Darius Jones (10 page)

I
pointed at Grant. “You had better put that bitch in check. She does not know who she's fucking with. I don't give a fuck about your marrying her but if either of you touch my boys without my prior permission, I will kill you.”

“Mommy, calm down. She's upset. She's not serious,” Grant said, holding my hand again.

I told him, “Let me say, you've been put on notice.”

“Honey, you and I were never right for one another but…” He paused, pressing his fingers into his tears, then continued. “Now that you've had my boys, I will always have a place in my heart for you. Honey, you have given me the greatest gift a woman can give a man.”

“Yeah, and what if I slam your heart on the hot concrete, then stomp it into the ground? Huh? How would you like that? Don't try to play me again. Be glad I let you stay for the delivery.”

Grant shook his head.

“Knock, knock,” Sapphire said, walking in with Velvet and lots of flowers. “Grant, close your mouth. Only two things come out of a man's mouth and that's burps and lies.”

“Well, I did not die. I had two babies,” I said, laughing. “Y'all making me hurt my stomach.” I loved my girlfriends. Their timing was perfect. Men were unpredictable. My girlfriends were loyal.

“That's why we brought you two bouquets,” Velvet said. “We know Luke has to have his own everything.”

“And six balloons,” Sapphire said. “You should've named one of them Bleu. But I do like the names you picked.”

I frowned, tilted my ear toward the door. “Do I hear Luke crying?”

“Girl, you need some rest. This is a maternity ward. All babies cry,” Sapphire said, sitting on one side of my bed while Velvet sat on the other.

“No seriously. I know his cry. Grant, please. Go check on the boys,” I said to his back. Grant was already on his way out the door. He needed something to do other than listen to my conversation with my girls.

My stomach contracted. “Let me see your ring, girl,” I told Velvet, reaching for her hand. “You think it's big enough? Sorry about interrupting your proposal while you were onstage at your premiere. Damn! Congratulations are in order. You are one bad bitch.”

Sapphire said, “I second that emotion. I've seen her make a full water bottle disappear in her pussy and come out empty.”

Velvet's smile was wide and bright. “Yeah, I guess stripping had its benefits.”

Sapphire said, “If anyone would've bet that the three of us…each of us, would be in happy meaningful relationships, I would have told them they were crazy. I'm married to a wonderful man and both of you are happy and engaged. Honey, when you get settled back in Atlanta, we have to celebrate.”

My engagement to Valentino wasn't legit. But he was there for me throughout my pregnancy and sometimes that's all a woman needed from a man—for him to be there. I held their hands, smiled. “I want both of you to be godmothers to my boys.”

“I've got Luke. He's a lot like you,” Sapphire said.

Velvet smiled, then replied, “I guess that means I've got London. I'm going to teach him how to act.”

Grant rushed into the room, interrupting our conversation. “Honey, did Valentino take the boys?”

“Yes, to the nursery.” I sat up.

Sapphire and Velvet stood.

Grant shook his head. “The boys are not in the nursery.”

“What! Oh, God. Don't tell me Jada took my babies for real.” I placed my feet on the floor. The stitches in my uterus hurt so bad I had to sit down.

“Velvet, you stay here with Honey,” Sapphire said. “I'll find whoever this Jada bitch is.” Grant followed Sapphire.

Velvet held me. I cried until Grant and Sapphire came back to the room with the nurse, no babies. Valentino walked in behind the nurse. “What's going on?”

The nurse said, “A woman came into the nursery after you left.” She pointed at Valentino. “Said she was with Child Protective Services. We were obligated to…”

Valentino and Sapphire ran out of the room. Grant rushed out too.

“Get out!” I yelled at the nurse.

Velvet sat on the side of my bed facing me. “Luke and London will be back shortly. I'm sure it was a simple mix-up….”

As Velvet continued talking, I got up, gathered my open gown in the back. I held my stomach, dragged my feet two steps from my bed.

Valentino entered my room. “We're on it, baby.”

A police officer opened the door, then asked, “Honey Thomas?”

“Yes, I'm Honey Thomas. Thank God you're here. Where are my boys?”

The officer asked, “Do you have knowledge of the whereabouts of Anthony Valentino James?”

My heart dropped to my stomach. My body tensed. I closed my eyes.

Valentino said, “I'm Anthony Valentino James.”

I looked at him, at my BFF, and wanted to cry but I didn't.

The officer gripped his cuffs, locked Valentino's hands behind his back, and said, “You're under arrest for grand theft auto. Anything you say can and will be held against you.”

“Velvet, go find Sapphire!” I cried. All of this was like a living nightmare. “Where are my babies?”

Velvet ran out the door.

I didn't shed a tear for Valentino. We both had jaded pasts. We knew the lives we'd lived could lead to imprisonment any given moment. I removed Valentino's ring from my finger. “I'll give this back to you when you get out. Don't worry. Sapphire will have you out in no time.”

It was great having an undercover cop as my friend. Sapphire could get anybody out of jail. Grand theft auto was minor in comparison to Sapphire having Valentino's attempted murder charges dropped.

Valentino stared at the ring he'd given me, then asked, “Lace, why?”

Not responding, I watched the officer escort him out, praying Valentino hadn't betrayed me. Until they found my boys, everybody was suspect. He was the last one I saw with my babies. Did he know where my boys were? Was he plotting against me with Jada? Was everything Valentino had said and done for me during my pregnancy a damn lie? If he didn't know where my babies were, was Valentino the kind of man I wanted to raise Luke and London?

We knew Valentino had stolen that car. What I didn't know was how the police in Los Angeles knew about the car theft in Atlanta. Some hocus-pocus shit was going on. As upset as I was about Valentino, I was furious not knowing where my boys were. Alone in my room, I could not continue to lie in bed doing nothing but worry. I had to do something. I made it to my door, opened it.

Jada stood in front me, shrugged her shoulders.

The space in front of my eyes faded to black.

Silently I prayed. Brain? Courage? Heart?

I will strangle this bitch if she says one word.

D
amn, I'm good.

Jada saw me yesterday and didn't recognize me disguised as a nurse today. I'd pretended as though I was going into the nursery. Quickly, I detoured into the stairway.

Hurrying down the stairs, I stumbled. “Oh, shit.” I fumbled one of the babies like a football, recovered him before his head hit the iron rail. What would I do if one of them were to get hurt or become sick? Well, the Pacific Ocean is part of my backyard. I had no intention of repeating a double homicide. Hopefully for all our sakes, I won't have them too long. If necessary, I'll sell them, two for the price of one. I could easily sell twin boys on the black market. Hell, they weren't my kids. I just wanted Jada's ass in the hot seat with Grant so she wouldn't have time to focus on Darius or Fancy.

I turned my back to the Exit door, pressed my butt against the bar, opened the door. The twins were each bundled in beautiful blue blankets. “How cute.” With only their faces exposed, they looked like two pigs in a blanket. I prayed Darius didn't want any kids. That one he had was more than enough and exactly where he belonged, with his crazy ass mama. I had to make sure DJ stayed with Ashlee but I was positive that kid never wanted to be alone with me again.

One of the babies wailed. I prayed no one heard him. His golden complexion turned beet red. He was kicking and getting on my damn nerves already. “Shut up, you sissy. Toughen up like your brother and shut up all that goddamn crying,” I yelled at him, rushing into the garage. My car was closest to the stairs. I turned my back and confirmed the duct tape I'd placed over the surveillance camera's dome a few minutes ago was still there.

There was no time to strap them in the two car seats in the back. I unlocked the passenger door, placed the twins on the floor in front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” a woman yelled, running toward me. “You can't put those babies there like that!”

Bitch should've minded her own business. I grabbed my ruby red lipstick, removed the top and pepper-sprayed her ass real good.

Screaming, she covered her face, fell to her knees. “I can't breathe. Help,” she whimpered, falling to the ground.

She rolled on her back, kicked like DJ when he threw that temper tantrum. I beat his behind real good. That was probably his first real whipping. I'd stared that brat in his eyes, told him if he told anyone I beat him I was coming back in the middle of the night and I'd take him deep into the woods and feed him to the bears.

The bitch on the ground better be glad I didn't run over her ass. I inserted my prepaid parking ticket, zipped out the garage in my black sedan. I sped down South San Vincente Boulevard, hooked a right onto North La Cienega Boulevard. When the green light at Clifton Way turned yellow, I accelerated.

Whoop! Whoop!

“Fuck. Just my luck. Bambi, stay cool.” I only had two miles to go and my mission was interrupted twice. How was I going to explain to the cop why I had the babies on the floor? I inched my way from the Japanese barbecue joint to LMG Studio to make certain I was the one he was pulling over.

W
hoop!

Yep, it was definitely me. I grabbed a fresh vibrant blue lipstick from my Ho-on-the-Go bag, parked the car, turned up the radio to drown out that cry baby, and got out the car.

“Miss, get back in the car,” he commanded.

Fuck that. I was not getting back in the car. Clenching my lipstick, I pleaded, “Officer, please don't take me to jail. I'm a nurse. I just worked twenty-four hours straight. I only have a few hours to go home and rest before I have to get back to work and help save some more lives. I was listening to ‘Single Ladies' on the radio when Beyoncé said, ‘Now put your hands up.' I accidentally accelerated to the beat. You know she won a Grammy for ‘Single Ladies.' Of course you do. I promise I'll be careful. From now on I'll slow down at the yellow light. I promise. Please don't write me a ticket.” I mimicked James Brown. “Please, please, please, please…please.”

The officer started laughing, then threw his hands up. “Drive safe, miss,” he said, heading back to his car. “And don't put on that lipstick while you're driving.”

Soon as I got in the car, I started heaving, nearly vomiting in my lap. I'd done a lot of illegal things but I'd never been to jail. Prison terrified me. I would've uncapped my lipstick, pepper-sprayed him, and zapped his eyes out with my stun gun if I had to. I waited until he drove off, then continued driving along North La Cienega toward Interstate 10. I drove underneath the overpass, parked in the mini market lot next to Rita's car.

Rita opened her rear passenger door. I got out of my car, secured the infant car seats in the backseat of her new SUV, then strapped in the twins. Didn't want to take any chances with trusting Rita would secure them properly.

Handing Rita an envelope, I told her, “Here's five grand, the directions to my house on East Seaside Walk in Long Beach, the garage door opener, and a key. Drive safe. Do not run any lights or break any speed limits.”

“These babies sure are beautiful. Their parents on vacation? Who they belong to? And how long do I have to babysit them? Hush, little baby,” she said to that crying sissy, and for the first time his ass shut up. Rita closed her door, lowered her driver's window.

I stood outside her door. “You. For now, they belong to you,” I told her.

“And how long do I have to watch them?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Not sure like a week or not sure like a year?”

“Take them to the house. Make yourself at home but you are not allowed to leave the house with or without the boys. Not even for a second. Understood?”

Rita raised her brows. “What if the house is on fire or y'all have one of them things when the ground starts movin'?”

Shaking my head, I told her, “I'll be at the house shortly. I have to go buy diapers and milk. What kind of milk should I get?”

“Get some of that kind in the can, not that powdered stuff.” She glanced over her shoulders, smiled at the babies. “I should've had boys. I would've been a better mother. Girls are complicated. What's their names?”

“Luke and London. Don't ask me which is which. Don't know. Don't care. I'll see you in a few. Don't stop on your way to the house, not even at a drive-thru. And don't open the door at my house for anyone. I'll bring you something to eat. Oh, and one more thing. Whatever you do, do
not
turn on any of the televisions.”

“Would've been easier to give me one of them house arrest anklets like Madea.”

“Don't tempt me.” I got in my car, drove to the Beverly Wilshire on Wilshire Boulevard. I parked in the garage at the shopping center across the street. I grabbed my Ho-on-the-Go bag, went to the public restroom, and made a quick change in the handicapped stall. I removed my auburn lace wig, untangled my braids, dampened my hair and applied a small amount of conditioner. I finger styled my hair. Tossing the uniform and shoes in my bag, I squeezed into a pair of second skin black leather pants, snapped the four buttons above each ankle, put on a black satin top, and stepped into my open-toe stilettos.

I put my bag back in my car, headed across the street to CUT inside the Beverly Wilshire, and waited for Jada.