Baby Momma 2 (12 page)

“Fuck this, we're going. Now.” Lania jumped up and stormed out of the house, leaving me no choice but follow her ass or get left behind.
Damn, she could have at least let me ask for a doggie bag.
In my dulled state our convo played back in my head, Lania's words finally catching up with my brain, and the audience in my head yelled,
Hold the fuck up!

“Wait. Did you say Chelle was showin' Key a house today? I thought he closed on his house already. Michelle told me that's why we were celebrating that first night at LIV.” I had to damn near run to keep up with Lania's long-ass legs. The sand didn't even slow her ass down. The coke we'd done gave everything a pink halo in my mind. Like none of this shit was real. She still hadn't answered me as she hopped her ass up into her Range. I finally caught up and climbed in as well.

“Key hasn't bought any damn house. He still in his same damn house. What lies your bitch wife tell you? I'll cut out her tongue and feed it to her, before I kill her.”

This time I didn't get mad at Lania; oh no, this time my ass was furious and it was with Michelle. I couldn't believe she'd lied to me! We sped down the highway to Keyshawn's
real
house. I was thinkin' high thoughts the whole way. I imagined Keyshawn fuckin' Michelle and remembered Lania fuckin' her with her strap. The kids calling Keyshawn Daddy, me sitting in a cell by myself. Blood on wood floors, all kinds'a crazy shit.

A part of me wanted her to be there so I could actually catch her in the act. That way she wouldn't be able to lie to me or convince me of no dumb shit. Another part of me wanted her and the kids to be home, or on their way home, so we could try to get shit back to normal as soon as possible.

Lania started to slow down and we pulled into the driveway of a large cream-colored house with a red shingle roof. It wasn't as big as all the other homes I'd been to. Not the kind of house I expected Keyshawn “Keys to the City” Matthews to have, but I guessed that's why he was tryin' to buy a new one in the first place.

“I don't see Michelle's car nowhere.” I looked around a few more times, scared to let myself feel any kind of relief.

“It could be in the garage or around the back, or they could have gone down to the courts by the lake. We will see.” Lania grabbed her purse and dumped everything out into the floor of the Range, M•A•C makeup and NARS shit going everywhere.

Man, this shit was fucking up my free high. Two high bitches doin' some dumb-ass high-ass shit. She took her empty purse and cat-walked even now around to a side. My TV audience chanted the
Pink Panther
theme music in my head. I tried to shake them out as I followed her to a side door.

“Lania, you got a key?” I whispered.

“He took it back last time we had an argument but”—bending down, she picked up a smooth, large, round garden stone—“I do now.” Dropping it into her purse, she tapped it against the glass in the door, which shattered instantly. She threw the rock back into the bushes and used her purse like a glove to reach in and unlock the door.

“Nigga never turns his alarm on. No matter how many times I fuss and tell him about it, he never listens.” She tsked, and we crept in, careful to step over the broken glass. We were in the kitchen and straight ahead I could see the living room. Luther Vandross's “Here and Now” was playing loudly throughout the house over the intercom speaker system. There were two empty wineglasses sitting on the kitchen table. Looking at Lania my eyes involuntarily filled with tears, and as much as my heart was hurting it broke me down even further to see hers do the same.

“Where would they put the kids?”

Michelle wouldn't fuck no nigga in front of Trey and Lataya; she wasn't that damn trifling. Lania's eyes widened and her finger flew over my lips, silencing me. I stared at her—confused, waiting. I physically watched her heart break and fall into a million pieces. I saw my own sad reflection in a single tear that slid down her cheek in slow motion and I heard the splash when it hit the floor. Yeah, I was that high.

“
Oh my God this shit feel so good . . .”

My own eyes filled with tears. High as I was I didn't care anymore; I just wanted to confront Michelle, make her be sorry, and then I could take her back and we'd be even. Lania turned and set down her purse before we started walking toward the stairs and I followed closely behind her. Not used to the house, I was making sure I stepped where she stepped so I wouldn't trip over anything or make a floorboard creak. The carpet kept our steps quiet as we went through the living room.

I saw a couple of Legos scattered around and my knees almost gave out but I kept walking—past the large black circular-shaped couch and wall-sized flat-screen TV. Past a room that looked like it wasn't nothing but a shrine Keyshawn devoted to himself, full of trophies, and life-sized posters, until we came to the stairs. The house surround sound was playing Aaliyah's “At Your Best” and I thought I was gonna be sick for a second. This was one of my and Michelle's songs back in the day.

We got up to the top of the stairs and every
I love you
replayed in my head, every kiss, every smile, every happy memory, and all I could think about was seein' her face so I could say, “Baby, I forgive you. Let's move on.” I almost turned around and went back down the stairs, but we were right outside the bedroom door. You could hear Keyshawn more clearly now. Lania just stood there for a moment with her head down like she was 'bout'a just die. I couldn't see her face but I could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking, she was crying hard—trying not to make a sound. I felt so sorry for her. She turned the knob and I braced myself.

My eyes were ready for anything, Michelle naked and on top or Michelle on her knees getting it from the back, or, shit, Keyshawn on top and Michelle's legs around his neck. I already started picturing it so it wouldn't be as shocking when I finally got to see it. But I don't think anything we ever picture in our heads actually prepares our asses for reality. The door opened soundlessly and Aaliyah's voice sang the words directly into my ears over the speakers: “You may not be in the mood to learn what you think you know.” It took me longer to find them because I didn't know how the damn room was set up or where the bed was. My high ass scanned everywhere like I was FBI, taking every little detail in at a glance. Pants, shirts, loafers all over, soft light brown shag carpeting, blue candles lit on a dresser. I could smell India Moon incense burning.

I stopped on the Trojan wrappers beside the foot of the bed and when I finally saw them, I probably lost a good five years off of my life based on the amount of time that my heart stopped. I'm pretty sure I sprouted 'bout fifteen grey hairs, too. Before I could say anything Lania was already across the room, and I tried, but I already knew I wouldn't be able to get to her fast enough. My TV audience screamed and I stood there, glued to the floor, watching everything in slow motion as she lunged at the bed, landing on top of the comforter. Landing right smack on top of Curtis's back.

“What the fuck, Yylannia? What the fuck you doin' in here?” Keyshawn jumped out the bed naked and, oooh, he was
maaaaad.

I slowly backed my ass farther into the hallway just to make sure he ain't see me. Ain't want the nigga not hookin' my ass up at clubs an' shit anymore.
Boy oh boy, if Michelle only knew 'bout this shit.
Remember now, I said I scanned the room like the damn FBI! I ain't see no women's clothes or panties up in there and and I ain't neva'
hear
a woman, but Lania, aka Mrs. Muthafuckin' Action Jackson, was already in the room before I could point that shit out. But the circumstances still gave her a damn good reason to be goin' the fuck off the way she was.

Soundlessly, Lania climbed off of the bed. I waited to see what Curtis had to say but he didn't dare move. Embarrassed, I guessed. All I could do was shake my head at Mr. Big-time NBA Owner fucking his damn . . . Gasping, my hand flew to cover my mouth as a red stain began spreading across the light blue comforter. So much for trying to remain unseen; my sudden movement caught Keyshawn's attention. His eyes locked on mine. Full of anger and fear he started to walk toward me, but my attention went back to Lania, who was now looking down at the knife in her hand like she didn't even know she'd picked it up. Hell I didn't even know she'd picked it up.

“Well Mr. ‘Keys to the City,' think they'll give you the keys to your cell?”

“
Noooo.
” Keyshawn's scream shocked me. My eyes widened 'cause I would've never pegged him as the screamin' type. Shit, I ain't see him as a bottom either but hey. He climbed onto the bed and grabbed Curtis's body, tryin' to stop the bleeding with his hands. Wiping the handle off with the comforter Lania laid the knife down. She smiled as she walked toward me, grabbed my hand, and we got the fuck from up outta there.

“Do you think he gonna call the police?” It was funny how we'd suddenly switched rolls and now I was frantic and on the brink of panic and Lania was calm as fuck.

“Who would believe him if he did? Someone broke in, took nothing, killed his gay lover who's also the owner of the team
and
left the murder weapon?”

We were now flying down South Dade Highway but in the opposite direction of home.

“Where are we going? I live the other way.”

“To the beach for a little while. I know a shortcut so we can avoid traffic.”

I checked my cell, disappointed that I only had one bar of battery power left and zero fuckin' missed calls. Well, for all the thinkin' I'd done about her ass earlier, if Michelle ain't miss me I sure as hell wasn't gonna miss her.

It was around six-thirty when I was sitting in the photo booth at Chuck E. Cheese and my phone went off. It was Jim's ringtone and my heart immediately went into a downward spiral.
Lord give me strength for whatever this man had to tell me.

“Hey, Michelle, got some not so good news.”

I waited, wondering what the hell could have happened now. Me and the kids were fine so the only thing I could think was that something had happened to Ris. 1001 worst-case scenarios flashed before me and even though I hadn't figured out whether I was more mad at her actions or hurt by them, I instinctively began to worry.

“All right, Jim, I'm listening.”

“Welp, the other missus done up an' gone AWOL on us.”

My hands clammed up in a nervous sweat.
Ris had gone what?
The photo booth flashed pictures of the kids' smiling faces, and me looking like I was gonna wring someone's neck the second I stepped out of there. I adjusted the kids on my lap, holding the phone with my shoulder.

“What do you mean by AWOL, Jim? Does that mean you lost her? Why wasn't someone following her? How'd they lose her? It's what the fuck I pay you guys for isn't it?”

Trey's eyes widened, giving me his “ooooooh, Mommy, that's a bad word” face, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't working.

“Now, now. No need'n gettin' upset wit' my boys. They did what they was paid to do. She pulled a fifty-two switch up on 'em.”

I started counting, but only made it to five before giving up. Rolling my eyes, I prepared myself for the bullshit. “CliffsNotes, Jim, quickly please, before I break somethin', an' what the hell is a fifty-two whatever?” You would think he'd be used to telling me shit by now. Used to me wanting quick details an' short answers in
plain English.

After a long, drawn-out sigh he explained, “A damn gaggle of 'em, all lookers, showed up 'round 'bout three o'clock an' went inside. Apparently Larissa swapped outfits wit' one of 'em, matched her size an' build to a T. Walked out on her own free will, right dab in the middle of the flock.”

I swore I needed my own Jimtionary. It took me a moment to figure out what a gaggle and a flock had to do with any damn thing. I was out of the picture booth, cell phone on my shoulder, Lataya on my hip, and Trey dragging his damn feet, pouting beside me before Jim could even finish his explanation.

“Mommeeee, you forgot our pictur—”

I shot him that mother's shut-up-and-bring-yo'-ass-or-meet-certain-death look, stopping him dead ass in the middle of his whining. I'd definitely perfected that shit over the years.

“Keith said he recognized one of the young ladies. The driver was the one y'all like to associate wit', Yylannia. She was a part of the high jinks. The decoy, as we called her, caught a cab 'bout ten minutes ago an' that's when he noticed it wasn't Larissa. He went inside to look fer her, put two an' two together.”

I tried to feel a little more at ease knowing that she was with Lania, but I knew Ris all too well. With everything that'd happened lately, this shit was her way of acting out. She was trying to do something she shouldn't be doing in order to cope with our shit and all the drama. Lania just so happened to be her enabler.

I buckled the kids into their car seats, upset that once again my babies had to take back burner to some more bullshit.

“Thank you, Jim. I'll call her and Keyshawn to see if he's seen them. I'm on my way home now.” I dialed Ris's number first, instantly becoming livid when my call went straight to voice mail.
Childish, absolutely fucking childish.
Yes, I'd blacklisted her number when I left the house with the kids but it was only because I already knew she would call me every five fucking minutes and I didn't want my phone going off all damn day. All it did was send her calls straight to voice mail and any texts she'd send would go to a waiting box. I checked my phone and was surprised when I saw zero voice mails and had zero waiting texts. This was just fucking great; now she wanted to be on some tit-for-tat petty shit by turning off her damn phone.

I dialed Key's number. It rang repeatedly before his voice mail came on. I hung up. It just didn't feel right to leave him a message about my wife missing, not after we'd spent such a nice day together. We'd taken the kids to the park and a duck feeding pond; afterward I sat with the kids and watched movies in his living room while Key was busy in the kitchen making us lunch. That's what a family was supposed to feel like. Not this constant push-pull, give and keep on giving situation I was in, that I had the nerve to be calling a damn marriage.