Page 8

I smile as YC’s face illuminates my phone. I whooped his ass so bad in pool just now, and it’s customary for him to call and threaten me.

I slide my thumb and cheese into the camera.

YC is the spitting image of Uncle Junior. Milk chocolate, square jaw, jet black curly hair, and wide nose on a big ass head on top of a jailhouse buff body. Uncle Junior having a full thick beard is the only difference between the two.

He’s scowling hard like usual. Running his tongue over his teeth.

“Yo ass cheating. And you know I hate a fucking cheat.”

I roll my eyes and turn on my side. It’s a rainy spring night in Kenton, and the house is asleep, since it’s after midnight.

But of course my godbrother is still awake.

“You know that’s a lie.”

“You calling me a fucking liar, Deeze? You giving me a reason to pull up? I already owe Dal’s nigga a hot one for making her cry.”

His deep voice rumbles over the line, making me cackle.

“Nigga, they’re engaged now. You’re a few months too late.”

“I couldn’t leave Prince out here alone… YT’s out, I can be on bullshit now. Where yo baby daddy at?”

I sit up in the bed and snatch my bonnet off, not caring that my curls are smushed.

“Baby daddy? Who–”

YC’s lips twitch.

“Pops overheard Mika and Dallas talking about you being in holding. Glad to hear you aimed below the belt–”

“Shhh! S-stop… talking… right now.”

I pin my index finger to my lips like YT can hear us.

“You will keep that to yourself.”

YC chuckles, keeping the straightest face like the psycho he is.

“YT doesn’t know… because I want to do him in myself.”

I can’t help but simper at this big rhinoceros of a man. When Mo went away, the Triplets took it upon themselves to always keep me close, YC especially. He’s only the oldest out of them by some hours, but he takes his role as a protector seriously.

I mean, he broke my first boyfriend’s arm in three places because he didn’t walk me all the way to my door.

I’ve never had a shortage of men in my life that do for me, which is why I somehow feel guilty when I find myself missing my father.

But, none of them are my father. And history is repeating itself.

I want my bean to have the chance to really know him, even if he’s an adulterous geriatric asshole.

Which is why I find myself saying.

“Promise me you’ll leave him alone. I’m serious, Cain.”

He bristles at the use of his first name.

“I should snap his neck just for that.”

All three of the Triplets hate their names. Their mothers were all in competition for Uncle Junior’s heart, and their names reflect it.

Cain, the firstborn by literally eighteen hours, named for the first son of Adam.

Who killed his brother. I’m sure she did that on purpose.

Then, Prince Charming, for being the son of the king, I guess? The name fits though, since YP is objectively insanely attractive, and very charismatic. You almost can excuse how psychopathic he is, because he’s so handsome.

Almost.

And then my girlie, YT, named True, as in, her mother believed she was the only Young triplet that was actually Junior’s. A True Young.

I’ll let her tell you what she did when she found out she wasn’t Junior’s biological daughter.

“But you won’t, because I asked you to. And you love me.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth Deeze. And bring Dal to come see YT before she has Prince blow up that shiny new building.”

With that, he hangs up like the meanie he is.

I blow hot air and get out of bed. I’m up, might as well sneak a sundae in.

I stop at the mirror by the room door, and stake stock of my body. I’m six months, and baby girl got my hips finally spreading.

Having PCOS unfortunately made ya girl top heavy. I’d always had ample breasts, which came with a side of tummy. But the hips and ass were left off the menu. Now, I’m still one of the baddest to walk the earth, and niggas love to grab on what’s not back there and make me feel like I got an apple bottom, but sadly it’s all in our imagination.

Not anymore!

Nope, my tummy’s expanding, but these hips are preparing for childbirth, too. Booty still a little… little, but I mean, me having a fire body, brains, and an amazing personality would be too much.

I’d be like Rico, and I know beating groupies off with a stick all day is exhausting.

I mean… I’m still fielding How you been? messages from niggas I met in college.

I cradle my bump, swooning at myself.

“Hips poking… titties sitting ca-yute, even though you finna make ‘em sag… okayyy daughtaaa!”

I turn to the side and examine my cuff.

“I could build an ass in the gym… yeah right,”

I cackle to myself and skip down to the kitchen.

One chocolate sundae with bananas and Denver’s gummy bears later, I’m prancing into the TV room, but stop short when I see the top of some braids on the couch.

My eyes roll so hard I’m surprised they’re not stuck. Ugh, this nigga.

I’ve been actively avoiding Shaddy for a couple days now. Partly because I know he’s going through it, so I can’t cut him how I want to, and partly because, surprisingly, my feelings are a little hurt. I mean, he was just doing the most, being my fake baby daddy, taking me to lunch, making me not eat dairy and shit… to just dismiss me when that bitch disrespected me.

Then, the blogs posting my picture got my actual niggas hitting me up, asking me why I let his ass take me out the game. Trippy’s ass sent me twenty-two laughing emojis in our group chat with PC.

“I know that’s you, Mace.”

He glances behind himself, doing a double take at what’s in my hands. He hops up, and my breath stalls.

I mean, I know it’s getting hotter, but it’s storming. Where is his shirt?!

Muscles and tattoos ripple as he swaggers toward me. Shaddy reminds me of a brown skinned 50 Cent. There’s this video… it’s of 50 rapping Many Men for the first time on this crowded ass stage…

The sex appeal oozing from that video rivals the sex appeal oozing from Shaddy now.

Then he’s got the whole, broodin.

“I’m fighting demons”

vibe going on… which is concerning, sure, but also, very sexy.

Until he snatches my sundae from me.

“Hey–”

He takes my spoon and scoops a huge chunk, taking it into those full lips of his.

“What I say about no dairy?”

he says after he bobs that Adam’s apple.

I ball my face up.

“You’re not my baby daddy, Rahshad. You can’t tell me what to do. If I wanna be constipated at the expense of vanilla and chocolate goodness, that’s. My. Prerogative.”

I punctuate my point by poking those big man titty pecs of his, and he has the nerve to flex them.

“That’s not what I heard,”

he says, eating more of my sundae.

“I heard I am ya baby daddy. Shit, I’m pressing niggas over you. Got PC on my line asking how I know you.”

His jaw clenches when I look away.

“He’s a jokester.”

I grab my half-eaten sundae and make my way to the couch with him on my heels.

“So PC and Trippy the other rap niggas you know?”

I fill my mouth with as much sundae as I can before smirking at him. He waits me out, watching me swallow ice cream and banana chunks by the gallon, getting more and more impatient as the seconds tick by.

When I lick the spoon, he snaps his fingers at me.

“I’m not a fucking dog, Rahshad, don’t you snap at me. And who I know isn’t your business. In a minute Ima stop this lil role play shit you got going on. Especially since you actually do have a girlfriend.”

A dark look passes through his face as he scoots back some.

“My bad… about snapping and what Sahara’s dumb ass said the other day. But she’s not my girl, not anymore at least.”

Curse myself and my empathetic nature. I groan, setting my bowl and spoon on the ottoman before getting comfortable.

“Okay, lay it on me. What happened? Besides her trying to make you a reality tv star,”

I snicker.

He shrugs, but at my pointed look, he sighs.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna tell you, it’s just… I don’t talk about my shit foreal. Not tryna bore you or make you feel like I’m complaining about shit. I ain’t got shit to complain about.”

I feel my neck lock up but I don’t let it jerk all the way. The last thing I need is to hurt myself.

“How you gone be my fake baby daddy and keep shit from me?”

He smirks, showing that lil dimple on top of his cheek.

“You gotta pick, Mace. Are you my baby mama or not?”

I lean back on the arm of the sofa and fold my hands on top of my stomach. Shaddy’s eyes go to it, an unreadable expression on his handsome face.

“Eyes up here… I haven’t decided yet. But until I do, we’re still friends, and friends talk about things.”

“So you be talking with all your friends? Even PC?”

I grin. “Yup.”

He narrows his eyes at me when I cackle. Too easy.

“Don’t be grouping me in with yo hoes, Mace,”

he says, and I fight off the intense wave of arousal that floods me from his low tone, and hone in on being annoyed he’s trying to reprimand me.

“Man, look. Let’s not even go there… we friends, Shaddy. How about this: I’ll tell you something about me; something you can’t find on your computer. Then you tell me what happened with Sahara.”

Shaddy rubs his chin through his beard.

“I can ask anything I want?”

You sure can, daddy.

“Yup,” I shrug.

He folds his arms, making those pecs bulge.

“Aight. Why aren’t you with Beanie’s biological dad?”

The ice cream in my tummy turns into acid and I swear the loudest fart escapes my asscheeks.

Like, I feel them ripple.

Shaddy doesn’t even crack a smile.

We just keep staring at each other, even when the smell permeates the air. I wave it out of my face, he doesn’t.

His nostrils actually flare.

Oh, he’s insane.

“That doesn’t count as your answer, Mace. I’m waiting.”

I sigh and roll my eyes.

“Fine… we weren’t ever exactly together… he was something to do, and do well. I have PCOS. My eggs don’t drop, they turn into little cysts on my ovaries. I barely have a period, and the chances of me having a baby naturally are slim to none, so I was letting my freak flag fly… until I got pregnant. He ghosted me when I told him, and that’s when I found out he was married anyway, and a liar. I’ll probably put him on child support once Beanie gets here just to be a bitch, but I’m cool off him. It’s plenty of niggas who will play stepdaddy, huh?”

I wink at Shaddy to break the tension that began mounting, but that jaw is still clenched, and hennessy eyes still trained on me.

“One: Beanie isn’t my stepdaughter, she’s just my daughter.”

Oh, boy. This nigga is certifiable.

“Two: I’m sorry this blessing came from nefarious circumstances foreal. Niggas that gotta lie to get pussy are the worst type of niggas. And how PC was pressing me, I’m sure that nigga was on you tough before you turned up pregnant.”

I wave him off and ignore his obvious digging for info.

“Don’t feel too bad for me. I shot that nigga in the leg. I’m over it, truly. Now,”

I clap my hands once.

“I’m seated. Wassup with you and that cat looking ho Sahara?”

The corners of his mouth lifts as he hoods his eyes.

“You’re something else, Mace.”

“Don’t deflect. A deal’s a deal.”

Shaddy leans on the back of the couch and palms the side of his face.

“I’m sure you know about my OG and my sister… Sahara’s solution to my family dying is to make another one.”

I scoff.

“That bitch is nuts. You want me to shoot her? I’ll just aim for the pinky toe, I promise.”

I cross my fingers behind my back in case he takes me up on my offer, but he just looks at me like a disappointed dad.

“You are not having my baby in jail, Mace… Sahara’s a bird, but she means well. She doesn’t have any family besides Van and their solution way back when was to make a new family, so I get–”

“No. Stop right there. Stop being so fucking understanding, Shaddy. If a nigga told me that shit you’d be ready to do whatever everyone’s scared of to that nigga, so have the same standards for you, too. I don’t give a fuck about what she would do, that’s a very insensitive thing to say to you.

“A baby isn’t going to fill the hole that your mom and sister left. It never will. And if you were dumb enough to go through with her asinine plan, years from now you’ll realize what I’m saying and then you’ll resent an innocent life, and the person you’re wrongfully tied to. Repeat after me: fuck that bitch.”

He finally cracks a smile at me, but I’m dead ass. “Mace–”

“Unt unt. You called me one, yo baby mama, you can call that weird bitch one. So do it. It’ll be our secret.”

He combs that bottom lip with his teeth and I think he won’t, but he surprises me.

“Fuck that bitch.”

“Okay! On hood! You sure you don’t want me to whoop her ass? I don’t play ‘bout my baby daddy, nie.”

Shaddy just shakes his head, and in a flash he yanks me from my side of the couch to the middle. With another yank, and some manipulation, he settles me with my head on a pillow in his lap, and his hand protectively palming my belly.

I couldn’t blink if I wanted to.

“I’m serious about you having my baby in jail, Mace. Don’t be doing no crazy shit, leave that to me.”

“Now what fun would that be?”

I grumble, but he ignores me, opting to turn on the tv instead.

“Can we watch a musical?”

He lazily rubs his fingertips on my belly.

“Nah. I’m the sad one. We watching comedies.”

He picks which one we’re gonna watch, dims the light, and leans back on the couch.

“Shaddy?”

I say as the movie starts.

“Yeah, Mace?”

“I’m sorry about your family.”

His hand freezes on me momentarily, before cupping the bottom of my bump.

“Me, too.”