Baby Momma Saga, Part 2

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  “Yes, that was Rasheed.” I answered her cautiously, scared of what she was about to do or how she’d react to the news.

  She turned and looked at me as if she’d just seen me for the first time all day. “Michelle? Where the hell you been? I ever tell you how I met Rasheed’s father?”

  Not in the mood for any more of her stories, I held up my hand and said, “I think you have.”

  She frowned, and went back to la-la land.

  Devon had gone all quiet and pensive on me, and Reena just sat there, staring off into space. He seemed like he had a mind full of questions to ask, but settled on staring down at the pavement instead.

  The police pulled up, and we were swarmed with activity.

  “Someone called; I need to see the person who committed the homicide,” a rough voice called out.

  I glanced at Devon and he had the same confused look that I did. Homicide? How could he possibly call it that without hearing our side of the story? We looked up in unison as a tall man with the presence of an ominous thundercloud approached us. Everything about him from his suit up to the top of his head reeked of this darkness.

  Devon began to step forward and I pressed ahead of him. “I shot him. He’d taken us against our will and I was struggling with him for his gun.”

  He gave me a gruff nod. “Glad you’ve decided to cooperate.” His hand pressed at the small of my back, pushing me toward a black sedan. “It’ll make it easier to request a less severe form of punishment for that actress you shot back at that restaurant. Hopefully she won’t press charges.”

  Actress! Nobody shot an actress. What the hell?

  The car door slammed curtly in my face with the ending of that statement. Impossible, they had it all wrong. One of the witnesses must have seen or reported something inaccurately. Reaching for the handle, dread was all that met my fingertips in the sensation of smooth, molded leather. There were no handles in the back seat, and a Plexiglas divider cut off access to the front seats. The man who led me to the car was speaking to Devon, who was holding Trey. They’d turned and he was making hand gestures, pointing toward the hospital. Pounding my fists against the window, I screamed and yelled. It had to be some kind of reinforced glass.

  The car shifted as someone got into the driver’s seat. I was so busy trying to get Devon’s attention I didn’t see who it was. The Plexiglas distorted my view of the other side. I clawed at the plastic divider, growled, screamed, and kicked at it, but just like that damn window, I didn’t even put a scratch on it. Feeling like a complete idiot, I remembered my cell and jerked it out of my pocket. I had 8 percent of a charge left. That would be enough to make a call or send a short text, but not both. I tapped a quick message to Devon.

  They think I shot some actress. Need a lawyer.

  * * *

  I almost snapped that pretty piece of shit phone in half when it vibrated.

  Message send failure. No service.

  * * *

  The car rolled for what seemed like forever. It finally stopped moving and I tried to get my bearings. We’d stopped in front of storage rental area. The driver walked over and opened my door.

  “We’ve been ordered to shoot on site if you run.”

  Nodding my understanding, I timidly climbed out of the back seat. He led me over to a storage unit. The metal door slid up with a loud clanking sound that shook me all the way down to my core. It was a sound that rang of last words or last rights. I peered inside, waiting to see my executioner in there. The only thing visible was a single fold-out metal chair beside what looked like an old card table.

  “Sit, this won’t take long.” The driver spoke in a curt tone.

  The sound of the door sliding down in place made claustrophobia set in instantly. The space was small and dank. Mildew and mold seemed to be the scent of the evening. It made me think of spiders, brown recluses, and black widows. My skin was starting to crawl, and I tried to focus on anything but what could or couldn’t be in that space.

  Thankfully the door slid up just as I was about to lose all my nerve, get up, and start banging on it. He didn’t introduce himself or even say anything. Simply strolled in and slid it across the table: thick green paper with fine printed handwriting in blue ink.

  “What is this?” I stared at it, straining my eyes to read the wording, afraid to touch it.

  “Sign it. It’s an agreement.” He paused, waiting for me to read it. I didn’t move. “It says you murdered Rasheed because we asked you to. We paid you with money from our fund and even gave you the gun he was shot with. There are bank transfer slips, six overall backdated to various points in time. When I give the okay, the money will go into your account and it will look like it’s always been there. It’s the only way I can help you.”

  It sounded like the losing end of a deal to me . . .

  “I don’t understand who are you; what fund am I getting paid from?”

  If something went wrong, I’d be signing something saying I conspired to murder Rasheed. There was no way a judge or court anywhere would let me off with that.

  “We can’t help you otherwise. It’s a sinking ship and you’re standing on the bow, Michelle. This is your lifesaver.”

  My hand shook as I scribbled a barely legible version of my name. He clicked open his briefcase, placing the papers that determined my future inside.

  “Tell no one. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 25

  Secret Agent Man

  It was about time spring started showing its ass. I was getting restless with all the cold: gray doom and gloom. You could see all the signs, fresh buds, melting ice, and twitter-pated squirrels. Spring was becoming my new favorite time of year. The air was losing the brisk chill from winter, and we were getting some of the warmer days everyone yearned for minus the humidity and the bugs.

  It’d been four months since Lataya’s funeral. It was the only thing about those events that I chose to mark on my calendar. She wasn’t my baby, but in my heart that little girl would always be my baby. I’d like to think that being with me even for that short time was heaven before Heaven for her.

  Devon had been stressing and having a multitude of fits. It seemed like every day he’d get a call from this lawyer or that lawyer with a detail or another bit of information on the case concerning his step-mother. It was hard on his family and tearing him apart. I’h no idea Devon owned the hospital, and every day he was being asked to furnish a financial record for this holding or financial evidence backing that holding. I’d gone online and done some research. I tried to explain they were doing it to all the families, not just him. Every dime she extorted had to be accounted for.

  The case was becoming so intricate that he was looking into another facility to move Reena to, and I didn’t blame him one bit. Things finally seemed calm enough for me to start working a little more. I took on a manager to help make decisions on major closings, but an absent owner would be a broke owner. I tried to step in on major closings when I could or at least help with properties that they were having problems moving. Too much turbulence and my ass would get airsick, so I tried to stay put as much as possible.

  I’d just landed and was trying to remember where I’d parked my car in the garage. I’d closed on a $4.5 million waterfront property that we hadn’t been able to move for a year and was damn excited. The seller was threatening to find a new agent, and we’d moved it just in time. My phone died on the flight, and I cursed when I didn’t see my car charger in the car.

  Not having my cell was like leaving the house without a shirt on. Frustrated, I slammed the hell out the car door, cursing silently. Those silent curses turned into shouts when my damn car wouldn’t start. Opening the glove compartment to get my AAA card a tiny black laminated card fell to the floor on the passenger side. I picked it up and read the silver letters, with, my lunch slowly making its way up throat.

  * * *

  You are activated. Instructions will follow.

  * * *

  Ev
erything stopped moving. The armpits of my blouse and blazer jacket were instantly soaked.

  Activated? What the hell was I going to have to do?

  A yellow cab squealed to a stop behind my car and I almost fainted from the sound. Dust flew up and engine exhaust hit my nose. The purr of the engine echoed through the garage. I swiveled to look out the back window as the cab driver leaned over and yelled out the window in a heavy accent.

  “You get in, now.”

  He nodded toward the back seat, his black leather fedora bobbing on his head.

  I reluctantly got in and he sped off. Arabian music was blaring out of the speakers as we bounced out of the airport garage. I could feel myself getting nauseous as nerves built on top of nerves.

  This wasn’t the kind of person I was. What the fuck had I signed? Why the fuck did I sign that shit? I didn’t even read it; I just scribbled my name because the man in the suit said do it. My dumb ass didn’t even ask him for identification.

  I couldn’t call Devon. I couldn’t call the police. I’d felt better with a gun pointed at my head; at least then I knew what the outcome to that would be. He flew down Military Highway and I noted landmarks, car dealerships, IHOP. We got on the interstate going toward downtown Norfolk. He stopped in front of an old office building on Granby Street.

  “You’re here,” he shouted to me over the music.

  I looked around, trying to figure out where “here” was. I got out and stood staring at the crumbled front of the building, trying to figure out if I was supposed to just go in or what. The doors swung open and a young woman in a black pantsuit came toward me.

  “Michelle, follow me.” She turned and walked back inside without waiting.

  “What am I doing?” I asked her shakily.

  “You’ve been activated. Follow me for your objective briefing,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  She led me through the building, up a stairwell, and across a mezzanine. I followed shakily, not sure if I’d make it without falling out first. We walked up another stairwell and we got onto a service elevator. She stood in front of me and I debated trying to hit her on the back of the head like I’d seen in movies. Knocking her out and running. Something wasn’t right. I looked to see what button she pressed and in that moment she stepped off through the front elevator door, and my ears went super sonar a split second too late as the back service door of the elevator opened behind me.

  Someone grabbed me, and instinctively I slammed the heel of my pump down. The joy I felt at the yelp of pain I’d elicited was short-lived as I whirled around my hand poised mid-throat chop.

  “What the fuck, Devon? You scared the fuckin’ fuck out of me!” I screamed in his face, punching his arm.

  The elevator stopped and the doors in front of me opened onto the main floor of a breathtaking hotel suite. I gasped in awe, my hands flying up to cover my mouth. There were vases of bright yellow calla lilies, pink and white tiger lilies, and birds of paradise, all over the suite.

  Devon sucked in his bottom lip turning bright red. “The plan was scoop you up, kiss your neck, and ask if you were ready to be debriefed. Then um, debrief you as in “get the panties, but you went all Charlie’s Angels on me,” he mumbled sheepishly, as he escorted me off the elevator. “It just all worked out so perfect in my head . . .”

  “Aww, baby.” I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him.

  Devon tried to talk against my lips. “Statistics show relationships that start off dramatically—”

  “Boy, I know your ass ain’t up in here quotin’ lines from the movie Speed.” I kissed his nose sweetly. “I’ve had enough drama in one lifetime that you don’t need to do none of this, not this. I don’t mean the room. I like this part, the room is good. But, all that other stuff . . .” I shook my head. “I can do without that.”

  He smiled, nuzzling my nose with his. I was thankful when he didn’t nuzzle any lower, because all that adrenaline and running around had me wanting a shower. As if he read my mind, he took my hand and smiled, walking not to the bathroom but toward the bed. I started to say something until I saw the Olympic-sized Jacuzzi bathtub not three steps away. But he didn’t go to the bath; he went past that.

  “Baby? Umm.” I pointed and pouted sadly at the inviting water.

  “You’re not dirty enough for a bath yet.” He responded in that authoritative, seductive voice of his, and I instantly got chills.

  It’s one thing to have a man who knows what the hell he’s doing in the bedroom, but you’ve got a beast of a completely different nature when he ain’t scared to experiment. My legs were straddling his face and I’d just gotten his sleep magic number down. So I was working it. Sucking and simultaneously stroking him to the damn finish line. He had the dick game down but, I couldn’t lie, the head game still needed work. He needed to learn my sleep magic number. That’s when you know exactly how, where, and how many times to lick, suck, or flick. Some might need a nipple twist or their clit sucked hard; some women don’t like it sucked they like it rubbed. Whatever it is, you know exactly what the magic number is before that head game puts your boo to sleep. Well, he ain’t know all that.

  I knew he was in the final stretch. His stomach was flexing and I could feel him swelling in my hand and in my mouth, when I started vibrating. Not a small vibrating, but I almost shot up off him and backed back down. He’d gone and bought a big-ass dildo. I mean, like one that I would have gone and bought myself if he was gonna be gone on a long business trip. I tried to scoot back on it because it was feeling super nice and then “pop.”

  Oh no, he didn’t. I know we’d had the ass discussion. It was off limits.

  My ass was plugged and it was vibrating, and my clit was still vibrating, and it wasn’t bad, it was just so much vibrating that I couldn’t tell if I liked it all at once. So I licked my pinky and slid it in. See how much he liked it. One second I was holding the dick and voila it went from being magically delicious to feeling magically delicious.

  “Oh, you wanna play in asses?” He roared, “You forget that I’m the nigga?”

  Each word was accented with a pussy-clenching, sheet-tangling, mattress-shifting, power pump that slid me across the bed. It was the worst, best punishment ever.

  “Damn! Yes, you are. I’m sorry.” I moaned and whined.

  Devon stroked my pussy with the determination of a man with OCD methodically stroking a cat. They’d be long and rhythmically deep. I agreed with him, apologized, and probably thanked him in advance until he’d find those bittersweet spots that’d make my legs tremble. All I could do at that point was hold on, and then everything stopped. Exasperated, I clawed his thighs with my nails. Devon grabbed my wrists and leaned forward, pinning them above my head. He kissed me and I moaned against his lips, wiggling my hips, trying to get him to move.

  “Tell me what you want,” he directed.

  When I merely frowned up at him not answering, he pulsed in between my legs, making my walls clench in reflex and my eyes cross. Devon made me aware that no matter what happened on a day-to-day basis, when we got down to us, man to woman, skin to skin, it was okay to want or even like for someone else to be in control. I didn’t have to pretend to be unbreakable or invincible. Although sometimes I just liked pretending so he’d try to break me.

  “I want you. I don’t want anybody but you, baby,” I whispered helplessly. I was lost and loving every bit of it.

  “Good, now you’ve earned your bath, and when you’re done maybe I’ll give you the present I bought you.” He grinned and I wondered what the hell he was up to. It was too damn early for a ring. It’d better not be a damn ring. I watched his thigh muscles flex as he kneeled to adjust the water and turn on the jets in the tub. Trey was with Denise so I knew he was in good hands, but I didn’t know about this whole surprise business. I hated surprises. People never seemed to give you exactly what you wanted or expected. The room was beyond nice; it was on some all out honeymoon suite type shit. At the moment, the last thing I want
ed to do was have a Twix moment on this nigga because he’d popped out a promise, engagement, or even a damn friendship ring.

  Devon brought me a glass of moscato once I’d eased myself into the water. He’d remembered that I didn’t really like champagne. I was so nervous I downed the glass. You definitely shouldn’t drink in hot tubs, It makes the smallest amount of alcohol go straight to your head.

  “Okay, no peeking. I promise you’ll love me for it.” He handed me a damp wash cloth.

  Laying it over my eyes, I put my head back with a sigh. The jets were loud so I strained to hear what he was doing. A glass touched my lips and I took a sip rolling my eyes at his attempt to get me drunk. Okay, more moscato. He pressed up against me, removing the washcloth. I was instantly teleported back to the hospital. My heart had to have skipped at least five solid beats. She was right there pressed up against me, the girl with Lataya’s eyes. The back of the Jacuzzi scraped my back and water splashed everywhere as I panicked and tried to climb out. I was scared to take my eyes off of her to see where Devon was. Her hand quickly flew up, covering my mouth, and she smiled, shaking her head at me.

  Where was Devon? Did he set me up? Was he hurt?

  Chapter 26

  Twisted Sister

  “Hi, Michelle. Did you miss me?” she asked.

  It was Honey’s voice. I was dead certain of that, but it wasn’t her face. I squinted at her like a Monet, but aside from her eyes, I just couldn’t see the baby-faced bitch I knew. Devon moaned from somewhere behind me, it sounded like the bed. Honey grinned at the sound.

  “Oops, I might have drugged y’alls wine a little bit. See after Rah oh, wait, they think you shot me, huh? Hmm, wonder how that happened? Well, either way, it hurt like a mothafucka. I was tryin’ to get a refill on my oxy while I’m in the E.R. and I overhear a nurse on her break talkin’ all quiet to who? Your boo, Dr. Harrington, on the phone. He’s telling her how he’s tryin’ to find a girlfriend for his girlfriend.” Honey explained.