“Stop calling him that.”
“There wouldn’t be any Little Damn Junior if you hadn’t stuck your dick where it didn’t belong.”
“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”
She glowered at Eric. “I’m not riding for you on this bullshit.” She shook her head emphatically.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.”
“The minute I think that the situation is somewhat under control, you come at me with some new hood jinks.” Nivea frowned at the baby. “I’d be a fool to allow you to drag me deeper and deeper into hood ratchetness.”
“We can get through this together.”
“I can’t trust anything you say. I told you I didn’t want that baby around me and the very next day…here he is! This situation has gone from bad to worse. Do you really think I’m going to be changing your little bastard’s diapers?”
“My son ain’t no bastard, so watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he bellowed.
“I guess what they say is true: lie down with dogs, and you end up with fleas. Everybody tried to warn me against marrying you, but I wouldn’t listen. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I’ve tried to upgrade you, but look at the thanks I get.” She sneered at the baby. “There’s no getting around it; I have to call off the wedding.”
“You back on that again?”
“I can’t do it, Eric. It’s clear that the only thing you’re bringing to the table is trouble and strife.” She took a deep breath. “Seriously. You need to gather up your possessions. It’s over. I need my space, so take your son back to the apartment and wait for his mother over there.”
“You’re putting me out?” Eric leaned to the side and stared at Nivea incredulously.
“Tell Dyeesha that I said congratulations. I’m withdrawing from the competition. She can have you.”
“I work every day. I’m not broke.”
“Your salary ain’t shit,” Nivea retorted.
“Why you wanna throw my salary up in my face?”
“Because I’m educated and sophisticated. I make six figures a year, and you had the nerve to cheat on me and make a baby with a trashy stripper.”
“Ex-stripper,” he corrected.
“Shut up!”
“We’re supposed to be a team, Nivea. We should be tryna straighten out this mess together.”
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
“After all the time I’ve put in with you—”
“You should have thought about that when you went out and made a baby. Don’t try to act like a victim because I’m the one who was cheated on, betrayed, and beat up!”
“I didn’t hit you. I’m the one that ended up with a head wound.”
“You brought that on yourself.”
“I was trying to be a stand-up guy. I was tryna take care of mine. But you know what…I’m getting sick of the way you keep going back and forth with this wedding. One minute it’s on, and a second later, you’re calling it off. So, fuck it then!”
“Yeah, and fuck you, too,” Nivea shot back. “You and that tramp have brought me more drama in the past few days than I’ve experienced in my entire life. If you think I’m going to be losing sleep while that little bastard is screaming and crying—”
“Yo, watch your mouth!” Eric stomped over to the closet and swung open the double doors. Nivea observed as he yanked clothes off hangers and slung them onto the bed. Pairs of jeans, shirts, and sweaters were building into a tall pile next to the sleeping baby.
I’m not going to be able to live it down if I call off this wedding. I’m going to hear “I told you so” a million times. I don’t know what to do. Eric is beneath contempt, but I can’t let myself end up a pitiful old maid while my sister marries a damn doctor.
Nivea cleared her throat. “Listen, I don’t want us to break up. But I can’t allow you to bring your son over here every time his negligent mother feels like running the streets.”
“Can’t you be a little more understanding? The way you acting, I’m scared to leave you alone with my son. Real talk.”
Nivea felt her face begin to twitch. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, it might be a good idea for me and Lil’ Junior to go back to the apartment. I already experienced your violent side. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t protect my son.” Eric sauntered over to the closet, pulled out a huge duffle bag and tossed it on the floor next to the bed.
“Do you think I’m capable of child abuse?” Nivea touched her chest, indignant.
“Yeah.”
“That’s crazy.”
“What’s crazy is the way you keep calling an innocent baby out of his name.”
Nivea sighed. “Look, Eric, I said a lot of stuff that I didn’t mean. I was angry. Now put your things back in the closet.”
“I don’t know, Niv. You said some harsh stuff about Lil’ Junior.”
“I’m sorry. I was upset.”
“So, what we gon’ do about him?” He glanced down at the baby.
“Take him to your mom. It won’t kill her to watch her own grandson for a while.”
“He’s not my mom’s responsibility.”
He’s not my goddamn responsibility either! Nivea stared off into space, trying to think of a solution. She looked up at Eric. “Where do you think Dyeesha is?”
“Who knows? She could be anywhere.”
“Do you have the number of any of her friends? We should call the police. Abandoning a child is a crime.”
“Not when the mother leaves him with his other parent. I’m not tryna start nothing with Dyeesha. I know she loves our son, but she has a wild streak.”
“You sound delusional, Eric. A loving mother does not run off and abandon her child.”
“She stormed out the crib after I told her that me and you were going through with our wedding. She cussed me out and said she’d be damn if I was going to saddle her down with a fatherless baby.”
“Did she take any clothes with her?”
“No.”
“If she didn’t pack anything, obviously, she’ll be back.” Nivea paused for a moment, and then added, “She wouldn’t really abandon her own baby, would she?” The last thing Nivea needed was to have to hide this baby from her family and friends for more than a few hours.
“Let’s give her a chance to calm down. I’m sure she’s going to come to her senses by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! That baby can’t stay here overnight.”
“Why not? I’ll change the diapers and make his bottles. You don’t have to get your pretty little hands dirty,” Eric said with a chuckle.
Nivea didn’t see the humor.
The baby started crying again. Softly at first, and then he turned up the volume.
“What’s all that fussing for?” Eric said lovingly, as he lifted his son out of the carrier.
Feeling trapped and helpless, Nivea walked out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, she reached for a bottle of vodka. Poured a shot, threw it back…straight with no chaser.
CHAPTER 17
Nivea did not lift a finger to help Eric with the baby, but she was exhausted from watching Eric warm formula, change diapers, and walk the floor with the baby that wouldn’t stop crying. To no avail, he’d called Dyeesha’s cell every half-hour. Each call went to voice mail.
By eleven that night, the little monster was finally knocked out. The child was wrapped in blankets and lying on Eric’s side of the bed. Eric sat next to him, gazing down with love and pride in his eyes.
“Why don’t you take him in the guestroom?” Nivea suggested.
Eric frowned. “Suppose he rolls off the bed?”
“I don’t feel like arguing with you; I’m tired.”
“Why you talking out the side of your neck?” he barked. “You know Lil’ Junior’s too young to sleep in a bed by hisself.”
Nivea couldn’t suppress her irritation. “It’s starting to feel real crowded in here, so take your goddamn son in the guestroom!�
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“Why!”
She waved a finger through the air. “Having that baby sleeping in my bed is where I draw the line, Eric. If you don’t like it, you can join him.”
Mumbling in discontent, Eric rearranged the blankets, tightening them securely before gathering up his son, and stomped out of the bedroom.
Fuck you! She snuggled under the down-filled comforter. She was relieved to have her bedroom to herself…grateful for the privacy. But after struggling to find a comfortable position, she realized that she missed the warmth of Eric’s husky body lying next to her.
She tossed and turned some more, flung a pillow, and then sat up. This is not fair. After everything I’ve done to accommodate Eric, I still wind up in bed by myself. She questioned her sanity in allowing Eric to draw her into his drama-filled existence.
Being realistic, she’d be much better off without Eric. Letting him convince her to allow his baby to stay overnight was outrageous. It was absolutely degrading. She’d only gone along with the absurd request because she didn’t want to give Eric any excuse to run back to that lowdown stripper. She’d put in too much time with Eric to start looking for a new man. Finding one who was ready to get married would be next to impossible.
The single status sucked. It was like a stigma. Being a single female at twenty-eight was disgraceful. In her subconscious mind, Nivea felt like she had a disease that could only be cured if some-body—anybody—put a ring on it.
Though her mind chatter seemed to go on and on without cessation, at some point drowsiness seeped in between her troubled thoughts, pulling her in a peaceful slumber.
But something that sounded as explosive as a bomb detonation yanked Nivea from the serenity of sleep, had her out of bed and on her feet. Clutching her chest, mouth agape in fear, she ran out into the hallway. Had terrorists attacked her tranquil community?
Wearing only boxers, Eric came rushing out of the guestroom with the baby in his arms.
“What’s going on, Eric? What was that noise?”
“I don’t know. Something hit the front door.” He passed her the baby. “Here, hold Lil’ Junior. Take him in the bedroom and close the door.”
Nivea hesitated, unsure of what had caused the commotion. She didn’t want to hold Little Junior or take him into her bedroom. But another boom—this one louder than the first—had Nivea screaming and running. Inside her bedroom, she followed Eric’s suggestion, and turned the lock for extra protection.
Boom, boom! “Open da fuckin’ door, Eric! Ain’t nobody playing with yo’ ass! Open da goddamn door!”
Recognizing the voice, Nivea gasped in shock and outrage. Though slurred, it was unmistakeably Dyeesha’s ugly voice.
No that slut didn’t have the nerve to bring her drunk, skank ass over here, kicking on my door like she’s the one paying the bills! Nivea leapt from the bed. Carrying the baby, she hurried to the bedroom door. Vibrating with anger, she imagined herself inviting Dyeesha inside and showing the ghetto tramp what was really hood. Nivea was so revved up, she could feel her fingers itching to tear that red weave off the bitch’s head.
She opened the bedroom door and could hear Eric yelling, “Go ’head, Dyeesha! You drunk…that’s why you acting up! Go home and sleep the liquor off!”
That bitch is the one trespassing now. Standing on my porch, kicking and cussing and creating a scene. I got something for that drunken ass, Nivea thought as she rushed down the hallway.
“Open up the damn door before I blow this bitch off the hinges!” Dyeesha shouted. Her command was followed by the sound of locks being turned.
Eric opened the door and Dyeesha burst inside the living with sneakers on her feet, but for some reason, she was carrying a pair of thigh-high, shiny black boots in her hands. They were most likely the boots that she wore during her stripper routine.
Dyeesha proved to be crazier than Nivea had imagined. She started swinging the boots through the air. Holding onto the shiny plastic end, she began wielding the boots like they were a set of nunchucks. Nivea began backing up, deciding it was best if Eric took over the situation. If anyone got clobbered with those boots, it needed to be Eric.
“Do something, Eric,” Nivea said sharply.
“Why you got my son in your arms? You ain’t his mother. Hand me my goddamn baby,” Dyeesha demanded.
Static had Dyeesha’s red weave sticking out all over her head. Drool trickled from the corners of her twisted lips. Nivea would have gladly handed over the child, but she didn’t dare get too close to the boot-swinging enemy. “I don’t want your baby,” Nivea said with revulsion. She shot a glance at Eric, and noticed he was standing in the background as if helpless. “Do something, Eric. Call the police.”
His brows drew together in a frown. “I can’t call the cops on my baby mom.” His voice came out low and weak.
Nivea gawked at Eric. What a pussy!
Wearing a maniacal smile, Dyeesha inched up a little closer. “First you try to steal my man, now you tryna play mommy to my son. You crossed the line, bitch. Now, hand me my son.”
Take your little bastard, Nivea wanted to say, but she couldn’t risk provoking drunk-ass Dyeesha. It occurred to Nivea that she could make a quicker getaway if she tossed the baby like a football toward his father. It would be on Eric if he missed the catch.
“Watch the way you swinging them boots, Dyeesha!” Eric bellowed. “I’ma fuck you up if you hurt my son.”
What about me? Nivea scowled at Eric.
Dyeesha kept swinging, and deliberately smashed a lamp. The blast of noise made Nivea jump. The baby screamed with fright.
“Yo, what the fuck is your problem?” Grappling with Dyeesha, Eric managed to confiscate one boot. Arms wrapped around her waist, he confined her, holding her in a steely grip.
Dyeesha twisted and lurched forward but couldn’t escape Eric’s grasp.
“Calm the fuck down, Dyeesha,” he bellowed.
Trapped inside Eric’s strong arms, she hissed at Nivea, “Give me my fuckin’ baby!” Nivea noticed that Dyeesha seemed to be frothing at the mouth, and that her teeth were bared—like a vicious animal. “Oh, you like playing Mommy to my baby? Okay, alright, then.” She gave a menacing chuckle.
Nivea cringed at the sound of that threatening chuckle. She’d obviously misjudged Dyeesha, thinking she could win a fight with her due to the hussy’s undernourished appearance. Dyeesha had crazy working to her advantage, giving her the rage and most likely the strength of the mentally insane.
Nivea glared at Eric. “I’m calling the cops. You have exactly five seconds to get her out of here.”
“I ain’t going nowhere without my baby,” Dyeesha insisted as she struggled with Eric.
“Stop clownin’, girl. You can’t take Lil’ Junior nowhere in your condition,” Eric responded brusquely. “And I can’t let you get behind the wheel, either. You gon’ wind up with the car wrapped around a tree.”
Nivea raised an eyebrow at Eric. “What do you plan to do, Eric? Invite your jumpoff into my kitchen…sober her up with a pot of my gourmet coffee?” Nivea said sneeringly.
This is it. I’m really through with Eric. I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life than have go through eighteen years of this madness.
With a burst of unexpected energy, Dyeesha broke free from Eric’s clutches. She used the heel of her stripper boot to bash Nivea in the head, staggering her.
Eric rushed over, but it was his son that he rescued. “Y’all acting all crazy; the baby could get hurt,” Eric scolded, giving both Nivea and Dyeesha equally dirty looks. He stormed out of the living room with the infant in his arms.
Nivea’s head was spinning, and she was stunned that Eric had left her to deal with Dyeesha, a scrawny but brutal opponent. While she tried to get her bearings, Dyeesha delivered a swift kick to her groin.
“Ugh!” Nivea grunted. Her face contorted in pain, she grabbed her crotch and bent over in agony. Next Dyeesha used her bony kneecap to jut Nivea in the chin, knock
ing her completely off her feet. Nivea went down, and Dyeesha leaped on top of her, pinning Nivea to the floor with fingernails embedded in her forearms, and teeth implanted in her shoulder.
Nivea shrieked in pain. “Eric! Get this bitch off me!”
CHAPTER 18
After getting Nivea’s frantic phone call, Vangie threw on a heavy coat, a hat, earmuffs, scarf, gloves, and boots and rushed out into the cold night. She drove as fast as she could to Nivea’s townhouse. She had no idea what was wrong with her girl, but Nivea was crying and begging her to come over.
It was a good thing that Shawn was over and could watch Yuri; otherwise she would have had to drag Yuri out in the middle of the night. Thinking about Shawn’s reappearance in her life put a faint smile on Vangie’s face.
Her smile faded when she arrived on Nivea’s doorstep. She stared in puzzlement at the chinks on Nivea’s beautiful red door. What the hell? Anxious, she jabbed the doorbell four times in quick succession.
Nivea opened the door. “I’m sorry you had to come out so late,” she said weakly, her eyes bloodshot from crying.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vangie said, her breath forming into a small cloud of fog. Questioningly, she nodded her head toward the damaged door.
“Come on in, before you freeze to death,” Nivea said without responding to Vangie’s unspoken question.
“You really had me shook, so I got here as fast as I could. Seeing those gashes on your front door doesn’t make me feel any better. What’s the deal?”
“It’s a long story.”
Vangie nodded toward the smashed lamp. “That’s not a good sign, either. Will you please tell me what’s going on, Niv? And where’s Eric?”
Tears welled in Nivea’s eyes at the mention of Eric’s name. She wiped her eyes. “The wedding is off, Vangie. I can’t marry Eric.”
“You can’t be serious. Your wedding is all you’ve been living for. Did you and Eric have a fight? Where is he? I saw his truck outside.” Vangie’s inquisitive eyes darted about as she looked for more signs of violence and mayhem. But aside from the broken lamp, Nivea’s townhouse appeared to be in pristine condition.
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