Baby Momma 2 Page 2

  “Excuse me, you need to get out of here before I call the police.”

  Hearing my voice, the woman sprang to an upright position, resting on her elbows, pulling the comforter up to cover herself. I recognized her almost immediately: Yylannia Besore. She was one of the hottest models out right now, half black and French, or something like that—I couldn’t remember. But, I’d seen her a hundred times in the latest magazines and commercials. I couldn’t believe she’d appear so boyish and lanky in person. She was nothing like the sexual vixen she appeared to be on camera but, lo and behold, I guessed that’s what the wonders of makeup and Photoshop could do for a person.

  “Where the fuck did she come from?” Yylannia was trying to untangle herself from the statuesque man who had her pinned in place.

  He sat back on his haunches with a sigh of frustration and obvious resentment at my intrusion, allowing her to scamper off the bed and quickly dart past me to grab her things and get dressed.

  My eyes molested him from the neck downward. Huge pecs lightly dusted with soft, straight dark hair that narrowed into a thin line as it ran downward in between tight abs and . . .

  “You couldn’t have waited jus’ li’l bit longer huh?”

  I jerked myself back to reality. My head whipped up so fast I was surprised it didn’t make the snap noise like in one of those old-school kung fu movies. His voice was deep, unbelievably deep. It sounded like warm honey to my ears.

  “No, and you need to put some fire to ya ass an’ get outta here before I call the police.”

  The cologne he wore made me dislike him immediately. But his sex appeal was making my psyche do a double take. He reminded me of a large cat as he fluidly uncoiled himself from the bed. Sway-backed nigga. The curve in his lower back was so over-pronounced and the muscles in his ass so tight and high the image of a gorilla came to mind. He was thick as hell and sexy as fuck. Right about now, I could use a good gorilla fuck. I almost laughed out loud at the thought. Lord, I was definitely trippin’. He was a dark chocolate version of Leonidas from that movie 300. My son, Trey, must have made me watch that movie a million times, and the only reason I could sit through it over and over again was because of all the beautifully built men who’d be on the damn TV screen.

  Oh yes, he could’ve definitely passed for an ancient Spartan warrior. He had straight black hair, a Caesar low cut, long, thick sideburns that tapered beneath his chin into a thick, full beard. It highlighted the fullness of his pink lips and gave him an almost dangerous appeal. He picked his boxers up from beside the bed and slid them on. I tried not to smile because, despite my intrusion and threats, he was still standing at full, and I mean full, attention. Damn, it had to be painful for him to try to restrain all that behind nothing but a little tight wall of cotton.

  “So, let me take a guess. You must be Michelle right?”

  My eyes widened in surprise at the sound of my name flowing from Leonidas’s beautiful, made-for-pussy-licking lips. Whew. I needed to calm down. How does this fool know my name?

  “Um, yes. And who might you be?” Suspicion immediately made my tone sharp; I couldn’t imagine anyone who looked like him actually knowing me.

  “Key! I’ma go wait in the damn car!” Yylannia shrieked from somewhere downstairs.

  Suddenly, I didn’t need an answer. He was Keyshawn Matthews, the superstar rookie drafted to play for Miami. I hadn’t noticed how exceptionally tall he was but I now felt dwarfed standing across from him, and I was close to five feet eleven without heels. I could feel my cheeks starting to get hot; my grown ass actually started blushing.

  “Mr. Matthews? I . . . I am so sorry. I had no idea you even had a key to view the property. I guess you, um, you like it?” Here I was talking to one of the richest and probably most famous men in the NBA, and he was standing in nothing but his drawers! Ris was definitely not gonna believe this shit. Oh hell, best to not even tell Ris; she’d probably get jealous and start trippin’ any damn way. He flashed me a dazzling white smile displaying perfect deep dimples and straight white teeth.

  “Yeah, I was testin’ the place out. My agent got me the key earlier. I parked in the garage. I’m lovin’ all the space but the acoustics in this mu’fucka ain’t right.”

  I raised an eyebrow, immediately puzzled. I had no idea what acoustics meant outside of a home theatre or studio. What did acoustics have to do with . . . “Wait, acoustics?”

  I knew this nigga wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying. The house we were in was one of the most sought after and high priced on the market. Fridays were my busiest days and I’d turned down two other closings and come out to show the property personally because Key’s agent swore up and down he wanted to buy and close today. I owned High Rise Estates, the second-largest real estate agency in Fort Lauderdale, and I only came out to do closings. Most of our clients were usually in the market for their third or fourth vacation home and I left the aggravating task of showing property after property to the finicky doctors, starlets, and athletes in the area to my staff.

  “Yeah, the acoustics is on some mute ’n’ shit. I like to hear how good it feels when I’m puttin’ in work. Jus’ somethin’ that’s important to me. You wouldn’t understand though. So, what’s next?”

  I stared in disbelief. This was that minor detail fuckery and bullshit I mentioned earlier. This fool done lost his damn mind if he was thinking I was gonna let him run his ass through house after house, fuckin’ in staged bedrooms and messing up designer linens! I was on the verge of puttin’ him on full blast, potentially losing a client and a sale, but I was saved by my iPhone, which had started ringing downstairs.

  “I need to get that. You might wanna go ahead an’ put your damn clothes back on in the meantime.” Turning with a look of pure disgust, I rushed downstairs to answer my phone.

  “Hi, Ris. Everything okay?” I breathed heavily into the phone.

  “Hey, bae. E’rething’s good. Why you breathin’ so hard? What you doin’?”

  “Nothing, I’m showing a property. Ran to grab my phone.”

  “Oh, well, when you comin’ home so I know when to have dinner ready?”

  I couldn’t believe she was calling me during a showing to ask something like this. “Ris. Same time I always get home. Five-ish. Why, do you need me to pick somethin’ up?” I was trying to make the convo quick since Keyshawn had just walked into the kitchen to put on his shoes. I didn’t want him eavesdropping on my conversation. I pressed the volume down on the side of the phone just as Ris gave away the real reason for her call.

  “Chelle, we need to talk when you get here. I jus’ got this feelin’. I mean . . .”

  Damn, here we go again. I could feel the aggravation creeping up the back of neck, causing my teeth to clench. Every other day Larissa seemed to “have a feelin’.”

  “Larissa, I will call you when I’m on my way home. I don’t have time to talk about this with you again.” I softened my tone in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m showin’ a property right now, baby. Okay?”

  She sighed loudly and was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Okay. I love you—my wife.”

  Damn it. She only did that wife shit when she thought I was talking around someone else. “I luh you too. My wifey.” I tried to say it as quickly as possible but I knew he’d heard.

  I ended the call and silently cursed. She was really driving me crazy with all her insecurities. Every time I left the house, or needed to run an errand, she was overly paranoid about me cheating on her, or going to meet someone else. Marrying her hadn’t changed a thing; if anything it seemed like it’d made things worse.

  “Damn, lemme find out yo’ fine ass into chicks.” Keyshawn was leaning on the kitchen counter with his chin in his hands, like we were best friends hanging out on a summer afternoon, talking over martinis.

  I would have been mad at him listening if he weren’t flashing the most beautiful smile in my direction, dimples and all. In that moment my heart skipped a beat and my body sec
retly, against my free will, betrayed my wife. I glanced at my watch and then back at the nigga in front of me, who was unknowingly making me grind my teeth and do my Kegels at the same time.

  “An’ happily married, Negro. Don’t try to change the subject. So you don’t want this estate now, huh?” I couldn’t help feeling drawn into his playful manner and I leaned on the counter opposite him, mimicking his posture. “If you really knew how to make a woman scream, acoustics would be the least of your worries, playboy.” I flashed a dazzling smile back in his direction and we shared a laugh.

  “Ma, I promise, married or not, no woman can take you where a nigga can. I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no bullshit-ass plastic dick. I’m talkin’ flesh and blood. It ain’t the same. An’ the acoustics, FYI, is to maximize the sound in the bedroom without wakin’ up my houseguests or neighbors.”

  I mentally shook my head at myself. That actually shut my ass up. I didn’t even have a comeback. The way Ris would let go and wake up the kids made me think about looking into soundproofing for my damn self. He was both disarming and charismatic. This was dangerous. I had a business to run, and if this fool wasn’t making me any money he definitely wasn’t worth my time.

  “Well, I’ll have one of my realtors follow up with you and offer several other properties that may better suit your standards, Mr. Matthews. In the meantime, I would suggest you inspect the properties clothed and in a respectable manner. Oh, and should the issue arise, jus’ invest in soundproofing after you acquire the property, sir.” I grabbed my things and approached the front door, intent on getting away from this man and his magnetic pull as fast as humanly possible. My hand was on the latch but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “What if I only wanna deal wi’chu?”

  I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. His voice cascaded down the back of my neck in heated waves that coursed down my body and crashed into the ocean between my legs. Goosebumps rose on my arms and time seemed to stand still as his question floated between us. His hand was planted firmly on the door just above my head; no wonder I couldn’t pull it open. He was so close behind me. I could feel a wall of heat along the back of my body as he leaned over me, waiting for my answer, expecting me to react like every other woman who had probably given in to his good looks and sex appeal.

  “My wife is crazy as hell, and I think you’ve got enough on your plate to keep you occupied. I have police-grade Mace. Move, or I’ll use it.” I held my breath, silently wishing this were a different time, or I were a different me. He was a ride I couldn’t afford to take right now.

  Reluctantly, his hand slid from the door. I heard him take a step back.

  “Ol’ girl out there, she ain’ nothin’ but arm candy. But you, you naturally beautiful wit’ all that real hair. Yeah, I can tell, an’ I appreciate it. Your wife got e’re right to be crazy, ’cause I honestly don’t think you into that dikin’ shit a hundred percent. I’ll see you soon, Michelle.”

  CHAPTER 2

  HOME GROWN

  I was bored outta my damn mind. Chelle was always at work or wherever doin’ who- or whatever and I was stuck up in here all day every day with the damn kids. The two of them were runnin’ around the house, actin’ like they were losin’ they damn minds, fighting over every single solitary thing. There was nothing for me to do and I was gettin’ restless as hell and the kids were startin’ to work my damn nerves. I threw down the magazine I was trying to read, only making it halfway through the article on how to tell if your man was cheating. No, I ain’t had no man. I just switched all the “if he’s” doing this or that et cetera shit to “if she’s,” and damn if Michelle wasn’t fitting the descriptions to a muthafuckin’ T.

  Lately she’d been working late with special clients on special closings, or taking longer to get home than usual. When we made love—hell I couldn’t even call it that—it was more on some “I serve you until I’m bored, okay switch, now you do me” boring-ass shit. Nothing like when we first got together. Everything that damn magazine said was exactly what was going on in our house. An’ I be givin’ her ass every opportunity to just tell me she seeing someone else but, like a muthafuckin’ nigga, she refuse an’ claims nothin’s up. You know how that shit goes. Deny, deny, deny ’til you die type shit. She could probably get caught in the act, dick or pussy in her mouth, ass, or whatever, and still be like, “Baby, it ain’t what you think.”

  Pain shot through my foot; glancin’ down, I got even more pissed off as I pulled one of Trey’s Legos from underneath it. “Trey, stop chasin’ yo’ fuckin’ sister an’ come pick up these damn toys. I done told you ’bout leavin’ these damn things all ova’ the fuckin’ place. I’ma start throwin’ ’em away. Try me, li’l nigga.” I stared his li’l lazy ass down while he picked ’em up slow as hell one by fuckin’ one.

  I did not sign up for this shit. I needed to be doing something with myself, running a business, keeping my mind busy earning myself some damn money. I hated dependin’ on Michelle for every damn dime I wanted to spend. If it wasn’t for the fact that we were basically in a self-induced witness protection program I could easily go out an’ get myself some kind of work, but it was just easier if we kept people out of our shit. Daycares, constant babysitters, they all had questions and needed more info than she or I wanted to give.

  I needed to talk to a damn adult. All this kiddy shit was getting to my ass. I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and called my cousin back home in Detroit: the only person I trusted.

  “Girl, what da fuck you ova’ there doin’?” I asked playfully as soon as she picked up. I was jus’ glad she ain’t let me go to voice mail. When we left Virginia, Michelle insisted we cut everyone off, but I couldn’t let my entire family jus’ think I’d off and died or disappeared. My cousin, Shanice, was the only person I trusted enough to still keep in contact with.

  “Hey, boobie, I miss yo’ li’l crazy ass. You lovin’ dat married life yet?” She was being sarcastic as usual. She always was a smart ass.

  “I don’t even wanna go into the details. I think she seein’ that muthafucka again or a new somebody. I ain’t figured it out yet, but when I do it’s gon’ be on.”

  “Larissa, you ain’t marry dat bitch jus’ to have her doin’ all the same shit. Check her ass, fo’ I come out there an’ check her for you. Paper or no paper all that extra shit ain’t worth it.”

  I sighed into the phone; she had a point. It wasn’t worth it and I knew it. After all of these years of loving Michelle and only Michelle it was finally starting to break me down. It’s like how they say a tiny stream of water can eventually wear down a mountain until there’s nothing left but a flat piece of land and a river. Well my love at one point was that mountain but all these doubts and fears been wearin’ and tearin’ away at that mountain for so long that we were on the verge of bein’ completely torn apart and wiped away.

  “Shanice, you’ve known me my entire life. I think this the longest my ass eva’ been straight-up, flat-out sober. Hell, I don’t even drink like that no more. The stress an’ these kids, all this shit is startin’ to get to me.”

  “Bitch, a blunt ain’t neva’ hurt shit. My ass ain’t neva’ heard of a mu’fucka bitin’ nobody face off ’cause they was smokin’ on some purp’.” She was talkin’ ’bout the recent drug shit that’d happened down in Miami. Niggas snortin’ bath salts or whatever and eatin’ other nigga’s faces and brains while the nigga was still alive on some for real zombie-type shit.

  “Girl, I tried to tell Michelle we need to get our asses the fuck up outta here before da Zombie Apocalypse start, an dat heffa told me stop watchin’ da damn horror channel. You an’ me bof know—don’t no black folk do no shit like that, an’ especially not off no damn weed. Hell, you don’t even do nothin’ close to that off a bad crack rock.”

  “True, bitch, that is so got-damn true,” Shanice yelled in my ear in agreement and we both fell out laughin’.

  Most of my life I’d had a problem with various drugs from crac
k to cocaine, you name it. Michelle was on some warden-type shit right now. I could barely sniff a glass of wine without her looking at me sideways, getting all weary and talkin’ to me in her “house nigga” voice. I could hear saying, “Look nah, Risi-cup, you done made it dis far now, an’ ya knows what dey says ’bout stayin’ strong an’ takin’ one day at a time.”

  Ugh.

  “You ever grow that Chia Pet I sent yo’ ass?” Shanice was gigglin’ in the phone like a straight-up little girl.

  “Girl, what da hell I’ma do wit’ a damn . . .” I stopped, realizing what she was saying before I could even finish my sentence. “Shanice, you didn’t.”

  “Yup. Dat last package I sent you. Li’l Mr. Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia had a present inside his ass. I hope yo’ ass ain’t throw him away.”

  I didn’t think I’d felt this damn happy the entire time I’d been in Florida. I’d gone to the post office one day and set myself up a post office box so I could have things shipped without my “warden” all in my business. I laughed and thought the Chia Pet was cute when I saw it.

  “Girl, I go’sta go. Hell naw, I ain’t throw it away, it’s somewhere in the damn garage. Hell Ch-Ch-Ch-Chy-eah!” I rushed my black ass off the phone so fast I ain’t even say bye.

  “Trey, Taya, go lay y’all’s asses down, it’s damn naptime,” I shouted up toward their playroom, satisfied when I heard the pitter-patter of they bad asses running to get in their beds. I needed to figure out exactly where the hell I’d stuck that damn package because apparently it had some extra shit up in it and I needed that in my life right now. It would be easier to figure out how I was going to talk to this woman, aka my so-called wife, about this new shit that popped up in our situation if I was at least a little lifted.

  CHAPTER 3

  JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER