Baby Momma Saga

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  “If I tell you something you have to swear you’ll never repeat it.”

  Hell, I forgot her ass was sitting beside me for a second. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t just watch her ass murder a muthafucka’ or nothin’—but I guess maybe she wasn’t counting that as a real secret, I don’t know. “I promise. I’ll even tell you one that you can’t say shit about to no-fuckin’-body either.”

  She nodded, satisfied with our deal. “I owe a huge debt to Angelo Testa. It’s the kind of debt that you repay for life, until either you die or Angelo dies. You see, I knew him long, long before he became the powerful man he is now.”

  I waited.

  Lania took a shallow breath, her voice shaky as she continued, tears slowly welling up in her golden eyes. “Me and Angelo are bound by the blood of relation. We’re brothers.”

  What the fucccccccccck! The TV audience in my head jumped back to life, screaming in unison as my eyes bulged out my damn head.

  “You’re . . . I mean . . . you were a man?”

  “I’m completely post-op, did hormone injections, pills, all of it. My other brother, Keyshawn, met me long after it was all said and done and I myself never had the heart to tell him different.”

  The audience’s heads tilted to the side in confusion. Huh? Did he—she—just say . . . No. No.

  “Wait, Lania, you said Keyshawn is your . . . other brother?” Boy, these pills was definitely some goooood shit. ’Cause I could have sworn they was putting words in my ears that this bitch’s mouth wasn’t even saying.

  “Right. Keyshawn is my stepbrother by marriage. We were dating and in love way before me and Angelo’s mother met Keyshawn’s father. We tried to stop seeing each other, but it never lasted long, so instead we agreed to just keep a very, very open relationship, never revealing our relationship. Key was doing well and shit was going good until he was traded to Miami. Curtis had his eyes on Key the second he stepped out of that locker room. When Key turned him down not too long ago, Curtis started digging for dirt. He was a fool. He paid one of Angelo’s goons to dig for him, so we’ve been feeding Curtis phony information and coming up with dead ends.”

  I sat there, staring at Lania, captivated. Their story was way more fucked up than the shit Chelle and I had done. No wonder we all got along so well.

  “So, what happened back there with Curtis? Wasn’t just you on some angry bitch, don’t-touch-my-man type shit?”

  “Fuck no. Last time I saw Angelo, he told me about a rumor in the owners’ box. Something about Curtis wanting to trade Keyshawn to the highest bidder, like fucking livestock.”

  “That’s nothin’ new. Players get traded all the time, Lania, it’s part of the game.”

  “True, but Angelo said the rumor also involved Curtis wanting Key injured after the trade so he’d never play again. I told Key about it and apparently he must’ve cut a deal with Curtis to stay in Miami and make more money. No person ever thinks they have a price until someone is willing to pay it. What Key didn’t know was that Curtis was going to fuck him and trade him anyway. So, I deaded that shit . . . literally.”

  It was like hearing the ending of a long, dramatic bedtime story. The sun had almost completely set and every part of Lania’s story made sense except for one little-ass piece. “Why would Keyshawn give up da ass just to keep playin’ ball? That don’t make sense, not when the nigga has the fuckin’ Mafia on his side.” I had a bitch thinking with that question.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Oooh, this is gettin’ gooood. She whipped out that little phone of hers and dialed Key’s number, hitting the speaker button so I could hear everything.

  “You got some nerve callin’ me right now.” Keyshawn’s voice came out of the speaker in a loud growl.

  Even though it was just over the phone, instinctively, my ass leaned back.

  Lania didn’t look fazed. “Oh, please, boy. I did you a favor and you know it.” She started to sing into the phone while making some sorta kissy face. “There isn’t even a mess for you to clean up now is there?”

  “You already know ya Mafia brother done came over here wit’ his fuckin’ flunkies and mopped up. What I tell you ’bout callin’ dat mu’fucka e’retime some shit go down? I’m tired of havin’ blood on my hands, Yylannia.”

  “I kept your hands clean. Now shut up. I have a question,” she snapped at him. In the blink of an eye her tone went from soft and playful to razor sharp. “Why did I catch you in the predicament you were in, given we could have resolved this in any number of ways with the snap of a finger and, eh-hmmm, saved your ass, sweetheart?”

  We both waited for Key to answer, the phone hanging silently between us like a question mark.

  “Because I fuckin’ wanted to, Yylannia. You an’ your damn brother got a problem with that shit? Huh? I wanted to!”

  Triple whammy, were the words my mental studio audience shouted at the scene unfolding before me. I looked down and traced a heart in the sand with my finger; I knew exactly how Key must have felt, to have those kinds of feelings and be scared to act on ’em ’cause you afraid of what people might say or think. His family’s approval obviously meant a lot to him. I scratched a squiggly break through the heart. That looked a lot better.

  “But you told me you turned him down repeatedly and . . . and what about me, Keyshawn? I thought we had an agreement. You seemed happy.”

  “What about you, Yylannia? There ain’t no we, jus’ like there could never be anything wit’ me an’ Curtis. What would the star of the muthafuckin’ team look like fuckin’ the owner? If that shit got out it would discredit me, ruin my fuckin’ career. Jus’ like if anyone found out we actually kinfolk. And, what the fuck was Ris doin’ up in here with you? Angelo know she was wit’ you?”

  “Of course not, and it doesn’t matter, Key.”

  “So what you think he gon’ say when he find out or . . . Oh, lemme guess, y’all cool now, you gon’ save her ass too? You trust her like that?”

  Lania glanced up at me nervously. I could see her doubting me all of a sudden as Keyshawn continued.

  “That shit you pulled was sloppy and reckless, Lania. And, for future reference, I ain’t askin’ you or anyone else’s permission to use my own gotdamn dick.” The phone went silent, his growl echoing across the beach out and into the waves.

  Someone in the studio audience in my head held up their hand. Sooooo, you mean to tell me, if Lania, who is a “she” now, woulda just kept her ass as Lance, a “he”, then, um, he coulda been on some happily-ever-after shit with Keyshawn fo’reals, ’cause the nigga like dick any damn way? The rest of the studio audience whistled and cheered and I shook my head. This shit was just too damn much for me. Here I was, all along gettin’ jealous over Keyshawn spending time with Michelle and the kids. Thinking that nigga wanted to be with Michelle when, in all actuality, that nigga wanted to be Michelle.

  “You know Keyshawn does have a point, don’t you?” Lania was looking down at the sand.

  I almost didn’t hear her over the conversation I was havin’ in my damn head. “Huh? What you say, Lany?” Laughin’, I nudged her with my shoulder, and the movement made the entire ocean sway with me. “Ooooh, there goes that shit finallllly kickin’ in. I was startin’ to think it was a dud or sumthin’.” I looked over at Lania, my mouth opening to ask her if she was okay, and I had to blink to clear the stars from my eyes, my ears suddenly ringing.

  “Bitch, you hit me!” I already knew what was goin’ on. One of us wasn’t gonna leave that beach. Lania done sat there and spilled her fuckin’ guts and now after listenin’ to Key’s ass she was second-guessing shit and trying to clean up after herself. Detroit raised my ass; I knew to throw punches that would break a bitch’s nose before I could read or ride a bike.

  Lania tried to hit me again and I grabbed her fist, twisting it until she screamed in pain. She grabbed my hair with her free hand and twisted it, tightening it around her fist and pulling my head back until it was in the sand.
It felt as though each strand was being torn from my scalp; the pain made me lose my leverage on her hand and I let go. Fuck, I really wanted to break that shit, too. Lania climbed on top of me, straddling me, grinning. Her hands wrapped around my throat, and I clawed at the ground, reaching around for something, anything to hit her with and coming up with handfuls of sand.

  The bitch laughed, taunting me. “Larissa, what’s the matter? You’re so pale. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Now I didn’t know if black people could actually ever go pale and shit, but I could feel all the blood draining from my face. I stared over Lania’s shoulder, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes and sliding down my face, splashing into the sand. I was staring directly at the Ghost of Christmas Past. And it was staring down at me, directly over Lania’s shoulder, with a pistol pointed dead center at my muthafuckin’ nose. For the first time, the studio audience was completely silent.

  Disappearing Acts

  54

  It was going on 2:00 a.m. and no one had bothered returning any of my phone calls. I was debating actually going over to Key’s place just to see if maybe they were all over there drunk or high, or worse, having another one of their all-out fuck parties minus me, but I kept talking myself out of it. I refused to embarrass myself in front of him again. Aside from my time in the hospital I couldn’t think of one night that Ris and I had spent apart since leaving Virginia. Call it paranoia or intuition, I didn’t care; I just had a nagging feeling like something was seriously wrong and it wouldn’t go away.

  Jim had sent a few of his guys to check the club that we’d been to and a few bars in the area, but since she’d intentionally ditched his team he wasn’t too enthused about putting too many man hours into a search at this point. I’d called Keyshawn a few more times and Larissa’s phone was still going directly to voice mail. I paced the house top to bottom and nearly jumped outta my skin when my phone rang.

  “Keyshawn! Oh my God, Larissa—”

  “So, I’m guessing I owe you some kinda explanation, huh?” He cut me off before I could finish. He sounded tired, stressed.

  “An explanation? About what?” What the hell is this nigga talkin’ about?

  “Wait, huh? I dozed off, I just woke up. What . . . what were you saying about Larissa?”

  “Oh God, Key, I think something’s wrong. She left with Lania and a bunch of girls earlier today and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

  “Woooow. I mean. You know how they are. So you haven’t gotten a text, voice mail, no nothing?” He sounded strange, like he was amused or relieved, I couldn’t tell. Maybe he was just happy that I was pissed with Ris because it would give him a chance to get in better with me.

  “She’s never done anything like this before. Ever. I don’t know what to do right now. I’m losing my mind over here.”

  “You know it’s fuckin’ funny ’cause I haven’t heard from Lania’s ass all day either; her phone’s been off too. You don’t think the two of them . . . Nah.” He cut himself off.

  “Tell me, Keyshawn. The two of them what? What do you know?”

  “Shit, don’t quote me on this, but Lania had mentioned before that Keisha, the chick from the club—”

  “Oh, you mean the chick who was with ol’ girl. Chanel, the one who was givin’ you a hand job under the table?” I couldn’t let that one slide. For him to be so interested in havin’ me play the lead he sure did seem to have a lot of side tricks lined up waitin’ to step in an’ take the spotlight. The nigga definitely had ho tendencies and that was definitely a red flag in my book.

  “Ah, that was when you was givin’ me a hard time remember? I didn’t even know I had a real chance wi’chu at that point. But nah, whenever Lania be on that phone off bullshit she’s usually up to no good, and after the day I had wi’chu and the kids I gave her ass permanent walkin’ papers. No more open relationship. I don’t want that lifestyle anymore. I wanna build on somethin’, I want a family—somethin’ solid.”

  I was speechless. It honestly wasn’t what I expected to hear, but everything I needed. “You know, comin’ from a man, words ain’t shit to me, Keyshawn. Far as I know you jus’ another nigga promisin’ me heaven, and for all I know you gonna take me through hell to get there. I got enough hell right now. I can’t do this shit anymore.”

  “You won’t have to. How ’bout I come keep you company—we can wait on Ris to call or not call, come home or whatever together. Either way you won’t be doin’ it by yourself. I make some mean hot cocoa, gurrrrl.”

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Something about him just made me happy and the fact that he could do it even at a time like this, when I was actually worried sick outta my mind, made it that much more meaningful.

  “Okay, you can keep me company, and I like marshmallows in my cocoa.”

  Unforgettable Ain’t Irreplaceable

  55

  Almost a month had passed since Ris walked out of my life leaving the kids, her clothes, and everything we had together. There was always a shadow of doubt in the back of my mind that still carried the slightest fear that maybe something had really happened to her. It would nag me whenever my mind had a chance to wander, like when I was cooking, or taking a shower, or in those last few moments just before I’d fall asleep.

  Lania had turned up within the next few days according to Keyshawn. She’d called him hung over and still high, claiming that Ris was of course laid up with that Keisha girl he’d mentioned. I was hurt, but Key turned out to be my knight in shining armor, gluing the pieces of my family back together little by little, even while dealing with the murder of Curtis, who I later found out was like his mentor, according to his teammates and all the news reports I’d read. They’d found parts of Curtis’s body when some trappers caught a gator with a human arm in its mouth about a week after Ris disappeared. They never caught the killer or found the rest of his body; hell the only way they even knew it was Curtis was by his damn fingerprints. I could tell it still really bothered Keyshawn sometimes.

  I’d decided to surprise him and make veal parmesan with bacon-wrapped asparagus for dinner. Closing my eyes I let myself enjoy something that I didn’t get too often: a quiet house. The kids were at the park with Key, taking advantage of having him around since it was the off-season. I was in the middle of crushing garlic when that all-too-familiar alarm chimed on my iPhone. I hadn’t heard from Jim in a while. Keyshawn insisted that I didn’t need him since he had his own “special security” that he refused to tell me about. But until I knew Rah was back behind bars I kept Jim on standby.

  “Hi, Jim, long time no hear.”

  “Ye know they say no news is good news. Well, I’ve got some info that’ll pro’ly have ya doin’ a jig or whatnot.”

  “I’m ready.” I took a deep breath, not sure if it would be about Larissa or Rasheed, but anxious either way.

  “Not gonna sugarcoat this—they found Rasheed’s body yesterday a few miles south of Emporia back in Virginia. Was burned up pretty bad; had to use dental records to identify it. He was inside one of those CMA CGM shipping containers. There was another corpse in there with ’im, one of ’em a female, but we’re still waiting on more information. No ID on the Jane Doe as of yet. But I know you’ll sleep better now knowing he ain’t after ye.”

  I was dumbfounded. There were tears in my eyes from both sadness and joy.

  “He wasn’t alive . . . when they burned him, was he, Jim?” No one deserved that kind of death. Not even Rah.

  “Not sure yet, sweetheart. We’ll know more in a couple of days. I’ll give you a ring back. ’Til then you be safe and enjoy yourself now.”

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. I left the food and everything in the kitchen and walked out the front door; the humidity made sweat bead on my forehead almost instantly. I inhaled, smelling the rain that was coming and the rose bushes on the side of the house that’d just started to bloom. The sky was dark from the approach of one of our usual evening thund
erstorms and for the first time in months I was able to just enjoy standing outside, not worrying about who, or if someone, was watching me or waiting.

  * * *

  “Woman, you got this house smellin’ good.” Key walked in right on time with Lataya in his arms and Trey following not too far behind him.

  I’d already set the table and was just keeping everything warm until they got back. Fresh basil, garlic bread, bacon; yes, it did smell good and my stomach growled in agreement.

  “Everybody wash their hands, it’s time to eat.”

  He came over and gave me a soft kiss, handing me a small pink and white envelope.

  “What’s this baby?” I looked at it, amused; he never failed to amaze me.

  “Oh, I don’t know, let’s open it later.” Winking playfully he marched off to the hall bathroom to help the kids wash their hands.

  The storm started to roll in just as we finished up dinner. The thunder and lightning were scaring the kids and Keyshawn wasn’t helping, jumping and yelling, “Boo,” in between every damn thunderclap. This was probably one of the worst ones we’d had all summer; it was going on nine and it still hadn’t let up.

  “Mommy, can we sleep wif you?” I looked at Key and sighed. Damn and double damn because this is definitely some of that good old-fashioned handling business weather.

  “Yes, baby. Let’s go get our PJs on.” Glancing at Key, I led Trey to his bathroom.

  He gave me a wink and my ass got excited. That shit meant, Oh, we are gonna wait ’til they fall asleep and then the business is gonna get handled. It didn’t take long before all four of us were cuddled up in the bed and the three of them, with their bellies full, were of course unconscious before ten thirty. Lataya was lying on Keyshawn’s chest and Trey was all up in my back when I remembered the envelope he’d given me. I’d left it on the counter downstairs and now my curiosity was getting the better of me.