“You need to come back to reality. Y’all just made it look like I shot and robbed this dude’s pops. Miami, hell, all of Florida, will be lookin’ to hem me up on sight. That shit is impossible.”
“We didn’t make it look like anything. If your ass hadn’t picked up that briefcase, you wouldn’t look like anything. No, son, you made you look guilty, and unless you want to go back inside with Scorpion and your buddies, I’d better see this blue marker on my screen busting a U-turn and heading back toward Miami. That paternity test you requested for your cooperation came back.”
I could hear paper unfolding in the earpiece and I waited.
“The little girl, Paris, born to Trenisha in prison is not your daughter.”
The line went silent and I pulled over to the side in the emergency lane of the highway. I was so furious my insides were shaking. Fuck you Derrick and double fuck you Honey for whatever Angelo does now. Never in this lifetime did I ever see myself walking free with ties to my freedom.
I’d been in for about a year when they dragged me into solitary for no reason and sat me at a table. It was normal for Officer Reynolds to pull me away and do kinky shit on her breaks. I hadn’t seen her in a minute, and I was ready to wear her ass out something decent.
I’d stripped down to my boxers when the door flew open and in walks this big Magilla Gorilla nigga in a fresh black suit.
“This ain’t that kind of party, son. Put your fuckin’ pants on and have a seat. I ain’t come here to fuck, suck, or stare at your ashy-ass knees.”
I ain’t never put my shit back on so fast, feeling like I’d just got caught by the principal trying to sneak behind the school with the class freak. A long brown file folder landed on the table in front of me, with a loud slap.
“Go ahead, open it up,” he commanded.
It was like looking at my entire life on film. There pictures of me as a shorty with moms. Some pics of mom dukes from way back with an old pimpish-looking motherfucka. I chuckled at that shit. This cat had a li’l curly mustache and pretty curls in his hair. Moms had never said nothing about whoever he was. Seein’ me pause on that particular picture Magilla Gorilla started barking.
“That was Frankie the Ambassador Diamonds. Murdered in 1989, electrocuted in his bathtub. He was wanted for the murder of over thirty-eight women up and down the East Coast, and they almost had a solid case against him until he was murdered and robbed blind.”
He continued, and I flipped over a picture of the dude laid out on the coroners table. There were puckered blisters from his chest down and you could see the network of veins running under his skin in this eerie deep dark purple color.
“They couldn’t find a single solitary one of his girls to question except your mother. Couldn’t figure out why she had a dead pimp’s car. Mona, your aunt, said she’d stolen it. Since they couldn’t pin either one of them at the scene for murder, your aunt with her theft record would have still gotten locked away for a long time. But, the judge was lenient, because honestly Frankie wasn’t shit so Mona got away with a warning.”
I’d flipped through a few more pictures and got a feeling in my gut I ain’t like. “What does this have to do with me?”
“We’ve got more shit on you than a pig trying to keep cool fresh out of a pepper patch in summer. Last month we picked a woman up. Over the course of thirty years, she’s married and killed five men, clearing out their accounts every single time. For a reduced sentence she’s pinned your mom in the Frankie Diamonds case, has a notebook of hers hidden away. She says it puts your mother under his charge, dated and everything to the day he died. Combine that with that Cadillac, and even in her old age, she’s looking at some time.”
My mouth dried out like I’d been sitting there holding a wad of toilet paper in it as I waited to hear the “but” or the “what.” I didn’t have to wait long.
“Your ex-girl Trenisha? She’s managed to get out and align herself with one of the biggest coke dealers in Miami. We’ll give you back your freedom, but the you sitting here right now has to die. After you’ve accomplished your goals, you go on with your new life, far away from Virginia. And well compensated for your time.”
At the time, it seemed like an easy out. Take water from a man until he’s almost dead, hallucinating, sick, and dizzy from thirst. He can hear the slightest trickle of a stream. He won’t care if there’s garbage, syringes, and dead fish floating in that bitch. He’s gonna follow the sound, fall to his knees, and drink. That deal was water, free water, and I’d been dying of thirst on the inside. Locked up, counting tiles, and going damn near insane.
A car whizzed by so close it made my shirt flap like a flag in its wake, snapping me out of my memories. Staring down at the cracked, broken concrete, scattered glass, and cigarette butts, I considered my courses. Regardless of what them special assholes said, it was never my complete intent to just forget about my son. I’d imagined waiting until he was older and better able to understand my absence. We’d sneak off on weekends when he was a teenager and I’d teach him about the world. Get him drunk. Just dumb shit that a locked-up nigga got time to sit and daydream about.
I looked at the text, wondering what could be going on with my momma. Her house phone and cell were tapped, I was sure of that. My cell was obviously tapped and Momma ain’t know nothing about texting.
I was out because of Momma; without that case against her I probably wouldn’t have done shit for those agents. They probably didn’t have anything better to use against me other than her.
Climbing back into the driver’s seat, I clicked the seat belt and sat there, staring at the road behind me in the rearview. Nigga, you’d better haul ass. All of the FBI is about to rain a shit storm down on your ass, and you ain’t got a raincoat, umbrella, and you for damn sure ain’t got toilet paper . . .
The tires squealed and the tail lights illuminated a trail of rocks and dirt as I threw the car into sports mode and floored it. Throwing my cell out the window, I started looking for the nearest rest area. It’d take them longer to find me if they couldn’t trace me. Fuck stealing a car; somebody was about to sell me their shit.
Chapter 20
A Monster Is Still a Monster
When Momma had finished telling me her story I just stared at her in complete awe. I would have never guessed she’d been through and seen so much.
“Aww, Momma.” I hugged her, clutching her side, unable to say anything more.
“Girl, don’t aww me. If you wait for the walls to melt they’ll show you all the secrets.” Momma’s voice had changed dramatically, and she’d started talking like a little girl staring up at the TV in the corner in somewhat of a daze.
My brow puckered and I shook my head and sighed. News reporters were going crazy about a murder. Some crime boss or something of another named Don Cerzulo. He was a murderer, drug dealer, just more bad news if you asked me.
Here they go glamorizing the murder of someone dying by the sword he lived by. Typical bullshit.
I changed the channel to a soap opera and fluffed Momma’s pillows. It was the Alzheimer’s. The doctor had given me pamphlets to read and it said she’d come and go. One minute she could seem perfectly fine, and the next she could be like she was right that very moment. My cell rang and I stepped outside, hopefully the office was calling me with some good news. Looking around for Devon and Trey, I answered.
“This is Michelle.”
They should have been back awhile ago. Devon was probably teaching him how to X-ray his foot or something crazy, knowing him.
“Michelle Roberts?”
Frowning, I paused, afraid to answer to a name I didn’t use anymore that definitely wasn’t attached to this number.
“Michelle Roberts, my name is Special Agent Harper. I’m with the FBI. We have reason to believe Rasheed White is on his way to or already in Virginia.”
I quickly leaned against the wall beside Momma’s room, my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t tell if I was gonna vomit or pass
out. “No, Rasheed is dead,” I whispered in a barely audible, shaky voice.
“No, ma’am, he’s very much—”
Urgh! I swear I need to switch carriers. If I wasn’t outside or standing on top of a got-damn cell tower, I stayed dropping fucking calls. Why couldn’t I just buy my own damn satellite? This couldn’t be happening. It was all a bad dream, and at any minute I’d wake up. Towanna decided to spring up on me and now this? It’s a wonder I didn’t march my ass up there to the insanity ward and check myself in. I debated whether it would be good to even mention something like this to Momma. Probably be best to wait until after I spoke to this special agent. I wiped the tears from my eyes and fixed my face.
Walking into her room I quickly blurted out, “Momma, sorry to cut this short, but we’ve gotta go.” I tried to sound as chipper as I could so she wouldn’t get suspicious and ask too many questions.
Momma wasn’t in her bed and Lataya wasn’t in her car seat where I’d left her. I flipped the curtain, looking over on the other side of the room. There was a grizzled old woman lying in her bed with nothing but the sound of her oxygen pump. She barely turned to acknowledge me.
He’s already here. I can feel it.
A single window was open next to Momma’s bed and I picked Lataya’s pink and red sock monkey up off the floor. My feet were saying to run outside, but my head was telling me Rasheed had them and he’d kill me if he saw me. If I took one step near the window or the door, I could feel my heart screaming from inside my chest, “I’m going to explode.”
“I knew you’d be out here,” Momma called out.
“Whew, momma, you don’t even know—”
My chest felt like a mule had kicked me, caving it in, and my heart somersaulted at least five times. I screamed, and I screamed so loud it brought half the hospital down on that single room in less time than it’d take a SWAT team to raid a crack house. Someone pushed past me, grabbing Lataya’s tiny limp body out of Momma’s arms. They put her on Momma’s hospital bed, yelling for doctors and intubation tubes and crash carts. A few nurses fought to get Momma restrained and out of the room. They pulled her past me and she looked at me, but it was like she didn’t really see me as she reached for me. Sobbing, I backed away from her and she started yelling at me.
“I baptized her, Mirna, just like you told me to. Ain’t no man gonna ever hurt her. Ever.”
Her eyes were wild and dazed. She didn’t know who I was or where she was.
One of the nurses grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me out of the room. I kept trying to look around her and over her shoulders, clutching that damn sock monkey to my chest pitifully.
“I’m her mother. I need to be in there,” I begged her through my tears, but she just ignored me as they’re trained to do.
I was left to wait miserably outside the door, feeling helpless and irresponsible.
“Michelle? Me and Trey were watching TV in my office I heard a code three to your mom’s room?” Devon’s voice was filled with concern and alarm.
He was holding Trey, trying to look over my shoulder and I couldn’t get past the emotional bubble in my throat to even tell him what happened.
“Mommy, why you crying? Where’s Taya? I got gummy bears for her out the smack machine.” He held up the little yellow bag, shaking it at me.
Hearing Trey ask for her, and not knowing whether she was okay to even answer him, shattered what little composure I had left. I bawled, throwing myself into Devon’s chest.
“Nurse Denise,” Devon called out over my head, “take Trey back to my office if you don’t mind. Cartoons . . .”
“I shouldn’t have left her in there. She seemed fine and was talking. The special agent called and I was looking through the door until he said Rasheed was here. I wasn’t thinking, I just wasn’t thinking.”
My shoulders shook. My whole world shook from me crying so hard. The doctor walked toward the door, his expression unreadable. I tried to see where she was, if she was awake, and I couldn’t see anything past all the nurses in the way. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, like an elephant was sitting on my chest and my heart was exploding, and then everything went black.
I opened my eyes and the room swam dizzily in front of me.
“Easy now, that stuff’s got a kick.” Devon’s voice floated over to me.
I was lying in a hospital bed and my head was killing me. The hospital bed jarred my memory and all the misery I’d felt before surged back over me in an instant. I looked at him, unable to ask, but the question was evident.
“You got so upset; you were hyperventilating. I’m sorry. I just sedated you so you’d breathe, sweetheart.”
He sounded so sincere. I didn’t want to point out that this would be the second time I’d wakened in a hospital bed, drugged by someone I was sleeping with. The “first-time award” goes to Larissa for using me as her voodoo lab rat while experimenting with cocaine and anal sex play.
“Chelle, Lataya,” He shook his head unable to actually say the words. “She had a lot of water in her lungs. Her head had been held under in the sink for a while. Statistics show drowning is one of the most peaceful ways to go though. She didn’t feel a thing . . .”
His voice droned on and on as the doctor in him took over and he tried to explain how peaceful death is. Like he’d drowned and knew firsthand. She didn’t know what was happening to her or why, and I wasn’t there to protect her like I should have been. The hole in my heart opened up all over again and I started crying. I tried to wipe my nose and my hand wouldn’t go any farther up than up to my chin.
“Why am I strapped to this bed?”
Devon gave me that pitying look that I’d seen one time too many. “You were talking about a secret agent calling you. The entire hospital heard you. It was a murder. I had to report it. They filed that on the report. Michelle.” His voice took on a tone of seriousness. “I have to keep you for observation.”
“Keep me for what? Where’s Trey? Devon, let me go please, this isn’t funny,” I half whined, half pleaded with him. When he didn’t look like he was going to even help me anger at everything welled up inside me. “For the record, he was a special agent, and he said Rasheed isn’t dead and he’s on his way to Virginia.”
Devon sat back in the chair beside my bed and put his chin on his thumb. He looked deep in thought.
“I looked this Rasheed White up while you were sleeping. I couldn’t find so much as a birth certificate on him. Called and even got online looking for a Towanna James, Miami PD and Virginia, nothing. I even looked in your phone and there aren’t any secret agent calls. I’m trying to figure out if you and Mrs. White are sharing a delusion. It would explain why you’d be at her house living out of suitcases and why you’d both share this Rasheed person. I can’t help you unless you help me help you, Michelle.”
A guttural animalistic wail escaped my lips and I yanked against the taught leashes on my wrists. He had to be joking. There was no way this could be happening.
“They erased it for some reason. I don’t know. Where the fuck did my kids come from, then?”
“I’m not even supposed to tell you that the real police are running Trey through their database of missing children. They wanted to take him. He’s okay to stay with me. Denise has offered to help me watch him. I’ll let you rest. I know it’s been a rough day.”
Chapter 21
Wheels of Steel
I didn’t sleep as lightly as I used to. If I did I would have known this crazy little girl was in my room with a knife pressed to my throat. There was so much grief and so many drugs in my body I couldn’t even feel afraid, and could barely feel the blade. My body was practically numb. Instead, I cried and pressed my throat farther onto it.
“You let her die,” this girl spoke to me in a breathless whisper and her eyes only spoke of vague drugged sadness, pain, and death. They were Lataya’s eyes and I didn’t know if she was a ghost or an angel or a real person, but staring into them made me hurt even more
..
“I didn’t let anything. How do I live every day of my life loving and protecting someone else’s child and then one day, just one day we’re fine and she has pancake flour everywhere and then they wouldn’t even let me hold her hand. She didn’t have her sock monkey . . .”
The pain I felt at losing Lataya was like nothing I’d ever experienced and I let the dam that had been holding back all the helplessness and hurt break. I was flooded with drugged hazy thoughts of what Lataya might have felt, what she might have thought, the fact that she probably looked for me or reached out for me and I couldn’t get to her haunted me. I closed my eyes and waited for that knife to cut into my throat.
“At least you got to hold her. Your life, for her life,” she said in the faintest whisper.
Her voice was frightening and haunting, especially since I couldn’t figure out if she was real.
I didn’t care. I was tired of running and fighting. Always looking over my shoulder and not being able to trust anyone. It would be more like self assisted suicide than murder because in that second death sounded like a peaceful option.
“Take it because if you don’t Rasheed will, since the agent said he’s somewhere nearby.” Exhausted I waited for the blade to tear through my neck. Trey would finally be safe. I’d put money into a college fund and a trust fund for him. He was his daddy’s son after all, he could survive anything.
Voices stopped outside my door and I opened my eyes. I looked around as best as I could but my damn restraints only let me lean so far. She had to be in this bitch somewhere, unless I was dreaming. That wasn’t a dream, that was a straight up hellafied nightmare. They were giving me so much shit to keep me “sane” it was making me crazy. Devon walked in staring intently at his clipboard.
“How are we feeling today sweetheart?” He asked.
Baby Momma Saga, Part 2 Page 16