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Isaiah cringed.
LaQuandra twisted her lips.
“Miss Simms? Hello? Hello?”
“I hear you, damn! I’m going to see Clitina.”
“Nigga-coon, boom! Oh no the hell you not! You ain’t going up to no gawtdamn prison dressed like no skank to see a skank. And you ain’t smuggling no more drugs up there for that triflin’ bitch, either. Both you whores are sickening. That bitch halfway retarded smoking anything that come from outta that rotted stank-hole of—”
“Mommy, Fuquan hit me.”
“I did not, fucker!”
“Goddamn you, Fuquan. Don’t have me break my fist in your mouth. You know I got that therapist bitch about to call me about Isaiah’s fahver. Now don’t do me. Go take your ass up to your room.”
“Hello? Hello? Miss Simms?” Dr. Dangerfield called out again.
LaQuandra grunted, while Isaiah shook his head.
And then finally up on the screen appeared Cassandra Simms. With her thick, long lashes, almond-shaped eyes and flawless smooth butterscotch complexion, she was clearly not what Dr. Dangerfield had envisioned. In each of her ears was a large diamond stud.
“Hello? Miss Simms?”
“Yes, it is,” Cassandra said, swinging her long Nicki Minaj-esque ponytail over her shoulder. “How may I help you?” She leaned forward, her face mere inches from the screen and then she leaned back, and waved. “Hey, baby daddy. Isaiah, come in here and say hi to ya fahver. He on camera with his mule-faced wife.”
LaQuandra’s jaw tightened, but she’d made it up in her mind that she wouldn’t let this bitch get to her, not in front of the therapist.
Seconds later, a very handsome teenaged boy appeared, the spitting image of Isaiah. “What’s good, Dad?” he said, and then he smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth and one deep dimple in his left cheek. “When you coming home?”
Isaiah smiled, and it was the first time Dr. Dangerfield saw his eyes light up since she’d been working with him.
“What’s good, lil’ man. I’ll be home soon.”
“Bet,” his son said. “Make sure you come scoop me up.”
“No doubt, man. I got you.”
The teenaged boy threw up deuces and then leaned in and kissed Cassandra on the cheek. And then he was gone.
Cassandra smiled. “My baby so fine. And thank gawd he gotta big dingaling like his fahver.”
Isaiah grinned. And LaQuandra swung a hand at him, hitting him in his chest.
“Miss Simms, I would like to thank you for—”
“Joshua, bring me my Bumblebees. The Chanels. And hurry up. Quandra’s ugly-ass is hurting my eyes.”
LaQuandra sat up in her seat, hand on hip. “Bit—” She caught herself. She huffed. “Can we please get on with this?”
“Miss Simms, please. May I have your attention?”
“Did you transfer them coins into my account?” Cassandra asked. “Because you know my time is money.”
“Yes,” Dr. Dangerfield said. “As agreed upon, five-thousand dollars has been successfully wired into your account.”
LaQuandra blinked. This money-hungry bitch.
Cassandra smacked her glossed lips, reaching for her sunglasses. “Then you have my attention.” She slid the designer shades on her face. “Now how can I help you?”
