Darius Jones (19 page)

H
appy not to have two babies pressing against my bladder, I enjoyed urinating like a normal person. I sat on the toilet peeing, praying, and crying at the same time. I wiped myself, washed my hands and face, then joined Grant, Valentino, Sapphire, Velvet, Velvet's son Ronnie and her mother, Ms. Waters, at the table for breakfast.

“Sorry, for holding everyone up,” I said, sitting beside Grant. “Ms. Waters, you keep feeding us like this three times a day and I'm going to look pregnant again.”

“I'll still love you, baby,” Grant said, kissing me on the lips.

Men. Was his PDA intended to impress Ms. Waters? Was Grant trying to prove his love to me? Was he attempting to make Valentino jealous? Or all of the above?

We held hands, bowed our heads. Ms. Waters's grace was always a welcoming prayer. She said, “Dear Lord Jesus, as we collectively humble ourselves before You, we ask that You watch over Luke and London. Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, let us fear no evil for we know that Thou art with us. Let not Honey's and Grant's hearts be troubled. Let Thy rod and Thy staff comfort them, Lord Jesus. You gave them two beautiful sons. We know You see Luke and London right now. We ask that You prepare a table before them in the presence of their enemies. We know with You all things are possible. Please, Lord, make it possible for Honey and Grant to have their babies back safe and sound. In Jesus' name.”

Everyone said, “Amen,” in unison.

Sapphire's iPhone rang. “Excuse me. I have to take this call.”

Grant said, “Ms. Waters, I know you told me not to but I have to thank you and Velvet for welcoming us into your home. Hopefully we won't be here much longer.”

Sapphire stuck her head into the room, then said, “Ms. Waters, let's pray all your prayers worked. Honey and Grant, come with me.”

Ms. Waters lifted her hands, palms facing up, and said, “Thank you, Jesus.”

Grant and I stumbled over one another worse than Mister and Celie chasing after Shug in
The Color Purple
. He handed me my jacket, I tossed him his shoes, he grabbed my purse. Outside, Grant held Sapphire's car door open for me. Waited until I was safely in the front passenger seat, then closed the door behind me.

“Let's hope this is what we've prayed for,” Sapphire said, speeding out the driveway. Clouds of smoke trailed the car.

I told Sapphire, “Well, tell us something. Where are we going?”

“Did they find our boys?” Grant asked, leaning between the front seats.

Sapphire didn't respond. She whipped onto the 405. Grant fell back into the seat. I became quiet. I stared out the window. Traffic was horrendous. My stomach ached. Tears streamed down my cheeks onto my maternity blouse. Hadn't wanted to go shopping for post-pregnancy clothes. I thought about Ms. Waters's prayer, wondering if the Lord had indeed prepared a table for us. Any table would be good as long as our babies were at the table with us.

An hour later, Sapphire pulled into a long driveway, parked behind several police cars. There were vans from all the major news stations. Cameras flashed like we were about to attend another premiere but the only red carpet was the trail from my bleeding heart. “Let's pray this is it.”

Oh, my God. I got weak.
Please, let them have my babies.

Grant yelled, “I knew it. Baby, I was right!”

“Right about what?” I asked. “What? Tell me.”

Sapphire got out the car, rang the doorbell. A policeman stood in the doorway. “Come in, everybody, and have a seat.”

T
here were two police officers standing on opposite sides of the doorway outside this huge mansion with skyscraping spiraling white pillars.

I whispered to Grant, “Baby, where are we?”

“You'll see in a minute,” he replied, as if he had a secret and a surprise.

Sapphire entered first, Grant next. I scanned the police officers head to toe, then went inside.
Now I see
. Jada's house was immaculately gorgeous. She was seated in a chair across the room. Her arms were folded under her breasts. There was an empty chair centered in front of the mantel.

“You two, sit here,” the officer said.

There were police officers standing at every possible exit of the room. Twelve officers, to be exact. Their hands were on their guns. I stared at Jada. She was too calm. That bitch better not have set me up.

I sat on the sofa, whispered to Grant, “I told you she did it. I hope they give her,” not me, “life.”

One of the policemen said, “My name is Officer Austin. Lawrence Austin. I need everyone to remain quiet. Do not speak unless I ask you a question. I'll be back in five minutes. No talking.”

We sat there looking at one another. Five minutes seemed like fifty. Grant kissed me, hugged me. His hug was reassuring. I was scared. Sapphire stood by the fireplace between Jada and the empty chair. Good. Make sure she doesn't try to do anything crazy. I hope she burns in hell for putting me through my own hell.

Officer Austin entered the room escorting a short person. A sheet was draped over the person's head; all I could see was from the knees down. The person wore black Birkenstocks and a black skirt. Austin sat the shrouded figure in the chair. Slowly he slid back the sheet. My chin dropped toward my chest when I saw my mother dressed like she was going to a funeral.

“Rita? You? You took my babies!” I rushed toward her with my arms stretched forward and my hands parted just enough to strangle her evil ass.

“Let go, Ms. Thomas. Let her go,” Officer Austin said.

My fingers locked around her neck. “Haven't you done enough to hurt me? You stole my babies! I will kill you!”

Surprisingly none of the other officers in the room moved. I wasn't sure if they had specific orders not to move unless instructed, if they felt my mother deserved an ass whipping, or if they enjoyed watching two women catfight.

Rita couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. I didn't care. I was serious. I had no intentions of letting go until she'd exhaled her last breath.

Grant grabbed my waist. Pulled me in the opposite direction of Rita. The policeman pried my fingers away from Rita's neck. Rita rushed me. Punched me in the jaw. Loosened one of my back teeth. She lost her balance, fell to the floor.

“Let me go, Grant. We need to have this out! Mama, you think you can still beat my ass! Let me go, Grant.” I stomped Rita the same way she'd done me when she kicked me out of her house when I was sixteen. If I could get closer, I'd stomp up and down her ass ten times.

Grant said, “Honey, stop it! That's your mother?”

“No, she's not. That bitch is a surrogate. I don't know her and she damn sure don't know me.” I kicked Rita in her ass.

“Break this up right now,” Officer Austin yelled. “Everybody sit down.”

Jada never left her seat. She stared at Grant, tilted her head side to side while pressing her lips together. She raised her eyebrows, smirked at me.

I told her, “Bitch, I'll knock your teeth down your throat.”

Jada calmly said, “You've got one more time to call me a bitch up in my house.”

“Bitch.” What was she going to do?

Next thing I knew, a crystal paperweight was flying at my head. “Ow!” Grant yelled as he blocked the weight with his hand. Blood dripped from his fingers.

Rita laughed. “Shoulda hit her in the head. Knock some sense into her.”

Officer Austin spoke at room tone. “Does anyone here care about Luke and London Hill?”

I started crying. I got so caught up with Rita, I hadn't listened to the officer until now. Grant hugged me. All of us were quiet.

Officer Austin looked at Rita and said, “Ms. St. Thomas, you want to tell your daughter what you told me?”

Rita shook her head.

“I'm not asking you this time,” Officer Austin said.

Rita took a deep breath. “Bambi Bartholomew paid me to watch the boys and I ain't giving nobody my money. I swear on a stack of Bibles and a pig's foot that's all I did was watch them babies.”

Jada stood. “Bambi who? Bartholomew? As in my personal assistant? She's lying. I just had breakfast at Roscoe's with Bambi. She's working on a media campaign for me.”

Rita frowned. “Might be two peoples with the same name. I don't know.”

I'd forgotten how country Rita was. I noticed Jada sat, scooted to the edge of her seat, arched her back, stared at us. I looked at Grant. His face froze, his body tensed. “You okay?” I asked. He didn't respond.

Rita continued, “I told the policeman everything. Bambi paid me to take care of Fancy. But that wasn't me at the hospital trying to kill Fancy. No, siree, not Rita. Don't know nothin' about that 'cept what the officer told me. But I do know that Luke doesn't share very well and London never liked that Bambi girl around us. I promise you, Lace, I did nothing but love them boys.”

Why'd she have to call me by my real name?

Jada leapt from her seat this time. “She did what?” Jada picked up her cell phone.

Office Austin took the phone from Jada. “Let us handle contacting this Bambi woman. We'll get the truth out of her.”

Jada sat in her chair, tilted her head to the side, kept staring at us. Grant was still speechless.

Rita continued, “Bambi told me she'd kill me if I ever told. Well, if I end up dead like her parents that's in those coffins in their bedroom in her house, you know who done it.”

Dead people. In coffins? In a house? Rita had lost it. But for the first time in years, I felt compassion for my mother. Still had no regrets for beating her ass. She deserved that. But I believed she took good care of my babies.

Officer Austin left and returned with Luke and London. He gave Luke to me and Grant took London. I told Grant, “Put him on the floor.” I did the same with Luke. I unwrapped their blankets, inspected every hair on their heads and counted every toe on their feet. I didn't need to see the hospital ankle tags to tell them apart but I was glad the tags were still on. I kissed my babies' feet. I cried. Bundled them back up, hugged them so tight. Luke cried. I handed London to Grant. Rocked Luke.

“He likes for you to sing to him,” Rita said. “Can I? Please.”

I handed Luke to Rita. Couldn't believe she started singing, “Hush, little baby, don't you cry,” and Luke stopped crying.

I walked over to Jada. “I'm sorry for putting you through all of this.” I was horrible at giving apologies, hated apologizing to her, but it was the right thing to do.

Jada stood, bypassed me, walked up to Grant, then said, “She's not the one who owes me an apology.”

T
he time for me to apologize to Ashlee face to face was right now. I followed her outside the courtroom. The press was waiting for me. Camera lights flashed in our faces. “Mr. Jones. What was the outcome? Did the judge deny you custody of your son based on your encounter with the alleged prostitute? Is your wife still in a coma? Will you lose your wife and son in the same week?”

Sorry ass relentless motherfuckers asked one question after another. Several reporters asked questions at the same time. I didn't respond to those bastards' questions but I did ask, “What, y'all want a fucking press conference?” Didn't shield my face from them either. I knew I was famous when professionals spent their lives getting paid to shadow mine.

I pleaded, “Ashlee, wait. Let me talk to you.”

She kept walking. I kept following her.

“Ashlee, please. Give me a minute.” I knew to keep my hands to myself when it came to dealing with Ashlee. Didn't need the media adding woman beater to my list of hiccups.

Ashlee stood on the steps of the courthouse. Looked up at me. Put one foot forward, her hand on her hip. “What is there to say, Darius?”

Damn, she was ravishing. Suddenly my appetite kicked in. “Can we get in my car? My driver is right there.” I pointed at the tinted-window Town Car parked in front the courthouse.

Thankfully she got in. I sat beside her. Reporters took pictures until the driver closed the door.

“Ashlee, I apologize. I'm sorry I treated you horribly. I was wrong. Please say you forgive me.”

“Oh, so now Darius Jones is sorry. Now you're sorry. Why? Because”—she extended her arms, east and west, then continued—“the media is all over your ass with bad press. Huh?”

I wouldn't admit she was right. Had none of this happened, I wouldn't have apologized to her. “Ashlee, please, don't do this.” My head hung low. I tried to hide my tears. Whenever my life was fucked the hell up, Ashlee made it better.

“I don't care anymore, Darius. You need to cry. You know how many times I've cried over you? When have you ever stood up for me? Every since we were kids, I always had your back. Always. I was there for you before Maxine, Ciara, Ginger, Heather, Miranda, Zen, and Fancy. We were supposed to get married after you divorced Ciara. I watched you get married twice. You knew I loved you. What? You thought I was happy when you proposed to Maxine? All the days I listened to you brag about fucking your mom's executives, you thought I wanted to hear that shit? Even when you weren't positive that you were HIV negative, you still fucked around. And let's not mention Fancy raising my son. You're so busy ballin' out of control you don't have time for DJ.” Ashlee screamed in my face, “Have your own baby because you won't see mine again ever!”

That was a long list of things but I had a list too. Ashlee wasn't Rihanna but she was close to making me Chris Brown. I could deal with all she'd said because it was in the past and I couldn't change any of those things, except the part about my never seeing my lil' man ever again.

“He's our child, Ashlee. I am his father. And how can you say I never stood up for you?”

“Never, Darius. When? Tell me.”

“What about that day in court when I lied to the judge? Told him I erased your voice mail confessing you'd killed the baby inside Fancy. You killed our child. If I had told the truth, there would've been no custody hearing today. You'd be in jail. I guess that doesn't count.”

“That was three years ago. You brought that shit up again today in court and now because that shit didn't work for you today, you're trying to make me feel like you did me a fucking favor?” I didn't mean to make Ashlee cry. “Darius, can't you see? I never stopped loving you. I hate that I still love you. You have no idea how it feels when the person you love abandons you. It hurts me that we're not a family. And that you do all the things for Fancy that I wished you'd do for me.” Ashlee held her stomach.

I wiped her tears with my thumbs. “I do love you, Ashlee. I'm just not in love with you. I'm in love with my wife.” No woman could replace Ladycat. When I fell in love with Fancy, I knew she was the one because I no longer wanted to stick my dick inside another pussy. “Please forgive me for all the pain I've caused you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” she cried, then opened her door.

I leaned over her lap, closed the door. “Let me drop you off at your car.”

“I took Metro,” she said.

“Then let me drop you off at home on my way to the airport. Please.” I was hoping to see DJ for a few minutes. Give my man a hug. Tell him I love him.

“How do two innocent six-year-olds go from being friends, to step-siblings, to lovers, to hating one another?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don't hate you. But speaking of being six, do you remember someone in our class named Bambi?” I had to find out who she was and why she'd bailed my mom out.

Ashlee stared me down with squinted eyes. “Don't tell me you're fucking her too? Is that why she's working for your mom as Jada's personal assistant? Is she your personal assistant too?”

“Is she legit? Tell me the truth.”

“This isn't about her. You've made me learn to hate you. You used to be my best friend. My daddy told me you were like your mama. He was right. Your mom married my dad because she didn't want to raise you alone. And as soon as Wellington came back to her, she dumped my dad. Guess you get your ugly ways from your mama. Y'all screwed up our lives. The only reason she asked me to come help out with DJ was so she could chase behind Grant.”

So Mom only asked Ashlee to help out, huh? That was pertinent. Ashlee technically kidnapped DJ. Oh, there would be another hearing sooner than she expected. Hadn't thought about my parallels to my mom's life until now. I wasn't winning that argument.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Ashlee hunched her shoulders.

“What man do you love? And please don't say me.”