Baby Momma 4

The next morning, I woke Shandy up, telling her we owed Momma and Daddy a visit. Fucking around with Javion, I was probably gonna need their help, whether I liked it or not.

Every charcoal grill on every back porch, deck, and in every backyard in DC must’ve all been going at the same time. You could smell the ribs, hot dogs, and hamburgers. As soon as I rolled my window down, the smoky heat pressed its way into the car, swallowing whatever air-conditioning it came in contact with.

Javion had been blowing me up ever since I left. He was doing everything in his power to get into my personal space so he could read all into my headspace. And I just wanted some me-time and by me-time, I mean time with me and anyone except him. A part of me accepted what he did like it was second nature. The perks that came with dating him were unbelievable. It didn’t even bother me, knowing that I’d have to watch my back and his. It didn’t bother me knowing if something went down while we were together, I’d be guilty by association. And that, in itself, my acceptance and understanding bothered me more than anything.

My parents’ place was off-limits to everyone except Shandy. Since Momma had sent me some mysterious 9-1-1 texts and wasn’t returning my calls, we were homeward bound.

“Damn, Novie, can you move any slower? Got a bitch titties sweatin’ and shit. I need the power of a good turn up in me so bad right now!” Shandy sat in the backseat fanning her double FFs furiously. She was the prettiest girl I knew with bright, slanted, cat eyes and clear baby-smooth skin. Somebody was mixed somewhere in her family because her hair grew thick and wavy, no relaxer necessary. But if you wanted to see somebody get real ugly, try to throw shade about her weight. I dare you.

Shandy wasn’t fat, but she was plumper than what most would classify as thick. She’d been rocking corsets and waist cinchers to sit her titties up and push her booty out before it was even the thing. Don’t get me wrong; she was more than comfortable in her skin, but she had no problem snapping if you tried to play her to the left because of it. Another half hour and all of my bestie’s NARS foundation would be melting down her chin and into one of the many expensive shirtdresses she splurged on.

I shrugged. “My bad, girl. I’m just pissed we’re here and not hittin’ up one of these cookouts.”

“It’s all good.” She stared longingly out the window. “I’ve got to put in some serious work, though. Find me a sponsor, sling some coochie for cash, or start movin’ some serious dope. I was supposed to have two of these houses by now.”

I cut my eyes at her over my shoulder. She knew better than to play around like that. Not when my dad was the infamous Sammie Knox. When the streets heard Knox was coming, it was like saying Bloody Mary in the mirror three times.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Novie. You know I’m just all in my feelings, looking at these pretty houses when I just lost my grant. How the hell am I supposed to pay for my last year of school now? Me and my baby girl need this in our life.”

She fussed over Aris Monique Patterson in the car seat next to her. I tried to tell her I don’t know how many times, that people wouldn’t see Aris and say heiress. She’d need an extra r or an e up in there, but you can’t tell Shandy anything once her mind is made up.

“Lawd,” Shandy let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m so glad I’m not breast-feeding anymore. I need me a drink and a blunt so bad. I hope Lady J ain’t acting funny. You know how stingy she get with her liquor.”

I met her wide, worried eyes in the rearview. Momma, or Lady J, as she liked to be called, because Misses sounded old, would be all right. “Stop worrying, Shandy. Everything’ll be fine.”

The tires crunched over the sandy cobblestone driveway through the small forest of pine trees and small oaks toward the four-story glass-front palace that belonged to my parents. Mixed feelings welled up inside me, clawing at the back of my throat. I needed them but hated spending more time than necessary with them. Somebody always wound up needing a favor, and their favors never worked out in my favor. I’d started to say just that as we stood outside the double French doors. I was clawing through my purse, digging around for my spare key. Shandy was busy fretting over Aris in her stroller.

I found it wedged in between the prongs of a fork at the bottom of my purse and made a mental note to clean it out or switch to a smaller bag.

“Ma?” I called out, stepping over a lonely pump with a broken heel. The wall was splattered with cotton candy pink Louboutin polish. Glass shards from the bottle were scattered across the floor. The outside of the house was always plain and simple, but inside, the house looked like a war zone.

“Novie? Hey, boo.” She came rushing around the corner with her arms out, all flushed and out of breath. She was stylishly put together as usual, in a light blue dress that stopped just above her knees.

“What are you doing here?” She pulled me into an awkward hug then grabbed Shandy and did the same.

“What am I doing here? Really? What’s up with the 9-1-1 texts, and what in the world happened up in here?” I dropped my purse on the side table by the front door. “Daddy?” I called out. My eyes were searchlights as I scanned the foyer and the main hallway.

“Your dad ain’t home, Novie.” She folded her hands across her arms saying how-dare-he-not-be-here, and how-dare-you-question-me, and I-dare-you-to-say-one-more-thing all in that one look.

“Um, Lady J, I think I need to change Aris. Do you mind . . . um, if I use the restroom?” Shandy could sense a family matter like an animal senses danger. She scooped Aris up out of her stroller, resting her head on her shoulder underneath her chin.

“Make yourself at home. Use the one across from the guest room down the hall to the left.” She gave Shandy a serious look. “Just keep the noise down, please.”

I wondered what that was about as she waved Shandy off down one hall before swooping in to block me from going anywhere.

“Okay, Ma, what’s really going on? Daddy hasn’t answered one of my calls, and he always answers. Did you do something to him? Y’all have a fight?” I spun around her in the direction of the living room.

She was in hot pursuit trailing after me toward the living room. “Novie, bring your ass here. I need to explain something to you.”

I stormed the living room like a one-woman SWAT team. She’d changed all the furniture again. It wasn’t the make-you-cringe, we-rich-bitch, pink and gold Versace collection anymore. Thank the Lord. That either went out of style, or somebody she knew had something too close to it. Now it was dark cappuccino-brown, Italian leather ottomans, tall, glossy, floor lamps, brown carpeting. A high-backed leather sofa sat with matching armchairs beside it. But something stunk; it smelled rancid, like old Chinese food and sour washrags. I covered my nose with my hand. Heavy curtains were drawn, throwing the living room into semidarkness. I jerked to a stop in front of the couch, feeling like I’d swallowed a rock the size of my foot. “What the fuck?” I whispered involuntarily when my eyes locked on the pregnant girl shivering on a couch in a tattered, stained sundress. She was skinny as hell, but still very pregnant.

She was hog-tied, with her mouth taped shut, staring back at me for help.

I took a step back when I saw the vomit on the floor in front of the sofa. “What the fuck is this?” I asked. I couldn’t even look my mother in the eyes as I pointed down at her. “What the hell is goin’ on up in here?” I demanded in a shaky whisper. This couldn’t be business related. It was against the rules to bring any of that into the house.

“I told you we needed to talk.” There was an edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. Fury was exploding in her eyes. “You wanna know what this is?” She chuckled, then giggled, and then she doubled over laughing until she had tears in her eyes. When she finally regained her composure, the venom was back. “Sammie supposedly left on business. Late Friday night the doorbell rings. And it’s that ho, right there. I don’t know what she was on, but the bitch was higher than caviar. Telling me how she and Sammie been together. Showing me a goddamn slide show on her phone. Telling me she’s pregnant. She thought she was gonna come up to my house. Disrespect me to my face. Gonna tell me about my husband and the life she about to live with him. That’s what this is.”

“Oh, shit. Daddy did what . . . she came here and . . . oh, damn.”

There were always rumors about Daddy’s women. I was always suspicious, but I never really knew for sure.

“These new-age bitches,” she spat. “They don’t understand the levels to this shit.” She sneered down at the girl on the couch. “If you trading pussy for the nigga’s time and trinkets, you don’t come to my front door. I’m his wife. He, and only he, addresses me. You just another one of Sammie’s hoes.”

The girl wildly shook her head back and forth. She was saying something, but I couldn’t make anything out with the tape over her mouth. And then her body went rigid; her back arched like an electric current surged through the chair. The veins in her neck protruded like plastic straws under her skin. She started squirming and groaning like she was possessed. She squeezed her eyes shut and alternated between clenching her jaw and straining against her ropes. Momma didn’t seem the least bit concerned. She checked the hands on her petite rose-gold watch.

“I thought he’d have come home by now. Her contractions are about ten minutes apart,” she stated in the most matter-of-fact tone.

Her contractions? I wanted to scream until my throat burned, but I screamed them in my head instead. This was it; she’d finally completely lost it. I knew it would happen one day, and we were there. She wasn’t even bothered by the cheating or upset that Daddy might have another baby; she was just upset that the woman had the nerve to approach her.

“Lady J! Lady J, it’s Sammie!” Tariq, Daddy’s second in command, yelled from the direction of the foyer.

The tone of his voice made the blood drain from our faces. My knees were wobbly as I forced them to steer me in the direction of Tariq’s gruff voice as we rushed to see what had him worked up. Tariq read like a brick wall. Outside of working, if it didn’t involve weights, weapons, or warfare, the nigga wasn’t interested. He never so much as sneezed loud, let alone yelled. Daddy kept him tethered to his side like a two-year-old on a harness. Our eyes met across the foyer as he rushed inside.