Baby Momma 2 (3 page)

“Chelle, we need to talk when you get here. I jus' got this feelin'. I mean . . .”

Damn, here we go again.
I could feel the aggravation creeping up the back of neck, causing my teeth to clench. Every other day Larissa seemed to “have a feelin'.”

“Larissa, I will call you when I'm on my way home. I don't have time to talk about this with you again.” I softened my tone in an attempt to soothe her. “I'm showin' a property right now, baby. Okay?”

She sighed loudly and was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Okay. I love you—my wife.”

Damn it.
She
only
did that wife shit when she thought I was talking around someone else. “I luh you too. My wifey.” I tried to say it as quickly as possible but I knew he'd heard.

I ended the call and silently cursed. She was really driving me crazy with all her insecurities. Every time I left the house, or needed to run an errand, she was overly paranoid about me cheating on her, or going to meet someone else. Marrying her hadn't changed a thing; if anything it seemed like it'd made things worse.

“Damn, lemme find out yo' fine ass into chicks.” Keyshawn was leaning on the kitchen counter with his chin in his hands, like we were best friends hanging out on a summer afternoon, talking over martinis.

I would have been mad at him listening if he weren't flashing the most beautiful smile in my direction, dimples and all. In that moment my heart skipped a beat and my body secretly, against my free will, betrayed my wife. I glanced at my watch and then back at the nigga in front of me, who was unknowingly making me grind my teeth and do my Kegels at the same time.

“An' happily married, Negro. Don't try to change the subject. So you don't want this estate now, huh?” I couldn't help feeling drawn into his playful manner and I leaned on the counter opposite him, mimicking his posture. “If you
really
knew how to make a woman scream, acoustics would be the least of your worries, playboy.” I flashed a dazzling smile back in his direction and we shared a laugh.

“Ma, I promise, married or not, no woman can take you where a nigga can. I ain't talkin' 'bout no bullshit-ass plastic dick. I'm talkin' flesh and blood. It ain't the same. An' the acoustics, FYI, is to maximize the sound in the bedroom
without
wakin' up my houseguests or neighbors.”

I mentally shook my head at myself. That actually shut my ass up. I didn't even have a comeback. The way Ris would let go and wake up the kids made me think about looking into soundproofing for my damn self. He was both disarming and charismatic. This was dangerous. I had a business to run, and if this fool wasn't making me any money he definitely wasn't worth my time.

“Well, I'll have one of my realtors follow up with you and offer several other properties that may better suit your standards, Mr. Matthews. In the meantime, I would suggest you inspect the properties clothed and in a respectable manner. Oh, and should the issue arise, jus' invest in soundproofing
after
you acquire the property, sir.” I grabbed my things and approached the front door, intent on getting away from this man and his magnetic pull as fast as humanly possible. My hand was on the latch but the door wouldn't budge.

“What if I only wanna deal wi'chu?”

I hadn't even heard him come up behind me. His voice cascaded down the back of my neck in heated waves that coursed down my body and crashed into the ocean between my legs. Goosebumps rose on my arms and time seemed to stand still as his question floated between us. His hand was planted firmly on the door just above my head; no wonder I couldn't pull it open. He was so close behind me. I could feel a wall of heat along the back of my body as he leaned over me, waiting for my answer, expecting me to react like every other woman who had probably given in to his good looks and sex appeal.

“My wife is crazy as hell, and I think you've got enough on your plate to keep you occupied. I have police-grade Mace. Move, or I'll use it.” I held my breath, silently wishing this were a different time, or I were a different me. He was a ride I couldn't afford to take right now.

Reluctantly, his hand slid from the door. I heard him take a step back.

“Ol' girl out there, she ain' nothin' but arm candy. But you, you naturally beautiful wit' all that real hair. Yeah, I can tell, an' I appreciate it. Your wife got e're right to be crazy, 'cause I honestly don't think you into that dikin' shit a hundred percent. I'll see you soon, Michelle.”

I was bored outta my damn mind. Chelle was always at work or wherever doin' who- or whatever and I was stuck up in here all day every day with the damn kids. The two of them were runnin' around the house, actin' like they were losin' they damn minds, fighting over every single solitary thing. There was nothing for me to do and I was gettin' restless as hell and the kids were startin' to work my damn nerves. I threw down the magazine I was trying to read, only making it halfway through the article on how to tell if your man was cheating. No, I ain't had no man. I just switched all the “if he's” doing this or that et cetera shit to “if she's,” and damn if Michelle wasn't fitting the descriptions to a muthafuckin' T.

Lately she'd been working late with special clients on special closings, or taking longer to get home than usual. When we made love—hell I couldn't even call it that—it was more on some “I serve you until I'm bored, okay switch, now you do me” boring-ass shit. Nothing like when we first got together. Everything that damn magazine said was exactly what was going on in our house.
An' I be givin' her ass every opportunity to just tell me she seeing someone else but, like a muthafuckin' nigga, she refuse an' claims nothin's up.
You know how that shit goes. Deny, deny, deny 'til you die type shit. She could probably get caught in the act, dick or pussy in her mouth, ass, or whatever, and still be like, “Baby, it ain't what you think.”

Pain shot through my foot; glancin' down, I got even more pissed off as I pulled one of Trey's Legos from underneath it. “Trey, stop chasin' yo' fuckin' sister an' come pick up these damn toys. I done told you 'bout leavin' these damn things all ova' the fuckin' place. I'ma start throwin' 'em away. Try me, li'l nigga.” I stared his li'l lazy ass down while he picked 'em up slow as hell one by fuckin' one.

I did not sign up for this shit. I needed to be doing something with myself, running a business, keeping my mind busy earning myself some damn money. I hated dependin' on Michelle for every damn dime I wanted to spend. If it wasn't for the fact that we were basically in a self-induced witness protection program I could easily go out an' get myself some kind of work, but it was just easier if we kept people out of our shit. Daycares, constant babysitters, they all had questions and needed more info than she or I wanted to give.

I needed to talk to a damn adult. All this kiddy shit was getting to my ass. I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and called my cousin back home in Detroit: the only person I trusted.

“Girl, what da fuck you ova' there doin'?” I asked playfully as soon as she picked up. I was jus' glad she ain't let me go to voice mail. When we left Virginia, Michelle insisted we cut everyone off, but I couldn't let my entire family jus' think I'd off and died or disappeared. My cousin, Shanice, was the only person I trusted enough to still keep in contact with.

“Hey, boobie, I miss yo' li'l crazy ass. You lovin' dat married life yet?” She was being sarcastic as usual. She always was a smart ass.

“I don't even wanna go into the details. I think she seein' that muthafucka again or a new somebody. I ain't figured it out yet, but when I do it's gon' be on.”

“Larissa, you ain't marry dat bitch jus' to have her doin' all the same shit. Check her ass, fo' I come out there an' check her for you. Paper or no paper all that extra shit ain't worth it.”

I sighed into the phone; she had a point. It wasn't worth it and I knew it. After all of these years of loving Michelle and only Michelle it was finally starting to break me down. It's like how they say a tiny stream of water can eventually wear down a mountain until there's nothing left but a flat piece of land and a river. Well my love at one point was that mountain but all these doubts and fears been wearin' and tearin' away at that mountain for so long that we were on the verge of bein' completely torn apart and wiped away.

“Shanice, you've known me my entire life. I think this the longest my ass eva' been straight-up, flat-out sober. Hell, I don't even drink like that no more. The stress an' these kids, all this shit is startin' to get to me.”

“Bitch, a blunt ain't neva' hurt shit. My ass ain't neva' heard of a mu'fucka bitin' nobody face off 'cause they was smokin' on some purp'.” She was talkin' 'bout the recent drug shit that'd happened down in Miami. Niggas snortin' bath salts or whatever and eatin' other nigga's faces and brains
while the nigga was still alive
on some for real zombie-type shit.

“Girl, I tried to tell Michelle we need to get our asses the fuck up outta here before da Zombie Apocalypse start, an dat heffa told me stop watchin' da damn horror channel. You an' me bof know—don't
no
black folk do no shit like that, an' especially not off no damn weed. Hell, you don't even do nothin' close to that off a bad crack rock.”

“True, bitch,
that is so got-damn true,
” Shanice yelled in my ear in agreement and we both fell out laughin'.

Most of my life I'd had a problem with various drugs from crack to cocaine, you name it. Michelle was on some warden-type shit right now. I could barely sniff a glass of wine without her looking at me sideways, getting all weary and talkin' to me in her “house nigga” voice. I could hear saying, “Look nah, Risi-cup, you done made it dis far now, an' ya knows what dey says 'bout stayin' strong an' takin' one day at a time.”

“You ever grow that Chia Pet I sent yo' ass?” Shanice was gigglin' in the phone like a straight-up little girl.

“Girl, what da hell I'ma do wit' a damn . . .” I stopped, realizing what she was saying before I could even finish my sentence. “Shanice, you didn't.”

“Yup. Dat last package I sent you. Li'l Mr. Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia had a present inside his ass. I hope yo' ass ain't throw him away.”

I didn't think I'd felt this damn happy the entire time I'd been in Florida. I'd gone to the post office one day and set myself up a post office box so I could have things shipped without my “warden” all in my business. I laughed and thought the Chia Pet was cute when I saw it.

“Girl, I go'sta go. Hell naw, I ain't throw it away, it's somewhere in the damn garage. Hell Ch-Ch-Ch-Chy-eah!” I rushed my black ass off the phone so fast I ain't even say bye.

“Trey, Taya, go lay y'all's asses down, it's damn naptime,” I shouted up toward their playroom, satisfied when I heard the pitter-patter of they bad asses running to get in their beds. I needed to figure out exactly where the hell I'd stuck that damn package because apparently it had some extra shit up in it and I
needed
that in my life right now. It would be easier to figure out how I was going to talk to this woman, aka my so-called wife, about this new shit that popped up in our situation if I was at least a little lifted.

Traffic was backed up on the I-95 expressway in both directions. Cursing to myself I dialed the house phone. Something told me I should've just gone straight home after meeting with Key. It was already going on six and Larissa was probably jumping to all kinds of conclusions. Times like this made me miss Virginia; at least there I could hop on the midtown or downtown tunnel and be home in twenty minutes, or get off on any of the side streets and still be there like it was nothing. Not here; I had to cut clear across town to get back home, and this shit this time of year with the tourists and the locals trying to get in and out of town was insane.

“Hey.” She picked up and that one word said it all: short and shitty mad.

“Baby, I'm stuck in traffic on the highway. I had to drop the contract off back at the office. You won't believe who—”

“No, Michelle,
you
won't believe what it's like stuck up in this house all damn day wit' two kids waitin' on somebody to bring they ass home when they say they will. What da hell happened to ‘five-ish'? You know what, don't even answer dat. I'll just see you when you get here.” Silence.

Did she just? Yes, her ass did. Chelle, calm down.
Edging through traffic, I gave myself a pep talk. I was on the verge of walking up in that seven-bedroom, $3,000-a-month mortgage house and goin' slam the fuck off. I alone paid that mortgage and upkeep on that house her unappreciative ass was suddenly so upset about being “stuck up in all day.” Shit, it's not like she didn't have a car. Larissa had two cars. Why she refused to leave the house without me by her side was just another argument waiting to happen.

Forty-five minutes later I parked in front of our garage and braced myself as I walked in through the front door. Even the short distance from the car to the front door broke me out in a mild sweat and the AC gave me an instant chill when I walked in. Normally when I got home from work my babies' little arms would wrap around my legs. Trey and Lataya, my four-year-old son and two-year-old adopted daughter, would squeal and giggle as I play tugged, dragged, and scuffed up freshly waxed hardwood flooring and let them put runs in my brand new stockings, but the house was dead silent. I walked through the foyer into the living room. The curtains were drawn against the setting sun, casting the room in warm shadows.

“A'ight. So, where was you really at?” Her tone was half asking and half accusatory.

I stopped in the entryway. For a brief moment I was alarmed. Was she using again? Was she high on something right now? No, that wasn't possible. I could clearly hear the shakiness and the tears in her voice. After we'd gotten married and gained legal custody of Lataya, the daughter of her cousin Honey and my ex-fianc é, Ris had managed to stay away from all that shit, just like I'd managed to avoid dick. I erased the negative thought just as soon as it occurred.

“Ris, I told you. I had to show the Matthews property an' drop off the paperwork. You know how traffic is this time of year.”

She was sitting off in a darkened corner of the living room with her legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. Times like this, I exhaled long and hard. It was the times like this that she reminded me of the old hurt and emotionally worn down me. Except I wasn't intentionally putting her through half the shit I was actually going through back then. I walked toward her slowly with the same cautious, timid approach you'd take with a hurt bird or injured deer, scared to move too quickly out of fear that she'd dart upstairs and lock herself in the bathroom and I'd be stuck outside the door for the rest of the night trying to talk her out.

“C'mon, you. Now, what's the one thing I said I'd never do?” My voice was nothing but a low whisper. My emotions were getting the best of me and my own tears slowly started to trail down my cheeks at the sight of her obvious pain.

“I know wha'chu said, Chelle. But, you're you, an' you're smart an' beautiful an' I jus' don't see you lovin' me forever. Not like you try to say you will. Nothin', not a damn thing, last forever, an' I rather you jus' be honest wit' me an' say you gonna do some shit or dat you
are
doin' some shit than play me for a damn fool.”

The sun was setting and tiny slits of light were peeking through the thick chocolate-colored drapes that covered the ceiling-to-floor windows in the living room. It was just enough light for me to briefly see dark shadows underneath my wife's usually bright green eyes. Ris always kept herself up but she was still in her thin pink cotton slip from the night before, her long, shoulder-length red hair was piled up in a messy-ass ponytail on top of her head. It was enough for me to realize that she was seriously worried and all for nothing. God knows I hated when she acted like this. I wasn't cheating on her and hadn't thought about it.
Ugh.
Inwardly I cringed. Okay, until
today
I hadn't actually thought about cheating on her. But, let's be real, that wasn't an actual, tangible thought until I had it swinging in my damn face. Let's be honest, it was more of what I'd consider a fleeting whim. A fantasy. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Risi-cup, you'll never enjoy the moments life has to offer if you stay focused on the ending.” I recited some psychobabble I'd read or heard somewhere, and dropped down to my knees in front of her, offering up what I'd hoped would look like a reassuring smile.

“It ain't workin', Chelle. Not this time.” She handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

“What's this, baby?”
Did I forget to pay the water bill or something crazy? Is that what has her so upset?
Puzzled, I took the crumpled sheet of paper from her cold hand and started to unfold and smooth it out as best as I could. It was a tattered piece of notebook paper; the words hit me to my core. Chills ran through my body and it took my mind a second longer to process what my heart almost immediately comprehended. The sheet of paper was wrinkled as if it'd been folded and refolded, balled up, thrown away, and found again, but the letters were still there—in what I guessed would have to be the worst handwriting I'd ever seen—but the blotchy red ink spelled it out unmistakably clear:

Out of all the possibilities, I'd rather this shit be the sick joke of one of our neighbors. That would have been much easier to stomach. Ris and I were the only same-sex couple in the neighborhood and I could deal with a pissed-off “Jesus Freak” like it was nothin'. Yet my subconscious was raising flags redder than the words in front of my face. I looked up at Ris, who now had fresh tears welling up in her eyes, and only one name came to my mind.

“Did that nigga come here? Was he here? Who left this note? Did you see who left this?” I had a million and one questions. None of which Ris could answer fast enough. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour. There was no way he could be out of jail. No way he could have possibly known how to get to us. I changed my last name, changed the kids' last names. A sense of despair came over me that I fought with all of my being for the sake of my kids alone. Maybe he paid one of his old dope boys to follow us, but the types of men Rasheed dealt with didn't leave little notes, or calling cards, or any evidence. They handled business, got the fuck out of town, and you'd be lucky if they even left a body for your family to bury when they were done.

“I was takin' out the trash last week, an' it was on the back gate.” She broke out into fresh tears.

“Last week? And you're just
now
showin' me this.” I smacked the offensive sheet of paper in frustration. “Then, what the hell are you even cryin' for? I'm the one in shock right now,
you've
had a whole week to marinate with this shit.”

“I thought that maybe y'all were meetin' up or somethin' since you were comin' home late or whatever blah blah bullshit. I been waitin' for the right time to say somethin.”

I couldn't help rolling my eyes at her dumb-ass logic. “An entire week, Ris? Who knows who's been watchin' us. Watchin' you and the kids, me. Ris, I swear. . . .” My voice trailed off. I'd never put my hands on her in anger, but I swear this one time almost pushed me to my limit. I silently prayed for strength and some kind of restraint to keep from shaking her for being so damn stupid.

Ris was obviously under a ton of stress, but for her to think that I'd be seeing Rasheed again after all this time . . . Well, considering my and Rah's on-again, off-again history, I couldn't blame her. Her reaction was expected. Hell, I'd be a little suspect about me too if the roles were reversed. Our entire relationship was based on Larissa putting me back together every time Rasheed broke me down. It took years of me dealing with him lying and cheating to finally realize that I loved me too much and Ris loved me all along.

“Ugh, I need to think.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples, trying to process exactly what this message might mean. “Have you noticed any cars around the house or any strange people since the day you found this note?”

“No. I mean . . . Well I've noticed strange things about you. But—”

“Larissa, I swear on my life I ain't doing anything wrong. I need you to fuckin' focus right now. Where are the kids?” If there was any time for me to “woosah” or “nam-myoho-renge-kyo” meditate and chant, now was it. Out of all the things we needed to worry about concerning my ex and our past I couldn't believe she was still more worried about whether I was cheating.

Rasheed was supposedly in prison in Virginia, serving at least a full life term with no hope of probation. He'd lost everything: his family, his freedom, his businesses, hundreds of thousands of dollars. All because of the two of us.

“The kids upstairs takin' a nap.”

Relief momentarily swept through me. At least my babies were in the house and they were safe. I could feel a migraine coming on. I'd have to get in contact with my attorney; there was no way in hell Rah could have found us on his own. I leaned in and hugged Ris, trying to reassure her as best as I could. She was rigid and didn't return my embrace. Pulling back, I looked at her, praying there was nothing more to go with her story.

“Baby. It'll be okay, I promise. Stop worryin'.”

But it wasn't worry that I saw in her eyes, it was anger. Glowing, green anger. I was confused. Her face could have been carved out of stone it was so cold and still. Her eyes narrowed into cold green slits, and it was a wonder she could even see me. But I knew that look entirely too well; it meant hell was coming.

“If you weren't wit' da nigga, why you smell like him, Michelle?”

Fuck.
Fuck was the first and only word that came to mind.
Fuck Keyshawn and his damn cologne and his damn advances and Ris's sensitive-ass nose. Fuck and double fuck.
She was staring at me so calmly it was scaring the hell out of me. She was gauging my reaction time, watching my pulse, waiting to see if I stuttered or fucked up my answer. The fucked-up part was I was more nervous about all the shit I knew she watching for and I didn't even do anything to deserve the interrogation I was getting.

“Ris, I told you I had to show that mansion today. Keyshawn Matthews, he plays basketball for the Miami Legends. I closed the deal. We hugged; his girlfriend was there I hugged her too. I called you on my way home to tell you that we're all goin' out to celebrate this weekend, like celebrities. The estate was ten million; it's a
huge
deal for us. I wanted you to be proud of me. And yes, he wears that same funky-ass cologne as Rah. I noticed it too. But that's it; nothing more, nothing less.” I could see the wheels spinning, judging my words as true or false, and I must've said everything the right way because her face started to light up with excitement.

“Wait, the rookie ‘Keys to the City Shawn' Matthews?”

I shook my head yes.

“The one who goes everywhere with Yylannia the supermodel?”

Once again all I could do was shake my head in agreement, slightly amazed that Ris, A, knew who they were and, B, actually seemed to be impressed.

“Chelle, they were all ova' all the celebrity blogs las' week. Dat fool be up in clubs throwin' thousands at crowds. Bae, he be goin' in. I ain' partied or had a real night out since . . . Ugh. What am I gonna wear? I gotta go shoppin'. We need a babysitter!” She jumped up off the couch so fast she almost knocked me over.

“Oh an' you need a shower. You think you can ask him not to wear dat stank-ass cologne when we go out? Tell his ass I'm allergic to it or some shit, ount care.” She took off upstairs in a flurry, mumbling the names of clubs and drinks, dresses and who knew what else.