Baby Love Lite (2 page)

She'd used Matthew as her point man in
getting an up and coming federal judge who was engaged to the
daughter of the family she was working for caught in a
"compromising" position of sorts. The dude apparently was a good
and honest guy, but was convinced to sow his wild oats one last
time with a hooker who hadn't been "broken in yet." The poor judge
thought that'd had meant she'd never sold her stuff before. He'd no
idea the chick was a fucking virgin and that old Matthew had
planted a video recorder in the room where he'd swiped her v-card!
The plan was to show Preston Tylar the video after his
father-in-law made the recommendation for appointment to the
federal bench (anonymously of course) and to get a few thousand
bucks out of him to keep his new bride and her family from finding
out.

The plan changed when it was discovered
that the young, innocent half-sister got knocked up. The judge
never knew a damn thing about it. The greedy midget had another
plan in store; one that would prove quite lucrative over the next
eighteen years. There'd been a couple of snags along the way, in
particular, the fact that the baby's mother wanted no part of
Matthew or his schemes any longer and tried to relocate to
Mississippi.

I opened the lock on his cell door. He
was all scrunched up in the corner of his cell, on the cot with his
knees pulled up to his chin, his skinny arms wrapped around his
knees.

"Come on, Renaud. Get your skinny ass
up. Mommy Dearest's here to see you."

I saw him tremble. God damn! Had he
always been such a fucking wimp?

"No, no," he said hurriedly, a nervous
tick showing itself on his face. He was shaking his head no
vehemently. "Don't want to see her. She's going to be mad at me for
telling Doctor Evans what happened. It was our secret. We promised
each other we'd take it to our graves. I should've kept my mouth
shut. Mommy's gonna be pissed."

"Ahh, suck it up, dude. She'll get over
it before Mother's Day, right? I mean what the fuck? Is she going
to ground your ass?"

He looked up at me as I stood waiting
and I saw a thread of sanity briefly cross over his face. It was if
his whole demeanour had changed and he was sane again, but only
briefly.

"You're right," he said, "I can take
her down with me and she knows that."

I escorted Matthew Renaud to the room
where she waited for him. She'd paid extra for privacy. I'd acted
like it was cool, but what she didn't know was I had the mic system
in that room turned on so I could hear whatever was said. Again,
despite what you see on television: there is NO attorney-client
privilege in jail or prison. There are always ears listening!

I listened to them when I got to the
room next door. I'd told Karen Deeny to knock on the wall between
us when she was finished. I also told her to make it quick; like
ten minutes.

I put headphones on to listen in. The
hair on the back of my neck stood on end when I heard just exactly
how sick that bitch was!

"Matthew," I heard her say, "What
exactly have you told the psychiatrist your lawyer had you
see?"

"I told her everything, Mom. I told her
the truth."

"And what exactly is your version of
the truth?"

"You know what it is; you know the
truth. She asked about my childhood; about my dad and mother; and
about you."

"I am your mother," she spat.

"You were my mother; you didn't raise
me and we both know why."

"I did that for your own good Matthew!
I did it so that women wouldn't take advantage of you and so you'd
know how to please them at the same time."

"You made me sick in the head, Mom. You
made me do things I didn't want to do!"

"Like what?" she hissed.

"Like poison two people, Mom. Two blood
relatives!"

"Bah!" she yelled, "You were best rid
of the both of them! They spelled trouble and if you hadn't been so
stupid in handling the matter, we'd have been very wealthy now.
You've put me at risk with your ramblings to that shrink. Do you
realize that?"

"I only did what you taught me to do,
Mother!"

"I didn't teach you to fuck your own
sister and get her pregnant, now did I?"

"You made everything so confused in my
mind. As a kid, you told me to do things to you that weren't right
but you said they were."

"Let's not rehash this shit, Matthew!
Right now we need to be concerned with damage control. Your life's
at stake here."

"I don't give a shit about my life,
Mom. I'm tired of the life I live; I'm tired of being used by you.
I'm tired of having to hide all the time."

There was a pause in the conversation.
I strained to hear what was going to happen next. Sounded like the
little wimp was trying to stand up to the shrimp bitch!

"Matthew," she said, her voice lowered,
"I have to tell you something. The fact that you've confessed your
involvement to that county shrink is going to be used against
you."

"No, no it isn't Mom. It's confidential
because of HIPPA law. She told me."

"That's a damn lie you stupid bastard!
See what I mean? You're simply setting yourself up and will end up
dragging me down with you."

"It was your idea, Mom. They were all
your ideas. Maybe it's time for you to own up to them."

"Oh yeah, and then what? I'm 65 years
old Matthew. So I guess you'll feel better knowing I'm rotting in
some prison too? What good will it do? We'll never see each other
and you'll get the death penalty, I won't. So you'll be out of your
misery long before I will."

"What's your point, Mom?"

"My point is this: you've already
implicated me. So if you testify against me, I'll go to prison for
life; you'll get the relief of death. I'd rather be dead."

"So what choice do I have Mom? Maybe I
won't get the death penalty if I cooperate?"

"You really are crazy if you believe
that! You've brought shame to me; and now you've cast me to a life
behind bars with what you've told that shrink!"

"I told her the truth!" he shouted.

"The truth as you believe it; not the
real truth! I loved you! I gave birth to you and then I lost you
because of the filth you spread about me! It's time you grow up
Matthew and take responsibility for what you've done to me or
you'll burn in hell as sure as I'm sitting here."

"I'm going to burn in hell for
everything," he replied, dejectedly.

"For once Matthew, for once in your
life, spare someone from the pain and misery of your actions. Spare
me, son."

I could hear the dude crying now
totally back to the sick mother-fucker he'd become, or maybe that
he'd always been.

"Tell me what to do, Mama," he whined,
his voice sounding like a 5 year-old. "Tell me what I can do to be
the sweetest one in town?"

"Would you like me to sing that song to
you, Matthew?"

"Yes, Mama."

"If I do, will you do what I ask you to
do?"

"Yes, Mama."

I sat there, my feet propped up on my
desk, listening in to a conversation that was probably the weirdest
I'd ever eavesdropped in on. I heard her start the popular
lullaby.

Hush little baby don't say a word;
Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird.

If that mockingbird don't sing; Mama's
going to buy you a diamond ring. . .

When she'd finished if was if Mathew
was in a different place; a more relaxed and subservient place.

"Tell me what I need to do now
Mama."

I'd given them another five minutes
than banged on the wall. As I went and unlocked the door, the
change in Matthew's demeanour was drastic. He was quiet, compliant
and resolved. His mother seemed confident and satisfied with the
visit.

I directed her to the exit, and then
put the cuffs back on him, leading him back upstairs to his cell
block.

Once we got there and I got him
situated in his cell, I removed the cuffs.

"You need anything Renaud?" I asked
before slamming the cell door shut.

"No. I've everything I need right in
here," he said. "I'm good to go."

That was the last time I saw Matthew
Renaud alive.

I'd finally become a natural at
breast-feeding and I loved the connection and bond it provided. It
was something all our own; my daughter and me. Her pediatrician
said she was thriving and instructed me to continue what I was
doing.

Susan and Clive had come to Atlanta after I
was released from the hospital. Clive had stayed for a few days;
Susan had stayed for two weeks, not allowing me to lift a finger at
all. She cooked and cleaned; did laundry, basically giving Mrs.
Harris nothing to do on her days at our apartment. Susan rocked
Preston when I wasn’t. I think Trey had felt a bit left out but
he'd been a pretty good sport about it.

Susan had purchased Preston a full wardrobe
that looked like it would accommodate her for the next couple of
years. She and I had sat on the couch after our shopping excursion,
going through all of the beautiful dresses purchased in every color
of the rainbow for every season. She'd bought sweaters, rompers,
onesies and nightgowns. We'd ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ as we laid out the
various ensembles across the living room sofa. Trey had rolled his
eyes upon coming home from work seeing all of the clothing that his
mother had purchased.

“
Mom,” he'd said, “It isn’t
as if we haven’t bought things for the baby, already.”

“
Hush, Trey Michael,” she'd
scolded in her lovely southern accent.

“
It's so much more fun
picking out clothes for a baby girl. All I had were boys, so please
indulge me. Besides, boy or girl, this is my first grandbaby and
I'll spoil her as much as I choose.”

Trey mumbled something about having to get a
second job in order to keep Preston outfitted in the style for
which her grandmother had gotten her accustomed. Susan and I'd
exchanged amused smiles as he'd sauntered off to his study.

Gina had hosted a baby shower for me the week
before I delivered. We were set on everything. Gina had decorated
the nursery in very good taste. She'd selected mint green and pale
yellow as the color scheme. I'd selected the crib in dark mahogany
with a matching dresser, changing table and rocker. We'd
transitioned the sparsely furnished guest room at Trey’s apartment
into a beautiful nursery that any baby would love. Trey had bought
a large brown stuffed teddy bear with a light yellow bow tie the
day he'd brought us home from the hospital. It was sitting in the
corner of Preston’s crib which hadn't been used yet.

We kept her in the beautiful white bassinet
in our room, for now. Since I was breast-feeding and her nursery
was down the hall a bit, I needed having her close to me. I'd been
reading articles about the ‘family bed’ and ‘sleep sharing’ while
in the hospital. I'd brought some brochures home with me.

I discovered, through my research, that many
pediatricians were staunch advocates of the practice. Based on
studies, which had concluded babies who had co-slept with their
parents, grew to be more confident and independent because of the
early nurturing it provided. I hadn’t approached Trey just yet,
with that idea.

I had a few more baby pounds to lose although
breastfeeding had definitely helped with the weight loss. I was
taking a Pilates class with Gina on Tuesday evenings, the night
Trey was assigned night to watch Preston. I'd only been to one
class so far; tonight being the second class.

I was feeding Preston on our bed watching
‘Ellen’ on the flat screen in our bedroom. I was most comfortable
lying on my side having her snuggled on her side in front of
me.

She was being a lazy eater this afternoon for
some reason. She'd doze off for a while, then wake and clamp down
on my nipple nursing for a few minutes before she drifted off to
sleep again. This was my favorite time of each day; feeding my
sweet baby girl. I loved the feel and the smell of her. I'd never
felt this kind of love before. It was a different kind of love than
what I had for Trey. It'd been so immediate and so strong from the
beginning. It was so unconditional, this baby love.

I thought about my mother and wondered why
she'd never felt that ‘baby love’ for me. I banished the thought of
her from my mind. It was only painful and for now I wanted to enjoy
this bonding with my daughter.

I looked down at her. She'd fallen back to
sleep again, my nipple had slipped from her little rosebud mouth. I
kissed the top of her head and inhaled her sweet baby scent.

Ellen had that chick on her show from the
Twilight saga movies, grilling her about her infidelities that'd
gone viral in the media. The poor girl kept twisting her hair and
running her hands through it like she was uncomfortable having to
talk without a script. Clearly she was out of her comfort zone. My
cell phone vibrated on the nightstand next to the bed. I scooted
over to get it trying to make sure that I didn’t wake Preston. It
was Trey.

“
Hey,” I answered
quietly.

“
Hey, you,” he said in his
smooth and silky voice. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”