Darius Jones

by Mary B. Morrison

  I was supportive for Darius’s sake but how was I going to keep watch over Fancy and DJ? I had to keep Darius in LA as long as I could. DJ hadn’t stayed a day with nonfamily members. Maybe I could research preschools. I know, I’d tell Bambi to find DJ a day care center.

  “Thanks, Ma. Let me say hello to my man.”

  DJ was partially wet so I put the phone on speaker, then held it for DJ.

  “Hey, Daddy. Come get me. Where you at?”

  “My man, I’m at the hospital with Fancy. I’ll be home soon as I can. Right now I need you to take care of Grandma until I get there. Can you do that for me?”

  “How come?”

  “Because you’re the man.”

  I raised a brow at that one.

  “Does that mean she has to listen to me, Daddy?”

  “Not at all. You’re three.”

  “I’m almost four.”

  “I love you, my man. Give Daddy a kiss.”

  “Mmm, Daddy. I love you too. Bye!”

  I took the phone off speaker. “Baby, you need to shower and eat. Why don’t you come home later and stay with DJ and I’ll sit with Fancy until you get back or until they kick me out.”

  “I’m not ready to leave, Ma. Her eyes are open. I’m fine and I promise to eat. Love, you. Bye.”

  I sighed. Part of my wanting to be at the hospital was selfish. I had to confront Grant about his e-mail. Convince him to take the test. Prove to him I was right.

  “Grandma, can I talk to my mommy? I miss my mommy.”

  “Of course you can, sweetie.” Why hadn’t I thought of calling Ashlee? I dialed her number, then put my cell on speaker.

  “Hello, Jada,” she sleepily answered. D.C. was three hours ahead of LA. She should’ve been awake as it was almost noon her time. “Is it true? Bambi is your personal assistant?”

  “Mommy! I miss you.”

  “Oh, baby. Mommy misses you too.”

  “Come get me!”

  “Get you? Where are you? They’re supposed to bring you to me today.”

  I answered Ashlee, “Yes, it is true. Isn’t that great? You won’t believe how much she’s changed. I doubt you’ll recognize her. I sure didn’t.”

  Ashlee asked, “Did she ask you to call me?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Did you ask her to call me?”

  “No. Why would I do that?” What was with all the questions?

  DJ interrupted. “Mommy, we got into a big car crash. Bam! This car hit us from behind. Another car hit us from the side. I have bandages on my legs. And Fancy, she not doing too good, Mommy. Her head is wrapped up and she got a tube in her nose. All kinds of stuff. And she can’t talk either. Daddy has to stay at the hospital with her all day and all night and I’m watching Grandma.”

  When did he notice all of that? I chimed in. “Ashlee, before you get upset, as you can tell, DJ is fine.” Our not talking baby talk to him made DJ smarter than I’d realized. “Darius does have to watch Fancy and it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you could come and help watch DJ for a week or two.”

  I didn’t want to seem selfish but I had issues to deal with too.

  “I’m on my way,” Ashlee said. “Mommy will see you tomorrow, sweetie.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Ashlee

  Getting my son back was just the ticket I needed to get back at Darius and Fancy, and I knew Bambi was lying about Jada asking her to confirm my address. Bambi was up to something. If she wasn’t careful, I’d tie her up, then beat her ass like I’d done to the guy at the W Hotel yesterday.

  Literally jumping out of my bed, I scrambled for my cell, got my attorney on the phone. “Draw up my child support papers. I want full legal and physical custody of my son.”

  I went to my closet, dug out my pictures of Darius from the bottom of my keepsake box. I picked up the five-by-seven frame with Jay’s picture, replaced Darius Senior’s photo on top, then put the frame back on my nightstand.

  “Whoa, Ashlee, slow down. Have you maintained your meds? Where is this custody issue coming from?” Baldwin asked. “What we need to discuss is what’s really going on with Jay Crawford. Are you going to tell me everything that happened? I can’t keep requesting a continuance for this trial if the man isn’t guilty.”

  “What are you talking about? Jay who? Stay focused. I’m talking about Darius.” I shut my eyes tight, then opened them.

  Fuck Jay! He was guilty of quitting me for his baby mama.

  “I don’t give a fuck if he does twenty years up in that hellhole. He’ll have plenty of time to think about dumping Ashlee Anderson. He got what he deserved! One down and one to go. And don’t worry about me taking my meds. I’m not crazy. Those drugs make me sleep all damn day. I’m calling because Darius’s wife was in a car accident. She’s hospitalized. She can’t take care of my baby. It’s basketball season. Darius doesn’t have time for DJ.” But he’ll wish he’d made time for me. “I’m the biological mother, not DJ’s grandma! Get it! Got it? Now get my papers ready. I’m leaving in the morning on the first plane jettin’.”

  I went to my kitchen, placed my hand under the ice slot of the refrig, then pressed the lever. I filled my hand with cubes, then rubbed my face and neck. I slid an ice cube inside my pussy to cool me off more.

  “Ashlee, slow down. DJ hasn’t ever lived with you in D.C. You haven’t had him since he was what? One year old or younger? You have every other weekend visitation. You can’t demand custody—you have to establish cause to get your full rights back. With your mental instability, neither the judge or the law is going to be on your side.”

  Who was he working for? Baldwin was one more broke ass replaceable lawyer who had more bills than money. “Fine, if you can’t handle the job, I’ll find an attorney who understands that the law can be skewed.”

  Water ran down my thigh. I grabbed a handful of paper towels, dried my pussy, then trashed the napkins. DJ’s picture was on my refrigerator. I kissed my baby. “Ha! I’m getting my baby back, baby back, baby back.”

  “Look, Ashlee. I’m sure we can work this out to your advantage,” Baldwin said.

  Baldwin was broke enough to be bought. I told him, “Well, Darius and Fancy moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta. The custody order is in Dallas. What if they didn’t file their papers in Atlanta? I can establish jurisdiction in D.C. Right? Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?” I was too close to getting revenge. I was not giving in.

  My attorney asked, “Does he still have his house in LA? When and where are you going to pick up your son?”

  “Yes, Darius has his house in LA. And I just told you I’m going to LA to pick up DJ. What’s your point?” I filled my hand with ice again. This time I massaged my arms and breasts.

  “You probably thought it but no you didn’t just tell me you were going to LA. Let me try to make sense of this. How do you know about this accident?” he questioned.

  “My son told me.”

  “Great. A three-year-old told you and you believed him?”

  “His grandmother confirmed it, okay? Call her yourself if you don’t believe me. I’m on my way to your office to pick up my papers.” I hung up, went online, and purchased a first-class round-trip ticket for myself, and a one-way ticket for my son from LAX to DCA. I knew my day would come. God didn’t like ugly and Darius had been ugly to a whole lotta women. Fancy couldn’t keep my baby from me forever. Finally, I get to see how they like every other weekend visitation. It was payback time for Darius Jones.

  Only God will have mercy on his soul because I don’t give a fuck about Darius.

  CHAPTER 19

  Bambi

  What I was about to do would leave Darius with no support system other than me.

  His soon to be deceased wife had one foot in the grave. His mother was outrageously obsessing over Grant. I planned to set up Jada with a tragic situation beyond her belief. She was on the edge. I might as well push her off the cliff. Give her a legitimate reason to be pissed off at Grant. Once I got rid
of Fancy and Jada, I’d become Darius’s newest best friend.

  I sat at the computer desk in my hotel room at the Renaissance saturating my hair with glue release until I was able to peel off my blond front lace wig and brows. Showering, then shampooing my hair, I tried to plan what I’d do with DJ besides lock him in a closet like my parents had done to me. Working in leave-in conditioner, I finger-spiraled my curls into a dangling afro.

  Checking myself out in the mirror, my size six pink designer suit, orange tapered button up, and stilettos were as fresh and natural looking as the day I’d interviewed with Jada. No wig, makeup, or body enhancements. I wasn’t wired to entertain a kid. Babysitting wasn’t on my “to do” list. I had to get to Jada’s house to pick up the room key and hurry back to my hotel to meet Rita.

  On my way out, I peeped in the tote bag I’d taken from Fancy’s room last night. I saw Fancy’s bloody clothes in a sealed plastic bag. Pinching the tip of the bag, I temporarily tossed it in the trash. Those belongings were going back in this bag and back to the hospital. I shook the bag. Saw a dazzling sparkle.

  No way. Couldn’t be. I spread a towel on the bed, emptied the contents. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Fancy’s purse, cell phone, credit cards, driver’s license, cash, and rings were in the bag. I slipped my new engagement ring on my finger. Perfect fit. Damn, I’m good. The cell phone was useless, might have a tracking application. Didn’t need her money or ID.

  I parked in Jada’s driveway, rang her bell. She opened the door. DJ stood behind her, clung to her leg. Brat.

  “Come in. I tell you I don’t know how I’m going to get through all of this,” Jada said, handing me the key card.

  I stood in the living room checking out the pictures of Darius on her mantel. I didn’t care about the other people in the photos. “Your home is charming.”

  “Thanks.” She told me the hotel and room number, then said, “It’ll be obvious which things are mine and what belongs to Grant. Don’t touch his stuff. DJ, say hi to Bambi.”

  “Nope,” he said, running off.

  Cool. The feeling was mutual. At least he only looked crippled with those bandages on his legs.

  “DJ, get back here. You’re going to spend the day with Bambi.”

  He stood beside Jada, stared at me, then asked, “How come?”

  Yeah, how come? I whispered to Jada, “I don’t think babysitting should be part of my duties. I’m really not good with kids and I think he knows it.”

  Jada said, “Use my company credit card. Take him to Disneyland or wherever he wants to go. Have him back in eight hours. DJ, don’t you want to go to Disneyland?”

  “My mommy can take me when she gets here.”

  Ashlee was coming to LA? “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing DJ’s hand.

  Shoving DJ in and dragging him out of the backseat of my convertible was a chore. The small space behind my passenger seat barely accommodated this kid. We went to Jada’s hotel, then to mine.

  “You’re supposed to take me to Disneyland,” he said, yanking his hand from mine.

  I grabbed his hand, squeezed it tight. “You can make this easy or hard, kid. The choice is yours.”

  “Ow, that hurts.”

  “Not as much as it could, kid,” I said, entering my hotel room.

  “My name is DJ.”

  I did a quick change into my one-piece swimsuit, put on Fancy’s ring. “Let’s go, kid.”

  “My name is DJ. And that’s Fancy’s ring.”

  “When you’re with me, your name is ‘kid.’ And it’s my ring.” I sashayed to the rooftop pool at the Renaissance with the kid trailing behind me. I lounged on a chair under the cabana, waited for my contact.

  I told the kid, “Go play by the pool but don’t get wet.”

  He frowned, stood at the edge of the pool staring at the other kids in the water. I told Jada I wasn’t good with kids.

  If he accidentally drowned or came up missing, it would be her fault.

  CHAPTER 20

  Bambi

  Adjusting the volume on my Loud ’N Clear ear piece, I eased on my custom-fitted Chanel sunglasses and reclined. I couldn’t relax. The thoughts inside my head competed for my attention. “This is the baddest ring.” Finally, I was officially engaged to Darius Jones and had his ring and his kid to prove it.

  The eleven o’clock sunshine warmed my body inside out. Seductively, I rubbed suntan oil all over myself to let my reality soak in. “Bartender, a bottle of Dom, a carafe of fresh orange juice, and a bowl of freshly sliced strawberries. Charge it to room 1806,” I said. “A celebration is in order. I’m getting married.” I flipped my wrist, showed him my bling.

  “Damn. Well, all is right, Miss Diva Extraordinaire. Congratulations. That’s quite an exhibit. I’ll be right back with your order. With all that shine, keep your shades on.”

  He was the first to envy me. I was never taking off my ring. Never. I’d die first.

  My contact headed in my direction, dragging her feet and looking an outright mess. Sliding her brown Birkenstocks, she adjusted her unkempt wig. Her floral print button-up dress was crinkled and her purse strap straddled her waist. Her fist was damned near wrapped twice around the strap. She hugged her purse to her hip as though all the money she owned was in it.

  Flopping on the lawn chair beside mine, she said, “Hey, Miss Bambi,” loud enough for the guests in the lobby to hear my name. Her country proper tone was at times adorable but more often annoying. Did all the people from Flagstaff along Route 66 speak this loud? Today I was happy so nothing could unnerve me.

  I told Rita, “I’ve got to teach you how to chill LA style. Sit back. Relax and have a mimosa.” I motioned for the bartender to pour two drinks.

  He half filled the two champagne flutes on the tray, added a splash of orange juice to each, handed me my drink.

  Rita picked up her drink before he touched it. She wrapped all four fingers and her thumb around the flute like it was a microphone. “Oh, chile. This is exactly what I need.” Leaning her head back, she gulped the mimosa like it was straight OJ. She stared at my ring. “Bambi, where you get that from? You’re getting married?”

  “Yes, but I can’t tell you to whom, so don’t ask. He’s famous and wealthy.”

  The best part about my contact was she was definitely unsuspecting. No one would deem Rita St. Thomas a hit and run driver. She was from that small town, Flagstaff, Arizona, where the attendant who checked your bags at the airport also loaded your bags on the plane and closed the door from the outside before takeoff. Hiring Rita, things had fallen into place for me in a weird kind of way.

  I’d read all about Rita in the background check on Jada’s computer. I knew that Honey was the name of Rita’s daughter who died. Lace was her daughter who’d switched names with her deceased daughter, Honey. And Rita told me that she was so jealous of Honey she’d do the unspeakable to make Honey’s life miserable.

  Rita said, “Oh, chile. At first I thought I’d hurt Darius the way he was smashed up underneef that air bag. I had to pray on that cuz I know how important he is to you.” This time she refilled her own glass with champagne only. “What do you do to look so good, Bambi? You on a diet? All these women in LA make me feel like I should go to the gym or at least watch what I eat.”

  “Sex,” I answered. “I have lots of sex.”

  Rita frowned and nodded, at the same tightening her lips. “Hmm.”

  Not wanting to hear her response, I removed my sunglasses, stared in her eyes. I squinted, then hissed, “Let me make myself clear. If you hurt Darius, I will destroy you.” She’d die if my thoughts could kill her. “Slow down on the alcohol. Here,” I said, handing her a five-thousand-dollar bonus for a job well done.

  She swished the champagne in her mouth, then swallowed. “Good. Now I can buy another truck. What’s my next assignment? I need more money.”

  “I have to decide if you can handle another assignment.” I already had one for her but didn’t want her to make any assumption
s. “Tell me about the accident.” I scanned the pool area. That kid was still standing on the side. At least he listened. I still wasn’t taking him to Disneyland.

  Rita straightened her wig. Wiggled on the lawn chair. Scooted her chair closer to mine. Sat sideways facing me. Gapped her legs, then whispered, “Well, I followed them about ten blocks or so. When the light turned red I saw this here SUV flying downhill from a different direction. They had the right of way. I juiced my engine and slammed into the back of Darius’s SUV and forced them into the middle of the street. I knew that other car wouldn’t have time to stop so I juiced my engine again and hit Darius’s car again to confuse them.”

  Rita damn near had me confused. “Next time I ask you to handle something, do not put Darius’s health in jeopardy.”

  I didn’t want to know what she’d done with the wrecked truck. It wasn’t in my name. “Are you good with kids?” I asked her.

  “I’m the best. Kinda,” she said, frowning. “Didn’t do such a great job with my own, but I can manage. Not like I don’t know how to take care of kids, ya know. Honey’s pregnant. But I’m already knowing she’s not going to let me see my grandbaby. She’s evil like that to me. If she’d given me some of that money she got, I wouldn’t have to supplement my retirement by doing these here odd jobs for you.” She downed another glass of champagne.

  I didn’t want to hear her life story. “Good enough.” I yelled at DJ, “Hey, kid! Come here…Kid…Kid…DJ!”

  He came running. “That’s my name.”

  Sucking in my cheeks, I exhaled. “Rita, stay here and watch this kid until I get back.”

  I slid my half glass of champagne to her side of the table knowing she’d need that drink too. At least she was honest about not having been a good mother. “I have another appointment.” I had to get away from her, get away from them.