Baby Momma Saga

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  No one—not Derrick, not Michelle, Big Baby, hell, not even Honey—knew ’bout the spot I’d bought in a quiet suburban neighborhood just outside of Chesapeake near Pungo. Most of the people kept to themselves and didn’t care if anyone lived in the house or not. They pro’ly jus’ assumed I was military and stayed deployed a lot. Either way, if anyone tried to rat me out, I knew this was the last place anyone would look. I pulled up in front of the ranch-style brick house with its mint-green shutters and overgrown lawn. I opened the garage, pulled my car inside, and went into the house.

  The place had the bare essentials. The lights and water bill weren’t even in my name. I’d paid a helluva deposit to get the services with no Social Security number and had even had the foresight to give a fake name. I paid the bill online with a credit card I loaded up with cash, so nothin’ connected me or the club. It was a small two-bedroom house with nothin’ but a couch, small TV, and a bed in the larger of the two small rooms. As I opened the hall closet, I was relieved my gun safe was locked and looked secure. Everything appeared just as I’d left it.

  I needed to think, and I needed to think hard and fast. If Michelle hadn’t called me, my ass woulda still been in the room when they picked up Honey. Maybe D had set me up, and she was tryin’ to warn me. I had no idea who I could trust. Big seemed to be the only one not involved wit’ anything, but at this point I was too shook to hit even him. Honey’s Impala was hot. There was so much shit in it that they would have Honey locked up for a minimum of twenty-five. Would she rat me out? Did they know ’bout Ro? I sat down on the couch and stomped a spider as it scurried from underneath it. Is this what God felt like doin’ when He looked down at me?

  I was glad Honey didn’t know the truth ’bout me and Michelle. If I needed her to take the wrap for a nigga there was no way she would do it if she didn’t think she was numba one. There was nothin’ in or on the car to tie it back to me. I decided to go ahead and call Big Baby to see if he could get through to anyone at the precinct who would still cooperate wit’ us.

  “Yo, Rah, Monique from the telly jus’ hit me—”

  I cut him off before he could finish. “I need you to hit T, an’ any otha nigga you can safely get to without raisin’ any flags. We need to know what they know.” I didn’t wait for Big to answer. I didn’t want to risk saying too much and compromising myself or him. I hung up and debated on callin’ Michelle. I didn’t see any point. She was pissed and I might as well take advantage of her anger and use it as an excuse to lie low.

  While You Were Away

  23

  Rasheed didn’t have to call for me to know what was going on. Every news station was covering the story about the drugs that were killing addicts, and the nineteen-year-old stripper calling herself a queen pen and taking the credit. The fact that she worked at the Hot Spot made it even more obvious to me why Rasheed had disappeared, but after a week of no contact I just couldn’t figure out where the hell he’d disappeared to.

  I tried calling and texting his cell but it was pointless; wherever he was he’d turned it off, probably for fear of having his calls traced via the cell phone towers. This entire situation solidified my point. It was time for Rah to get out of the drug game and the club business altogether. I’d been leaving Trey with Ris when I went to work because I was too paranoid that something would go down or get uncovered, and the first thing the police would do was snatch him out of his daycare. She was truly proving to be my life support and I was so thankful she put aside her anger at me leaving with Rah on vacation.

  I spent more time in the familiar comfort of Ris’s place than I did at my own house. I couldn’t stand being alone in there, and often I had nightmares of men kicking in my front door with guns drawn, ready to drag me off to jail. It was just easier to completely lose myself in my work and try not to focus on the news, or the media. It was bad enough Heman-Shebitch knew Rah owned the Hot Spot. He’d already tried to put me on blast in front of my superiors the first day everything hit the news. We were in our morning meeting when he decided to put my business out there.

  “So, Michelle, how on earth is your baby daddy dealing with all the press around his club?” He’d put extra emphasis on the words “baby daddy” and “club” as if to stress the fact that both were bad associations.

  “Well, Mr. Soloman, my son’s father is actually handling the event very well and is at this moment in Georgia opening a second establishment. I’m pretty sure he’ll extend your VIP card to that one as well, just let him know when you’re in town.” I’d never in my life seen a black man blush, but Heman-Shebitch did just that and it was hilarious!

  I smiled to myself at the memory as I pulled into Ris’s driveway and gathered my things. She was nowhere to be found when I walked in and Trey was asleep atop a ton of pillows in the middle of the living room floor. His toys were everywhere and I couldn’t resist kneeling down and kissing him on the cheek. He looked so much like Rah and yet so much like me. He was the best of both of us. I stood and made my way upstairs to find Ris. She’d decided to use Trey’s nap as a break to hop in the shower, and I decided to let her have her peace and went back downstairs, determined to cook something for dinner. I’d decided I had a taste for meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and prayed what I needed was in the fridge because I sure as hell didn’t feel like going back out to the grocery store.

  “Damn, momma, when the hell did you get here?” Ris burst into the kitchen in a fresh, familiar breeze of mango butter. She’d obviously been in my shower bag again.

  “Well, hello to you too, and how was your day?” I swore I needed to school her ass on how to properly greet someone. She’d taken a seat at the kitchen counter across from me and sat quietly. That was definitely not like Ris. I squinted slightly as I examined her sitting across from me, trying to figure out why she was suddenly so demure. She was avoiding my eyes; her gaze moved lazily around the kitchen, focusing on everything and nothing.

  “Bitch, are you high?” I didn’t need an answer. Her shower this late in the day, red eyes, and full-moon pupils said it all. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to get high while Trey was in the house with her.

  “Before you fly off the handle, Chelle, I’m . . . I mean we are goin’ through a lot right now and my ass is on the verge of a meltdown. I was thinkin’ of all the worst shit that could go wrong and I just got overwhelmed. I was wound too tight and needed to unwind.”

  I was not used to “high” Ris; all my experiences centered around “drunk” Ris. She wasn’t cursing, she wasn’t buzzing around me in a frenzy of adult ADHD-directed energy. She just calmly sat in front of me as if we were discussing the news. In a sense it was wrong of me to force my situation on her.

  “I’m sorry, Risi cup. But, damn, you could have at least waited until I got here. I would have understood.”

  “Girl, Trey was ’sleep long before I did that shit. I fixed him a mini margarita and it musta knocked his li’l ass out cold.”

  The knife I was using to cut up the potatoes stilled in my hand and I glared. If this heffa . . .

  “Damn. Chelle, where is yo’ sense of humor? I ain’t give the baby a drink. We went and ran all over the park this morning and I fixed him a big lunch. He’s fine. Li’l nigga just got the itis extra hard.” She laughed lazily and slapped her leg almost in slow motion.

  I definitely was not used to “high” Ris, because that shit was definitely not funny.

  “Nah, but seriously, Chelle. You know I’ve got a lot on my mind. I sit and watch the news all day and I can’t help but worry.” She looked like she was about to cry and I started to feel even worse for, once again, dragging Larissa into my and Rasheed’s mess. I walked over and hugged her, focused on getting her out of the pessimistic funk she’d managed to slip into.

  “I’ma need ya ass to read a book or something during the day, ma. Everything is going to be fine as long as you keep thinking it is going to be fine. The second we start talkin’ negative we give that negative ene
rgy power.”

  Trey woke up and stumbled his way into the kitchen, looking too much like a drunken little man for us both not to find it hilarious.

  “You sure you ain’t give my baby a drink?” I asked as I scooped him up and pulled his Binky out of his mouth to plant a kiss on his smiling little face. Daddy or no daddy, he was going to be all right. We were both going to be all right.

  After dinner I slipped outside to make a quick phone call without stressin’ Ris out. I needed more details on what was going on and I was curious as to how well everything was going over with the DEA. I called the only person who I knew would give me solid information.

  “Hey, darlin’, how are you holdin’ up?” It was good to hear Derrick’s warm, comforting voice over the phone.

  “I’m okay, sweetheart. Can we meet this evening? I have a few things I’d like to go over with you.” I didn’t want to say anything specific over the phone. For all I knew, Derrick could be under surveillance.

  “No problem, Chelle. Our usual?”

  “You know it.”

  Honeycomb Hideout

  24

  Almost a month had passed since Honey had been picked up and I still hadn’t heard from her. T was the only nigga not scared of the new chief and pretty much kept us filled in on what was goin’ on. Turned out Honey wasn’t talkin’, well, at least not ’bout me anyway. She told the DEA the drugs in the car were hers and that she was runnin’ the entire operation. She even owned up to puttin’ Inferno on the streets and claimed she was drivin’ in fresh supply since there were complications with the batches out now. And those muthafuckas were actually believin’ her.

  I’d lost ’round ten pounds, and hadn’t seen anyone. I did buy a prepaid cell at a 7-Eleven ’round the corner, but no one had the number ’cept Big Baby. He was steady keepin’ tabs on Derrick and lettin’ me know the nigga’s moves. He’d been meeting Michelle at restaurants and some otha bullshit, but I always cut Big off. I couldn’t stand to hear the details knowin’ I couldn’t leave to hand that nigga his ass.

  Michelle was pro’ly worried to death by now and probably usin’ D as an outlet since I’d left her high and dry, but I still couldn’t take any chances. My reign in the drug world was at its peak and I wasn’t tryin’ to be greeted by jail bars on the downslope. DEA, FBI, CIA; shit, I bet not a single one of them alphabet bitches would sleep if they had any idea Honey was a key to unlockin’ my empire.

  I’d only left my safe house twice: once to buy the cell, and again to stock up on groceries and basic shit. The alarm on my phone went off. I’d set a reminder. Today was Honey’s first day in court. I didn’t know if they really believed her, or if it was all an act to bring me out into the open but, secretly, I prayed they believed her. All operations had ceased and our only revenue comin’ in was from the club. Big said they did a small investigation since they knew Honey worked there, but the club checked out clean. I’d always made sure of that.

  I called Big Baby. “Any news?”

  He sounded as tired as I felt. “Nah, you know I’ma drop word soon as we know what she get. Rumors say her crackhead cousin blackmailed her and then dropped dime when Honey couldn’t get her any product. She dug her own grave by ownin’ up to erethang though. Me and the boys been playin’ in the dirt, but you know we got our eyes an’ ears open.”

  Playin’ in the dirt meant everybody was bein’ smart. Lyin’ low. I didn’t have anything else to say. The waiting game had begun and I couldn’t do anything but wait.

  “All right, hit me soon as you hear somethin’. Be easy.”

  * * *

  It felt like forever. It took them two months of court cases and plea bargainin’ before I finally got the call. Honey got the maximum: life in prison with a mandatory minimum of twenty-five years. I had so much ridin’ on the verdict, and when it finally hit I felt sadness, joy, triumph, and even disgust. T hit Big and said with Honey locked up and sales droppin’, his chief closed the books on Inferno. I needed to talk to Honey, tell her how sorry and how grateful I was for her. I was torn between celebratin’ and mournin’.

  I’d asked T to set up a phone call with Honey as soon as he could. My cell rang with a number I didn’t recognize. With the case closed, I wasn’t as apprehensive about pickin’ up.

  “You have a collect call from . . .”

  “Trenisha Davis.”

  “Do you accept?”

  My throat instantly went dry as if I were chokin’ on a piece of dry, stale bread with no water anywhere in sight. I hadn’t heard her voice in so long, I’d forgotten how she sounded.

  “I accept.”

  “Hey, daddy. How’s life?” She didn’t even sound like herself.

  “Not so good, sunshine, how are you?” I couldn’t believe our conversation. Here I was free, speakin’ to a woman who gave up erethin’ for my freedom. A tear burned a hot trail down my cheek, splashin’ onto my jeans, markin’ the small spot dark blue. I focused on that spot and mentally manned up as I waited for Honey to answer my question.

  “We are good, baby. I never got a chance to tell you thank you. I wasn’t eva gonna be more than a strippa, workin’ day by day to get by. You helped me see and do thangs no one eva bothered to do for me. You got so much ambition, daddy, so much drive. Without you, I woulda killed myself. I owe my life to you. I owe our lives to you. I’m pregnant, Rasheed.”

  My mouth fell open in shock. Those were not the words I was expectin’ to hear. Honey was havin’ my baby—in prison?

  “Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry, I . . .” What do you say to someone who’s given up so much when you selfishly gave up so little? For one of the few times in my life I was at a loss for words.

  “It’s okay, Rah, she’s gonna be here in February. Jus’ promise me you’ll take care of her for me, daddy.”

  “Damn, girl, we actually havin’ a li’l girl?” I couldn’t even see me with a daughter. I ran one of the most successful strip clubs on the East Coast. I done hit and quit more women in the last year than some niggas seen in a lifetime. And I was gonna be raisin’ a li’l girl.

  “Yes, daddy. I ain’t want to tell you this way. I pictured it so much different than this shit right here. But now you know I love yo’ ass for real. You my heart, Rasheed.”

  I lowered my head and sighed. I couldn’t hold back anymore and the tears fell freely, trailin’ rivers of sorrow down my cheeks. I had to check myself quick before I fucked up and said something incriminating.

  “I know you love me, girl. You ain’t have to prove a damn thang to no-damn-body. You keep my baby fed. Guess my ass gonna have to get used to buyin’ a bunch of pink shit, huh?” Honey laughed her same old laugh that made me remember summer days ridin’ in the car, sneakin’ off to fuck in the club, and too much shit I took for granted.

  I made Honey promise to call me again as soon as possible. I felt like a freed man as I stepped outside my self-made prison into the calm, cool October air. A young couple strolled past me, heads bent close together as they talked and held hands. The leaves had turned all different shades of bright yellow, orange, and red, clearly indicatin’ cuffin’ season had begun. That time of year when you find someone to cozy up to for some warm company through the winter. Guess it was as perfect a time as any for me to cozy back up to Michelle. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders only to be replaced by a looming cloud of hurt and contempt caused by missing Honey.

  I hadn’t seen or spoken to Michelle in nearly three months. I missed my son. Months of livin’ in the shadows made me miss life all together. I turned on my old cell I’d kept charged up on the floor just for this day, and called Michelle’s phone.

  “Rah?” Worry, excitement, love; it’s amazing how I heard so much in the way she said my name.

  “Yes, baby. It’s me. I’m on my way home.”

  John 3:16

  25

  The house was just as I’d left it. Shit. It looked like Michelle hadn’t even lived there for the full three months I was gone. Ther
e was definitely an unspoken tension between us. She wanted to know what happened and who this stripper was who was takin’ the blame for all of my hard work, and I didn’t want to talk about it. The first few days were awkward but, as time went on, we gradually got back into our rhythm.

  It was December and I’d only spoken to Honey twice since our initial conversation, once to get all her info to make sure her card had money on it for her to eat right with the baby. She was five months along and the baby was kickin’ her ass. From the little convo we had she was havin’ a hard time keepin’ food down and they were monitoring her to make sure the baby was growin’ okay. I remembered Michelle had that same problem and would sip peppermint tea to calm her stomach. I made a mental note to send her some in a care package.

  The second time we spoke we actually got in a damn argument. She was goin’ on ’bout some chick she was cellmates with. Sounded like some straight-up dike shit to me. I mean, how many niggas want to hear they girl goin’ on and on ’bout anotha bitch takin’ care of ’em. Washin’ clothes, braidin’ her hair, so I asked Honey if the bitch was eatin’ her pussy, too. She started to tell me somethin’ ’bout the girl, but I’d hung up on her ass. I’d make sure Honey was comfortable. I owed her a great deal for what she was doin’. But I wasn’t gonna be happy ’bout her dikin’ or no dumb shit like that.

  It was one of those typical December days where it felt like you were frozen the second you stepped outdoors and not a ray of sun could be seen through the thick white winter clouds. We were two weeks from Christmas, and I felt like my life was finally startin’ to get back to normal. Me and Chelle were out pickin’ up toys for Trey when my cell went off. It was Big and he didn’t sound good. I promised to meet him at the club soon as me and Michelle was done. I dropped Chelle off at the house and drove the quick ten minutes to the club. Shit betta be important. We were gonna put the tree up tonight and Trey was so excited he’d been askin’ nonstop for the last week.