Nine. Ten. My shoulders were startin’ to burn. I decided to humor dude and see what the fuck he had to say. “Yeah, an’ if I was?” I didn’t even break my rhythm.
“If you was that same muthafucka, I’d tell you that one of your bitches was lookin’ into some filthy shit before all dem fien’s was hit wit’ death warrants.” He paused. An officer walked by makin’ the rounds before lights out.
“My fuckin’ unk died from that bullshit like a month ago, autopsy say it was a fentanyl overdose. Shit like a hundred times stronger than morphine.”
I started sweatin’ but it wasn’t from the push-ups. I got up an’ dusted off my hands.
“What the fuck you sayin’, nigga?” I was startin’ to get more agitated by the second.
“I’m sayin’ unless you doin’ some extra, unheard-of cuttin’, somebody was deliberately fuckin’ up yo’ shit, nigga. Nobody use shit like that to cut up no muthafuckin’ horse, nigga! I need to know who you was gettin’ ya shit from. I got business to handle.”
“Nigga, I already got shit handled, why the fuck you think I’m in here now?” He was startin’ to piss me off. The last thing I needed was accusations, or more shit to link me to Inferno. Honey gave her life for me on that; as far as I was concerned the matter was handled.
“You might believe yo’ shit square, B, but I was doin’ some diggin’ an’ the one pharmacist mufucka who even sell that typ’a shit under the table out here told me he sold a lotta shit to some bitch jus’ befo’ all dem ODs started poppin’ up all ova the news. Fuckin’ shame I had to stick his pussy ass to get him to talk, mighta found out who the bitch was if the muthafucka ain’t die first. I hope you got two charges ’gainst yo’ ass, muthufucka, or somebody still out there sittin’ free an’ clear while you in here.”
With that I heard him shuffle toward the opposite corner of his cell. I reluctantly sat down on the stiff, piss-smellin’ bunk I was given and mulled over what he’d said. After all was said and done, was Honey workin’ wit’ Derrick? I replayed the last time I talked to D in my head and couldn’t make ends meet. Michelle’d picked up the last drop. It took her forever, but she said she had a flat. She had enough time to fuck my shit up if she wanted to. If she was fuckin’ Derrick why would she keep meetin’ him at the club like Big said? What if they were plannin’ out shit and swappin’ product? I didn’t know if havin’ nothing else to think ’bout was makin’ me draw pointless conclusions or what, but suddenly there seemed to be an even greater fuckin’ chance that Michelle could have been doin’ more with Derrick than just fuckin’!
Baby Mommas
29
I had the worst headache imaginable. This was exactly what the hell I was trying to avoid. I opened my eyes and could feel every painful thud of my heartbeat in my temples. My chest felt heavy and hot; Ris was sprawled across me, naked, her face beside mine, still snoring in my ear. For her to be so damn small she sure knew how to take up a lot of space. I closed my eyes and tried to remember specific events from the night before. They came to me in reverse. Ris sprawled out on her stomach, my face buried in her thick, full ass, licking every inch of her pussy from back to front. Tangling my fingers in her hair, tryin’a stop the room from spinning long enough to focus; legs up on her shoulders, begging her for Ike, our strap-on. I’d never seen one in my entire life until Ris brought Ike home a few months ago. It was longer, thicker, and blacker than anything I’d ever imagined.
Our first night was awkward; she’d never used one, and had to practice the whole thrusting motion that comes more naturally to men. She picked one that strapped between her legs instead of around her waist. This way it rubbed against her sensitive parts and the harder she fucked me the better it felt to us both. I’d never experienced that side of Ris, the demanding and domineering side. It was like she literally transformed into someone else, and Ike became more of an extension of herself than a toy. Ever since then we’d just decided to call it Ike. She’d strap up and playfully tease me, askin’, “Is you ready to sang the song, Annie-Mae?” and of course I’d start sangin’.
My heart took a dive in my chest. I’m engaged. To a woman! I felt myself panic. Was I really going to go through with this? Did I want to raise my son in a home with two mommies? How would I explain this to him when he got older? Would the kids in school tease him because of me? I shifted and wrapped my arms around Ris, pulling her closer into me, and closed my eyes. I could count a hundred times that I’d lain on Rah’s chest, or woken up beside him and, yet, not once did I ever feel as complete or as right as I felt right this second. We got along so well considering we were exact opposites. Ris was the loudmouth life of the party, center of attention, sexy and comfortable in her own skin. She naturally brought out the playful side of me. Ris made me forget about bank figures and contract negotiations, and with her I could focus on unwinding and living. I was raised by both my parents in the suburbs. They were strict, normal, and would never understand my current situation. Ris, on the other hand, was raised by her momma in Detroit; she was accustomed to struggle and poverty and they barely ever spoke to each other.
I sometimes felt like it was my job to erase all of the memories of never having enough by giving her everything she could possibly ever want. I liked men, she liked women . . . Okay, so I liked women too, and my relationship with Ris had its bumps, but it had still managed to evolve into a real relationship. She never liked Rasheed, and every time I came to her cryin’ about some new bullshit he’d pulled, she did her best to help me get over him. She hated him so much for me. Maybe I should have felt guilty for my relationship with her. I should have probably been embarrassed or felt uneasy, but she had always given me what Rasheed couldn’t—trust an’ love.
My BlackBerry dinged on the nightstand. It was after 8:00 a.m. The first time Rah called me from the jail I’d marked the number to go straight to voice mail. My phone wouldn’t ring when he called, I’d just get a notification. I wasn’t ready to talk to his ass yet. I was still too angry to talk rationally with him, but I needed to let him know how all of the cheating, lying, and bullshit made me into a bitter woman. Eventually, I was going to have to put all that aside and, finally, tell him why things had to be the way they were going to be. As much as I felt that he deserved exactly what he was getting, I was not looking forward to the conversation.
Something told me back when I found out about one of his other side chicks, Danita, I should have walked away and never looked back. It always hurt Ris so much every time I decided to go back to him, and I didn’t know what I would do if I ever lost her for good. The worst part about using a person to rebound from being with someone else is that your heart is never completely available. Every time I tried to focus on Ris to get over the hurt from dealing with Rasheed, a part of me still longed for him. I hadn’t seen or heard from Rah for nearly six months after the incident when Katrice stabbed him. I was pretty certain what she told me about him was the truth and I was doing everything in my power to get over him. One day, out of the blue, he texted to ask my advice on some business. One thing led to another and, even though he hadn’t fully regained my trust, we got back together.
Everything seemed normal for the first few months. Back then me and Ris never called what we had a relationship. When I took Rah back she kind of just fell back in place as a good friend, no questions asked. It’d always been like that between us. She would act jealous and not speak to me for days at a time whenever I went home to visit or stayed the night at a hotel with him, but I looked at Ris as my so-called college experiment and I was quite certain that I just wasn’t cut out to be a lesbian. I missed my daddy dick-downs entirely too much. That was way before Ris and I discovered the wonders of Ike.
When Rah and I had gotten back together he was the perfect gentleman, for a little while anyway. It wasn’t until he started cancelling trips to come see me or not answering my calls late at night that I knew he was up to something. Everything Rah had ever had had always been in my name. His cars, his c
ell phones, even his Costco membership was under mine. He’d always kept his phone locked and glued to his side so I knew if I ever wanted to know anything I would need access to it. One day I was switchin’ into a new cell and I learned that the old phone I’d jus’ taken off of my number could still receive every text even though it wasn’t active. The guy in customer service told me it was called cloning. Even though the phone was inactive it could still receive texts an’ voice mail notifications. That’s why they always suggest you erase the memory or simply keep your old cell turned off whenever you get a new one. I bought a spare phone, called customer service, and put it on his line, sayin’ his original phone was stolen, waited an hour, and then called back, sayin’ we found the original. Sure enough a few minutes later a text came through on the cloned phone. I didn’t recognize the number, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t Derrick textin’ to ask if Rah was “ready to tear up dis pussy.” I blocked my number and called to confront the bitch on the other line. I got her voice mail on the first try. I listened to the recording, trying to picture the face that went along with the soft-spoken woman who was fuckin’ my man. Did she look better than me? Was he in love with her? Why her, what did she have that would make him want her so much that he’d lie to me? I redialed her number, prepared to just leave her a damn message.
“Hello?” It was the voice from the voice mail.
I was shocked she’d answered. “Hi, um, I’m sure you don’t know me, or even know about me but, um, I’m Rasheed’s fiancée. I need to know what’s up with y’all.” I exaggerated a little, but fuck it. I wanted her to feel fucked up, I wanted her to hurt like I was hurting.
“Maybe I need to be askin’ who the fuck you are, ’cause me an’ Rah been together a minute now. He in my bed ere fuckin’ night so I don’t know when he got time to fuck wi’chu. I think you got the wrong person.” Her tone became snappy, far from the soft, playful woman she presented on her voice mail.
“No, momma, I’ve got the right person. You just sent my man a text and I got it. I’m away at college, but we’ve been together since high school. He runs the Hot Spot with his boy Derrick. I’m Michelle. Ask him ’bout me.” And with that I disconnected the call. The ball was in her court. When Ris got in from class I told her what had transpired between myself and another one of Rah’s side chicks.
“Shit, Michelle! Anotha one? How many bitches you gotta run into befo’ you realize that nigga dirty?” She was agitated, pacing back and forth in front of me while I sat on my bed, teary-eyed, hugging one of his T-shirts I’d taken when I left for college.
“I don’t know, girl. I mean he was my first love, my first boyfriend. We’ve got a lotta firsts. I helped him buy his first strip club. We’re supposed to be building an empire together.”
“What about our firsts, Chelle? If all it take is a dick to make you feel happy then, fuck it, I’ll go buy one! You deserve mo’ than what that nigga willin’ to give you, girl. Open ya eyes! Why do you keep fuckin’ wit’ him?” she asked me.
“I don’t know, Ris, I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”
But I knew the answer. Call it what you want, sprung, turned out, it was what it was. The dick was better than good. Whenever me and Rah fought, we’d have that “I love you so much I hate you” makeup sex. The type of shit that starts as soon as you open the front door and ends with clothes spread from one side of the house to the other, pictures knocked off the wall, and furniture all out of place. Whenever Rah did anything wrong he used his dick to say sorry, and the more sorry he was the better it would be. At those times I didn’t mind the biting or the roughness. I just wished that sometimes he would switch it up, be a little more gentle, or a little more romantic. Our makeup sex would always hit like a major earthquake, and what I’d done with Ris at the time was like a quiet, calm spring rain in comparison.
* * *
Everything was quiet for nearly a month after I spoke with Danita. Rah sent me flowers every day and apologies in the form of letters, cookies, you name it. Ris made it a point to throw away any- and everything he sent to our dorm. However, once again after relying on Ris to get me through I backslid, and it started with me checking his texts. Day to day, he was only getting texts about business from his boys. No new messages from Danita or any other girls ever came through on what I started callin’ the Batphone.
Rah was being so attentive and apologetic. In a moment of weakness durin’ spring break, Ris left to go see her family and I asked Rah to come talk to me. We were on each other before I could even close the door. We never talked out our problems; I never asked him for explanations, I’d just get my dick-down and then we’d fall back in sync as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Rah was supposed to stay with me for the entire week of spring break but had to cut the trip short because of some sort of emergency. I’d hid the Batphone while he was in town. I went to check it after he’d left and was in tears by the time I’d finished reading texts from her. She was apologizing for accusing him of cheating and wanted him to come home. And he’d actually lied to my face and run off to go be with her. My phone rang and I answered without looking.
“This is Michelle.” I could barely talk around the lump in my throat.
“Hi. Michelle, this is Danita. Rasheed was jus’ wit’ you, wasn’t he?” She sounded exactly how I felt.
“How did you get this number? And, yes, but he left—he said he had an emergency.” I sniffled loudly and tried to find something to wipe my nose with. I made the mistake of using one of his T-shirts from my laundry pile; new tears welled up as I inhaled Issey Miyake and cried loudly into the phone.
“Michelle, I confronted Rasheed that night you called and I asked him who you were. He got so damn angry an’ defensive. He said you weren’t nobody an’ you ain’t mean shit to him. He gave me your number an’ told me to call you an’ ask you myself if y’all were fuckin’ or not. He ain’t think I would actually ever call you I guess.”
It felt like my heart had been split in half. I didn’t have anything to say to her. She continued.
“I was calling to let you know I think I’m pregnant an’ I ain’t have anyone else to talk to. I called Rahsheed, but he wouldn’t answer. But his bitch ass responded to all my texts. I knew somethin’ was up. I really need to thank you for tellin’ me ’bout his dawg ass. Girl, dat nigga doesn’t deserve either of us, an’ I know he’s been lyin’ to me. All the times he’s been wit’ me when his phone rings an’ he won’t answer it. It stays locked an’ he even takes it in the bathroom wit’ him. What kinda shit is that? Michelle, I’m done. No nigga’s worth my tears.”
We talked for quite some time. For all the months they were together she just knew he was being one hundred with her. I thought Danita was more upset than I was. It’s hard to be in love with a nigga when you know he’s doing you wrong. Love makes us forgive everything and fall for damn near anything. It’s fucked up that a person can cause you so much pain and still be the only one in the world who can make the hurt go away.
If Danita hadn’t known about me, she might have considered keeping the baby, but she couldn’t stand the thought of havin’ to deal with Rah for the next eighteen years. She didn’t know any other way to make money if she couldn’t dance at the club. She’d told me she was getting rid of it. As much as I hated her for sharin’ my man, as a woman and a mother, I would never have wished what Rasheed did to her.
All of this I told to Ris. I told her everything, always had.
“So, now you know he ain’ fuckin’ wit’ ol’ girl, you gonna take him back again, huh?” She wasn’t even mad that he’d been in our room during spring break, or that once again she was probably going to end up being on the back burner while I tried to make Rah love me the way I felt I deserved to be loved.
“Momma, I don’t know what to do. Why ain’t I enough for him? All the shit I do for him and put up with, why does he keep looking at other bitches? It feels like I can’t win.” I was getting frustrated and m
y self-esteem was slowly deteriorating.
“Look, baby, if you gonna keep fuckin’ wit’ his bitch ass da least you can do is make bank off da muthafucka, damn!”
Ris had never been more right or made more sense. We hugged and made the decision to change our lives for the better. No matter what, we were going to eat and live the lavish life off that nigga and that, in itself, would compensate for all the bullshit I’d been putting up with. I even managed to keep in touch with Danita and, when she got locked up, I was the one who suggested she send li’l Rah to stay with us. It was time Rah learned about his son anyway. I would have never guessed, not in a million years, that Rah’s jealousy would get the best of him to the degree that he’d actually put a child in danger.
I’d told Danita a hundred times she needed to tell Rah about his son. Deep down I thought what she wanted was to mete out some kind of silent revenge for what he’d done to her face and her life. I thought about Trey and couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of pain she must have been going through right now.
“I can hear yo’ ass thinkin’. Them wheels spinnin’ so loud they woke me up.” Ris kissed me on my cheek, stretched, and yawned. “What are you thinkin’ ’bout, baby?”
She rolled off of my chest and stretched out on her side, facing me. She lightly trailed her fingertips along the arches of my eyebrows.
“You worry way too much. Black don’t crack, but you damn sure tryin’a put some creases up here. If you gonna be Mrs. Roberts, we gotta preserve these good looks. I can’t have everyone thinkin’ you my momma an’ not my wife when we go to Pride nex’ year!” She giggled.
I balked. I had no intention of attending any kind of gay pride celebrations, but I’d have to break that to Ris at another time.
“Ris, we the same age, stop playin’. I have to worry for all of us. Our web is big, bigger than I’d expected, and we need to make sure all of the flies that get tangled in it are wrapped up tight.” I knew that was probably over her head, but it’s the best way I could explain our situation. The more complex things got the more people we had to get involved, and if we weren’t careful it would only take one slip and everything would go completely to shit. I needed to make sure every angle was covered from every direction, every viewpoint, down to every single detail.
Baby Momma Saga Page 16