My Baby Is A West Coast King 3
Page 27
Ishmael still treated Mischief’s uncle Gordon as his father, and against his mom Doreen’s wishes, he’d told his dad the truth. Yeah, so I’m sure you pretty much guessed that they’re divorced. Doreen was mad for like two months and wouldn’t talk to her own son, but now she was over it. The boys still saw Ishmael as their cousin, and Shai said that was how they all, including Ishmael, preferred it. The great thing though was that Gordon didn’t abandon Ishmael or his cousins.
Shai’s mom, Blanca, refused to get any type of help because she still claimed whatever Mischief thought happened was in his head. Because of that, Lanai never went to visit her grandmother; didn’t even know her. Doreen saw her, but only when she came over because Mischief said our baby couldn’t go over there. I was perfectly fine with that.
And as for thee Mel Benjamin, who I never really met, Mischief told me he’d pressed on, which I took to mean he’d died. No one seemed to care. I guess he and Risk were one in the same because Chicago, too, had pressed on without missing a beat since Risk’s and Cook’s disappearance. New people now ran the drug scene in the cities of Chicago and Los Angeles.
Once Mischief sat down, I moved into his lap, and kissed his lips a couple times. When I met him, he was just up and coming, and now he was this big shot producer.
“Where’d you go?” I asked.
“Got a phone call, had to make sure your grandma was okay with Nai, since she’s in her terrible two stage like you said.”
Shai was obsessed with our daughter, and vice versa. He had her name and middle name tatted on his inner forearm, and mine on the left side of his chest. I decided to get his government on my hip because I thought it was cute and because it was close to my private area, where he really wanted it. I got my daughter’s name on my inner wrist. Both tattoos were a nice size, but could be covered up with make up for my shoots, so it was perfect.
My grandmother was a California native now since my uncle had gotten stabbed and killed by some sixteen-year-old’s father. He caught my uncle raping her, sliced his ass up like a pizza, and had him looking like a rag doll at the crime scene. After that, my grandmother was pretty much done living in Illinois, so Mischief and I agreed to let her move in with us. She’d been here for only a week now. It was great because we were about to go on vacation along with Lanai, and we wanted my grandmother to watch the house for us.
“Thank you for letting her come live with us.”
“Of course.” Mischief squeezed my butt and kissed on my neck. I hugged his neck tightly, and just smiled to myself as I swayed to his brothers’ music.
If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. I was a model like I’d always dreamed of being, and my baby was a west coast king…
*FIN*
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