by Carl Weber
Derrick must’ve been outside with a few of his boys when I pulled into the complex. There’s always somebody hanging out in her parking lot, so I didn’t pay any attention to them. I was too busy noticing all the cars that were parked around the place. There was definitely someone throwing one hell of a party. And from the blaring music and people around her apartment, it was clear Jasmine was that someone.
I have to admit, I felt left out when I heard all the laughter coming from her place. A week before, I would’ve been right there, partying with them. Now it seemed like she was getting over me a hell of a lot faster than I was getting over her.
That’s why I decided to write a note instead of knocking on the door. The last thing I wanted was to walk in on her party uninvited. There’s no better way to make a fool outta yourself than to crash a party and then be asked to leave. I wasn’t about to risk that kind of humiliation.
So I sat in my car and wrote her a note. I asked her to please give me a chance to explain and to give us a chance at happiness. I planned to leave it with a rose on her windshield, so I picked up the flower and headed to her car. That was when the trouble started. When I reached her car, the door was unlocked like it always was. She had a bad habit of leaving her car door open, but I’d been trying to break her of that habit Not too long ago, she had bought a new car stereo, and I knew she would’ve been pissed if it was stolen like the last one. So I opened the car door to lock it for her. Big mistake.
“What the fuck you doing in my car, nigga?” I didn’t recognize the voice, but when I turned around I damn sure recognized the face. I’d seen it in dozens of pictures scattered throughout Jasmine’s apartment. It was Derrick. Only he wasn’t supposed to be out for at least two months.
“I asked you a question, nigga. What the fuck you doing in my car?”
“Yo, man. Take it easy.” Luckily, it was dark enough that Derrick didn’t see me toss the rose and stuff the note in my pocket. I held my hands up and stepped back from the car. “I was just locking your car doors. That’s all.” I smiled, trying to look cool, but I know I looked nervous. I could take Derrick in a fight. Of that I was confident. But his three friend, they were a different story. Those three brothers were huge, and the 40s in their hands could be turned into some serious weapons. If I was gonna survive, diplomacy was probably my best option.
“Is that so?’ Derrick laughed, and they moved in closer.
“Yeah, I was just locking your door. It looks like you got an expensive stereo in there. Can’t be too safe these days. You never know who’s gonna try and rip you off.” I patted the car.
He laughed again.
“Did you hear this, y‘all?” Derrick looked back at his friends. “He was locking my car ’cause he was worried about someone ripping me off.” They all laughed as they moved in closer. “Damn, that’s nice of you, brotha. And to think I thought you was gonna rob me of that stereo.”
“Who, me? Nah. I wouldn’t do that.” I shook my head nervously as I scanned the area for an escape route.
“I bet you wouldn’t. Why don’t you let me thank you properly?” He raised his fist, but I was ready for it. Before he could connect, I hit him as hard as I could right in the stomach. I didn’t get in a second blow, though, ’cause his friends were on me like white on rice. The next thing I knew, I was being stomped and kicked by all four of them. If it wasn’t for Jasmine’s friend Sabrina, I’d probably be in intensive care right about now.
“Yo, Dylan, you want me to make that call to the fellas, or what?” Joe asked again.
“Nah,” I exhaled. “Leave him alone.”
“Now that’s a first.” Joe looked skeptical. “You’re gonna let someone get away with jumpin’ you without putting up a fight?”
“Only because he didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done.”
“What are you talking about? The guy kicked your ass for no reason.”
“Oh, he had a reason....” I began to explain the situation to Joe, and when I was done, not only did he understand, he agreed we should leave Derrick alone.
“Damn, I thought Jasmine was smarter than this. All she had to do was call and tell you he was home.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“You know, you’re a bigger man than I thought you were, Dylan. I woulda bet money that you’d be up all night plotting and scheming like you did with Jordan.” Joe sat back in his chair and finished the last of his coffee.
“No, Jordan was different. He knew Monica was my woman. Jasmine, it seems, was never mine. I was just borrowing her until Derrick came home.” I took a sip of the coffee that Joe had ordered for me. “Besides, I had other things on my mind last night. Some very pleasurable things, I might add.” Joe studied my face, then broke out in a big grin.
“You tryin’ to tell me, after all this shit, you got some ass last night?” He laughed.
“Yeah” I couldn’t contain my pride.
“How the hell’d you do that with all those bruises?” Joe stared at me in amazement.
“Oh, very gingerly,” I grinned. “Very gingerly. She did all the work.”
Joe laughed. “You are crazy.”
“You’ll never believe who it was.”
Joe stared at me like he was tryin’ to read my mind. Then, all of a sudden his eyes got big.
“Oh, shit. I know who it is. You dirty dog. You got with Jasmine’s friend Sabrina, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Damn, I know she got some good-ass booty. Fine as she is.” Joe stuck out his hand, but I left him hanging.
“Nah, man. I ain’t mess with Sabrina. I’m mad at Jasmine, but I ain’t that damn mad. Those two are like sisters.”
“Then who?” Joe leaned forward.
“Let’s put it this way: she’s having my baby.”
“What? Oh, shit. Not Monica. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking with Monica again.” Joe’s grin turned sour and he lowered his head. “Damn it, Dylan. What the hell were you thinking about?”
“What was I thinking about? You actin’ like I was fucking your sister. This is my ex-girlfriend we’re talking about, Joe. I went with her for six years. Don’t act like you never thought there was a chance we might get back together. Especially since she’s having my baby.”
“No, I didn’t. I thought you were stronger than that. And how the hell do you know that’s your baby, anyway? Did you have a blood test? No!” He was really mad. “Don’t be tellin’ nobody that’s your baby, Dylan. You hear me?”
“Why not?”
Joe hesitated. I knew that look on his face. He wanted to tell me something, but he was afraid I might not like what he had to say. We’d had our wars over the years when it came to Monica. And I knew he didn’t especially like her, but true friends never let a woman come between them. So right now I wasn’t worried about him hurting my feelings. I needed to know if he had some information.
“Why, Joe? Why don’t you want me to claim the baby?”
He inhaled deeply before he spoke. “’Cause Monica’s a crackhead, that’s why. There’s no telling whose baby that is.”
“A crackhead? Monica ain’t no crackhead.” I almost laughed at him as I leaned back in my seat. Usually, Joe’s information was good, but this was so far off base, he must’ve gotten his stories confused.
“Yeah, she is,” Joe insisted. “That’s the real reason Jordan kicked her out. Not that bullshit she told you about the baby not being his. It’s because she was smoking that shit. Man, that brother got three kids. He ain’t had no vasectomy.”
“Who told you that bullshit, Joe? Monica ain’t no damn crackhead. I’ve been hanging with her all week and she damn sure don’t act like no crackhead. Now, she’s an arrogant ass, I’ll give you that, and she can definitely be a bitch. But a crackhead? No, I think you have the wrong woman.”
Joe exhaled loudly. “How does a crackhead act, Dylan?”
“They steal money and appliances and shit. And they all skinny like that Robin chick they call ‘Creature Featur
e.’ Monica ain’t stolen nothing from me.”
“Look, all I’m tellin’ you is that my man George seen her coming out the spot on East Washington Street. If it’ll make you feel better, maybe she’s not a crackhead Maybe she’s just a casual user. But let’s get one thing straight, my friend. If she’s coming out the spot, she had to go in there for something. Unless she got a job as a cop or a social worker, she went in there to buy crack.”
I wanted to call him a liar. I wanted to tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. But in our seven years of friendship, Joe’s information had almost always been on the mark. And he did look pretty damn determined to convince me this time. Not only that, but an image of Monica snorting coke in Jordan’s living room invaded my memory. I didn’t wanna tell Joe, but it was possible that she had graduated from snorting coke to smoking crack. I hated to even entertain the idea, but I had to at least talk to her about it. Especially since she was moving her shit into my place as we spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I just found out yesterday. You weren’t with her. You were chasing behind Jasmine, so I didn’t think it was urgent. I was gonna tell you this morning until you came in lookin’ so fucked up.”
“I’m not gonna front with you, Joe. I don’t think she’s using crack. But I’m gonna go talk to her about it. ’Cause if on the off chance you’re right, that shit could be affecting my baby’s health. And I do mean my baby.”
“Ah’ight. I can respect that,” Joe told me quietly. “I just hope you know I wouldn’t tell you this shit if I didn’t love you.”
“I know that.” I stuck my hand out and he grasped it. “I gotta go take care of this. I can’t paint Mom’s house today. Tell her I’m sorry, but somethin’ personal came up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of Ma. You go handle your business.”
“Thanks, Joe. Breakfast is on me.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. My heart sank when I realized there was no money in it. Well, at least not as much as I thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“I had eighty-five dollars in my wallet last night. Now I only have five, but I ain’t spent no money.” Joe and I stared at each other. I’m sure he was having the same thoughts as I was.
“Man,” he said, “now you really got to go home and handle your business.”
It seemed like it took forever to get home from Shoney’s. Then again, that might have had something to do with the fact that I took the long way home, trying to get my head together for the confrontation I was gonna have with Monica. I kept repeating Joe’s accusations in my mind. I really didn’t warn to believe Monica was doing drugs, but the evidence was staring me right in the face when I opened my wallet. As I drove home, I wracked my brain. Maybe I was so delirious after the fight with Derrick that I spent the money and just didn’t remember it. I was hoping Monica would have some type of logical explanation for being seen near a crack house.
When I finally walked in the front door, I was met by the sound of R. Kelly’s music blaring upstairs. I don’t know what it was about that dude, but Monica loved her some R. Kelly. Even after he was accused of child molestation. She played his songs all the time and supported him by buying the CD he did with Jay-Z.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath before I walked into the bedroom. I knew I was gonna have to be real smooth when I approached Monica about this crack issue. She wasn’t stupid at all, and even if she was using crack, the chances of her admitting it to me were slim to none. I figured the best way for me to approach the matter was to pretend I had been tempted to try crack myself. They say no true crackhead wants to smoke alone. When I stepped into the room, I realized that approach was’t gonna be necessary at all.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Monica was sitting on my bed, sucking on a crack pipe like it was an oxygen mask. I was so mad I couldn’t control myself. I slapped that damn pipe right outta her mouth, sending her in one direction and the pipe in the other.
“Get the fuck out my house! Do you hear me? I said get the fuck out!” I was so mad I was trembling. How could she do this to me? How could she do this to my baby? “You’re killing my baby! You bitch!”
My words must have sunk in, because she curled into the fetal position and started crying.
“Oh, God. My baby. What have I done to my baby?” she kept repeating between sobs. She rubbed her hands in slow circles around her belly.
“Don’t act like you give a shit now! You should’ve been thinking about the baby when you were sucking on that glass dick. Now get the fuck outta my house.”
“Please, Dylan. Don’t kick me out. I ain’t got nowhere else to go.”
“Go home to your mother and father.”
“I can’t!” she yelled desperately. “I stole a hundred dollars from my dad and he told me never to come back.”
“Oh, and you steal eighty bucks from me and I should let you stay? You gotta be kidding me. Get the fuck out my house, you crackhead.”
She crawled over to me with a face full of tears.
“Please, Dylan, please don’t kick me out. I’m having your baby, for Christ’s sake,” she sobbed. I ignored her last comment and shoved her toward the door. That’s when she grabbed hold of my sweats and tried to pull them down.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off my pants!”
“You always said you wanted me to suck your dick. If you let me stay I’ll suck it every day. I swear.” She tried to pull my pants down again. That’s when I knew she wasn’t a casual user at all. She was a crackhead. Six months ago I couldn’t have paid her a million dollars to perform oral sex on me. Now she was offering to do it every day like I had a lobster dinner in my pants.
“I can’t believe you even said that shit. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you crazy? Get off me.” I shoved her hands off me, then turned my back. I couldn’t even look at her. “You need some help, Monica. Some serious fucking help.” I bent over and picked up her clothes, tossing them to her. “Now get your shit and get the hell out my house before I throw you out.”
“Dylan, please don’t do this. Please don’t give up on me.”
“It’s too late. I gave up on you when I walked in here and saw that stem in your mouth. You’re a sick woman, Monica. You need help.”
“Then help me, Dylan,” she pleaded. “If not for me, then for the baby’s sake. Just help me. I’ll do whatever you want Just don’t give up on me. I don’t have anyone else.”
Our eyes met, and hers actually reflected the sincerity of what she was saying. She really did want help. So I knelt down on the floor and wrapped my arms around her.
“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I’m gonna help you and the baby. But you have to be honest with me. Is that baby mine?”
Monica looked me straight in the eye, but she hesitated before she spoke. “Yes, Dylan, the baby’s yours. I swear to God it’s yours.”
I breached a sigh of relief and held her trembling body as I thought about who I should call first to find her some professional help. I was determined to make her well and save our baby.
30
Steptanie
I’d just come home from work and was about to drive over to the day care and pick up the kids when the doorbell rang. I ran to the door praying it was Travis. I hadn’t heard from him since he left a week ago, and I was beginning to think he wasn’t gonna come home. I can’t even begin to explain how much I missed that man. I opened the front door, and standing right in front of me, grinning like I was supposed to be happy to see him, was Malek.
“What’s up, Shorty? What you doin?”
“What am I doin’?” I snapped in disbelief. “I’m thinking about ways to kill your ass for all the trouble you caused me. What the fuck do you think I’m doin’?”
“Damn, why you so hostile? I made sure your boy Travis’s car wasn’t here before I pul
led up.”
“Ain’t nobody ask you to come here, Malek.” I stuck my head out the door and looked both ways. It’d be just my luck that today would be the day Travis decided to come home. “What do you want anyway, Malek? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
“I just wanted to see if you were all right. Make sure that nigga Travis didn’t rough you up after I told him about them condoms.”
He had the nerve to laugh. So I reared back and swung at him, but my blow didn’t connect and he laughed even harder. His laughter pissed me off even more. I threw a barrage of punches and slaps at him until I connected, busting his lip.
“Yo, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” He rubbed his hand against his lip and got angry when he saw the blood. “You better chill the fuck out before I knock your ass out. I ain’t that nigga Travis. You better recognize.”
“Recognize what? That he’s a man and you’re not? That you’re a loser who can’t keep a job at Home Depot? I mean, tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to recognize, and I will. ’Cause what’s standing in front of me ain’t shit.”
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh? I ain’t shit.”
“You damn right. Now get the fuck off my property before I do something we both might regret.”
“Oh, please. What you gonna do?”
I held the phone so Malek couldn’t see the numbers I was dialing, and called 411. I started talking before the recording even picked up.
“Hello? I need the police at Twenty-one-sixteen Harrogate Road.” I said it in a panic as I smirked at Malek. “What’s the emergency? My daughter’s father just got out his car with a gun. His name? His name is Malek Robinson and he’s driving a white Honda Civic. Please tell them to hurry. I have two children in the house.” I clicked off the phone and glared at Malek. “You wanted to know what I was gonna do, Malek? That’s what I’m gonna do. Now, you probably have about three minutes to get the hell outta here before the cops are all over your ass. And if you don’t, you’re going to jail, ’cause I know you got weed on you.”