Man Swappers (46 page)

“I love you so much, Daddy. I’m so happy to have you as a father.”

“Aww, babygirl. Your old man loves you, too.”

I decide that when I deliver my baby, I want him there with me. Just as he watched my mother give birth to my sisters and me, I want him to witness the birth of his first grandchild. I break down, crying again.

“Baby, are you sure everything’s okay? Do you need me to come over there?”

“No, Daddy. I’m fine, really.”

“No you’re not,” he says, concern etched in his tone. “Look, where are you?”

“I’m home.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Daddy, I’m pregnant,” I say, placing a hand up on my stomach, sitting next to him on the sofa.

He stares at me, reaches over and takes my hand. He squeezes it. “How many months?”

“Four.”

“Wow, four months.” He smiles. “My little girl is gonna be a mother. Does your mother know?”

I shake my head. “No, and please don’t tell her. I plan on telling her after Pasha’s wedding. The last thing I want to be is the table discussion for the night.”

He chuckles, knowingly. “My lips are sealed, babygirl. Now who’s the lucky fella?”

“His name is Desmond.”

“Is he one of the fellas the three of you—”

“No, not all.”

I can tell he’s relieved. He wants to know how we met. Wants to know what his intentions are. I tell him everything. When I’m done filling him in, he pulls me into him and kisses me on the head. “It’s going to work out. I’m going to do whatever I can for you and my grandbaby.”

I nod into his chest. “I know.” We both welcome the silence as he holds me for what seems like forever until I finally sit up. “I couldn’t have an abortion, Daddy. This baby is a part of me.”

He smiles, cups the side of my face in his warm hands. Then strokes my cheek with the back of his hand the way he used to when I was a little girl. “Baby, you don’t have to explain anything to me. That little baby is going to be smothered with love. And don’t you worry about your mother. She’ll come around. Trust me. The minute she sees him, she’s going to melt.”

I smile. “Daddy, how do you know it’s going to be a boy? It could be a girl.”

He shakes his head, reaching over and rubbing my stomach. “No, babygirl, you’re carrying my grandson.”

I start crying again. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

“Sorry for what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“For making you so ashamed of me.”

He scoots closer to me and pulls me back into his arms. “Oh, babygirl, I’m not ashamed of you. I’m your father. And my love for you and your sisters will always be unconditional; no matter what. You hear me?”

I nod. Having my father here and hearing his words is the soothing balm I needed for my wounded spirit. I kiss him on his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

He squeezes me. “I love you more.”

Persia
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

“Mother…what are you doing here?”

She raises her perfectly arched brows, placing a neatly manicured hand on her hip. “Well, hello to you, too. Are you going to invite me in, or do I have to stand outside in this damn August heat?”

I take a deep breath. I’m inclined to shut the door in her face, but I can’t. I step back and allow her in. “What brings you here? Paris is down at the store. And Porsha’s over at her office.”

She sits her handbag up on the coffee table. “I know where they are. I’m here to see you.”

“Me?”
I ask, frowning. “What for?” I eye her as she takes a seat on the sofa. Then she has the nerve to ask for something cold to drink like I’m in the mood to play hostess to her. “What would you like, water, cranberry juice or seltzer water?” She tells me seltzer water with very little ice. A few minutes later, I’m handing her a glass. I sit across from her; watch as she takes a sip. “So what is it you want to talk to me about?” I ask, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible.

“I thought it was time you and I have a nice, long chat. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I raise my brow. “A chat for what?”

“It’s time for you and me to clear the air before Pasha’s wedding
next weekend. I’d hoped to do it a few months ago, but after how rude you were during brunch, I decided to ignore you.”

“So then why are you here now?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

“Because I decided that it was time for me to confront you. There’s going to be a lot of family at Pasha’s wedding that we haven’t seen in a long time. And the last thing I want is for there to be any mess.”

“And what makes you think there would be any mess?”

“’Cause you can be messy, Persia. It doesn’t take much for you to go off. We both know how nasty your attitude is.”

“And we both know how messy your mouth is.” I snap defensively. The nerve of her! “My attitude is fine as long as you don’t say anything crazy.”

She tsks. “
And
I’m hoping you leave it at home and not do or say anything to ruin Pasha’s day. I realize how you can be when all the attention isn’t on you.”

My mouth drops open.
This fucking…
I stop myself from telling her to get the fuck out of my home. “She’s our mother,” I hear Paris say.
Big fucking deal!
“Excuse you? You’re hoping
I
don’t do anything to ruin it. Are you serious? You’re the messy one. All you do is sit around and talk about everyone, including your own daughters. When have I ever said or done anything to ruin a family event?”

She tilts her head. “Persia, you heard what I said,” she says, ignoring my question. “Leave your attitude here, or don’t show up.”

I laugh at her. “Who are you to tell me to stay home? It’s not your wedding, nor are you in control of the guest list. And you’re definitely not in any position to stop me from going anywhere. Sorry to burst your bubble, Mother. But I’m going to be there. Bottom line, the problem isn’t me; it’s you.”

She glares at me. “You know what, I’m going to forget that I’m your mother for one minute and deal with you on the level you seem to want me to be on. So let’s finally get this out in the open. Since you’re so gully and wanna treat me like I’m some street bitch, from one
bitch
to another, what the
fuck
is your problem with me?”

I blink, shocked that she’s come at me in this fashion. I watch as she slips out of her heels. Either her feet are hurting, or she’s preparing to jump up and charge me. Either way, I brace myself, rising up in my seat as well. As I’m sitting here with her, it dawns on me that this is the first time she and I have been alone in a room together in years. There’s no Porsha or Paris or Daddy to keep us from killing each other. There’s nothing but space and air between us. She stares me down. I stare back. “Well, I’m waiting.”

“You already know all of this.”

“I want to hear it again,” she says, shifting back in her seat.

I remain perched on the edge of mine; just in case. “I see you as a weak woman,” I admit, staring directly into her eyes. She doesn’t blink. “You sat around and let Daddy cheat on you, then you’d wanna run out to chase him down, banging on doors and confronting his whores instead of leaving him.”

“Are you serious? The fact that I stayed with my husband,
your
father, and raised my daughters, made sure you all had the best of everything, and kept our home intact while he was out there cheating, makes me weak? I married your father knowing what kind of man he was. Yes, he had other women. But make no mistake, a fool I was not. And weak, I was not. Hurt, yes. But never anyone’s fool. Your father did nothing I didn’t allow him to do to me. He cheated on me because
I
let him. And leaving him was never an option, regardless of how many women he slept with. I chose to stay with him because I loved him then, and I
love him now. He took care of home. And he took damn good care of you girls. Yes, I could’ve left him. Yes, I could’ve put him out. And I did pack his shit, numerous times. But he kept coming back.”

“Because
you
kept taking him back,” I state, rolling my eyes. “You acted like you couldn’t live without him.”

“
I
didn’t want to,” she snaps. “I took him back because I
wanted
him back. Not because I needed him. Not because I couldn’t live without him. Our home, his business, everything we own, is in
my
name. If I wanted to be the messy wife, I could’ve divorced him and walked off with every-damn-thing and never looked back. And your father knew it. But I wanted my marriage. And, yes, I turned a blind eye to his other women as long as they stayed in their place and respected my space. That was our agreement. So forgive me for loving your father and for wanting to keep my marriage instead of walking out on everything we built together.”

“Then that makes you no different from me. You willingly and knowingly shared him, period!”

“Girlfriend,” she snaps, leaning forward in her seat with her hand on her hip. “I’m
nothing
like your nasty, trifling ass.”

“Whatever. The fact is, for years, you shared him with other women, so you’re just as nasty and trifling. Yet, you have a problem with what
we
do.”

She lets out a disgusted grunt. “Ugh! Don’t you dare sit there and compare what I did to the nastiness you’ve dragged your sisters into.”

“Mother, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, defensively. “I haven’t dragged Porsha or Paris into
any
thing. They’re grown women. They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to.”

“And you’ve always been able to manipulate them.”

“I haven’t manipulated them into doing anything. You’re delusional and jealous.”

She snorts. “Jealous of what, the relationship you have with your sisters? The three of you are
supposed
to be close—you’re sisters. That’s how I raised you all to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a conniving, manipulative little
bitch
—excuse my French. But, the truth is the truth. Even when you were little girls, you always found a way to get Paris and Porsha to side with you. They idolized you. They’ve been so blinded by their love for you that they haven’t been able to see what kind of sick hold you’ve had on them. But trust me. One day they’ll see you for what you truly are. A nasty bitch! And you’re going to end up losing both of them.”

I’m literally stunned that she’s called me a
bitch
, right here in my own home—not once, but twice. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. But the truth is, I’m ready to go off on her. “Mother, it’s time for you to grab your bag and go before I say or do something that
you’ll
regret.”

She remains in her seat. “I’m not leaving until we finish this conversation. So, if you feel like you wanna do or say something, then you do it. And I’ll beat the shit out of you. Trust me on this, darling child of mine. I’ve had enough of your mouth and your disrespect. I’m your mother, whether you like it or not.”

I clench my teeth. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I own my own business, and I
handle
my business. Look around you. Everything in here my sisters and I have worked for. I don’t ask you for anything, and neither do they. So what we do with our lives is none of your business. You want respect, then respect
me
. You come up into my home and disrespect me. You call me a fucking bitch in my home.”

“Well, you are,” she snaps. “So get over it. I’ve accepted that
you and I will never have any other type of relationship other than what we already have; strained.”

I shift back in my seat, glaring at her. “Okay,
Mother
. And your point?”

“The point is, Persia, I know you don’t like me; you never have. Every chance you’ve gotten, you’ve tried to make that little fact known. And, yes, it used to hurt, knowing that one of my daughters had so much disdain and hatred toward me. But it’s okay ’cause you are an evil, miserable woman. You always will be.”

“How dare you?” I snap, leaning forward in my seat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Mother.”

She shakes her head. “You were a sneaky, vindictive little bitch growing up, and you’re sneaky and vindictive now. You’re full of hate. That’s what I know.”

“Mother…get out!” I yell, jumping up from my seat. I storm over to the door, swinging it open. “Get out of my goddamn house, now!”

She stands up, slipping back into her heels, then grabbing her handbag. “Oh, I’ll get out, but know this. Just like you went out and fucked Porsha’s boyfriend and his cousin then got your little nasty ass pregnant, I know in my gut it was
you
who fucked all those boys out in the woods, then told them your name was Paris. It was because of
you
and your whorish-ass ways that the kids were whispering and calling Paris a whore and slut behind her back; a reputation that rightfully belonged to
you
.
You
fucked those boys.
You
let them run their dicks all up in you every-which-a-way. And
you
sat back and let your sister deal with the backlash. And, still, she forgave you. Because you’re her sister and she loves you. But the shit you’ve done to them is despicable. If I were them, I wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”

I swallow, hard. She’s bringing up my past, snatching my skeletons
from out of their hiding place and throwing their bones back in my face. I have no words other than, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

“I’m leaving, but make no mistake. If you ever jump up like you’re ready to fight, I’m going to forget that I gave birth to you and I’m gonna give you a good old-fashioned, Newark beatdown.”

I stare at her as she walks by me. “I fucking hate you.” The words come out in a low mumble, but audible enough for her to hear.

Slap!

I blink.

Slap!

“I know you hate me. And I don’t give a
fuck
if you ever open your mouth to say another word to me. Because the truth is, I don’t like you, either. And I never have. I love you because you’re my child, but
bitch
, I’ll beat you into the fucking ground if you
ever
talk to me like that again.”