Chapter Twenty-nine
Mouse
The first piece of our furniture set arrived today and I was happy. Seeing the three-piece living room set being delivered made me forget about the small drama in the club last night. I wondered what that was about; most likely boys being boys, trying to boast who got the bigger dick. I didn’t think anything of it. Tango did have his past and maybe it was nothing. While Tango was at work, I was busy decorating our apartment, turning the cramped, ghetto-looking place into our home. We could finally afford a few nice things. We had gone down to Aaron’s and decided to rent our furniture by the month. It saved us a pretty penny and the set I picked out, it was a metal and wood sectional sofa set in dark truffle, perfect to enhance my home décor. The whole thing went for $1,500. We picked up a fifty-five-inch flat-screen TV, too.
Gradually, my place was coming to life. We had a used bedroom set in the master bedroom, and in the second bedroom I painted the walls sky blue, placed some Disney drapes over the windows, and set it up for my daughter’s room. It was also going to be the baby’s room. I didn’t tell Tango about the pregnancy yet. I wanted to find the right time to tell him.
All morning, I was decorating and cleaning, and started cooking, while tending to Eliza when she was awake. Changing diapers, making bottles, and becoming a housewife, yeah, this was the new me. But I didn’t mind it at all, it beat sucking dick in Hunts Point and living with a bitch who used me and took me for granted. I never wanted to go back to that.
While Eliza was sleeping in my bedroom, I continued working in the second bedroom. I wanted to do the floors over. They were dull and creaky. I wanted to make this bedroom feel like magic. Tango had called me and said he had a surprise for me after work and suggested that I try to find a babysitter for tonight. He was taking me out to dinner. I couldn’t wait. I loved being with him from sunup to sundown. We were a couple and the next step I assumed would be marriage. Yeah, I was ready to get married. I wanted something different and Tango, he definitely felt different. He felt so real to me. It was a sure thing that this was legit and we both weren’t going anywhere.
Yes, I was happy.
I started in the bedroom closet. It was filled with mostly jackets and some of Eliza’s clothing. I turned on the lights and looked around. I noticed there was a squeaky and lose floorboard. The minute I stepped on it, it popped up like a seesaw. I looked at it and something caught my attention. I kneeled down curiously and removed the floorboard and to my surprise there was money underneath it. It was a wad of bills, mostly hundreds and fifties wrapped tightly around a few rubber bands. I picked it up and couldn’t believe my eyes. There had to be close ten or fifteen thousand dollars in my hand. Where did this money come from? Did it belong to Tango or was it left there by the previous owners? So much money, I didn’t know what to think. If it belonged to Tango, then it was obvious that he was doing something illegal out there. I went from being angry to disappointed, but I couldn’t jump to conclusions. I had to give Tango a chance to explain himself.
The Blue Hill restaurant was classy, and it was expensive. It was uptown, near Washington Square Park. It was a place where presidents and kings and queens would dine. Where fat bankers would take their wives and pink-shirted bros would bring their high-heeled girlfriends. The décor was breathtaking with its high ceiling chapel of twirling meat, and butterscotch banquettes projecting a beauty more natural than that of the nip-tucked Upper East Side ladies who dined there. There was plenty of civil conversation and people I was very unfamiliar with.
But here we were, Tango and I, two urban natives from the projects still trying to find ourselves in the world. I tried to dress for the occasion, wearing a long skirt and blouse, my long hair styled in a French bun and having just the right makeup on and the jewelry Tango bought me. I had to look good for my man, classy. It was the first time I saw Tango in a blazer; it was blue and he wore a collared shirt underneath looking like the Renaissance man himself. I was proud of him, but in the back of the mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about the money I found hidden in the closet.
We had causal talk, sipping on water while waiting for the waiter to bring our meals. I ordered a pepper-crusted rib-eye for forty-five dollars and a scattering of under-crisped vegetable sides. It was expensive, but Tango told me to order whatever I wanted; price wasn’t an issue tonight, which made me more suspicious. He had the main course in American cuisine, a surf and turf and steaming mashed potatoes. It looked good.
“You look so good, baby, like royalty. No bitch in this place can’t compare to my woman,” Tango complimented me.
I smiled. “You look good too, like a million bucks.”
“You know ya man tries.”
“I know, baby.”
“We comin’ along, ain’t we? I love the way you furnished the place. It looks good.”
“Thank you.”
Eliza was staying with a friend for the night. Tango wanted to have some fun. God knows what else he had planned for us. But I gave it to him, he was spontaneous and outgoing. The club scene didn’t work for him, but he would put all his effort into trying to please me and make me happy.
When the meal came, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to finish it all. It was just too much. They sure gave you your money’s worth here. But I was going to try. I remembered plenty of days when I went hungry, not knowing when I was going to have my next meal and believe me, everything nourishing to my body, I didn’t take for granted; nothing was about to go to waste. Tango started digging into his dish. He ate like a hungry man and didn’t care who was watching him. He still had somewhat of that prison mentality inside of him at the dinner table. I had to school him most times, remind him that he wasn’t locked up anymore and he could take his time consuming his meal.
While we dined, I asked him, “So how’s work?”
“Work is good, baby. I’m catching on and the bosses’ are happy with my job performance. I really like my job,” he proclaimed.
“Really.” I raised my eyebrow almost shouting out, “Nigga, please.” I had a feeling that he was lying to my face. I started to think and analyzed the situation. He did bring home paystubs, but he never brought home any work tools. And I noticed his hands; especially his fingernails were too clean for him to be doing construction. And then how was he able to afford so much so quickly? So many questions and not any answers. I couldn’t deal with dating another man in the game, and now that I was pregnant with his child, it was even more critical between him and me.
“Tango, have you been honest with me?” I asked.
“Yeah, baby. Why the third degree so suddenly, babe?” he replied calmly.
“How can we afford to eat here, Tango? My dish alone is almost fifty dollars, and then the wine and the rent-a-car ya driving. The furniture. What is all this?”
“I’ve been workin’ hard, baby, trying to provide for my family. And the car, my peoples hooked me up.”
His peoples. His peoples were always hooking him up with something, from money, pussy, to driving a nice-looking Intrepid. What else were they hooking him up with?
I looked at him. I didn’t know what to respond with. My heart felt heavy because my womanly instincts told me that he was somehow back in the streets and doing something crazy out there. I wanted to believe Tango, but it was hard to, especially with the money I found in the closet.
Tango sat there so cool that he looked like a snowman. It was the right time to tell him the news.
“You need to provide all right, and do it the right way,” I replied, sitting up and looking at him intently. “I’m pregnant.”
The look on his face showed he was shocked. “What? You pregnant?”
I nodded.
“Oh shit, baby. You about to have my baby, seriously?” he exclaimed excitedly.
I thought the entire restaurant heard him. He was ecstatic and smiling largely.
“Yes, Tango, I’m about to have your baby, so you need to start being honest wit’ me about everything,” I stated seriously.
“Baby, I am being honest wit’ you.”
“Then explain the fifteen thousand I found in the bedroom closet.”
“The what?”
“Tango don’t play fuckin’ stupid wit’ me,” I cursed abruptly.
“Why you in my shit?”
“It’s my place too,” I spat out.
I found our special dinner turning into a nightmare.
“I worked hard for that.”
“Doin’ what?”
He didn’t answer me. He scowled. He sat back in his seat and looked like the cat caught his tongue. It was clear he was hiding something. A guilty man he was. I saw the future of him, or us, falling apart if he didn’t quit whatever illicit act he was doing.
“You need to stop it,” I sternly said to him. “If we gonna be a family, Tango, then whatever shit you doin’ out there, stop it. I’m pregnant wit’ ya child and my heart can’t take if you get locked up or killed out here. I love you.”
All he could do was look at me. My eyes were hard and my heart was on pins and needles.
“I’m not gonna get locked up, baby, or killed,” he replied.
“How you know? Do you see the future? You Superman out there on these streets, huh? You’re on parole, baby, and any violation, they gonna send ya ass back to jail. I already have one baby father incarcerated, I don’t need another. ’Cause I swear to you, I will abort this child out my damn womb because I refused to raise two babies by myself,” I proclaimed through my clenched teeth. I wasn’t having it. I meant every word of it. I would be a fool to keep this child inside of me when the man I loved was risking his own fuckin’ life or freedom.
Things were becoming heated in the restaurant. It looked like I was getting through to Tango. But he replied, “It’s hard out there, Mouse, and I’m only tryin’ to make it right for us.”
“You think I wanna put up wit’ this, Tango? I’m tired, baby. I don’t need that type of drama in my life. I went through it wit’ one man. I’m not gonna go through the same shit wit’ the next one. I will walk, Tango. I swear to you, I will fuckin’ walk and not look back.”
I didn’t want to walk away from him and the new life we started to build together. I was scared. I couldn’t go back to staying with Erica and working the track. Just the thought of it was making me sick to my stomach. It felt great to have my own place. And if I had to work three fuckin’ jobs to maintain and feed my daughter, then so be it. But I refused to go backward. I refused to go back to the shelter. I was tired of everything, from the streets to the evil I felt surrounding me.
The tears ran down my face and my eyes were saddened by the uncertainty of my future or our future. I wanted Tango to be the one, but he lied to me. And I was scared to ask how he was making that much money. Was it dealing drugs or something much more sinister?
“You don’t need to walk away, baby. I’m done wit’ it. I promise you. I can’t lose you,” he said.
“Don’t tell me shit you think I want to hear, tell me the truth.”
“It’s the truth, baby. What I made, we can make good on. It’s enough to keep our heads above the water,” he said.
“And is the construction job for real?” I asked.
“It’s not.”
“So you lied to me.”
“I know and I’m sorry.”
I took a deep breath. I hated when someone lied to me. I hated when the man I loved lied to me. My look toward him was disappointment and uncertainty. But he made a promise to me and I felt he would uphold his promise. I really didn’t want to walk away. I didn’t want to do this by myself. Tango was a good man to my daughter and he was a great man to me. He rarely talked about his past. From what I knew, he used to be a bad-ass muthafucka back in the days and had the hood on lockdown. But now he was supposed to be a changed man. I would think doing ten years’ hard time would change any man. And he wasn’t getting any younger. He had this good pussy to come home to and a good woman attached to it. Why would any nigga want to fuck it up?
“I won’t lie to you again, baby,” he assured me.
I could only look at him and hope he was for real. I didn’t want our relationship to go sour. I took a chance allowing him into my life and my daughter’s life and the thing I feared the most was it coming back on me, thinking that whoever he harmed out there wouldn’t hesitate to come harm his family in retaliation.
“Just love me and be honest wit’ me, Tango, that’s all I ask.”
“And I will.”
We continued our talk and our dinner. It would have been a shame to ruin such a lovely evening. We had dessert and our quality time was good. We spent over two hours in the restaurant. When the bill finally came, it was almost $200. Tango pulled out his wad of cash while all the other patrons in the place were paying via credit or debit card. We looked so ghetto fabulous when Tango peeled off several twenties and a fifty to pay with.
We had to do better.
After dinner, Tango and I drove to Times Square and took a walk around there. We held hands, conversed, and enjoyed the peaceful and warm evening. Spring was almost here. It felt good not being bundled up in a winter coat and gloves, but to show off my outfit and walk freely among the crowd of people in the square and take in some decent entertainment. In the city, I felt like someone else. I wasn’t Hector’s daughter. I wasn’t that bad-ass gangster bitch representing EBV or Edenwald. I wasn’t that prostitute sucking dick in the front seat of a car or fucking tricks for money. I was just me, Mouse, a beautiful woman out with her man and enjoying the evening. No one looked at me funny and no one was judging me.
After Times Square, Tango and I went for a walk in Riverside Park, where the Hudson River and the New Jersey shoreline across the bay provided the most beautiful view during the night. Tango held me in his arms and once again proclaimed his love for me.
I was all smiles.
I didn’t want this feeling and this moment to ever end.