Page 6

Dal is gonna be so fucking mad at me for sharing my lo with YT.

I’m so nervous I’m gonna pee on myself. But I have to hold it in. And I can’t cave.

YT stands in front of me with her hands folded, long curved acrylic nails glinting in the sun.

Her platinum blonde pixie cut is covered by a baby pink head wrap. My godsister looks good as hell in her baby pink bandeau top, boyfriend jeans, and strappy heels that probably cost more than what my last piece sold for. As usual, gold chains and necklaces go up her neck.

She’s model tall, and with the heels, she’s gotta be six-four, but she doesn’t give a fuck. She’s gonna dress regardless if the mood strikes her.

Even during a skit.

“Why can’t I come again?”

Her sickly sweet voice is a ruse. A mirage, meant to lure you into a false sense of security.

“You don’t know them, and you can’t just show up to stranger’s houses uninvited.”

“And why not?”

she whines, stomping her foot.

I look around the convenience store parking lot she cornered me in moments ago and sigh.

“DW won’t answer my calls. You’re avoiding me. I thought this move would bring the band back together again.”

“And it will. I promise, I’ll plan something when Dal isn’t busy and you can ambush her at the restaurant. But not at a stranger’s house. Go… I don’t know, sell some drugs. And be nice to Reem.”

I point at her, but she waves me off, rolling her eyes.

“He’s my number one opp anyway for daring to get close to my Deezy. But I won’t kill him… yet.”

She smiles and kisses my cheek before flouncing off to the white Phantom that pulls up magically.

YP rolls down his window as I walk to it.

“I told her ass you wouldn’t budge.”

I roll my eyes and cup his cheek.

“Stay out of trouble, Prince Charming.”

YP has the nerve to blush at my use of his government.

“Never, Deez Nuts.”

They skirt off after I make it to my car, and I take the long way to Autumn’s house, just in case YP decides to indulge YT and follow me anyway.

When I finally make it, I make a beeline for the guest bath, and barely make it to the toilet. It feels so good to pee I moan audibly, and just take a second to decompress.

I fart. I pee. But for some reason, my baby girl refuses to let me shit.

Whoever says pregnancy is beautiful, lied and deserves to get run over by a car.

I wash my hands, knowing I’ll have to pee again in half an hour, then join the girls outside at the cabana.

They’re all cooing, oohing, and ahhing at whatever Autumn’s holding, and when I round the cabana, my heart swells, too.

Rue Bea Atkins is adorable, with her head full of hair. She looks like a little doll in her little blanket, no bigger than a loaf of bread.

Turk walks out and smirks.

“Aight. They seen her. Gimme my baby.”

Autumn rolls her eyes but stands and Turk gingerly takes Rue from her arms. He leans down and kisses Autumn, tongue and all, and sheesh, what I’d give to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom.

“Ima go put her down and finish y’all lunch.”

“‘Kay,”

Autumn breathes, and watches him walk back in the house.

“Sheesh, Autumn. Y’all should make a movie,”

Brina cackles.

“Yeah, girl, close ya mouth,”

Dal joins in.

Autumn blushes and plops back down.

“I forget how sexy he is when he’s got a baby in his arms. My birth control be fighting for its life I swear.”

“Do you want more kids?”

Van asks. She and Dal have grown close, and she’s a bridesmaid in Dal’s wedding.

Autumn blinks and she’s back on earth.

“Hell no. Y’all ain’t know me before Deucey, but he fucked my body up so bad.”

“You’ve always been thick, Haze,”

Rico purrs as he rubs Brina’s feet. She’s got maybe two more weeks, but her belly’s definitely dropped, and again, she shouldn’t be here.

I’m sure Set will be coming to get her soon.

“Yeah, but I was slim thick. Another one will give me permanent cankles. Deucey’s fine with just Rue.”

She waves us off and grabs Dal’s wedding binder.

“Now, let’s talk floral decorations.”

If I eat any more dairy I’ll start puking shit. So I’m onto my second form of defense against the sadness; musicals.

And of course, my favorite song on Dreamgirls, about staying and making a man love you, has me violently sobbing.

It’s not even that I loved Dan. Sometimes I didn’t even like him. But it took both of us to make my little bean, and now it’s just me having to tell her why she doesn’t have a father.

An aneurysm took my own daddy out. It wasn’t like he left us willingly, or skirted his responsibilities. He loved his woman. He loved his kids. And even if he stepped out on my mom, he wouldn’t leave his outside kids out. Family is big to us.

Family is big to me.

And mine is fractured. Has been for almost three decades now.

I miss Mo.

It’s hard to believe my big brother’s been gone almost a year. Before he passed, he’d been five years into a life bid. So I’m used to him not being here physically. It’s the calls I miss. The letters.

He’d know what to do. He’d tell me to chin up, and I’d do that. He’d try to convince me not to bring his niece to see him, but it’d be for nothing. She’d know her Uncle Mo. He’d be her stand-in, like he was for me.

Not for the first time, I wonder what the hell I’m doing. I mean, I know it’s my Saturn Return, but geez. I haven’t even had the motivation to create since I found out I’m pregnant. No one trusts me to even live by myself. I’m gonna blow up any day now.

And I’m already knowing when I start lamaze classes next week, they’re gonna think me and Dal are lesbians.

My last thought makes laughter bubble up through the tears, and just like that I’m reminded of the silver lining of everything.

“Never saw anyone laugh at Effie’s pain.”

My eyes stretch as I fumble with the remote to pause my movie.

But Shotta is already rounding the couch and sitting next to me with popcorn in a huge bowl.

“I love this movie. You think Deena was fucking Curtis foreal or Effie was just paranoid? I mean, before she was kicked out.”

More silly giggles flow out my mouth as I take him in. His hair is crinkly and full of product, and pulled into a ponytail on the nape of his neck. His white tee stretches across his shoulders, and those biceps ripple every time he throws popcorn into his mouth.

When he glances at me, he does a double take.

“Why you crying, Mace?”

His voice is so soft, caressing me almost better than a hug would, and another sob rolls through me.

Somehow, I end up in this nigga’s lap with my head buried into his chest. No, seriously. His big ass hand is palming my head, smushing my baby curls, keeping my head in between his pecs. He smells heavenly, a mix of laundry detergent and a clean cologne I need the name of. I need all my future niggas to smell like him.

His other hand rubs my back almost lazily. With his arms around me, I let myself go.

It’s just for a moment.

I want to feel safe for just a moment.

And in the arms of one of my favorite rappers, I’ve never felt more safe.

But then the moment’s over, and I wipe my face and scoot off his lap back into my seat on the couch. Something passes on his face, but it’s gone before I can identify it.

“Sorry about that. I’m not much of a crier,”

I mumble, wiping my face more.

Ever the cool guy, Shotta just shrugs.

“We all need a good cry sometimes. If you tell me ya baby daddy’s name, I’ll make sure he’s crying too.”

I cough out a laugh and shake my head.

“Dal told me about your computer powers. No, he’s not even worth the RAM you’d use, or whatever. Besides, he’s not even half the reason why I’m doing the most.”

His jaw clenches and unclenches before he blinks.

“Aight. What else is wrong?”

“Why does it matter?”

I blurt without thinking. Great. The one time I’m not nervous around this nigga I’m giving him attitude.

“I mean… I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t make it a habit of blabbing my personal business to celebrities.”

Shotta starts to fold his arms, and I think he’s gonna stop once he realizes his shirt is wet from my tears, but he doesn’t. He just folds them, cocks his head, and clenches that jaw of his. He probably grinds his teeth in his sleep.

“Surely I’m more than just Shotta to you by now, right Mace? I mean, we shared a sundae the other night.”

That voice of his… it’s soft like butter, with just a hint of edginess. His lil hood nigga accent isn’t nearly as pronounced as Set’s or Nut’s, but it’s still not girly. Whew, I just know he’s a talker.

“I mean, I know you’re Shad. But you’re also Shotta. One of the hottest rappers out right now! I can’t be telling you my first world problems, that’s for my other rapper friends.”

“You have other rapper friends, Mace?”

I swear his voice just dropped an octave, and now I don’t want to tell him I know some of the Get Money Crew.

I clear my throat and shift on the couch.

“If I tell you why I was crying, you can’t laugh… it’s pretty dumb.”

He takes me in for a long moment before he blinks and nods. “I won’t.”

I sigh.

“I start lamaze next week and Dal offered to go since I don’t have a baby daddy, and I didn’t want everyone to think we’re lesbos.”

Even hearing myself, it sounds stupid. So I’m not surprised when Shad scrunches his face.

“What’s wrong with being a lesbian?”

“Nothing!”

I stammer.

“I mean, I kissed a girl once. It’s not that… I just…”

I rub my palm over my curls, but my heart is still two stepping in my chest hard.

“I just never thought my daughter would be fatherless like me,”

I whisper.

When I chance a look at Shotta, his hennessy eyes are staring right through me. Not hard, not soft, but intense all the same.

I clear my throat.

“My daddy died when I was a baby. And my little bean’s sperm donor doesn’t want her. Shit, I didn’t even think I’d be able to have kids… and now I feel like I’m failing at this mom thing already.”

“Lamaze… birthing classes right?”

I nod, not really knowing where this is going.

“What day next week?”

he takes out his phone and starts tapping. Okay, rudeness.

PC would never.

“Uh, Saturday morning.”

He taps his screen a couple more times before putting his phone away.

“Fasho. My schedule’s clear, so I can take you.”

A record scratches in my brain.

What?

“Uh… you’re not my baby daddy.”

This fool just shrugs.

“So? Dal isn’t either, and she was finna go with you.”

I scratch my scalp and glance around the room before landing back on him.

“Why come?”

“Why not?”

he shoots back. He grabs his popcorn and begins munching on it.

Why not? A grin spreads on my face. Another plot-driven person. I chuckle and shake my head to clear it and my tummy of butterflies.

“You’re a mess Shotta.”

His hand freezes midair before he turns to me again.

“Shad. Shaddy works, too. Rahshad if I make you mad. But that Shotta shit is dead, Mace.”

Who the hell does he think he’s talking to?

I huff and fold my arms, but on the inside, I’m screaming. First-name basis with Shotta?!

Shit, he’s halfway to falling in love with me.

“You gone press play?”

he says with a full mouth.

I turn the movie back on, then snatch the bowl from him and munch on some buttery ass popcorn.

Oh, this nigga’s serious.

Shotta, or Shaddy I guess, breezes through the kitchen as I fix a bowl of cereal. That clean cologne of his permeates the air, and he makes a black durag, white tee, and black joggers look delicious.

He grins at me as he leans across from me on the island.

“Good morning. Ready?”

“I, uh–”

“You can eat that in the car. We gone be late.”

“But, Dal–”

“I texted her last night. C’mon. I got questions.”

This nigga grabs my wrist like I’m made of glass, grabs my bowl, and whisks me away to his Jeep.

And he actually had questions.

And asked them.

This nigga is delulu as fuck.

I mean, I had questions, too, but Shaddy completely stole the show. A couple people recognized him and congratulated him on his pregnancy. And you know what this nigga did? He wrapped a long, muscly arm around me and thanked them.

My jaw was permanently dropped. He charmed our instructor, and got her to teach about the dangers of constipation and dairy, side-eyeing me the whole time.

When I kicked him under the table, this nigga laughed. Laughed!

It isn’t until I’m safely sequestered in this nigga’s Jeep that my jaw leaves the floor and I’m able to think again. But as soon as I reach for my seatbelt to unbuckle it, this nigga slides into the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck, Sha–”

“What I say bout that Shotta shit?”

he grits, like he has a reason to be mad.

“I was gonna say Shaddy, nigga. What the fuck was all that in there? You do know this ain’t that, right?”

This nigga turns the engine over and we zoom toward the border of South and West Kenton.

“I had questions, so I asked ‘em. You said you was so worried about them birds thinking you were a lesbian. Now they think you bagged a rapper. Isn’t that an upgrade?”

I fold my arms and cut my eyes at his smug ass.

“I told you, you ain’t the only rapper I know.”

“Oh yeah? Who you know Mace?”

I look out the window and roll my eyes.

“Don’t try to change the subject. You’re supposed to sit there and shut up like all the other dads.”

“I always pictured myself as a hands-on father.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“You being a bitch is kinda better than you being starstruck. I wonder what’s the next step.”

“Bitch?!”

I screech, turning in my seat.

I clench my fist and sock his muscly arm, hurting myself more than him.

Shaddy has the nerve to laugh. Oh, aight.

I grab the fucking steering wheel and yank it toward me.

“MACY WHAT THE FUCK?!”

He overcorrects and we end up in the left lane. Cars are honking. He’s screaming.

I’m cackling.

When he settles at a red light, he’s breathing all hard and shit, which makes me laugh more.

“What the fuck is your problem, bro?!”

I point at him.

“Now you know. Call me a bitch and I’ll kill us both.”

I turn the music up, and ironically it’s his latest single. I rap along as he drives us to wherever, getting extra animated at the bridge, and just as I thought, he can’t keep that scowl on his face for long.

“No cheese on her burger,”

he directs the waiter, who rushes off before I can correct him.

We’re at this burger place sitting on the street. The picnic tables are painted in primary colors, and that, coupled with the cloudless spring sky, brings a smile to my face.

“I can’t believe you almost killed us ‘cause I called you out on your attitude.”

I shrug and pick up my phone.

“You better believe it, bucko. And there’s nicer ways to call me out on shit. I’d never call you out of your name, and if we’re gonna be friends, you’re gonna have to do better, Shaddy.”

His huge hand covers my phone, so I lift my eyes.

“You right… my bad. I won’t call you out your name again, shorty.”

I nod and put my phone all the way down. “Good.”

He smirks at me then and leans closer.

“So we friends, then? I’ve been upgraded?”

Our waiter comes and sets down my bacon cheeseburger, sans cheese, and his three by three, with a bucket of fries to share.

“Keep me away from my dairy and I’ll demote yo ass right back to a rapper who won’t leave me alone.”

I dig right in, since I’m starving. My burger’s still delish without the cheesy goodness, but I’ll never tell him that. It’s bad enough he’s taking this bd thing way overboard.

I also keep my moans to a minimum. After the first couple of unreadable looks, I figured I was enjoying my food a little too much. But damn, almost dying leaves a bitch famished.

Yeah, I can call myself that. Tough titty.

“Have you been okay, though?”

I ask as I dust the salt from the fries off my fingers.

“The blogs have been a little brutal about you.”

Shaddy regards me as he sucks soda out his straw. It takes everything in me not to stare at his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I’m straight. In therapy, so…”

“A therapist would have a field day with my ass. How is that?”

I practically hear his walls go up as he shrugs, so now it’s my turn to reach out for his hand.

“Now, look, I know we’re new friends and all, but I see how everyone tiptoes around you. I’m not finna do that. I’m a bull in a china shop, always, if me making us swerve is any indication. You push, I push back, hard, so all that aloofness is dead with me. So Ima ask again; how’s therapy, Shaddy?”

That jaw of his clenches as we have a stare off, but he doesn’t even know. As a little sister, I’m used to this. I can wait out a nigga for days if I have to.

I see the moment he realizes it because one corner of his mouth lifts.

“I feel like being friends with you is gonna be a whirlwind.”

I shrug and pop a fry in my mouth.

“So I’ve heard.”

“There you go again alluding to these other muthafuckas you know.”

“Aight, okay. Be real with me, and I’ll tell you who be–”

“Oh, hell no! You’re ignoring my calls but on a date with this hippo bitch!”

This skinny ass girl waltzes up to us, takes my water and throws it in Shaddy’s face like it’s nothing.

I’m out my chair so fucking fast, you’d think that was actually my nigga. My hand wraps around them brown tracks and I yank her head down until we’re eye level.

Big buff security niggas come out of nowhere and try and get in the middle of us, but Shaddy doesn't let them get close to me. He pulls me behind him, and only then do I let go of this bitch’s hair.

That’s when I notice the cameraman.

The fuck is going on here?

“Sahara, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Shaddy seethes.

Sahara is trying to finger comb that weave of hers, but it’s no use. She has the nerve to look hurt as she glares at Shaddy.

“I’m filming a scene here and then I see you on a date with that–”

“I eat bitches like you for breakfast. Tread lightly.”

I try to step around Shaddy but his arm shoots out and wraps around me.

Black Barbie’s nostrils flare as she witnesses it, and I can’t help but wink at her.

Shaddy turns and glares at me.

“Chill out. Go wait in the car while I talk to Sahara.”

My neck jerks, and it doesn't make it any better when that bitch smirks at me.

“What?”

“Mace. Go.”

I don’t even know why my chest tightens. I don’t know this nigga foreal, not personally. And he calling her Sahara, so I know that’s the IG model bitch he’s been dealing with for years.

Of course he’d choose her over me.

I snatch up my purse and walk toward the parking lot, tuning out him telling her to get the cameras away from him.

But I keep walking. All the way to a cafe, and call a rideshare from there.

That nigga don’t run me, and that lil tough guy shit he did ain’t do nothing but make me gassy.

Rahshad gone learn that in this friendship I’m the big dog, and M Deezy don’t listen to nobody, especially no nigga.