Baby Momma Saga

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  Ris was obviously under a ton of stress, but for her to think that I’d be seeing Rasheed again after all this time . . . Well, considering my and Rah’s on-again, off-again history, I couldn’t blame her. Her reaction was expected. Hell, I’d be a little suspect about me too if the roles were reversed.

  “Ugh, I need to think.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples, trying to process exactly what this message might mean. “Have you noticed any cars around the house or any strange people since the day you found this note?”

  “No. I mean . . . Well, I’ve noticed strange things about you. But—”

  “Larissa, I swear on my life I ain’t doing anything wrong. I need you to fuckin’ focus right now. Where are the kids?” If there was any time for me to “woosah” or “nam-myoho-renge-kyo” meditate and chant, now was it. Out of all the things we needed to worry about concerning my ex and our past I couldn’t believe she was still more worried about whether I was cheating.

  Rasheed was supposedly in prison in Virginia, serving at least a full life term with no hope of probation.

  “The kids upstairs takin’ a nap.”

  Relief momentarily swept through me. At least my babies were in the house and they were safe. I could feel a migraine coming on. I’d have to get in contact with my attorney; there was no way in hell Rah could have found us on his own. I leaned in and hugged Ris, trying to reassure her as best as I could. She was rigid and didn’t return my embrace. Pulling back, I looked at her, praying there was nothing more to go with her story.

  “Baby. It’ll be okay, I promise. Stop worryin’.”

  But it wasn’t worry that I saw in her eyes, it was anger. Glowing, green anger. I was confused. Her face could have been carved out of stone it was so cold and still. Her eyes narrowed into cold green slits, and it was a wonder she could even see me. But I knew that look entirely too well; it meant hell was coming.

  “If you weren’t wit’ da nigga, why you smell like him, Michelle?”

  Fuck. Fuck was the first and only word that came to mind. Fuck Keyshawn and his damn cologne and his damn advances and Ris’s sensitive-ass nose. Fuck and double fuck. She was staring at me so calmly it was scaring the hell out of me. She was gauging my reaction time, watching my pulse, waiting to see if I stuttered or fucked up my answer. The fucked-up part was I was more nervous about all the shit I knew she was watching for and I didn’t even do anything to deserve the interrogation I was getting.

  “Ris, I told you I had to show that mansion today. Keyshawn Matthews, he plays basketball for the Miami Legends. I closed the deal. We hugged; his girlfriend was there I hugged her too. I called you on my way home to tell you that we’re all goin’ out to celebrate this weekend, like celebrities. The estate was ten million; it’s a huge deal for us. I wanted you to be proud of me. And yes, he wears that same funky-ass cologne as Rah. I noticed it too. But that’s it; nothing more, nothing less.” I could see the wheels spinning, judging my words as true or false, and I must’ve said everything the right way because her face started to light up with excitement.

  “Wait, the rookie ‘Keys to the City Shawn’ Matthews?”

  I shook my head yes.

  “The one who goes everywhere with Yylannia the supermodel?”

  Once again all I could do was shake my head in agreement, slightly amazed that Ris, A, knew who they were and, B, actually seemed to be impressed.

  “Chelle, they were all ova’ all the celebrity blogs las’ week. Dat fool be up in clubs throwin’ thousands at crowds. Bae, he be goin’ in. I ain’ partied or had a real night out since . . . Ugh. What am I gonna wear? I gotta go shoppin’. We need a babysitter!” She jumped up off the couch so fast she almost knocked me over.

  “Oh, an’ you need a shower. You think you can ask him not to wear dat stank-ass cologne when we go out? Tell his ass I’m allergic to it or some shit, ount care.” She took off upstairs in a flurry, mumbling the names of clubs and drinks, dresses, and who knew what else.

  Lord, forgive me for the lie I just told. I’ll never tell another one, just please let Key be available this weekend. But, something tells me as soon as I say the words “go on a celebration date with me and my wife,” that fool’s schedule will most likely miraculously clear up.

  I’ll Scratch Your Back—If You Scratch Mine

  39

  I waited until Ris left the house to go shopping, making her take both my Mace and the .22 with her just to be safe. Surprisingly the kids were still down for their nap so the house was nice and quiet. Naptime meant playtime so they probably hadn’t actually fallen asleep until just before I’d gotten home. I peeked in just to make sure they were still breathing. I guess it’s a momma thing, but as long as I could see their little faces and hear the ever-so-beautiful sound of their even breathing, I knew everything was fine and I could go about my business. I grabbed my iPhone out of my briefcase and walked into our bedroom, which was a complete mess, as usual. Clothes were everywhere, on the floor, all over the king-sized bed. The doors to both walk-in closets were wide open, and Tornado Ris had blown through, leaving shoes and whatnot every damn where. I hated all the clutter and mess. She was so bad when it came to that shit, but I had too much on my mind to start picking up after her as I usually did.

  I walked up the winding wooden staircase that was secluded off to the corner. It led up to the third floor, or what I liked to call my personal sanctuary. When I furnished the house I wanted one room that would be no one’s but mine. I opted to make the small corner studio my home office instead of using the study downstairs as most of the homes were traditionally set up.

  There was one large rectangular window that ran the entire length of the room, overlooking our view of the pool and beach beyond. Thin white drapes hung from either side and with the window open the breeze would carry the smell of the ocean. Every time I looked out at the ocean I couldn’t help thinking that I had my very own piece of paradise right in my backyard. This was the only area of the house that I allowed white in. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of keeping little fingerprints off my furniture, so everything else in the house consisted of dark earth tones: chocolates, olives, and tans. Everywhere except my sanctuary. The floor was covered in the softest carpeting I could find, the color was called shaved ice, and that’s exactly what it looked like. My desk was made completely out of glass and sat in the center of the window; my executive-edition plush white leather chair was just as I’d left it. Across from that on the other side of the room sat my white microfiber couch and sectional.

  Lying back on the sofa, I kicked off my pumps. For a moment I just stared at the little clownfish—or the “Nemo’s” as the kids called them—swimming around in the hanging tropical fish tank on the wall. Oh, well, I thought. Here goes nothing, or better yet here goes hell to pay if I can’t pull this off. I dialed Key’s number. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until his voice mail came on and I was forced to breathe so I could leave a message.

  “Um. Hi, Key. This is Michelle, from the house earlier. I need a huge favor. I’d really appreciate it if you’d give me a call back, hopefully tonight. Thanks.” Great, what the hell am I gonna do if this nigga doesn’t call me back? Think, girl. Think. I could feel the stress knots in my neck, and I closed my eyes and tried to come up with some kind of a backup plan just in case. I must have dozed off because the phone rang and scared me so bad I jumped. About damn time. “Keyshawn, hey.”

  “Well, well. You find me anotha house already?”

  Damn, he ain’t listen to his voice mail. Typical.

  “Umm. No, I actually need a huge favor.”

  “Ha, okay, I’m listenin’.”

  “Well, remember when I said my wife was crazy? I got home stupid late from our showing an’ she was spazzin’ so I had to kind of lie about closin’ on the house with you. I said we’d be goin’ out tomorrow to celebrate.”

  “So, lemme guess. You want me to get us a table somewhere and chill wit’ y’all right?”

&
nbsp; “You and Yylannia, yes. I can knock maybe twenty percent off of whichever house you decide to close on or maybe throw flat screens in every room, work on that acoustic thing you were so interested in.” I was trying to think of any- and everything to get him to commit. Even if he just showed up for an hour, played his part, and left. As long as Ris was happy and my life went back to normal I didn’t care.

  “How ’bout this? We do a date for a date. I chill wit’ you an’ wifey, an’ say this time nex’ week I treat you like you should be treated and take you out for dinner, drinks?” I could hear him smiling through the phone, dimples and all. He had me. There was no way I could say no, but, I could always cancel on his ass at the last minute.

  “Fine, whatever. I heard LIV in Miami is next to impossible to get into wit’ this late of a notice, but do you think you could get a table? I’ll cover all the—”

  “Woman, I don’t need you coverin’ nothin’. I’ll have my man handle all the details, text me ya info an’ I’ll send a car to pick y’all up. We gonna do this big, since we celebratin’ an’ shit.” He laughed into the phone. His moods were so contagious. It was nice to have someone else take over things, handle the arrangements and all the details.

  “Thank you, Keyshawn. Guess I really do owe you one.”

  “Chelle? You up there?” Larissa was making her way upstairs. I imagined she’d either exhausted herself trying to find something to wear or maxed out another one of my cards. I made a mental note to check all of my balances and pay them all off at the end of the month.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m here. All right, Key. Lemme go. I’ll send you what you need. Thanks again.” I hung up before I could hear a reply, and dropped my phone into my lap.

  “Who were you talkin’ to?” She stopped just shy of the edge of the stairs and looked at me suspiciously.

  “Keyshawn. I was confirming our arrangements for tomorrow and making sure we have a sitter. Did you find a dress?”

  She beamed a smile at me and launched herself into my lap. Her small four-foot-nine frame fit so perfectly with mine. Wrapping my arms around her, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I already knew what she was going to say.

  “Yes, I found us both dresses. ’Cause you know you ain’t got shit to wear either, not to no damn club anyway.”

  “Ris, you know good an’ well you can’t shop for me. It’s either gonna be too short, too tight, or too damn bright. I’m sure I already got somethin’ in my closet that’ll work.”

  “Nah, you’ll like this shit. I promise.” She leaned her head back on my shoulder and smiled up at me, making me momentarily forget that somewhere out there my crazy ex-fiancé was stalking us and that in all actuality we really weren’t celebrating anything this weekend except for a lie I’d told her—and now I owed a date to man I was entirely too attracted to, to even admit to myself. I planted as fake of a smile on my face as I possibly could, and I leaned down, kissing her smiling lips, pretending as if nothing was wrong.

  * * *

  Saturday was a whirlwind of getting the kids ready for their day with the babysitter and trying to get my house back in order from a busy workweek. I’d noticed an older blue Ford Mustang in the neighborhood earlier. It went around the neighborhood once when I was checking the mail, and I was going to let Trey and Lataya play outside when I started to feel uneasy and decided against it.

  “Mommy, why?” Trey whined. My poor babies. I felt bad keeping them cooped up in the house, but it was for their own good. I looked down at Trey, who was getting so tall he was almost up to my waist. He was his father’s same exact high-yellow complexion, lighter than me with pretty, curly hair and big, round brown eyes. I couldn’t hide my smile as I answered him.

  “Because Mommy says no, that’s all the why you need.”

  Lataya stood beside him in a pink shorts set, white sandal on one foot and Lord knows where the other one was, looking like a miniature golden version of her mother if you let Ris tell it. When I looked at my little princess all I saw was Rasheed.

  I knelt down to take off her sandal, frowning at a red welt on the back of her chubby little leg. She was in that terrible-twos stage, always stumbling around the house and getting into everything; it was probably nothing. Her front teeth were just starting to come in and she looked just like Trey when he was that age: all cheeks, slobbery chin, grinning all day for no reason whatsoever. She was such a happy little girl. I couldn’t imagine the life she’d have had if we’d let her go to a foster home. She was so much better off here with us. This was definitely where she belonged.

  “Trey, baby, take your sister upstairs to the playroom. I got you guys a new movie. Ask Mommy to put it on for you. You can have cookies if you keep quiet.” I kissed the side of Lataya’s chubby neck, and she smiled at me through her long, baby-doll lashes and giggled. She didn’t care what was going on; she’d heard the word “cookies” and was ready to go. Trey groaned and huffed, reluctantly taking her hand and leading her upstairs. It amazed me that Larissa and I could call each other Mommy and the kids just assumed if one said it in regard to doing something it automatically meant go ask the other one.

  I glanced down at my watch; it was a little after one in the afternoon. I perched in the large bay window in the living room and saw the blue Mustang pull up to one of the houses down the street. Damn, this shit was making me paranoid. I needed to relax with a capital R. I shouted up toward the kids’ playroom, “Ris, watch the kids. I’ll be in the pool.”

  “A’ight, bae.”

  I walked out to the back of the house and let my sundress slide down my body. The first time I did that shit Ris had a flat-out fit, telling me, “Only white folk go out an’ swim in they pool butt-ass naked. Yo’ ass end up wit’ some kinda bacterial infection, ount wanna hear it.” Stripping out of my bra and panties, I laughed at the memory. Our backyard was perfect. Tall white privacy fences ran along both sides of the beach so no one could trespass, and we didn’t have to be bothered with the year-round issue of vacationers or beachgoers parking and camping out all over the beach. That was the beauty of the neighborhood: all of the houses were spaced out and they all faced the ocean, so there was no need to worry about nosey-ass neighbors either.

  I let the warmth from the sun embrace my bare skin only for a moment before diving into the lukewarm water. I swam a few laps as part of my usual workout routine to keep myself toned, but I didn’t want to wear myself out, so I just drifted on my back with my eyes closed for a little while. I sighed; this shit did not help at all. The stress and anxiety was still there. I was wiping water from my eyes when I saw it. It was the briefest movement in the ocean directly in front of me that caught my eye, causing me to freeze mid-motion. The sun glimmered off the water everywhere except for in this one spot. An object bobbed, it was slightly rounded like . . . like a head. I squinted harder and could barely make out a neck and shoulders. And then nothing. It just bobbed under right at the very second that my eyes decided to clearly focus in on it.

  I waited, frozen in place, afraid to look anywhere other than where I saw him, or it, go under. It didn’t resurface. Okay, woman. You are definitely getting paranoid and super trippin’. It was probably just a dolphin or a sea lion, manatee—fuck. That nigga would not swim five miles out and seven or eight miles across just to stare at the damn house. Or would he? Not to mention the fact that I still hadn’t figured out how anyone from my past had actually found me, or even alerted him to our whereabouts. I must’ve stayed there staring intently at that square of ocean for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. When nothing resurfaced I gave up and trod back inside, looking over my shoulder every few steps just in case. I made sure to lock all the windows and doors downstairs just in case.

  By the time I’d showered and fed the kids it was time to get ready. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what I’d seen out there in the water, but combined with the note that Ris had found, the last thing I wanted to do was leave the house, leave my kids. I pulled the dress Ris picked out over my h
ead and attempted to pull myself together.

  “Larissa, what the hell is this ho-ish-lookin’, prostitute-in-training shit you got me wearin’?” I stared at myself in the full-length mirror like the woman looking back was a complete stranger.

  “Baby, calm da fuck down. Nobody gonna have on nothin’ we got on tonight. You look fuckin’ hot, too. Like on some straight-up diva shit.”

  I gawked at myself. The dress was from some collection I’d never heard of and cost entirely too damn much. It was orange, and not no dull spring orange, but bright-ass traffic-cone orange, with black trim around the edges and tiny crystal accents. The neck hung way too low in the front and the back scooped in a V damn near to my ass crack so there was no way I could get away with a bra. It fit tight in all the right places and flared at the arms. It wasn’t an ugly dress; it just wasn’t me. I always said Ris could not pick out my clothes, but I was such a mess after what I’d seen earlier, I didn’t even care. I was dressed. Fuck it.

  Good For The Goose—Good For The Gander

  40

  Sitting on the cool leather of the living room couch I impatiently tapped my foot. I was all kinds of nervous about the night ahead. The kids were upstairs with Darla the babysitter and my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Rasheed. Where the hell was this nigga, and what the hell did he want? How long was he gonna torture us before he showed his ass and started making demands and shit? I’d tried to call the prison to see if he was there and the clerk placed me on hold so long I had to hang up. This happened at least three times.

  Scared and frustrated, I’d looked up a few numbers for security services to call, but it was too late in the evening when I’d remembered to do it. I made a mental note to try again one day during the week. Just then the car pulled up to the front of the house as planned. Ris squealed and flew from upstairs so fast she was damn near out of breath.