Baby Momma Saga, Part 2

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  I looked past him at the front door standing wide open. I sat back quickly and stared straight ahead. “Go, now. Just drive, please.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. What makes this so bad is I don’t know if it’s Mona or someone else. If they’re waiting in there for us or if it was a robbery. Good thing my laptop is in my car. Shit, it’s a good thing we aren’t pulling up in my car right now.

  “Shouldn’t you be calling the police right now?” He gave me a concerned look.

  “No, you don’t ever go to the police unless you know which ones are dirty. My ex had half of them on his payroll back in the day. If they’re dirty and the person who did this wants to get away with it, there’s nothing you can do about it. I don’t know why I even bothered coming back here.” I wanted to angry-slap myself repeatedly in the forehead in frustration, but I settled on rubbing my eyebrows.

  We rode, with me lost in my thoughts, for what seemed like hours before the car stopped. There was no way in hell Honey could have possibly been able to find me. I hadn’t seen anyone, hadn’t talked to anyone.

  Did she have a tracking device implanted up my ass? If I were her I’d never in a million years think to look for me with Rasheed’s momma of all people.

  The sad part was that I couldn’t even sit down and rationalize with Honey. What she and Rasheed did was between them. I didn’t get Honey locked up, but she was so hell-bent on revenge and avenging Rah’s murder that she couldn’t see the forest for the trees. She could visit Taya, call her, talk to her, but as long as she was a wanted felon, giving Lataya up was not an option.

  We’d pulled into an oversized garage filled with four-wheelers, dirt bikes on one side, tools, toolboxes, and a couple of motorcycles on the other.

  Assuming this is his place, no one will ever find us here that’s for sure.

  “I’ve got four guest rooms upstairs that I never use. This is the kitchen.” He pointed quietly so as to not wake up Trey, before turning on the alarm at a panel on the wall.

  I nodded and followed along, carrying Lataya’s car seat. There were several doors that were bathrooms on the first floor before a laundry room that also somehow connected to the kitchen. I was just relieved when I saw stairs. It meant I could finally lay my tired ass down.

  After seeing the kids tucked in, I told Devon I’d be fine sleeping with them after I showered. They would most likely wake up and have a fit at being in a new place otherwise. I wanted to be nearby.

  We were standing in the hallway outside a bathroom. The recess lighting was dimmed enough to keep you from running into the cream-colored walls in the middle of the night. Devon pulled me into a hug and was telling me everything would be fine. And there it was, that cardamom, warm vanilla, masculine scent that was all him. Devon started to draw back, but I didn’t want to let go. I needed to be comforted and I needed to hear exactly what he was saying. His warmth and closeness . . . ten, nine, koalas’ fingerprints . . . I couldn’t mentally block myself this time. Instead I directed all that fear, anxiety, and panic into pulling him back, burying my face into his neck and letting him hold me. I was probably squeezing the breath out of his lungs, but he didn’t complain or protest. His hands stroked methodically up and down my back until I relaxed against him, drawing in deep, even, Devon-scented breaths.

  I wanted that smell all over my skin, like his T-shirt I secretly slept in every night since we’d met. I loved my babies to death, but I was tired of technically sleeping by myself. My brain decided to shut down that section that thinks and worries too much. All thrusters set to go, and umpteen thousand volts of pent-up “get him, girl” energy surged in between my legs. I’d worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

  Lightly pressing my lips against the side of his neck, I paused, waiting to see if he’d object. I had to know what that smell tasted like, and I flecked my tongue over his skin. He drew in a sharp, quick breath and my own breathing sped up. I lifted my head, waiting for my kiss, because that’s how it works. He let me hover there not more than a breath away. Thinking he was playing some kind of game, I frowned and started to pull away, and he shook his head at me. Those oversized hands of his slid down my hips, igniting my skin underneath my jeans. When he roughly palmed my ass I gasped.

  Our lips weren’t more than a hair apart, and that’s where he kept me, suspended on the edge. One of his fingers slid a little lower than the rest. Instinctively I arched, wanting to feel more of it, grinding against him, and he smiled, teasing me. We were in some kind of psychological war that I didn’t know the rules for.

  I reached down the front of his slacks and we bit our bottom lips at the same time. It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t invisible. He was perfect, and I was so excited I forgot all about his Jedi mind fuck or whatever he was trying to prove. I started stroking him through the fabric of his pants, and he closed his eyes and moaned in response. That’s what I was used to: being able to break a man down with one hand. All the staring games to see who blinks first or breaks first, that wasn’t my territory. It was the thrill of making anyone, man or woman, bend, melt, cave in, react at my will. For the first time in my life, I said, fuck it, and I made the first move.

  Soft red and yellow lights refracted off the ceiling and walls. Walking into the bedroom was like getting away from the city and standing beside a gently churning creek in the forest. I’d seen them in the lobbies of hotels and restaurants, but never in someone’s house. There were two massive marble wall fountains that had to be at least six feet tall on either side of the bed. Water slowly trickled down the slate, rust, and auburn-colored surface gently splashing into the basin at the bottom.

  “Devon, that’s crazy . . . beautiful,” I whispered, awestruck.

  He walked over and posed beside one and my jaw dropped. All this fool’s clothes had vanished, and he was crazy beautiful too. The bedroom door was wide open and I shook my head. Poor thing definitely wasn’t used to having kids around.

  “You gonna need to close that, lock it, too.” I pointed at the door and undressed.

  We met in the middle of the bedroom, our naked bodies collided, and his skin felt like smooth, searing heat and muscle over steel. He kissed me and a surge of intense want and need went through me. Biting his bottom lip, I moaned and reached down to stroke him into action, but he stopped me.

  “No. I’ve already figured out Michelle’s problem. Michelle always wants to be in control.” He went to get something from underneath the bed. I stood there, completely confused and suddenly a little nervous.

  It was hard to see with the meager light from the fountain so I had no idea what he had until he’d slipped some kind of Velcro handcuffs around my wrists. In a single motion, he simply lifted my arms and had my wrists attached to a little thingamajigger hanging from the ceiling before I could even say the word thingamajigger. It was low enough that my feet were still planted firmly on the floor.

  “Devon?” His name was a whispered plea from my lips.

  Aww hell, I’ve gone and done it now. Sure, Michelle, go home with the resident Dr. Psycho serial killer and decide to do something you never do. Oh worry about tomorrow, tomorrow? What the fuck about tonight?

  When he didn’t answer me I became a human cocktail of random emotions. It consisted of about 2 parts scared, with equal amounts of frantic and pissed as I started yanking at my wrists. There might have been a dash of hope somewhere in there, but it wasn’t enough to keep me calm. “Devon? What the fuck is this? We ain’t even on this kind of level. I don’t even know who else’s wrists been in these nasty-ass things. I will kick the fuck out of you, just step over here. I swear if you don’t let me out,” I hissed at him swingin’ one of my legs in his direction for emphasis. He easily side-stepped it.

  He started laughing. “I do my sit-ups with that. My ankles go in there.”

  I scoffed and he moved behind me, pulling me back until I could feel his skin pressed against every inch of mine. He wrapped his arm around my waist, filling his hands with my breasts, spread
ing out his fingers so they touched all but my nipples. When he placed himself in between my legs, my pussy turned traitor to my brain and she throbbed, aching for more attention. It was all the sweetest torture, and not being able to do anything, or anticipate what he was going to do next, was making me feel crazy.

  “You are so beautiful to me. Do you know, I thought about you every day until I saw you again?” His words were a warm caress against the back of my neck.

  My eyes closed, and I rested my head back on his shoulder. I rocked slightly, rolling my ass back into his hips, simultaneously sliding the length of him against my clit, and I all but purred. My eyes damn near crossed when he rolled my nipples in between the heat of his fingers. Without any warning, he pressed upward. Clamping his hand over my mouth, he buried every inch of himself so deep I instinctively bit into the fleshy part of his palm. If it weren’t for his hand I would have screamed.

  Damn, I must have forgotten what this felt like. Try to swear off what for how long? My knees felt shaky as hell. Devon was stroking it so good I’d have been on the floor if I weren’t attached to the ceiling. Devon had me up off the floor and I didn’t even know what that shit was called, but I just wrapped the back of my legs around his thighs and held on. I did my best to be quiet, but it’d been a minute, and I was right there. My pussy started to clench up, and I held my breath because I knew I’d yell or scream. All the pressure, and aching, was building up in that one spot, and he then just stopped.

  What the fuckin’ fuck kind of bullshit . . .

  “Devon, please,” I begged him.

  He reached above my head and undid my hands and carried me over to the bed. I was breathless, shaky, and getting more pissed off by the second. He smiled down at me and I couldn’t see why. I wanted to explain that he was supposed to let me finish before he did all that damn cheesing. Then I saw the light; how many colors are in a fireworks display? Devon kissed his way up my body like he was saying hello all over again, and then he went in. Like “choking me so good I forgot I changed my last name” went in. “I’m marrying this Nigga” went in. I’d already made up my damn mind and everything.

  Exhausted, I snuggled into his side and started falling asleep, listening to the water splash in the fountains beside us. I had to admit that shit was extremely relaxing, and sexy.

  “You and the kids will stay with me for now. I’ve got more than enough room, and I feel like it’s time to have my life disrupted by two little people and their mother’s craziness.” Devon’s voice loomed in the darkness.

  I quietly rolled his words over in my head. How would a new house and a new person affect the kids? Especially Trey? Could I actually trust this man with my kids under his roof?

  Releasing a long, drawn-out sigh, I looked up at him, trying to figure out his character, worth, and values at a glance. It was one thing when it came to me; it was a completely different matter when the kids were concerned. I considered getting Jim Bartow and the security team, but that shit had cost me an arm and a leg, and at the end of the day more people had died, Honey had lived, and I still wound up getting abducted.

  Suddenly anxious from thinking about Honey, I squeezed Devon. I needed to get settled into a routine with the kids and fast. The image of Momma’s front door kicked in quickly made me switch from long-term safe to right-now safe.

  “I don’t like being told what to do.” I huffed against his chest.

  Devon shifted and leaned over me. “I can always make you beg.”

  He was giving me a sly, sneaky grin, and I quickly shook my head. I was too damn tired for any more of that; he’d completely worn me out.

  Chapter 15

  All Good-byes Ain’t Gone

  “My nigga? Man, I know you ain’t cryin’.”

  I climbed in the car and Angelo was sniffling like a little bitch. He called himself mannin’ up or whatever, flying through the city on some Nascar shit. If I had to hem this fool up and get behind the wheel so be it. My ass was Makavelli right now. We couldn’t afford any heat from a speeding ticket.

  “Rah, man, she was fuckin’ him. I mean, about to fuck him. Right there in broad daylight. Anyone could have walked in. I walked right in. Then the fuckin’ bloggers, paparazzi walked right in like they were supposed to. No, I’m not . . . yes. Yes, I’m good, man.”

  Angelo slammed his hands against the steering wheel before wiping his nose on his sleeve. I looked away and focused my attention on my phone, acting like I didn’t even see that nastiness. He wasn’t taking this as well as I thought he would.

  I asked him, “When I was locked up, I sent you kite. And if I recall correctly, my exact words to you in that letter was that—”

  “Your exact words were that I had what you’d call an anybody getta. That I shouldn’t feel special for having her because anybody could get her. And, Honey would fuck me over if I wasn’t careful,” Angelo sounded off. He squared up his shoulders like he was getting some of his bravado back.

  “Right, right. Remember, I told you, she did the same bullshit to me. Had me thinkin’ she was locked up with my seed, knowing her ass was Triple H. I’m just glad you seen it before you wifed her up.” I dapped him on the shoulder. The kid definitely needed to toughen the hell up before we hit these streets hard and moved into VA.

  He snickered, glancing over at me through his pretty boy shades. “Triple H, man, what the hell is this, a code for somethin’? I’m lost,” he muttered in his Guido Italian-American “run all the words together” accent.

  “Triple H? You know, three Hs? Honey the homie humper. That’s her MO, her title. She went from me, to my boy, to my other boy. Need to get her some embroidered panties wit’ a big-ass H on them shits like a . . . a damn super she-ho.” I slapped the dashboard, cracking up.

  I could see Honey’s little ass bustin’ up in bedrooms. Her hands on her hips, wearing one of her barely there lace pieces from the Hot Spot and some knee-high boots. That image sent me through a slideshow of forgotten memories. Memories that I thought died the day Michelle turned her back on me and walked out of that prison. Smiles, steak sauce, hotel rooms, Trey’s first word, and—

  “What about your boy Big though? You needs to let me get Bad Apple Sims to handle him,” Angelo pressed impatiently, pulling me from my somber thoughts.

  “He can handle Big Baby for half of what anyone else would cost. And he can do it just as good.”

  “Ah, man, Big, he ain’t know better. He thinks I’m dead like everybody else. It’s guy code. Man law. I’m out the picture. I mean, who could blame him? She cute, probably called him ‘daddy’ wit’ the baby voice. Y’all gave her that fame power. She still got that fat ass?”

  “Shut the fuck up already! It ain’t power it’s quicksand. Had she stayed in line, she’d have floated. She acted up and started moving around, trying to creep and be a sneaky whore. She stirred up the muck and now she’s gettin’ pulled under by her own actions.”

  Angelo swerved across the lane and I let it go. Ain’t nobody tell him to go pull that whole bended-knee routine. All it did was made him feel worse when the real deal came to light. I’d been in that boat myself. My baby momma found out and stole my paddles, life jacket, and she drilled holes in it, knowing my ass couldn’t swim. In my little black book payback was definitely a bitch, and her name was Michelle.

  They put niggas in prison not realizing it’s concentrated criminology, gangland, and law school combined. You learn who’s who, how to do what better, smarter, and more efficiently, because if there’s one thing we all have down to a science it’s how to get caught.. When I found out Honey was mixed up with the Miami Italians, I heard an easy way out. There was so much talk about Angelo bein’ nothing but a pussy-whipped shadow of his father. They called his ass “the joke wit’ good coke in Miami.” Shit, it ain’t take me long to realize the perfect storm would knock his boat right out the water and into my dry dock of a jail cell.

  I planted small seeds, sent him a letter telling him about Honey and how sh
e was messing with my master at arms. He was like second in command of my team and my best friend, Derrick. Mind you I was just lookin’ to earn his trust so I could push product inside. Imagine my shock and awe when I found out Honey was on a vigilante mission to get me out. So I did the unthinkable. I let old boy know if I escaped, his first mate Honey would jump ship. It was a no-brainer to a calculatin’ nigga like myself. I got Angelo on the phone and flat-out told him what the dudes inside thought about his cartel, his fam, shit, kids he ain’t even had yet. Dead ass, I even put a couple of Guidos on the phone for validation. He was probably heartbroken, hugged his pillow, cried, I don’t know.

  But, if there’s one thing I did know, you never dead-end a man’s ego without offering him a road to redemption. In return for my freedom, I’d be Angelo’s redeemer, his savior, so to speak.

  He got the official braggin’ rights for murkin’ my ass; it was a start. It only cost me a few teeth and a burnt-up body. Now all we needed to do was erase the Angel of Death’s shadow and handle business. Yeah, payback’s a bitch all right, but I was about to play her and everybody else so hard for this paper. My new fake ID needed to say Parker & Parker. The game I was about to run would put the Parker Brothers to shame and make me five times richer. No more living hand to mouth, hustling to get rich. Angelo’s people rolled in that old-world money that got inherited and trust-funded.

  I met a few dudes on the inside who told me how some of the biggest movie production companies began with startup money from Angelo’s pops. This kid didn’t even have a row of the Rubik’s Cube figured out. In my book he wasn’t anything more than a glorified distributor.

  “Get your head together. The best way to get over a ho is to get under a better one. You need to throw a party. Invite only, password to get in is ‘wet dream.’”

  He started to protest, but I kept going; this was my show. “Make sure all the somebodies who push product are there, including your pops. I don’t care if you pay him to show up; just make sure he’s there. I’ll handle the rest. Drop me off at the barber shop. I need to get cleaned up for this shit.”