Another Rumble (A Rumble in VA) Page 7

  “Details… details,” Juju snapped his fingers and said. “Spill it, bitch!”

  “That girl is dead and gone and now her ghost is haunting me.”

  “You know Asia was born a jealous bitch, and she died one, too.”

  “Juju, you didn’t show these pictures to anybody did you?”

  “Bitch, boo. How dare you ask me something like that,” Juju dramatically stated as he put his hand on his hip.

  “Burn these for me please.” I put the pictures back in the envelope and passed them to Juju.

  “As you wish.” He put the pictures back in his purse. “Are you alright?” Juju put his hand on my shoulder.

  “No, but I will be.”

  “Ewww… chile’, don’t make that face,” he said, waving his index finger. “It ain’t that serious. Just be glad I was the one who found them and not that jealous bitch, Stephanie. You know she filled me in on everything that has been going on since I left.”

  “Its no surprise.”

  “Bitch, what is going on with you and this head of yours?” he wrinkled up his nose and said.

  “Even in times of distress a diva must always appear fierce. Case in point,” Juju stood up and said as he did another quick spin. “I don’t leave the house without looking like some eye candy. Check the shoes out.” He held out his right foot. I did not have the heart to tell Juju that his lime green, open toe, wedged heels were horrible. I just nodded my head and smiled. “I need something to wear to the club tonight. Let me see what you have in your closet I can freak, so I can put on a show for the rest of the jealous bitches.” Juju opened my closet door and then he turned the light on. “You want to hang out with me for a little while tonight, Sabrina?”

  “No thank you,” I started laughing. “I’ll take a rain check.”

  “I’mma’ hold you to that, too, bitch!”

  Its Gone Be Some Problems!

  I hope Milk does not make a habit of bringing his daughter to my house. I would never do anything to hurt the lil’ girl, but I don’t do kids. That’s why I sent mines back to Florida to live with his grandmammy. I could care less that he is an attentive father to his child. That shit doesn’t move me. I do not plan on having any kids by his ass, but I have a remedy for that shit. I doused enough perfume on the baby’s diaper bag so Sabrina would smell it and know that Milk had her baby around another woman. I doubt there will be any father-daughter days anytime soon once she gets a whiff. Oh, yes. Its about to be some problems.

  My Child!

  I didn’t leave Nicole’s house until a little after ten. I had to turn my phone off because Sabrina acts like my phone number is the only number she has. When I pulled up in the driveway I could see her peeping out the living room window. I was mentally preparing myself to ignore her ass. I don’t have time to go another round with her tonight. I had shit to do. Before I could make it to the porch, she had the front door open.

  “Milk where have you been?”

  I walked past her, went inside the house, and did not open my mouth. She closed the door and followed me up the stairs.

  “Do you hear me talking to you, Milk? Where have you been with my child?” she yelled.

  Hearing the words my child almost broke me, but I kept walking. Silence is golden.

  “I have been calling your phone all damn day.”

  I turned the light on in Saysha’s room, sat the carrier down on the changing table, and took her out. I was doing good so far.

  “Milk, she is a newborn. You can’t keep her out of the house all day like that.”

  I layed the baby down in her crib. I just feed and changed her before I left Nicole’s house, so she good for a few hours. I turned the light out and walked across the hall to my room. I walked into my closet to pick out something to wear. It took me only a minute to decide. I walked back out of the closet and laid my clothes out on the bed.

  “And what the fuck is this shit all over my child’s diaper bag!”

  Damn, I forgot the shoes. I walked past Sabrina, went into the closet, and grabbed a pair.

  “You better not of had my baby around none of your bitches either!” she yelled.

  Well, I tried. “Sabrina, get the fuck out of my room,” I turned around and said.

  “I’ve been calling you all day long, Milk.”

  “So!” I yelled back.

  “What the fuck you mean so?”

  “I knew you ain’t want shit.”

  “I don’t care what you thought I wanted,” she continued to yell. “You answer the damn phone when my child is with you.”

  “Shut up, before you wake up Saysha.”

  “Milk, you are really trying my patience,” she threw the bag on the floor and huffed.

  “Do you think I give a fuck about yo’ patience?” I walked over to my dresser.

  “The next time you have my child with you and don’t answer the phone that will be the last time you leave this house with her.”

  “Look,” I turned around, “let me go ‘head and get you told right now. Y’all bitches kill me with this my child shit. That’s my mothafuckin’ daughter, too, and I ain’t gon’ let nothing happen to her when she’s with me. I don’t need yo’ ass calling me every five minutes.”

  “Well, you…”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I cut her off. “You take some of that money you said that nigga gave you and find you somewhere else to live, ‘cause I ain’t going through this bullshit every time I leave the house with Saysha.”

  “Oh, so you putting us out?” she put her hand on her chest and said. “All because I asked you to answer your phone when I call you?”

  “Man, I can’t live in this house with you, Sabrina. Shit is over between us. I love my baby, but it is best that we get the fuck from ‘round each other. Now, if you will excuse me,” I pointed at the door, “I would like to take a shower.”

  “I’m not moving, you carry your ass,” she barked back.

  “How ‘bout we just do this,” I said while I clapped my hands together. “Sell this mothafucka’. You go yo’ way and I’ll go mine!”

  Moving Day!

  Every night had turned into fight night at our house, and I could not take it anymore. I changed my mind about moving to Atlanta with my daddy. Despite the way Milk has been treating me, he is a good father to Saysha and I don’t want her to have to grow up without her daddy like I had to do. Even though my daddy paid child support to my momma for both me and Stephanie, I wanted to see him more often than just the summertime and Christmas break.

  I think one of the reasons I put up with Milk and his shit for as long as I did was because I feared he would leave me just like my daddy left my momma. It seemed like when they divorced my daddy divorced us too. I remember when my momma and daddy used to argue, fuss, and fight all the time. I was sad to see him go, but our house became more peaceful once they finally separated. This will be the first time I have ever lived on my own, but hey, if my momma could do it with two by herself I can do it with one.

  I found a four bedroom townhouse in Chesapeake not too far from where Rico used to live, and tomorrow is moving day. Milk and I got in another argument this morning because I wouldn’t tell him where I was moving too. The last thing I needed was for Milk to pop up at my house whenever he felt like it. Milk told me to never call him again and if I needed anything for the baby to call my momma and have her call him, which was fine by me. I told Milk he could take his money and cram it up his ass.

  Damaged Goods!

  A father makes his son strong so he can go out in the world and handle his business. When and where to think from the heart is something you learn from your mother. I guess that’s why I ain’t got no heart.

  Being in foster care all those years molded me into the person I am today. The people I lived with didn’t give a fuck about me. I was nothing but a check to them. One lady used to beat the hell out of me if I looked at her the wrong way. I used to think about ways that I could kill her in her sleep, and I think
she knew it too because she would lock me in her closet at night.

  The next family I lived with used to make me stay outside in the rain, sleet, snow, or hail. The kids in the neighborhood used to make fun of me and call me names like funk box because my clothes were always dirty. I spent most of my time by myself in the woods in the backyard of my foster parent’s house. I started to collect grasshoppers and crickets in a jar, and they became my friends. One day I caught a bird. I don’t know what made me do it but I beat the bird in the head with a rock and killed it, and for some reason it made me feel good.

  When I would go to the park I would see other kids out there with their mommas, and it made me wonder where my momma was and if she was ever going to come and get me. I wanted her to hug on me like I saw all the other mommas doing to their kids. I wanted my momma to kiss my elbow, to make it feel better when I fell down, or push me on the swing. That’s what mommas are for right?

  By the time Aunt Jean got to me I was already damaged goods. I no longer cared if anyone hugged me because I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t trust anybody, especially women, and I didn’t listen to anyone either. I didn’t go to school and I didn’t come in the house when I was supposed to. Basically, I did what the fuck I wanted to do and that carried over into adulthood.

  My Aunt Jean told me who Peaches really was, but I had a feeling that’s who she was anyway. My Aunt Jean is one of the nicest people you could ever meet, so I knew it had to be a reason why she acted like that towards Peaches. Am I angry? Fuck yeah, I am. The shit I had to go through when I was in foster care, no child, shit, no human being should have to experience what I went through. A bear would protect their cub better than Peaches protected me. And they call animals dumb beasts.

  Remember when I told you I wouldn’t piss on my momma is she was on fire? I lied.

  Shit Or Get Up Off The Pot!

  “Hey Dap, what are you doing?”

  “I tried calling you, Nicole, but you changed your number.”

  “Oh, shoot. Dap I’m sorry. I meant to give you my new number. Peaches was getting on my nerves, so I changed it.”

  “I need to talk to you Nicole.”

  I looked over at the bathroom door when I didn’t hear the water running anymore. “I have company right now Dap. Can I call you later?”

  “It’s important Nicole.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Peaches is dead.”

  “What?”

  “There was a fire at the church last night, and she wasn’t able to make it out.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Nicole, we have to go down there.”

  “Go down there for what?”

  “To bury her, Nicole,” Dap said with a puzzled look on his face. “Somebody has to claim her body or the state will end up burying her.”

  “So, let them pick up the tab. I’m not going down there.”

  “Peaches had her issues, but she was still your momma.”

  “No she wasn’t, she just had me.”

  Dap let out a sigh. “I know you don’t mean that.”

  “You think I don’t?” I looked at him. “Peaches ain’t never do shit for me, so now I’m gon’ return the favor. I’m busy right now. I gotta go,” I said as I closed the door. I turned around and Milk was standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

  “That was Dap wasn’t it?” I shook my head yes. “I thought so that’s why I stayed in the bathroom.”

  “You don’t have to hide from Dap,” I snapped.

  “I know how he feels about you Nicole. He got kinda’ hot with me one day when I asked a few questions ‘bout you, and you know that’s my man. What’s wrong? Why you look like that?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head and smiled. “You hungry?”

  “Naw, I got to get ready and get out of here. Whatchu’ got going on today?”

  “Not too much. Its my day off and I’m just going to relax.”

  “A’ight, I be back thru here later on tonight,” he said, kissing me on my lips.

  “Lock the door behind you.”

  When I walked into my bedroom, I saw that there was some money on the bed. I picked it up and counted it. Another thousand dollars? Okay. My patience is starting to wear a little thin. It was now time to make Milk shit or get up off the pot.

  Daddy’s Little Girl!

  When I was ten years old I found out why my daddy only came around on the weekends to see us. He was married, and me and Rell were his street seeds. I know his wife had to have known about us, but at least he ain’t buck on my momma all together. Before I found out that Deshawn was not my son, I was doing the same thing to him that my daddy did to me and Rell. I thought as long as I was taking care of him I was doing my part as a father. When it was revealed that he was not my son, it was not hard for me to cut him off because I never really formed a bond with him anyway.

  This is not what I pictured life would be like when I found out Sabrina was pregnant. I don’t want to be just a weekend daddy to my baby because I know how that feels. I loved being around my daddy, and two days out of the week was not enough to me.

  Now the cycle continues. I wanted to be able to see my baby every day and watch her as she grew up. I wanted to be there to tell her every day that her daddy loved her and teach her how she is supposed to be treated. I want her to know what it feels like to be daddy’s little girl. I didn’t want any of this bullshit that’s going on now. I miss my baby. I’m going to try my best to be cordial to Sabrina, and I’m gone find out where she lives at too. She won’t have my baby around a bunch of niggas.

  Where They Do That At!

  You will have to excuse my previous behavior. I don’t ever get that emotional. Thanks for allowing me to vent, but I’m good now that I have gotten some of my anger out. I now have another problem on my hands.

  Byrd and his grandfather have been getting their dope from Chino and his family for years, but no sooner than I start to fuck with the juicehead his ass gets picked up by the Feds. Now, my dope is somewhere in a plastic bag stacked up on a shelf in a room with an evidence sticker on it collecting dust, and unfortunately this is the one time I did not have a plan B. The only person I knew that could hit me off with that much weight on such short notice was Milk. My liaison informed me that he was back up on his feet now, so I reached out to him.

  I made idle conversation with him at first just to feel him out. I had to make him think the dope was for somebody else, not to raise any eyebrows as to where I got so much money from. Milk told me he would hit me back by the end of the week to let me know how we were going to make the exchange.

  Sometimes I amaze myself. First I rob the nigga, then I almost kill him and his bitch, and now I am about to come up off the nigga. Tell me where they do that at?

  Next Move, Best Move!

  There is a God. After being locked up for almost three months they finally let me go today. My case was dismissed for lack of evidence. The crib wasn’t in my name and my finger prints were not on the guns, so they could not prove that it was mine or that I knew the shit was in the house.

  The storage place where I kept my Range Rover was within walking distance from the jail, and once I was released that was the first place I went. I always paid my storage up for six months at a time, and I’m glad I did. It was just my luck that the manager on duty recognized me. I didn’t have the key to the lock on my storage, so he cut it off for me. I kept an extra set of keys in the glove box, and I never locked the doors. When he went back to the office I opened the back door and looked under the spare tire to make sure the money I stashed was still there. It was, and so was my gun. I stopped by the office on my way out to give the manager a hundred dollars for cutting the lock off for me and told him I no longer needed the storage unit.

  I stopped at the Wendy’s on Bonney Road to get me something to eat, and then I drove across the street to the Days Inn to get me a room. I thought about going to my condo, but I have been locked up for
a couple of months and I don’t know what the fuck is going on in the streets. After I ate my food I took a shower and then stretched out across the bed to think about what I was going to do next.

  As soon as I closed my eyes Sabrina appeared. I had to figure out a way to get in touch with her. I thought it was best that I wait until it was dark to look for her but I was becoming restless. I kept clothes in a duffle bag in the truck in case of emergencies, so I got up and got dressed. I don’t have a plan of action at this very moment, but whatever I decide to do I have to make my next move my best move.

  Parental Rights!

  My grandma called me this morning and told me that Gail, Breon’s momma, had been trying to get in touch with me. I don’t know what for. She wanted Bre, and now she has him. What the fuck does she need to talk to me about? She ought to be thankful that he is even breathing.

  By the time I found out I was pregnant with Bre it was too late for me abort him. I had already had four abortions prior to having him and one more would not have hurt me. I have worked too hard to maintain my figure and never again will I allow another bastard child to disfigure it. I felt no emotional attachment to Bre when I was carrying him, and I didn’t jump for joy once I pushed him out of my pussy. Every time I would feel the little fucker move around in my stomach it made me sick, and whenever he would kick me I would punch his ass right back. In addition, I am selfish, self-centered, and contrary to what others may say, I do believe that this world revolves around me, and the only person I want to be responsible for is Nicole. I moved up to Virginia just to piss Gail off.