I said, “That’ll be all. Thanks.”
I had Sindy follow me to my condo. The valet parked our cars. Sweeping her off her feet and carrying her across the threshold would be a bit much for the first date. What if she stayed and discovered my night sweats and nightmare? Exhaling, I unlocked the door, opened it, and waited for her to enter first.
My chin damn near hit the floor. “What the hell!” My condo had been turned into a nursery.
Sindy stared at me. We were both speechless.
Madison came out of my bedroom. There was a dessert plate in her hand. “Hi, honey. . . . Oh, hey, Sindy. This cheesecake is amazing, Roosevelt.” She seductively slipped a forkful into her mouth. “Thanks for having it delivered. You guys have to taste this,” Madison said. Shoveling another forkful, she offered it to Sindy.
The door was still open. I expected her to walk out on me again—this time for reasons I understood.
Sindy looked directly into my eyes. “Roosevelt, you need to decide. Right here. Right now.”
CHAPTER 49
Madison
“Roosevelt, honey. Wake up.”
A puddle of fluid was beneath my butt. A few days had passed since Sindy had gotten the surprise of her future. If Roosevelt wasn’t at the office, I made sure he was by my side, not hers.
I shook him hard. He didn’t move. “Baby, it’s time.”
“What? It’s time,” he mumbled. “Oh, damn! It’s time!”
Scrambling from underneath the covers, he looked at me; then he put his hand on my stomach. I smiled at the angel God had sent me; I was eternally grateful that that Sindy woman was gone from our lives forever. Love filled my heart. If the child inside me wasn’t for my husband, I was blessed for all he’d done, and had to find a way to make my marriage work.
Adoption was an option. I could sign my parental rights to Granville. That way, he wouldn’t have a reason to contact me.
This man in bed with me had loved me through my double mastectomy. I didn’t care that I wasn’t able to breast-feed our child. I was extremely excited knowing that shortly after giving birth, I’d start the process for treatment and reconstructive surgery. Would they feel real? Would my nipples have sensitivity? I sure hoped so.
Roosevelt scrambled for his cell, reminding me to get mine. “Yes, I’d like my car, please. It’s an emergency.”
It was bold of me to rearrange his condo without his permission. A real woman knew it was always best to ask for forgiveness, when she knew she’d never get permission. I slipped my dress over my head. He quickly put on his pants and shirt, then grabbed my bag. We walked to Chaz’s condo. Roosevelt knocked on the door.
Chaz opened it. “Man . . . is it—”
“Yes. Tell Mom, Dad, and Grandpa to meet us at the hospital.”
Touching my stomach, I winked at Chaz. He hated me, but he loved his brother.
“Ow!” I faked a contraction to annoy him.
Roosevelt placed his arm around my lower back. “Baby, let’s go.”
Glancing at Chaz, I placed my hand above my butt and pushed my stomach forward. I wobbled to the elevator. Roosevelt’s car was parked out front. He opened the door for me. The valet opened the door for him.
Roosevelt became silent. I called my mom. “I’m in labor. Meet me at the hospital.” I had no idea what my dad was up to but he’d been too quiet since Helen told him he had three months. Hopefully, Papa would show up.
I phoned Tisha with the same message, and then added, “Don’t tell Loretta.” After hurling that photo album at me, Loretta had better not come near me or my baby.
Roosevelt parked outside emergency and escorted me in. Everyone knew who we were, but my husband gave the requested information for me.
“I’m going to move my car and I’ll be right up. Don’t push until I get there,” he said, running out the door.
Someone rolled me in a wheelchair to delivery. Handed me off to staff. They whisked me into a birthing room. “Where’s my doctor?”
“We’ve notified your doctor. She’s on her way.”
I was nervous. What was taking Roosevelt so long?
A doctor came into the room, but he wasn’t mine. “I’m going to check you,” he said. Probing my uterus, he said, “You’ve dilated six centimeters. Hopefully, your doctor will make it here before you’re ready. If not, I’ll have to do it.”
“No. I want my doctor!” I cried out as my stomach contracted.
Roosevelt entered the room and stood by my side. “Sin . . . I mean Madison. Sorry about that,” he said.
Was that what took him so long? He’d been talking to her? I was not happy that at our special moment he was obviously thinking about her.
“Our families are outside waiting to come in. You ready?” he asked.
No, I wasn’t. I’d never be comfortable with his people standing around, staring at my vagina, watching the birth of our baby. This time they’d see the real thing up close. I’d had my last Brazilian a week ago so Aphrodite was prepped for the doctor. I couldn’t remember the last time Roosevelt called my kitty by her nickname, Aphrodite, or the last time I’d called his dick, Tiger. All I envisioned was those who were in the courtroom flashing back to the video of me with Granville.
God knew I didn’t want to say, “Sure, they can come in.”
When Roosevelt opened the door and offered a come-hither motion, they scurried in, in a single-file line, like the baby’s head had already popped out. My mom stood on the opposite side of the bed from Roosevelt. Behind the faces that I recognized came a group that I didn’t want to see. Camera crews and reporters rushed in. Lights flashed so fast—they blinded me.
“Where is security? How did all of the people get access to my room?”
A reporter shoved a microphone in my face. “Mrs. DuBois, or should I say Ms. Tyler, do you know who the father of your baby is?”
Before I answered, a different reporter asked, “Where is the guy who shot Chicago? Is he the father? How did Granville Washington get off? Did you help him?”
The newscaster who announced our pregnancy on television squeezed her mic in. “Madison,” she said, acting as though we were on a first-name basis, “do you have any regrets?”
Where was Roosevelt? Where was my mom? I couldn’t see through the media crowd.
I screamed, “Get rid of them! Get out! All of you!”
One by one, the crowd thinned. Roosevelt was back at my side. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure who called them, but they are all over the place. I asked the police to remove them.”
If the policemen were the same as the ones who were here when I signed the papers to take my husband off the respirator, those reporters weren’t going anywhere.
Helen lifted the sheet, tilted her head, and stared between my legs. “I sure hope this baby isn’t one of ours.”
My mom reappeared, stood by my side, and held my hand. I pulled away—not because I didn’t want my mother to touch me. The IV in the back of my hand was uncomfortable. Mom went to the foot of the bed by Dad.
When the door opened, I heard the commotion outside the room. The doctor had returned.
“I guess this is what goes along with being a celebrity couple,” the doctor said. “Relax, I’m going to check on your progress.”
I wanted my mom. As his hand slid into my uterus, and he pressed on my stomach, I cried.
This is what happens when reporters are bored and desperate to deliver the breaking news, even if it tears people apart or kills them. Their coming into my birthing room made me angry. I should press charges. The police should handcuff all of them, put them in a paddy wagon, haul them to the precinct, lock them up, and then swallow the key. There should be consequences for those ruthless reporters.
“Ow!” I yelled. Struggling to breathe, I squeezed Roosevelt’s hand. “Your mom,” I said, pleading with my eyes. I wanted her out of the room! “Get her from between my legs!”
Yelling made my stomach hurt more.
Roosevelt kis
sed my forehead. “Don’t worry about my mom. She just wants to see the baby. Breathe,” he said.
Helen stood beside the doctor like she was his assistant. She insisted on being one of the first to see “the child,” as she’d called it.
Of all the times he’d shown up, I didn’t want my father here. Chaz was next to his mom. Roosevelt’s father, Martin, and his grandfather Wally were in the waiting room lineup too. They stood in a huddle, looking like it was fourth and goal for the win.
“It’s about that time,” the doctor said.
This was all wrong. Where was my doctor? Where was Tisha?
The door opened. “Who is that?” I couldn’t see around Roosevelt.
“On the count of three, Madison, I want you to push,” the doctor said.
Roosevelt placed his hand between my shoulder blades and held it there. I sucked in as much oxygen as I could. My stomach tightened.
The doctor counted, “One. Two. Three.”
I pushed hard.
Why was I sweating in a cold room?
“It’s me, honey,” Tisha said. She stood on the opposite side of the bed and held my hand.
Tisha whispered in my ear, “He’s here.” She stared into my eyes. “He’s outside, and he’s talking to the media. I thought you should know. Sindy is here too.”
Karma was all mine.
The room suddenly got colder, as though someone had locked me, alone, in a morgue with the Grim Reaper. The chill penetrated me so deep that I froze from the inside out. Reminded me again of the trip I’d taken to New York City to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Except this time, I was scared.
I didn’t wait for the doctor to tell me again. Out of frustration I pushed as hard as I could.
“Oh, my!” Helen’s voice escalated. “I can see the head.” Abruptly she became silent.
Tisha moved closer to the foot of the bed. Chaz stood beside her, videotaping with his phone.
I screamed. Not because of the pain. I was annoyed with Helen. If Roosevelt hadn’t insisted they be there, I’d ask them to leave. If the baby hadn’t just slipped into the doctor’s hands, I’d get up and go. Not sure if Granville was outside the hospital or outside my room, I wanted to hold everyone captive until they cleared the crowd.
Roosevelt kissed me. “We did it, baby.”
Helen joyfully said, “Oh, my God. He’s so beautiful.”
“He.” I exhaled. My doctor had said it was a boy, but I waited until we were sure because some doctors have been wrong.
Roosevelt let go of my hand and I felt alone. In a room full of people, I felt like I was by myself.
The doctor handed Roosevelt the scissors. “You want to do the honor?”
“Mom, why don’t you do it,” Roosevelt said.
What? I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. Why shouldn’t my mother be asked to do it? I kept quiet. I motioned for Tisha to come closer; then I whispered, “Go get rid of him. I don’t care how you do it, but he can’t be out there when Roosevelt and his family leave.”
“What about Loretta?” Tisha asked.
I frowned; then I whispered in her ear, “I thought I heard you say ‘Sindy.’ ”
“Her too.”
Damn. “Get rid of all of them.”
“Consider it done. Congratulations, Mama.”
“Oh, baby.” Helen’s voice was full of pride. “My first grandchild.”
“Hurry up and cut the cord, Mama, so I can hold him for a few seconds,” Roosevelt said.
It was like I was invisible. I said, “I want to hold my baby.” The room got quiet.
Roosevelt placed him on my chest. There was no doubt he was a DuBois. I was relieved.
The door opened.
Helen gasped. “What on earth?”
Roosevelt looked over his shoulder. Froze. Sindy opened her arms. Like a magnet to steel, he was drawn to her. They embraced. She cut her eyes toward me. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Sindy walked toward the doctor and glanced at my baby. She didn’t say a word. Roosevelt didn’t ask her to leave.
The nurse said, “It’s time to get this handsome fella cleaned up. I’ll bring him back to you later.” She left with our baby.
I started crying.
My mom seemed sadder than I was. She said, “We’ll be in the waiting area until they clean up the baby.”
Roosevelt leaned over and hugged me.
“Congratulations, Mama,” Tisha said, reentering the room. “It’s done.”
I nodded and darted my eyes in Sindy’s direction.
“Oh . . . I wondered where she’d gone.”
As quietly as Sindy had come, she turned and left.
Things were happening so fast. Where was security or Roosevelt’s bodyguard? Were they plotting against me? This was supposed to be my day.
“What are we going to name him?” Helen asked.
I take it she wasn’t talking to me.
Chaz said, “Let’s go watch the video. We’ll come up with something.”
Roosevelt looked at his brother and said, “I can’t believe how light he is. I want to name him Chaz. That way, I’ll have two.”
“Naw, man. I’m flattered,” Chaz said, “but don’t do that. Name him Zach.”
I was relieved. I did not want my son to be named after Roosevelt’s brother. I repeated the name. “ ‘Zach.’ I like that.”
Loretta entered the room. I looked at Tisha. She hunched her shoulders.
“What the hell is this—a revolving-door delivery? Tisha, get her out of here.”
“Good going, Madison. I saw your son on the video Chaz posted,” Loretta said.
What the hell? He did what? Without my permission.
Bitch! Her ass was determined to start shit every fucking chance she got.
Helen came back into the room, then said, “Chicago, that crazy man is here, demanding a paternity test. Have your paternity test done today.”
CHAPTER 50
Granville
“Can she do that, Beaux? Can she?”
“I keep telling you, bro. I don’t know.”
Madison had refused to let me take a paternity test yesterday. Why would she do that? After all the gifts I’d sent for my son, I had to wait for her to tell the reporters the truth. Zach’s last name is Washington, not DuBois.
While I was at the hospital, the reporters treated me like a celebrity. The newscaster who had Madison and Chicago on her show—when Madison told all of Houston, “We’re pregnant”—gave me her card. The other half of that “we” should’ve been me. The reporter told me to call her first if the baby was mine.
Wasn’t anybody listening to me? I told her on camera yesterday, “That’s my baby.”
That guy who’d given me that money and a gun was still in a pickle. I had the briefcase in my Super Duty truck outside, but I hadn’t opened it. For all I know, there could be bricks or a bomb in that thing. If he was telling the truth, I didn’t want to leave $1 million lying around my place. What if they came back to take it all back while I wasn’t there, then accused me of stealing?
“I guess she wants to do process of elimination. You made the right decision coming here today,” Beaux said.
My brother had another seafood boil for our mom and invited the neighborhood yesterday. That would be the last one for Mom. She hadn’t gotten out of bed in a week. She couldn’t control her bodily functions. Her caregivers did a good job of keeping Mama clean. The people Mom did know—my brother said she didn’t know they were here yesterday. A few of her friends dropped by this morning to say their good-byes.
Looking at Beaux, I wanted to ask him if that was really the gun in the shoe box that was now inside our mama’s closet. Sadly, this wasn’t a good time for that conversation. There was only one weapon used at the scene, but there were two possible guns? Maybe Sindy’s dad meant he had some other gun. We still planned to bury with Mama the one Beaux had found.
I wanted to be here yesterday, but I didn’t want to miss the
birth of my baby. Loretta was the only one who was nice to me when she saw me. Chaz acted like I’d shot him. His eyeing me didn’t scare me. Bet if none of those cameras were there, he wouldn’t have disrespected me. Loretta showed me how to download the YouTube app. Then she showed me how I could see the video online on my iPhone.
The nurse stood in the living-room doorway. “Excuse me, gentlemen. It’s that time again.”
“I’m going to check on Mom,” Beaux said, leaving the living room.
Sitting in my dad’s old recliner, I didn’t move. I didn’t want to watch her give Mom another dose of morphine. I’d seen her do that every hour since I’d been here. The baby had to be mine. Mama had to hold on to see him. I felt like if I went to her bedroom . . .
Tears rolled down my face. No sense in drying them. I wasn’t finished crying.
Holding my phone in my hand, I clicked on the link Loretta had given me over the phone. Guess she didn’t want to text it. I understood. The last fifty views were mostly mine. Madison pushed and the head popped out. If I had been in the room, I would’ve put all of Chicago’s family out. They were rude, standing in front of my future mother- and father-in-law. But if Chaz hadn’t stood close enough to record, I wouldn’t have proof.
Madison pushed really hard. This time my son slipped out like he’d stepped on a banana peel. I knew he was mine. All that light skin didn’t mean nothing. Beaux agreed. If Mama was aware, she’d say the same. Zach’s dick and balls were big and black. From the neck down, his baby picture looked just like mine.
I didn’t care that my mother was not in her right state. I wanted my mom to hold her grandson before she died. Madison and I should’ve made plans for that before the baby was born. Mom might not hang on too much longer. I think the only reason she was still here was because of Zach.
“Granville,” the nurse said. “It’s that time. She’s struggling through her last breaths. Please come. Your brother needs you.”
This time my eyes burned with tears. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I sat in Dad’s chair like the nurse was talking to someone else. No, my mama was not going to die!
A horrid sound. The cross between an eighteen-wheeler’s horn, a whistling kettle, and music from a horror movie traveled throughout the house.
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