The Meltdown (18 page)

“Yeah, and I was glad to know it was you,” he says, now being the confident brotha I met. My heart stops and I am again speechless. “You still there?” Barely. My mind has wandered to Jeremy and what he would think if he overheard this conversation. It’s innocent enough for now, but I can see the energy between Keenan and I getting out of hand real fast.

“I’m sorry, Keenan, but I’m on my way out,” I say, unlocking the front door. With all of the chains and other multiple security devices my mom’s got in place, it’s a wonder I can get out at all. “I’ll call you back when I know my work schedule.” I try to rush off the phone, but he’s not letting me go so easy.

“Okay. But let me know soon if you can. I’d like my hair fresh for next week, and your boy says you’re just the girl to get the job done.”

Damn, why does he have to sound so sexy when I’m trying to save my guilty conscience? “I’ll text you later, Keenan. I’ve really got to go,” I say, ending the conversation. I don’t mean to be rude, but if I stay on the phone any longer, I’m liable to go straight to hell for all the thoughts running through my mind.

I lock the door behind me and make my way down the
flight of stairs to the carport. I’ll call my daddy while the car’s warming up. I have to make this conversation short and sweet. My dad and I can stand each other for only about five minutes. After that, all bets are off.

“Hey, Daddy,” I say, gently pressing the gas pedal to rev the engine. “Happy Father’s Day.”

“Well, if it isn’t my baby girl,” he says. “I thought you forgot about your old man.”

He always tries to lay a guilt trip on me, but it never works.

“How could I?” I ask, closing the car door and getting comfy. I pull my portable sounds out, ready to get going. One day I’ll invest in a new radio, but my ends have to be stacked high for that kind of purchase.

“Did you get your card?” I ask, knowing he did. My father’s house is only five minutes from Mama’s, and I mailed it from Compton Friday afternoon.

“Yes, I did. Thank you, youngin’. It was very thoughtful of you, Jayd. Although with all the money you’re making over there, I was half expecting something else to fall out when I opened the envelope.”

And just like that, he’s gone too far. It’s time to end the call before my head gets too hot to drive straight and keep from arguing with him at the same time.

“Well, I’ve got a lot of school activities and food to pay for,” I say, pushing my own envelope. “But I’ll keep that in mind next year.” There’s an uncomfortable silence between us. I know my dad wants to say something, but what can he say? I don’t care if it’s Daddy’s Day or not: Right is right, and he knows he’s wrong for that shit. I rev the engine again, ready to put the car in gear.

“Are you driving while on the phone, Jayd?” He sounds concerned. “You know you can get a ticket for that,” he says, giving me the perfect out.

“You’re right, Daddy. I guess I should go.” Too bad my dad and I can’t talk peacefully for long. Maybe when we both grow up a bit more we can have that warm and fuzzy father-daughter relationship I see in the movies.

“All right, youngin’,” he says, clearing his throat. “Thank you for calling and drive safely.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy. Enjoy your day.” I know my stepmother, Faye, is in the kitchen throwing down. I wish I felt comfortable enough to drop by and get a plate since I’ll be in Compton anyway. But I’ll stay on my mission of dropping off my grandfather’s card, checking on the spirit room, and making sure everything’s in order at Netta’s shop. Then, on to Rah’s house for the session this afternoon. Hopefully, the rest of the day will be all about relaxing.

With all of the new daddies in my life, this year was the most expensive Father’s Day yet. I wasn’t sure what to do for Nigel, so I got him one of those general Father’s Day cards. I also bought cards for Rah and for Jeremy, too, even if he’s not here to receive it. I’m mad as hell at Rah for allowing Sandy back into his home, especially after all of the drama I had to endure to get rid of her ass in the first place, but it’s not my place to judge, even if I want to hit him over the head with a gavel. Maybe that’ll knock some sense into his ass.

I already know Rah’s going to give me grief about Keenan trying to holla at me last night, but he has nothing to say about what I do or who I do it with. And I intend on reminding him of that should Rah fix his lips to throw smack my way. Hopefully I can enjoy my friends and godbabies for the rest of the afternoon, because come tomorrow summer school and cheer camp will be in full effect.

I pull into Rah’s driveway and see I’m the first of our friends to arrive. I can also hear him and his baby mama at it
again and on Father’s Day, too. That’s what he gets for knocking up the wrong chick—not that I’m sorry Rahima was born, but Rah could’ve picked a nicer chick to lie down with. I exit my vehicle and brace myself for the inevitable disaster that is Sandy.

“It’s yours, Rah, so get over it. We’re having another baby, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Sandy says as I approach the open front door.

I stop in my tracks, hoping I’m at the wrong residence. Did I just hear what I think I heard?

“What did you say?” I ask, stepping into the foyer and taking in the entire scene. It looks like a circus in here. Rahima’s in front of the television watching cartoons like nothing’s going on around her she’s so used to her parents arguing. As usual, Sandy’s scantily dressed with her green bra strap hanging off her shoulders and pink foam rollers dangling from the ends of her gold and black weave. What a hot mess.

“You heard me, trick,” Sandy says, placing both hands on her hips as she fixes her lips into a snarl, satisfied with the blanched look on my face. “We having another baby.”

Rahima turns around, noticing me at the front door. She attempts to run to me, but her mother stops her in her tracks, upsetting her.

“Another baby? How could this have happened?” I ask aloud, even if I’m really posing my inquiry to the ancestors who don’t need a verbal summon to respond. Nothing in all of my intuition sensed that Rah and Sandy were back at it, but stranger things have happened.

“Do you really need me to break it down for you?” Sandy asks, snatching her crying daughter’s tiny hand in her acrylic claws and leading her to the back of the messy house. Rah’s too meticulous to be okay with his home looking like this. “Oh, yeah, I forgot you’re still pretending to be a virgin.
Maybe you do need me to explain how the shit works so your slow ass can get a black man of your own.”

“Sandy, watch your mouth in front of my daughter,” Rah says, apparently just as traumatized by the whole scene as I am. He’s acting like he’s in a daze.

“And don’t forget our new baby, too,” Sandy says, rubbing her flabby stomach. No one said you had to be fit to strip. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy, maybe a junior. What you think, Jayd? Rahima and Raheem, Junior: cute, huh?”

Is it legal to slap a pregnant woman if she’s a total bitch?

I watch Sandy and Rahima go into the hallway toward the bedrooms. With the Father’s Day card in my hand, I turn around and step onto the front porch ready to leave without wishing him a happy day. This shit is totally out of order and unexpected. I feel like Alice in Wonderland: dizzy and desperately in need of a way out.

“Jayd, wait. Please,” Rah says, taking me by my right arm and turning me toward him.

“Rah, I need to get out of here. This is none of my business, and I don’t want to get involved,” I say, snatching my arm back as tears well up in my eyes. How could he lie to me—again? We’re just getting back to a place of trust and now this.

“Jayd, I swear to God this isn’t my baby,” Rah says, looking panicked.

Against my better judgment, I’m actually inclined to believe him, but my head’s too hot to make any decisions in the moment.

“How do you know it’s not yours? Are they giving paternity tests in the first trimester now?” I ask. Tears fall down my warm cheeks, pissing me off even more. Now I have to blow my nose, and it’s too hot out here for this shit.

“I know it’s not mine because I haven’t touched Sandy in years, Jayd. I swear to you, this is all news to me.”

I look at Rah, focusing on the brown flecks in the whites of his eyes, cooling his mind even if mine is hotter than it needs to be. I see his sincerity and confusion, calming us both down. I know he’s telling the truth, but so is Sandy. I didn’t need to invade her thoughts to feel the life growing inside her.

“Then why does she think she can convince you that the baby’s yours if you haven’t had sex recently?”

“She says I slept with her one night a couple of weeks ago after Nigel and Mickey left a late-night session,” Rah says, rubbing his temples like he has a migraine. “We were hella faded, but I know I wasn’t that far gone. All I remember is passing out in the studio and waking up the next morning with the worst hangover ever.”

That’s why his ass needs to stop smoking and drinking, especially when in questionable company. This is the type of insane shit that can happen when you let your guard down around the wrong person.

“I assume you told Sandy the same thing,” I say, lowering my voice. The last thing I want is another altercation with his baby mama. “How does she think she’s going to get away with it?”

“Sandy never thinks shit through, Jayd. Can’t you tell she’s desperate? I don’t know what happened, but I know I didn’t sleep with that girl, at least not willingly. There has to be some sort of law against that shit or something.”

I doubt anyone’s going to believe Sandy raped Rah, no matter how true it might be.

“Okay, Rah. If what you’re saying is true, there has to be a way to prove it,” I say, looking down at the white envelope in my hand. I hand the card to him, realizing how awkwardly
inappropriate it is to wish him a happy Father’s Day when he’s being accused of fathering another child with the mother from hell. “I’ll see what I can do.” I sympathize with Rah, but this shit is his fault.

“Thank you, Jayd, for everything.” We look at each other, and for a moment it feels like we’re back in junior high school. Everything was so much simpler back then, but those days are long gone.

“Hey, Romeo. We hungry,” Sandy says, coming outside with an exhausted-looking Rahima on her hip. If I could take baby girl from her crazy mama and raise her myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

While Rah thinks of an appropriate response, short of telling Sandy to go to hell like I would say, Nigel and Mickey roll up with their daughter in the back. I guess Nellie’s sitting this session out since Chance left town early this morning. She’s a true daddy’s girl anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nellie and her pops have plans of their own.

“What up, my nigga?” Nigel says, exiting his clean vehicle.

He needs to let me get the keys to the classic green Impala and take it around the block. Come to think of it, Chance could’ve let me babysit his Nova while he’s in the A. I’ll have to run that plan by him next time.

“Jayd, here,” Mickey says, passing Nickey’s car seat to me with the screaming baby inside. “She’s working my last nerve.”

“Hello to you, too,” I say, taking my youngest goddaughter from her stressed-out mama and reaching for her pacifier in the seat. If I could free the other one from her mother, the three of us could go inside and chill. It’s too hot out here for all of this madness.

“Mickey, I told you to stop saying the baby’s getting on your nerves,” Nigel says, glaring at his girlfriend with a similar look of hatred Rah’s giving Sandy.

“And I told you that you ain’t my daddy,” Mickey says, slamming the car door shut.

What my girl needs to remember is that Nigel isn’t Nickey’s real daddy, either. And if she continues antagonizing him, she won’t have a father for her child.

“Fool, did you hear me?” Sandy asks, stepping off the porch and walking toward us in the driveway. I focus on calming Nickey down by rocking her seat. She’s refusing to take the pacifier, and her screaming’s growing more intense every minute.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Mickey asks, gesturing toward Sandy’s raunchy ass.

“What would Father’s Day be without the baby mama to both his kids?” Sandy responds. No one was talking to her.

“Both?” Nigel asks, staring at Rah, who’s still in shock.

I need to work on finding out the truth before Rah snaps and ends up in jail for committing bitchicide.

“Damn, nigga. You hit that skanky tramp again?” Mickey asks, again pointing her airbrushed blue acrylic nail at Sandy, apparently as horrified by the thought as I am. “Why?”

“I know you ain’t talking shit,” Sandy says, finally releasing Rahima, who runs straight to me, equally upset by all the commotion.

“Bitch, please,” Mickey says. “I’m grade-A ass. You’re nothing but a corner ho and we all know it.”

Nigel and Rah look at their women go back and forth, powerless to stop them.

“The babies, y’all. Please,” I say, but they can’t hear me over the rude slurs Mickey and Sandy take turns slinging. Some session this turned out to be. “I’m out and I’m taking the girls with me. Rah, put Rahima’s car seat in the back. Y’all can pick them up from my house when you’re through acting stupid.”

The mamas are too busy going at each other’s throats to pay me any mind, and the fathers don’t protest. Poor babies. I hope they grow up to be saner than their parents. Until then, I’ll have to be their buffer from the crazy situations they were born into. If I learned one thing from my dream last night, it’s that getting too close to fire will definitely get you burned.