Page 19

THIRTEEN

Israel’s absence was as therapeutic as it was overwhelming. Learning that he had a daughter just a week ago had my head and heart in two different places with two different points of views.

“She’s fifteen, Rou. Not five,” Rather pointed out.

“Right.”

“Or three. Any age under three and shit is fishy. I think almost every man can still play with their baby mother’s pussy if their child is under three,” Royce added.

“Especially if he’s a good father,” I agreed.

“Even if he’s not. Some women don’t have all of their marbles,” Rugger challenged.

“They have hope,” I contradicted.

“And that’s too much to have when it comes to men,” Royce grimaced.

“I agree, sister girl.” I chuckled with a nod.

The sprinter we’d reserved for the day made the morning with the girls much more pleasurable. No one was responsible for driving and we didn’t have to pile into several vehicles.

Breakfast at Rather’s was the pick-me-up I desperately needed. The two hours we’d spent at the spa this morning was icing on the cake. Mimosas were plentiful on the journey to our next destination. I tipped my cup upward and took a sip as my phone vibrated in my lap.

Without hesitation or paying attention to the screen, I answered. Matías’ voice eased the stress of my thoughts while killing my assumptions. It wasn’t Israel on the line, but I wasn’t opposed to sharing a few words with the caller.

Text messages did his vocals little justice. His voice was laced with sex. Desperation. Hunger. Thirst. Lust.

“Are you on your way to my town or should I be headed to yours?”

“Neither. Busy girl, Papi.”

“Ahhh– figures. As much as I love that about you, I hate it at the same time.”

“There couldn’t possibly be anything you hate about me,” I replied.

“The fact that you’re miles and miles away and I haven’t seen you in far more time than I’d like to admit.”

“Understandable.”

“So, a break? A weekend? Something. Anything .”

Admittedly, I wanted to see Matías as well. Not because I wanted him to stuff me like a twinkie, but because he offered something Israel didn’t. Simplicity. Everything about the partnership Matías and I had was simple.

He didn’t demand things from me that I wasn’t ready to give. He respected my boundaries. His selfishness ended where our arrangement began. He was open to whatever. He hardly had any objections. Just desires that were easily fulfilled because they were simple .

There weren’t any children. Personal issues. Baby mothers. There were only vibes. And, when they changed, our situation would end. No hard feelings. No feelings at all. Things were different with Israel. Things were complicated. Things were overwhelming.

“Matías?”

Protests could be heard around the van. I chuckled, ignoring the disapproval of my sisters. Range was the only person showing interest in the fun little detail of my story. She slid closer to me, hoping she could hear what was being said on the other end.

“Cut it up,” she whispered.

The condition of Malaya’s mother had me thinking much differently about a lot of things, including the snorting of cocaine I’d witnessed from Matías the first time we were involved. Since, I hadn’t seen or as much as heard the drug being pushed up his nose.

“Yes?”

“Cocaine, is that your drug of choice?”

“To sell, yes, Madam.”

“To use.”

“I’m not a user, Roulette. I do not get high off my supply. I’m a businessman. I’m not a fool, my love.”

“The first time we spent ti–”

“I was celebrating. Cocaine is as common as having a beer after your team wins a football game. It’s not often I am celebrating, Roulette. I don’t have much to celebrate.

“But, I’d gotten my hands on you, finally. And, your generosity had me up in spirits. Should my very rare usage affect you, then I will have that beer instead. Yeah?”

Nodding as if he could see me, I responded, “Yeah. A beer sounds better.”

“Then a beer it is.”

His Colombian accent was heavy. Intoxicating. So was his willingness to comply.

“Will I be celebrating soon, my love? That is what I’d like to know.”

“Maybe. Let me work some things around my schedule and get back to you.”

“I will be waiting.”

“Later, Matías.”

“Later, later.”

The call ended and all eyes were on me. Rome was the first to enter her two cents where they hadn’t been requested.

“Once the fun ends, Israel will still be around. Ready and willing.”

“I’m aware, baby.”

“He sounds sexy as hell, I won’t lie,” Royce admitted.

“Same. I’d cum just from listening to his ass roll that tongue,” Range said, rolling her hips.

“And, he can roll a fucking tongue,” I revealed, “Well. He knows exactly what he’s doing in the bedroom.”

“Is it thick?” Rather questioned.

“THICK, bih.” I confirmed. “I’m getting hot flashes thinking about it.”

I fanned my face.

“She’s so dramatic,” Roaman chuckled.

“Whew. Somebody get me a fan or turn up the AC in this bitch.”

“Says the woman on the way to pop up at her nigga’s kid’s school cause some low lives are fucking with her.”

“Not my nigga, and this has little to do with Israel. I’m doing the Lord’s work. Women’s work. Not Israel’s work. Get that shit right, Rapunzel.”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes,” Rugger hissed.

“You got ‘em it seems,” I retorted. “Your edges been rolling up since we left the spa. Slick that shit down or comb it back. You’re far from a baby. You don’t need their hair. Leave that shit to Psalem. It looks awful on you.”

“I’ve shot people for less,” she warned.

“Same, girl,” I reminded her. “Same.”

“Min–” Rome began.

“Looks fine. It’s this damn assassin trying to soften her look by swooping and swirling her postpartum edges.”

The bus filled with laughter. Rugger couldn’t hold onto that smug on her face. She tossed her head back cackling.

“You a dirty motherfucker, Roulette,” she claimed. “Leave my hair alone. It’s going through a phase.”

“I’m going to have to whip it up some growth grease. Help it out a little,” I promised.

“Please. Because I’m starting to worry.”

“But seriously, babes, I commend you,” Range expressed.

“Me?”

“Yes. For dating. Dating is a male-dominated sport if you ask me. Women encounter one man they like even a little and erase every other number in their phone while he keeps his options open and doesn’t stop exploring them until he’s walking down the aisle.”

“If then,” Royce added.

“Right!”

“But you’re having fun. You’re doing what you want to do. You’re keeping your desires centered, despite the fact that there’s a man pressuring you to be something or someone you’re not at the moment.”

“She’s right, Rou,” Rome explained, “And that’s not saying you won’t change or your philosophy won’t, but you’re not afraid to admit that you aren’t there yet and you’re not going to force yourself to be there because a man wants you to be.

“Ya know. We get so lost in the hunger of others for things we don’t want for ourselves that we look up years later only to realize we’re unhappy. We’re living a lie. And, we don’t even recognize ourselves.”

“Who you been fucking, sister girl? Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” I inquired.

“Not personal experience. But, life. Life has taught me to put your happiness and comfort above all else. Because in the end, it’s only you who you have to face in the mirror. It’s best you love the person staring back at you.

“It’s best you know them, too. Because if you’ve spent your life pleasing others, then you won’t. And, self-discovery isn’t easy at that point because you’re always wondering if what you’re doing is truly for you . I don’t know. Hopefully that made sense.” She shrugged.

“It made perfect sense, baby.” Range nodded. “Perfect sense.”

“Alright Shakespeare!” I yelled out, “Phenomenal.”

The van came to a stop. So did the laughter and chatter. The drinks in our hands were placed in the nearest cup holder. And, the smiles were swiped from our faces.

In small, compact mirrors, we all perfected our appearances. When satisfied, they were stuffed back into our bags. Some big. Some small. Rhea’s influence was heavy. Rewarding. And a breath of fresh air.

We’d clung to the bits and pieces of her that reminded us we were women. Richie’s influence was prioritized amongst most of us. It wasn’t by choice. It was the natural dynamic of our home. However, Rhea was weaved into everything we did one way or another.

One by one, we filed out of the van. Young, vibrant students surrounded us. Honking horns beckoned those with short attention spans to their awaiting vehicles. Nostalgia kept us all in the same spot for a brief second.

“Who are we looking for, again?”

“Malaya, of course, but Haleigh. Haleigh Drusille. The leader of the fucking pack who makes the orders for her crew to follow.”

“Haleigh Drusille,” Rome repeated her name.

“Well, her mother, so I can slap that bitch for raising a little shit head ass daughter.”

“You didn’t make that clear enough over the phone. I flew all this way for you to slap someone? I thought we were shooting. I left my son, Roulette.”

“Hush. You needed the break. So did your edges. And, we’re not leaving a young girl without a mother. Someone has to teach her how to treat others.”

“I agree,” Range added. “There’s Malaya.”

My camera roll was filling rather swiftly with images of Malaya and I. I’d only known her for six days and been in her presence three times, but she couldn’t keep her hands off the shutter button. They’d all gotten the chance to get a good look at her and remembered her features by heart.

An anchor caused my chest to fall into my stomach. Her head was bowed. Her shoulders were rounded. Her spine was curled. Her chin was tucked. Her defeat was apparent.

My feet had began moving before I realized what was happening. Within seconds, I was by her side. I sat the Chanel bag on the bench beside her. Slowly, I tipped her chin upward with my index finger.

“Chin up, pretty girl.”

Her spirit lifted with her chin.

“Roulette?” She gasped.

“Shoulders squared. Spine straightened. And, I want to see a smile across those beautiful lips.”

My eyes weren’t on her, but I saw her. I felt her. I heard her. She followed orders, composing herself as I searched the crowd for the face I’d familiarized myself with over the last few days.

“Did someone bother you today?”

“At school? No.”

“Then where?”

I halted my search and lended my attention to Malaya.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Did anyone harm you? Put their hands on you?”

“No. No. I’m fine,” she told me.

“Good, but we will talk later. Is your mother on her way to pick you up fr–”

“She’s not answering. She was supposed to be here when I made it out here. She's not.”

“Is that what is bothering you?”

“Yes.”

“Whenever you find yourself in a bind, Malaya, call me. That’s why I gave you my number. Alright?”

“Okay. And, I was going to call you. I jus– I wanted to call Dad to make sure it was okay. You know. Make sure you weren’t busy.”

“I’ll get unbusy for you, baby. Don’t sweat it. And, don’t call your father. He will worry halfway across the world. We’ve got this.”

Do we? I questioned, wondering what the hell kind of trouble my mouth and heart were getting me into. Malaya reminded me so much of my sisters that she had my heart by default. From the moment I met her, I was toast. Adopting her into the family felt so natural. And, it was.

She was one of the girls now. I wasn’t sure if she knew it or understood what that meant for her. Malaya was covered. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. We wouldn’t allow her to fall short. Whether her father and I continued our charade or not, she had become the baby of the older bunch. Because, Ms. Jru was the true cub of the family.

“Is that them?” She asked, the smile I’d been waiting tearing away at her face.

“Yes,” I replied, marveling at the women on their way over. “That’s them.”

I’d told her a few things about my sisters, but they were all great things. For her to better understand herself, I promised to bring them around to meet her. She was desperate for the presence of a woman.

A sober woman. A concerned woman. A successful woman. A happy woman. A maturing woman. A confident woman. A beautiful woman. A stern woman. A gentle woman. A hot woman. A cool woman. A vulnerable woman. A single woman. A married woman. A young woman. An older woman. An ambitious woman. An outgoing woman. An understanding woman.

They were all staring back at her. Every woman she needed to surround herself with in order to help her figure out which woman she wanted to be. Fifteen was pivotal in a young woman’s life. Having the right influences around was detrimental.

It didn’t matter how good of a father Israel was. He was a man. He’d never understand the development of a woman or how to help his child navigate unbiasedly . He’d unintentionally steer her in the direction of his mother, women he adored, women he dated, or women he’d fucked over in the past.

She’d mirror someone in his life whether he realized it or not. That’s not what I wanted for Malaya. Self-discovery was what I wanted for her. That started now.

“They’re pretty.”

“So are you.”

“I know, but like– they’re gorgeous. Look at them. They look like they’re on the runway.”

Long legs darted in our direction. Malaya was right. They did look like they were walking the runway.

“They’re just adults, babe. With grown woman features and faces. You’re well on your way. Which one reminds you more of yourself or resembles the woman you imagine yourself as.”

“The one in the middle.”

Rome. Of course .

“That’s Rome. Is it her style you love?”

“Yes. And her hair. It’s simple but it’s pretty. It compliments her face.”

“She’s The Ballerina . The one your father told you about.”

“You’re lying,” she gasped.

“No. I’m not. Ask her when she gets over here.”

“She’s so pretty.”

Rome was dressed in soft pink with half of her hair into a ponytail and the other half hanging down her back in loose curls. The style was clean, and as Malaya had mentioned, it complemented her face.

“I’m happy you think so, because the bags in their hands all belong to you. She picked out almost every piece.”

“Seriously?”

“So does that bag.”

She finally noticed the large Chanel bag.

“Shut up!” She squealed.

“Don’t freak out, Malaya. Keep calm. Always keep calm. Let your spectators know that you are not fazed by things that are at your fingertips.”

“Does it look like I’m freaking out now?”

Her leg bounced. She was ready to bolt from her seat to tear into the bag.

“Yes.” I chuckled. “Be patient. We will open it in the Sprinter.”

“Malaya–” Rome stepped up, lowering her body to pull Malaya in for a hug. “I’m Rome. It’s so nice to finally lay eyes on you, pretty girl.”

“On your feet, Malaya. Never remain sitting when greeting a person in pursuit of you. Feet on the pavement. Back straight. Eye contact,” I commanded.

She was up on her feet in a flash.

“You’re pretty,” she blurted, taking Rome’s hand.

“You’re pretty,” Rome responded.

“With perfect legs and smile,” Royce complimented.

“Thanks. And, thanks for coming today. You’re all just so–so beautiful.”

“Haleigh Drusille. To the left. Headed toward the white BMW. Her mother’s mouth is as big as hers. It has to be her procreator.” Rugger’s eyes never left the SUV as she leaned over and whispered the details I desperately needed.

“Get her to the Sprinter,” I advised them.

“The Sprinter. Roulette, I’m coming with you– just in case– you know.”

I shook my head, knowing there wasn’t any convincing Rugger. I highly doubted there was a weapon in the SUV, but I couldn’t tell my sister that. I took off in the direction Haleigh was walking in.

“Just give me space, okay?”

“You’re asking too much of me.”

“Three feet. That’s all I ask.”

“Fine.”

Rugger slowed her pace, allowing me to get a good distance ahead. It didn’t take long for me to reach the carpool line where Haleigh’s mother, Synthia, was waiting. She tapped the lock to let her daughter inside the vehicle, completely unaware of what was happening around her.

Bingo .

I opened the door, instantly. My hand went across her pale face without hesitation, catching her nose and mouth in the process. I was a tall girl. Nothing about me was compact. My hands were long enough to feel the leather of her seat on the opposite side.

“ARRRRRGGHHHH.” A grueling scream escaped her.

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Listen you butter, block eating bitch. Control that piece of shit you’re raising before I’m forced to parent her for you. My daughter is no fighter, but I am. A fighter. A shooter. A complete crash out that you don’t want to piss the fuck off.

“But, it’s far too late for that, now. I will be up here every day to whoop your toaster strudel eating ass every day until your daughter has learned her lesson if I have to. I do not mind.

“I will gladly carve out time in my schedule to meet you here at 4:15 PM every day. That nose bleed is only a warning. I won’t be so lenient next time, Peppa Pig.”

“Oh my God, who are you?”

“You can refer to me as find out, cause your daughter has fucked around a few times too many.”

I grabbed the door, prepared to slam it back, but there were a few words too heavy on my heart to let them die.

“Haleigh?”

“Oh God.”

She trembled in the front seat, watching as her mother tried controlling the bleeding from her nose.

“I hope you’re saving for a plastic surgeon because you have the nose of a fucking elephant.”

I strolled toward the Sprinter where the ladies were ushering Malaya inside. It didn’t matter that I’d just bruised the ego of a seventeen year old. She needed to be humbled.

She’d fucked with the wrong one, taking shots at Malaya’s self-esteem each day she showed up for school, making it difficult to do the thing she loved doing the most. Learning . It was time she received a hit to that inflated ego of hers.

“And, try some fucking iron, box dye wearing bitch!” I yelled over my shoulder, sure Haleigh’s mother heard every word.

Her nose was bleeding profusely because it was unable to clot. Her blood was too thin. She needed to be at her doctor’s office the first thing in the morning or she’d bleed out by the time I finished whooping her ass every day at 4:15p .

My daughter? I groaned internally. I referred to her as my daughter. Who the fuck am I becoming?

I climbed into the van and took my seat. I grabbed the drink I’d left minutes prior and tossed it back. There wasn’t a drop left when I lowered the glass.

Fuck. See, this is why I don’t want shit to do with children. I’d clear this whole fucking school out right now and I’ve only know the damn girl seven days.

“Somebody pour me something stronger,” I demanded, waving my glass in the air.

I didn’t care who assisted my intoxication. I just needed it pronto.

“Thank you.”

I whipped my head toward the back of the van where the voice had come from. The smile that reached Malaya’s eyes was rich, fluent, and reassuring. This wasn’t about me. It never would be.

This was about restoring everything inside of a young girl that life had stolen from her in such a short amount of time. She deserved a chance at a good life, finances aside, and I would give her one.

“You’re welcome, Princess.”

Fuck . I regretted the word the second it came from my mouth.

I have to get away from this man. He’s fucking with my head .

The silk pajamas fit Malaya perfectly. Plumping patches were underneath her eyes, working their magic for the bags she was developing with the weight of her mother’s world on her shoulders. Soft pink was her color.

The mini fashion haul that coupled with the fashion show we watched in my living room featuring Malaya on the runway was proof. Rome stuck to neutrals, but every so often she tossed a baby soft pink in her wardrobe, and it made all the difference.

Because Malaya was still fairly young, she incorporated plenty of pink pieces. They were dreamy on her rich, buttery brown skin. She loved each one of them, making Rome the happiest girl in the world.