“Good I’m glad she don’t!” Kenya didn’t realize the time allotted for the call had expired and Tangy had been disconnected as she went on screaming into the phone’s receiver. “’Cause her crazy-ass is the reason God marked me and I can’t ever have any kids of my own! So fuck you and her!”
Slamming the phone down, Kenya grabbed for the small box of tissue in the drawer of the nightstand. Lying back on the pillow, it then dawned on her what extremely personal information she’d just blurted out to Tangy.
Oh damn! No, I didn’t just say that to that bitch! It didn’t take long to then realize her man Storm was standing right in the doorway in between the bathroom and bedroom.
“Kenya, what did you just say?” Storm felt betrayed that what he definitely overheard her saying she chose to say to a total nobody first, instead of him. “Is that what the doctor said? You can’t have any babies?”
Not knowing what to say or what to do, Kenya mouthed the word no and decided to just lie there looking dumbfounded. It was like she was now living a dream or watching television. All she wanted to do was stop stripping and she did that, moved away from Detroit and she accomplished that, run a legal business making lots of money and of course Alley Cats solved that. Praying for a good, loyal, or at least halfway decent man was on the top of her list like every other normal bitch in the world. Thankfully Kenya had found that in Storm and now, through no fault of her own, she wouldn’t ever be able to give him a baby.
Even when the three or four specialists explained it was some sort of inherited reproductive genetic trait that must have magically skipped her identical twin, Kenya knew it was God’s way of paying her back for killing Chocolate Bunny’s unborn child. Now knowing what she knew and London being pregnant with Storm’s seed, she balled up in the fetal position refusing to discuss anything with him.
Storm didn’t press his girl to talk because he knew how hurt she was. It was evident by the expression on her face. The 100 percent truth of the matter was he himself was devastated about the heartbreaking discovery. Hell motherfucking yeah, he was excited about being a father to his and London’s baby in a few weeks, but that still didn’t mean he didn’t look forward to having more children in the near future with Kenya, who would soon be his wife. Not knowing what to say to console her, Storm dropped his head leaving the bedroom.
London
“Hey, Storm!” London stood hopeful at the bottom of the stairs as he came down. “Is my sister okay? What’s wrong with her?”
“She’ll tell you when she’s ready,” he said taking his hand and rubbing her stomach as he had done the day before.
As O.T. observed London not resisting his brother touching her, he knew he’d better step up his game before Storm was banging both twins on the regular.
Chapter 17
If It Ain’t . . .
Storm
The next morning Storm got up early leaving the condo without even waking up his brother who, for some strange reason, had been acting distant toward him. He had a few important prearranged meetings with the heating and cooling contractor as well as the painter. Arriving on time they all did a detailed walkthrough of the work that was completed at Alley Cats along with an update on finishing the remaining portion of work.
Tying up all the loose ends of his first stop of the day, Storm pulled out the newly paved parking lot on the way to his lawyer’s office. Having an appointment at twelve o’clock sharp to pick up his freshly drawn paperwork, he sat in his car calling Brother Rasul’s connect as requested, confirming he’d be on time for the drop-off later that day.
“Yeah, I know where.”
“Seven,” was all the caller said.
“I’ll be on time,” Storm replied as he turned off his car and went inside the tall office building.
Police
“Listen up. Keep a low profile on the Christian brothers,” Malloy radioed to both his officers on surveillance duty. “We just got some crazy evidence from a crime scene we over here working and by the looks of things something might jump off in the next few days and we wanna be ready.”
“Okay,” the first one remarked back. “O.T. is just leaving out the front door, so I’m on him.”
“Yeah, Malloy, Storm just left his club and is now inside of some office building downtown near police headquarters,” the other reported as he downed a bottled ice water.
“Both of you just be on alert,” Malloy advised.
Placing his two-way radio back on the seat of the unmarked Town Car, Malloy rejoined his partner, Kendrick, and three homicide detectives who were searching the apartment of a murder victim: eighteen-year-old Alexander Robinson Jr., known to all his family and friends as Coonee. More than a month and a half late on his rent, the landlord knocked on the door of her young tenant to notify him the bailiff would be there the next day so he needed to vacate her premises or take the risk of his personal belongings being thrown into the streets.
Instead of being able to issue him a warning she found his door ajar and entered the premises to see what if any damages were done to her property. Five minutes of being inside snooping she saw Coonee’s feet sticking out from under a pile of dirty clothes and screamed repeatedly causing the next door neighbor to call the police. When the cops got there securing the perimeter, the evidence tech soon arrived. Less than five minutes later he gathered items off the bathroom floor letting them know Marco Meriwether had definitely been staying there.
O.T.
Peeking in on London who was lying in bed reading a book, O.T. asked her if she needed anything before he left. Reminding her that the doctor wanted her to get as much rest as possible in these last weeks before her due date, London promised to take it easy. He could tell she seemed preoccupied with something, but she was acting hush-hush.
O.T. knew the importance of chasing down Marco making him pay for Boz’s death and the other ridiculous shit he’d pulled, but decided to put that task on hold while he handled some personal business. Getting in his car starting the engine he blasted the music loudly disrespecting the neighbors as he took off flying down the block. The officer parked at the far end of the street barely had the opportunity to turn around and catch up.
Having direct orders to stay on O.T. by any means necessary the officer would do his best.
First going to the mall, O.T. turned in valet parking, tossing the attendant his keys. After a couple of hours he exited with over $1,000 worth of baby clothes and accessories. Even though money was tight for him, he chose to go in his emergency stash and do something that would win London’s heart. Another store followed that trip to the mall, followed by a couple more.
Next, zooming down the highway on the edge of the state line, O.T. dipped into an apartment complex where he grabbed some brochures and a rental application. Looking at his cell phone to see what time it was, he had one last stop to make to ensure his life would stop being as chaotic as it had been. He parked his car in a space labeled VISITORS ONLY as he entered the secluded two-story building to make his peace.
Storm
Strolling out the law office with a manila envelope tucked under his arm, Storm had a huge grin on his face as he got in his car speeding away. Knowing Kenya was probably hungry he stopped at the local deli, buying her a hot corned beef sandwich on onion roll.
Also thinking about London, who was carrying his child, he ordered her the exact same thing figuring they had the same taste. Storm was gonna go home to try kicking it with Kenya and let her know that baby or no baby he was in her corner, rest up a little while, and chill until the designated time for the drop-off. He was in the best mood he’d been in for months because after tonight, he’d be back on top. Royce, his number one competitor, was out the picture, leaving no one to challenge his takeover bid of the Dallas drug game.
Coming in the house and upstairs he stopped by London’s room first, tapping on the closed door. Hearing her give him the okay he entered her room.
“Hey, Storm.” London was stil
l reading her book.
“Here you go. I got you something to eat on if you get hungry later.”
“It smells like corned beef. Is it?” London turned up her lip putting her hands up.
“Yeah, it is.” Storm wondered what was wrong when he saw her reaction. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I’m allergic to that kind of meat.”
“Dang, your sister loves this shit!” He laughed. “Y’all is different as day and night.”
“That’s what our grandmother used to say before she passed.” London got sad.
“Well look over this and see do this make ya ass break out in bumps and hives!” Storm winked handing London the envelope he’d gotten from his lawyer as he shut her door and went to check on Kenya. Seeing that his woman was up and standing out on the balcony looking at the trees in the backyard he took that as a sign that maybe she was ready to talk to him about the tragic news they both learned the night before. “Hey, Kenya. How you feeling, sweetie?”
“Oh, hey.” She tightened her robe.
“I stopped by your spot and bought you your favorite.”
“Yeah, I can smell it from way over here.” She turned stepping back inside the glass door. “Thank you.”
“No problem, but before you eat I wanna tell you something.” Storm led Kenya to the bed where they both sat down. “Listen, I’m not gonna lie. I knew in my heart that someday we were gonna have kids and there was nothing in the world that would’ve made me happier than for us to have a beautiful daughter who looked like you or a son who was, well, you know what I mean.”
“Well we both know that shit ain’t gonna happen.”
Storm reached over holding Kenya in his arms. “That’s what I wanna tell you.” He vowed, “None of that matters to me. The bottom line is that me and you got the rest of our lives to do our thang. We got some many things going on that right now or even a few years from now that we need to straighten out that a baby wouldn’t immediately fit into the game plan.”
“Okay, that sounds all good and all, but you about to have a baby. So you already made it clear that you were gonna be there for him.”
Storm was quiet for a moment. “You right and I am, but from a distance. When this deal is over this evening, with thanks to you for making it happen, and my cash flow gets back to normal, me and you can get married and go on a long vacation. London is a grown-ass woman and will have to stand on her own. Me and you will work out something with her together about joint custody or at least frequent visitation rights. Shit, the white man do this bull all day and make it work!”
“I know but—”
“No buts, Kenya.” Storm promised, opening the bag with her sandwich inside, “Me and you ain’t about to let nothing come between our love. You already know what it is! Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes, I trust you.”
“Good, then eat your food because I gotta leave in a few hours.” Storm watched her take a bite while he crunched on one of her pickles.
O.T.
Feeling like a fish out of water, O.T. went up to the silver metal desk that was in front of an extra-thick sheet of Plexiglas that separated it from the rear of the building. Waiting for the middle-aged, stern-faced, heavy-set woman to get off the phone, O.T. spoke up.
“Hey how you doing?”
“I’m good. What can I do for you, son?”
“I’m here to see a patient.”
“Okay, what’s the person’s name?” She tapped the computer keyboard.
“Her name is Paris.”
“We need a last name, son.”
“Oh, sorry my bad. Her name is Paris Yvette Peterson. I don’t know the date when she was transferred here.”
“She’s in our observation ward. Room 251. Are you the person who called earlier for directions?”
“Naw, that wasn’t me.”
“Oh, all right then.” The lady pointed after pushing the button opening the door. “Room 251.”
As O.T. entered the room, he saw Paris who was once full of life and loved to talk cash shit sitting in a chair that was pushed to the window. Standing there for a brief second he could tell that she was in some sort of a trance or something.
“Are you family?” A nurse stopped by to change Paris’s IV bag from which she had been getting fed half the time.
“Well, I guess,” O.T. muttered shocked his ex-girlfriend was looking the way she was and in the bad mental condition that she appeared to be suffering from.
“Whoever you are, just be tolerant with her. You know she doesn’t speak. Miss Paris is alert, but doesn’t respond to people.”
“Oh, okay,” was all O.T. could say as he got closer to do what he’d come to do, which was apologize for all the madness he’d taken her through the time that they were a couple. “Hey, Paris, can you hear me?”
Chapter 18
No More Games
At exactly five-forty Storm backed out his driveway and decided to get a full tank of gas. He thought it would be in his best interest to drive around for a little while before meeting with the new connect to ensure that he wasn’t being followed by Marco’s psychopathic-ass or the damn authorities. Double checking his surroundings as he left the service station, he drove east to west, then west to south, south back to east, and finally east to north. Feeling confident that he wasn’t being tailed Storm took off heading for the designated spot not wanting to be a second late.
After Storm left, Kenya started thinking about her situation and was tired of feeling sorry for herself and deliberately secluding herself up in her bedroom like she had done something wrong. Even though she felt that the tranquil environment of her home was being invaded by, O.T. and London’s backstabbing presence, Kenya was going to force herself to go on about her daily routine the best she could, which today meant washing several full loads of laundry that had piled up over the past few weeks.
Staying down in the basement until it was time to add fabric softener in the machine Kenya carried the empty basket up the stairs coming back in the kitchen.
“Hi, Kenya.” London startled her sister. “I thought you were still in your room because I saw the door shut.”
“Ump.” Kenya hardly acknowledged her twin’s words or her huge stomach as she opened the refrigerator taking out a couple of steaks to cook for her and Storm’s dinner.
London was trying her best to bite her tongue and keep the peace, but she couldn’t do it. “Kenya, listen to me. I know you’re mad at me and can’t understand how I feel, but after I was raped I thought I’d never be able to have a child. So when this happened, what else could I do?” London rubbed her belly. “This might be the only chance I get to have a baby. Besides I love my son already.”
“Look, London!” Kenya planted her hands firmly on her hips as she started to degrade her sister. “We both know from day one you always been jealous of me because you were the fucked-up, ‘no nigga paying you no attention,’ ugly-ass twin, but that’s not my fault!”
“Ugly?” London stood back shocked that her twin could be so cruel and decided to give her a strong dose of her own medicine. “If you haven’t looked in a mirror lately we still look as identical as we were the day we were born, of course with the small exception of your man’s baby growing inside of me!”
“What in the fuck did you say?” Kenya eyes were on the verge of popping out her head.
“You heard me!” London rubbed her stomach and wasn’t going to let Kenya get away with trying to humiliate her any longer. “I said your man’s baby!”
Pregnant or not that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She couldn’t take the bullshit Storm was asking her to deal with anymore. Kenya raised her hand up in the air smacking London across the jaw with every inch of strength she could gather knocking the expectant mother into the side of the stainless steel refrigerator.
“Bitch! You got me all fucked up!” Kenya showed no outward signs of remorse for what she’d just done as she yelled at London who was clutching h
er stomach seeming to be in excruciating pain. “You lucky I don’t kick that fucking kid out ya guts! I let you stay at my damn house and you lie down and give up the pussy like a ho!”
“Kenya, please! Something’s wrong,” London begged as her sister left the kitchen stomping up the front stairs then slamming her bedroom door shut.
O.T.
Having explained how he felt, O.T. looked at Paris who was still in a zombie zone, spaced the hell out of her rabbit. Not one time in the twenty-five minutes he’d been there in her room had she even wiggled her finger or turned her head. The few times she blinked her eyes they seemed to have been made of glass, like she was a cheap dime store doll.
“Listen, Paris, stuff with us wasn’t always bad. We had some hella good times and you was always a trooper with your shit,” O.T. continued with his one sided conversation. “I guess I should’ve just told you what was up with me and Chocolate Bunny instead of letting you just think it was whatever.”
With his head down in his hands O.T.’s cell phone rang showing the condo house number on the caller ID. “Yeah, hello.”
“Hey it’s me,” London moaned as the cordless phone beeped signaling it was going dead. “I need you to come home. I think something is wrong with the baby. I’m in so much pain!”
“Sit tight. I’m on my way!” he begged her. “Just relax. I’ll be there!”
“Okay, I’ll try.” She dropped the phone to the kitchen floor as a strong, flowing gush of water poured out from in between her legs. “Oh my God!”
Not even bothering to say good-bye, O.T. ended his first and probably last visit to Paris by bolting out the room and running out to his car. As he sped away from the parking lot he failed to notice that he had extra company. Now instead of just the undercover police following him another car was hot on his trail.
No Home Training Page 14