted over the life I was living, or sit back and accept things and just remain miserable. When things with Rasheed were good and he was consciously trying to do right by me, life was great. But our bad memories far outweighed the good ones. I’d fallen out of love with Rasheed a long time ago. In the beginning, I loved him so much that I sometimes blamed myself for him cheating on me, lying to me, treating me like I was nothing. I became one of those women I despised. I wanted the money and the fairy tale. I wanted the companionship, huge wedding, possibly three kids, and a beautiful home.

  My BlackBerry buzzed from somewhere in the bottom of my purse. Digging to find it, I wondered why I didn’t just put the damn thing in my pants pocket. I finally located it and smiled at Larissa’s picture smiling back at me on the caller ID.

  “Hey, sweetie, I was just thinkin’ about you.”

  “I bet you were! I be thinkin’ ’bout me a damn lot too.”

  I laughed. Ris was probably the only person I knew who could fit “damn” or “fuck” in between any regular phrase to make a new one, and she was cocky with it too.

  “Is everything okay? Trey’s not actin’ up, is he?” I asked.

  “You know he’s fine but, Chelly, really, are you okay right now?”

  She sounded so concerned, and I honestly didn’t think I’d given reality a chance to really sink in. Maybe because I’d already imagined this day a thousand times in my head. Or, maybe, because in my spirit I felt like this was the way things needed to be and I accepted it as such. I took a deep breath. I needed to wrap my mind around what I’d done—what we’d done.

  “Yes, Ris, I’m really okay, I promise.” I tried to add a little lightness to my tone to put her at ease.

  “Good, ’cause we been puttin’ up wit’ dat nigga’s bullshit long e-fuckin’-nough. He too stupid to ’preciate a good bitch when he got one, then fuck ’em!”

  Me and Ris had had this conversation so many times. Me going through drama, trying to leave Rah only to turn around and give him chance after chance. Except this time the conversation was entirely different, this time her words were reality.

  “I know, girl, I know. He just got picked up. I need to go home, grab a few things, and then I’ll be over,” I told her.

  “Well, hurry up, ’cause I got us a couple bottles an’ we pop-pop-poppin’ dem bitches tonight!”

  I pulled up at what Ris liked to call her mini mansion, the place I always referred to it as my getaway. My house with Rasheed was home only when it was convenient for him. I had just left from over there and I stayed just long enough to grab a few of Trey’s toys and his favorite pj’s. The lights were out on the tree and the place looked exactly how I finally felt inside about Rasheed: empty. I had absolutely nothing left for him.

  I saw Ris appear in the front door, holding Trey, before I could even put the car in park.

  “Look, Trey, there’s Mommeeee! Say Merry Christmas, Mommy!”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He did his best, but could only get out what sounded like “Ma-Chris, Mommy.” He was the only good thing Rasheed had ever given me.

  “Aw, hello, my babies.” I kissed them both on the cheek. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold, feels like it might snow.” I followed them inside, glad to be out of the cold.

  Ris’s mini mansion was exactly that; there were five bedrooms, two and a half baths, it even had fireplaces in the master bedroom and family room. Everything was decorated in warm, comfy colors: dark chocolate and green, tan, and blues. It had a real modern, cozy feel to it. My touch consisted of a few bright yellow throw pillows that were lyin’ on the floor,
indicating Trey had been playing around. Ris liked to burn patchouli candles in just about every room, and the scent always reminded me of her and subconsciously I relaxed. I sat in front of the fireplace in the living room, enjoying the painful tingle as my fingers and toes warmed up while Ris went to put Trey down for the night. The police would probably be contacting me for a statement or something to that degree. I seriously needed to pull myself together.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would be hungry or not. I ordered pizza for me an’ Trey if you want some.”

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear Larissa come back downstairs. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m good right now. I could really use a glass of that champagne, though.”

  “Girl, you ain’t said nothin’ but a mufuckin’ word! I got Patrón an’ . . .” The rest of her sentence trailed off as she scampered into the kitchen.

  I shook my head. Messing around with this girl would have my face in the toilet all day tomorrow if she had her way. She used to get me so messed up when we were in college. Ris could probably drink most niggas under the table if she put her mind to it.

  “Whoo! Baby, we toastin’ tonight!” Ris returned, dancing toward me, and landed on the couch, clanking champagne glasses between her fingers.

  “Yeah, I guess we can start our celebration a little early. Shit ain’t over until the gavel drops, but we can talk about that some other time. Pour my ass a draank.”

  Ris fought with the cork for a few seconds before it went flying out of the bottle with a loud “pop.” We toasted to ourselves. I’d never been a huge fan of champagne, especially the dry stuff; tastes like grapefruit rinds and club soda, if you asked me. But Ris loved it, and if she was buying you had no choice but drink what she liked to drink.

  I hadn’t eaten much today so it wouldn’t take more than a couple of glasses to get me completely fucked up. I needed to pace myself. I sure as hell ain’t want a headache to fight with in the morning. We sat in silence, enjoying the relaxing warmth from the fire. The orange glow danced off of the walls, reminding me of a summer sunset—reminding me of my last night in the Bahamas with Rah. That was my last good memory of us together. Giggling and teasing each other, kissing like we were back in high school and nothing could ever come between us. Ris set her glass on the coffee table in front of the couch and turned to face me, her demeanor suddenly serious and quiet.

  “Michelle, how long have we known each other?” she asked.

  “Shit, girl, I don’t know. Feels like forever! Why, what the hell you done went and did now?” Usually when Ris got quiet on me it was time for a confession, like the time she used my credit card to order a five-hundred-dollar wig off the Internet, or when she got our initials tattooed on the back of her neck. Ris never did anything small or half-assed. I had to give her credit for having balls when it came to living life.

  “Baby, marry me.”

  I stared at her wide-eyed with disbelief. I was waiting for a giggle or a laugh, something to signal this was a joke. When none came, I realized Ris was actually being dead serious. I couldn’t believe my ears. We’d been together so long and we’d been dealing with the issue of me and Rasheed for so many years that I never considered the possibility of marriage. What would my parents think? Hell, what would my friends and neighbors think?

  “Ris, baby, I . . . I don’t know what to say right now.” My eyes filled with tears. It was just too much coming at me too soon, and too fast. I wasn’t even fully at grips with what we’d done to Rasheed and, now, another life-changing decision. I did my best to keep my voice from shaking as I looked into Ris’s hurt-filled emerald eyes that were slowly brimming with tears.

  “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.

  Ca
ged Birds

  28

  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’t 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’ push-ups 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.”