Baby Momma 3

by Ni'chelle Genovese

  Anyhow, we’d taken our money and gotten her hair permed and cut into one of those little bobs with the bang that’s pointy and long on one side. It framed her face, accenting that big-ass mol . . . I mean beauty mark. I remember stepping back, looking at my baby-doll-faced perfection on many an occasion. No one would have ever guessed she’d gone from a hooker to a looker.

  It took two years for her to woo that man and get married. But that was two years of extra money so we was off the street. We were enjoying gifts and all the luxuries that come with dating rich men. I had her treat this one the same as the last one. Slowly made sure she had all the details, got everything changed into her name. I wasn’t worried about Lacy skipping out on me like Royce did. Lacy was loyal.

  Another one down and unlike the first time Lacy actually came through; she only missed a couple of minor details but we still had a payout of hundreds of thousands each. We had a way to take a life with nothing pointing to foul play. It’d looked like he’d had a heart attack, no chemicals in his blood stream, absolutely nothing.

  However, I wanted millions and so did she. Anyone who’s ever gone fishing knows you’ve got to follow the tide and venture out if you want to catch bigger fish. We went up north to Philadelphia, following the money flow. Rented out a place and in less than a week’s time I had four girls working for me in exchange for a place to stay, protection, and bail money. I always remembered the look on Royce’s face the day she took off with her millions. Lacy and me didn’t have that look just yet though. No, if we actually went out and bought the mansion we wanted with the fleet of matching Mercedes we’d be broke.

  It took me drawing her a pie chart on paper before she barely understood how millionaires got that way. A mansion cost millions and we only had hundreds of thousands. Million-dollar property came with a million-dollar property tax. She was addicted to all the diamonds, champagne, and flashy parties. I’d modified Frankie’s business practice, only taking a fair percentage of my girls’ money and Lacy was blowing through it like Kleenex.

  We lived like this for years. The entire time my sister thought I’d just found a job out of state. I could never send her more than enough to scrape by with at a time. If she knew anything she’d have blown through it, or run her mouth in the streets and raised suspicion. We were making so much off the girls I started stashing money to keep Lacy from finding and running through it. When Lacy came and told me she’d run across a wealthy widower in the steel industry I was thanking my lucky stars. Then, I sat there and plucked every last one of those stars out of my unlucky sky. She came and told me the man’s mother passed the very day before he was set to die. Lacy stuck me with his spoiled, miserable heathen of a child. I had no choice but to get rid of him. Told her she’d never pick her own mark again. That child was something that’d been on my conscious to this day.

  We all packed up and went to Jersey near Alpine after that. A lot of good years were spent there. Think we had two or maybe three weddings in Jersey. Then there came a time when Lacy thought she was just too grand to be living with me and the girls. She even thought she could pick her next one. She pointed out five and I said no to them all, showing her who I liked instead, better targets. She went ahead anyway and I couldn’t work with her anymore. Not like that.

  “Dr. Harrington, how well did you like your step-mother? I don’t think she goes by Lacy though. By the time she met your daddy she was probably calling herself Melanie Mal . . .”

  Chapter 23

  Psychics Get Called Crazy—Until They’re Right

  “Melanie Malia.” Devon’s voice was barely above a childlike whisper coming through the loud speaker. Static crackled through it and then the intercom went silent.

  I didn’t know what to think of Reena’s story; the woman could have told me she was a royal cat burglar for the Queen of England and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. None of it was gonna bring my little girl back though. All this story time and power-hour crazy house shit was pointless. I wasn’t crazy; everybody including Reena was. The lights dimmed and I could barely make out the other side of the room. The panel window had gone dark, showing nothing, reflecting nothing. Reena was still there, singing at the top of her lungs. It was her rendition of “Amazing Grace” and “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

  “No one would know my stepmother’s name, let alone her maiden name; how’d she do that?” Devon asked the question from behind me.

  I shrugged. “Maybe because she obviously knows what she’s talking about.”

  “No one could know what she’s talking about. I didn’t even find out myself until a little over a week ago. They’d told us she was suspected of murdering all her late husbands. They couldn’t press any charges because there was no murder weapon, nothing linking the deaths except her being their widow. It hasn’t gone public yet but it’s only a matter of time.”

  He undid the straps on my hands and kneeled in front of me.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but the first thing you told me was don’t trust the police, and I turned around and trusted their word about you, over you. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He put his head in my lap and I argued a vicious inner battle with myself.

  It’s not like we’ve known each other forever, he was just doing what he felt was right.

  Leaning down I kissed his ear softly, saying, “I thought you were completely insane too when we first met. On that, we are even. But just so you know, I do get to drug you at least once in this lifetime and you can’t be mad.”

  He smiled up at me as he unlatched my ankles.

  “You can drug me whenever you want and I wouldn’t complain. Let’s get your clothes and get you out of here. We can go get Trey and then you can rest.”

  “So by letting me go without the police or anyone’s permission, that doesn’t make me a criminal does it?” The last thing I needed was more drama to explain later down the road; wake up and my whole identity was gone, except for this one visit to the psych ward.

  “I wrote everything up before I even came down to get you. You are fine and clear to go, per the doctor’s orders.“

  Clearing my throat I hesitated. “Have, um, arrangements been made for Lataya yet?”

  Devon got that clinical look that he used to break any news he felt would be negative. “I made all the arrangements and took care of everything; it’s scheduled for tomorrow. I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or not to tell you.”

  “Just get me to Trey. I’m ready to get out of here.”

  We rode out to an area near Campostella; it was mostly Section-8 housing and a few overlooked trailer parks. It definitely wouldn’t have been the top of my list of choice areas to send Trey to on a day-to-day basis. Devon went inside to get him while I waited in the car, on high alert. I’d been around Rah and his boys enough in the beginning to know what corner boys looked like. They weren’t anything to worry about unless you bothered them. I was, however, worried about that agent who had called me. I knew I hadn’t dreamed or imagined that phone call. I’d checked my phone and just like Devon said an incoming call didn’t even register during that time frame.

  Something was going on and I didn’t understand what or why, but I felt uneasy and anxious knowing Rah could be anywhere. Trey came outside and I got out giving him the biggest watery squeezy hug. He eventually whined to get in the back so he could finish watching his movie on his iPad.

  “Chelle, you hungry?” Devon put his hand on my knee and squeezed.

  “Can I have cake?” Trey yelled from the backseat.

  I wasn’t but I tried to perk up just a little for Trey since he hadn’t seen me in a week. “I think Ruby Tuesday’s has cupcakes. Devon, does Ruby Tuesday’s have cupcakes?” I asked in the most serious tone like it was up for major discussion.

  “Well, since I’m driving to Ruby Tuesday’s, I think they have cupcakes.” He screamed and Trey screamed.

  “Mommy, can we save Taya cupcake too?”

  I knew it was coming, he’d ask a
nd I’d start crying.

  Devon’s squeezed my knee. “We can do Ruby Tuesday’s another night, Michelle.”

  Shaking my head at him, I wiped my nose and my eyes on my sleeve.

  “Trey, baby, do you remember when we had that talk about heaven and Daddy—”

  “Michelle, can he have his cupcake first?” Devon tried to stop me.

  Before I could finish asking, Trey answered, “I ’member, Mommy, and G-ma told me that she was gonna have to send Taya to heaven. When the walls melt away you can see all the secrets. Did Taya go to heaven already?”

  We pulled into the restaurant parking lot and me and Devon were staring at each other not knowing what to make of Trey’s words. Some minutes later we were all inside seated in our booth. Trey insisted on sitting by himself like a big boy. I was just trying to keep it together. I let him have his way for once, so long as he promised to behave.

  “No. You know you wanted this dick.” Some teenagers behind us were making me rethink the seat and the restaurant all together. There was so much coughing, snickering, and inappropriate chatter going on.

  Frowning, I leaned over and turned Trey’s headphones up on his movie.

  I fiddled with the straw in my soda, debating something that had been floating around in my mind.

  I nudged him with my shoulder, not looking up. “Devon, I have a question.”

  Nudging me back he responded, “I have an answer.”

  I stopped using my straw to pop bubbles in my soda and decided it was time to woman up. Looking him in the eye I said what was on my mind. “I heard you on the phone at the hospital, with a woman that day after I came out of Reena’s room. Who were you talking to?”

  Devon frowned with a look that could have been confusion or, maybe, he was a bit taken aback. He’d started to answer when our waiter came back over. I was about to ask for a new seat when I realized it wasn’t our waiter.

  He slid into the booth next to Trey. One of his hands was underneath the lapel of his jacket. He stared at Trey for a moment in a look of joy or shock before turning to me with those memorable embers of anger and hatred still burning in his eyes.

  “Hey, Michelle, how’ve you been? No letters, no postcards, no forwarding address. It’s like you were trying to move on without a nigga. Scream or draw attention and it’s happening.”

  He nodded down at Trey, who’d barely glanced at him. He was a toddler the last time he’d seen Rah. I never showed him pictures because I wanted him to forget, in the event they ever met again, like now. I wanted Rah to see his son, growing up without him, unaware of him as his father. Trey was watching his owl movie for the fifth time in a row, not paying any mind to the adults at the table.

  Rah put his arm around Trey, sliding off his headphones, tapping at his iPad. “What you got there, li’l man?” Rah asked Trey, his voice cracking, choked up with emotion.

  “My iPad,” Trey whispered.

  Rasheed started tapping on the screen. He put his head against Trey’s. “You know what that word says?” he asked Trey, sniffing quietly.

  Trey shook his head up and down and his eyes got wide. “That’s ‘daddy.’ My daddy is in heaven and—”

  “What are you doing here?” I quickly snapped at him destroying their bittersweet moment. The last thing I needed was for Trey to get talkative.

  “I’m trying to find my moms. A little birdie pointed me in the direction of that fancy mental hospital. Imagine how exciting it was to see my favorite person in the passenger seat at the light beside me, when I was tryin’ to find it.”

  “No. You just high as fuck and technically both y’all were fighting over this d-i-c-k,” the guy behind me bellowed and laughed.

  The teens in the booth were getting loud and a few restaurant guests were casting annoyed and disgruntled glances their way. I was praying it would be enough of a distraction to get a manager or a waiter over.

  “Big!” Rah jumped up, looking over our heads but his hand was still too close to his gun.

  Damn, is that Big Baby? Guess they’re just gonna have themselves a reunion up—

  Devon nudged me and I looked down. I took his cue and slowly reached underneath the table, blindly feeling for his hand. He handed me the car keys.

  “If I can take him you go,” Devon mumbled, his lips barely moving.

  “Hold up, Rasheed? Dawg.” The guy in the booth who had been making all that noise behind me addressed Rah, sounding excited.

  “I know that ain’t no motherfuckin’ Rasheed, triflin’, hoing, nasty, druggy, dopin’ ass.”

  I didn’t recognize the hoarse, raspy woman’s voice coming from directly behind me.

  I looked at Devon dumbfounded; he shrugged in return. Neither of us could see over the high-rested back of the booth seats but I was able to lean just enough to see through a small gap between the booth walls. The raspy voice was Shiree.

  “You left me to run back to Big Baby? Really? Did you get rid of the baby too? I actually loved your ass.” Rasheed actually sounded hurt. I stared at him in awe, no this fool was not still making damn babies.

  “Oh so, nigga, you loved her ass, huh?”

  I mouthed the words “oh no” to Devon. I knew that voice just as well as I knew my own. That was Honey and she did not by any means need to see me up in here with Trey having dinner without Lataya. I tried to peek and get a glimpse of her but there was no way to do it without drawing attention to myself. The sound of her voice jarred me back to that night in my hospital room but the sedatives they’d given me were so strong I could barely remember it now. It felt like a dream and the girl I’d seen and heard didn’t even look like Honey. She might have been a cousin or someone I didn’t know if she was ever even there. But, Honey was right here right now and God help me because I didn’t even have the one person she wanted back from me.

  “Look you high as fuck, we don’t need to handle this right here, just let it go girl,” Big said.

  From all the stories Rasheed’s momma had told me, I was pretty sure she had a million and one “oh, shit” and “oh, no” moments. It explained why her hair had grayed all the hell out. I couldn’t help wondering if it was a gradual change or if after one too many the whole thing just sprouts.

  “Nah, this is exactly who I need to be handling. This is why it all started. So this is where it’s ending. Right here, right the fuck now. Because even though I’m the one who got locked up behind yo’ ass, had your baby, and then got you out of prison, you’re gonna stand here and say you loved her?” Honey shrieked at Rasheed.

  Please just don’t let anyone come around this corner, look down, and see me. I’d rather take a gun and shoot myself than have to say what happened out loud if anyone asks where the baby’s at right now. It would just be too much for me to answer.

  It was as if the director had yelled “action” and we were dropped smack in the middle of a bad Western. The cold metallic clink of guns cocking behind our heads was unmistakable. Customers started running out of the place. The most I could do was hope that we got out of there with a mild flesh wound. If you’ve ever heard an M-80 go off in the middle of a packed hallway in between classes, that’s what a gunshot in a restaurant sounds like. The sound hurt my ears and Trey cried out, throwing his hands over his before crawling under the table and into my lap. It was akin to raindrops on unsuspecting ants. The people and staff who hadn’t started fleeing ran ducking and screaming, scattered in various directions toward exits.

  “Pull a gun on me over a kid who ain’t even mine? That’s that bullshit. Get y’all asses the fuck up, take me to see my momma.”

  We rushed out of the restaurant to the sound of sirens wailing in the distance.

  Chapter 24

  Hit the Brakes Like Errrrrrrrrrrrrr

  We drove in silence, me sitting in the back with Trey. I wanted them to have as little contact as physically possible. The less the better; he’d just accepted the fact that his daddy was in heaven. I couldn’t just Pet Cemetary Rasheed back i
nto his life even though everyone seemed to keep jumping back into mine.

  Devon led us in through the admin entrance so Rasheed wouldn’t get asked for ID and go on a shooting spree to get to his mom. I couldn’t figure out where the hell the special agent was now who had called me earlier. If they had so much intelligence out there and they were that worried why weren’t they watching the hospital the moment his momma was brought in?

  We followed Devon up through the back entrance and I was hoping he had some kind of plan. None of the nurses were aware that we were walking hostages. How the hell do you blink a distress message at someone?

  “Every now and again, I’ll have high-profile patients or people who need to get in or out without a ton of publicity. They’ll be in an area where the rules will need to be altered a little. I’ll have your mother brought up to the 5th floor you’ll be fine; the staff is used to it.”

  Devon’s words reassured Rasheed, simultaneously squashing any hope I had for a random act of assistance. Rah paced the length of floor until his mother was just outside.

  “Is that my momma? Why she strapped down like that? Let her in,” Rasheed growled at the door like a wounded bear.

  “She’s dangerous and unstable. She might not know who you are.”

  “Man, fuck outta here with that. That’s my mom; she knows me.”

  Devon nodded and she was rolled in, he then dismissed the nurses. It was a bittersweet reunion. Rasheed was teary-eyed trying to hug his momma; she was doped up and strapped to the bed.

  “Rasheed? Boy, they’d told me you passed on. Second saddest day of my life. Where’ve you been, what happened?”