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I laughed and shook my head because my parents stayed in some shit.
“What’s wrong with baby mama number two over there? You see the way that leg bouncing in that seat? Nigga, she’s going to fuck around and cut your dick off. What you and Denim got going on, man?” my uncle Malcom asked me.
I was close as fuck with my uncle Malcom. He was my dad’s younger brother, and he was a good dude. Unlike my father, he wasn’t in the streets like that when my dad was. Back when he was younger, he used to run track. He ended up getting a full ride to run at Florida State, and he graduated from there and everything. These days, my uncle had his own youth track program, right in the same hoods that we all grew up in. Once Lil Bill’s season of football was over, I was going to take him out there and have him run for his great uncle.
“You see I’m ignoring her ass though, right? If I say anything,
my daughter will have to witness me curse her mama out, so I’m trying to chill. Monterius looked out for a nigga and had me come home to a few mil, plus the money that I had saved up myself. I went to the bank yesterday morning and wired both my baby mamas $250K each. These lame ass, selfish ass niggas out here not doing no shit like that, yo’.
“On top of that, when I went in, I had my mama transfer both my baby mamas enough money to last them for the five years that I had to sit down for. One thing about it, even when I was behind them walls, I always made sure that my kids were straight. I make sure that my baby mamas are straight too because if they not in a good place, then they can’t properly take care of my kids. Denim and I did our little thing when I was locked, but that’s it. I ain’t never tell her that we were a couple or no shit like that,” I voiced to my uncle.
We were talking in hushed tones because I ain’t need anyone to hear what we were saying.
“Negro, please! I’m sure you were hitting her with some prison talk. Don’t sit there and play innocent. She ain’t mad at your black ass for nothing,” my uncle said, calling me out on my shit.
I laughed a little bit, knowing that I couldn’t lie to this man.
“I might have told her a couple of times that I wanted her to have another one of my babies. At the same time, nigga, I had to sit for five years! A nigga was desperate to say any fuckin’ thing,” I said in my defense.
“And I get that, but at the same time, she probably believed the shit that you told her out of desperation. You telling a woman that you want her to have another baby by you, that’s some serious shit. I ain’t going to jump down your throat because I know you just got home, and you been receiving lectures from everybody. But what I will say to you is if it’s going to be strictly about the kids, then make it like that only. You ain’t gotta fuck on yo’ baby mamas to co-parent with them. Personally, I don’t see you with either of them because we all done witnessed the bad that comes with you being tied down to them. You need to find you a good, lowkey kind of woman. She ain’t gotta be the baddest bitch in the world, but just let it be somebody worth loving,” he said.
“Unc, she most definitely gotta be the baddest bitch in the world,” I let him know, followed by a laugh.
My dad leaned in and gave me a pound for saying that. I chopped it up with them for another five minutes or so, and then I stood up.
I eventually went over to Denim, just to see what her fuckin’ problem was. Just like Sidnesha, Denim had rich, chocolate skin. Both my baby mamas were collard green and cornbread fed. I mean, I ain’t want to discriminate, but I loved thicker women. I felt like thick women could take dick better. I had yet to see otherwise.
Denim had on a black cotton dress, and I could see the smallness of her waist and the way her hips spread a little bit. Her baby blue toenails showed in the Gucci sandals that she was wearing, and her baby blue and white, long fingernails danced around that damn phone. She didn’t even see me looking at her ass.
Denim had her hair in dreads. Nice, neat, long dreads that she had been growing since she was a little girl. Right now, she had them pulled up in a neat bun, and a Bantu scarf or whatever the fuck that shit is called was wrapped around them. I could tell since last night that she was in her feelings with a nigga. She barely said two words to me at my party. When that money hit her bank account yesterday morning, she sent me a quick thank you message, and that was pretty much it.
Because I wasn’t about to be beefing with either of my baby mamas last night at my shit, I never even asked what was wrong with her. Now I wanted to see what the fuck was up because I wasn’t even aware that we had started beefing.
I snatched the phone from her hands and set it on the kitchen counter.
Her brown eyes danced over to me, and she rolled them while she kissed her teeth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, yo? A nigga comes in the room, and you don’t even speak. All in your fuckin’ phone,” I said, looking down at her.
“Billion, I just fuckin’ saw you last night! What you want me to do? Jump on you? I’m not them hoes! I’ll take my phone back,” she said and tried to jump out of her seat and get it, but I pushed her back down.
She sucked her teeth, and I could tell by the way she was bouncing her leg up and down that she was really pissed off about something. The more I pushed, the sooner she would just spit it out. All women did that shit. Push the fuck out of their ass, and I swear, they’ll bring some dumb ass shit up from August 5, 2007. Bitches were fuckin’ crazy, and Nesha and Denim were the fuckin’ leaders of the crazy bitch squad.
“That’s what this is about? Hoes? You mad at some hoes, Denim?” I questioned, shocked that she was even spazzing like this because we weren’t even together. She was my baby mama!
“No! I’m not mad. That’s the thing! Look, I ain’t doing this shit in front of your parents and your grandma. Lil Bill and Khari are in the house, and I’m not about to be arguing with you in front of them. Welcome back. Glad I was good enough for a quick fuck while you were in the penitentiary, but you didn’t even bother to look my way the second you touched down. Move! Just leave me alone!” she snapped, this time jumping down from the chair, grabbing her phone, and walking out of the kitchen.
I ran my hand down my face, thinking about how this was only the third day, and the drama was already fuckin’ starting. A nigga didn’t even do shit.
Standing in the kitchen was just me, my grandma, my mama, and Twinkle. Sidnesha had gone back into the den area a few minutes ago.
“I know you don’t like for me to get in your business, Billionaire, but it’s my job to do that. Listen to me and listen to me very clear. If you’re not looking for a serious, committed relationship with either of your baby mamas, leave them the fuck alone and keep your dick in your pants! Make it strictly about the kids, and y’all shouldn’t have to be at each other’s throats all the damn time. I know you know how to have some damn self-control,” my mama snapped as she arranged the pans of seafood.
My mama would give it to me raw and uncut any chance she got. I felt her, though; I swear I wasn’t about to be doubling back with my baby mamas because I wasn’t looking for those types of problems. I wanted a simple ass life.
“Ma, I been doing good. I ain’t mess with Denim in damn near five months. I don’t know why she all of a sudden got an attitude with a nigga. I’m chillin’. Ion want no drama,” I said and took the seat that Denim had been sitting in.
Yeah, I told Denim that I wanted more kids with her, but I said that damn near two years ago. It wasn’t even me who had stopped fuckin’ Denim. One day, she came down to the prison and told me that she didn’t want to do it anymore. That reason alone is why I felt like she was back to fuckin’ her baby daddy and why I was good off her for real. I won’t lie, I entertained the thought of possibly getting in a relationship with Denim when I was locked up, but that day she came down, talking funny, I lost trust in her. She never really gave me a solid reason. With me, the less you divulge, the less I trust your ass.
