Girls from da Hood 11 (14 page)

 

by

I paced the floor with a cigarette locked between my fingers. My face was twisted from anger and I could have killed somebody. Tremaine was late picking up Keith again. I'd been with him for three weeks straight, and Tremaine's ass hadn't come over to pick him up like he was supposed to.

Whenever it came to those other bitches' kids, he was always on time. They didn't have to fuss or cuss like I did. They didn't have to wait until his ass decided to show up and be a father, and Tremaine always put the well-being of his other kids before Keith's.

I couldn't understand why he was always trying to make it hard for me and mine. I mean, what the fuck did I do to deserve this? Why didn't he step up his game when it came to us? My son didn't deserve this shit. That's why I would eventually go to court and make Tremaine handle his responsibilities.

For a while, things worked out fine. Now, he was back to being late and slacking on giving me money. I needed all the money I could get. Bills had to paid, clothes had to be bought, and Keith had to have the best of everything. I didn't want him around here looking like no goddamn bum, especially since Tremaine always wore brand name, expensive clothes that made him look like the millions he was worth. If he looked that damn good, we needed to look that good too. But if it was up to Tremaine, Keith and I both would look homeless.

I smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray and picked up my cell phone again. This fool was going to make me late for my hair appointment. My hair was short and layered; therefore, if I didn't get it done at least once every two weeks, it appeared nappy like I have a fro. My hair was real coarse like that, so I had to give it as much attention as I could. Keith's hair was the same way. I couldn't allow him to go more than a week without getting it cut. Tremaine knew that as well, but we always had to wait until he got here to get shit done.

While waiting on him to answer his phone, I looked at my chipped long nails that were polished hot pink. A manicure was calling me; so was my growling stomach. I was hungry and was supposed to meet my girls for lunch. If I don't leave soon, my whole day will be messed up. Yet again, my call went straight to Tremaine's voice mail.

“Listen up, you lame-ass fool. I'm tired of yo' tail not showing up. You almost ten minutes late and I got something to do! Your son over here with nappy-ass hair and he needs to get his hair cut. If you prefer that I take him and that I cancel all of my plans for the weekend, then call me to say that. In case you forgot, this is supposed to be your weekend to keep Keith. Once a month, Tremaine, and you can't even handle that. What a low-life nigga you are!”

I hung up feeling angrier than I was before. Keith was sitting on the couch in the living room watching cartoons. He loved the hell out of his daddy, but truthfully, I didn't know what for. I was the one who did everything for Keith. I couldn't teach him how to be a man, but at the rate we were going, I would have to put on the pants, grow a penis, and see what the fuck I could do to show my son a few things.

I lit another cigarette then went to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge. I haven't been to the grocery store, but there was some bologna and cheese inside. I hurried to make me and Keith sandwiches. I wish I had time to thaw the steak, but I didn't want to start overeating again.

Since I'd known Tremaine, my weight had fluctuated. He stressed me the fuck out. When we met, I was one hundred and forty pounds. Now, I was up to one hundred and sixty pounds. It was a good thing that my curves were in all the right places, and my heart-shaped ass hadn't spread too much. Tremaine claimed he loved every bit of it, but I didn't care what he liked right about now. What I cared about was him bringing his tail over here to get his son, so I could go do me.

After I ate my sandwich, I went to the bathroom. I looked it the mirror at my buttery-soft light skin and loved how well my makeup was on, like a work of art. My stretch jeans were so tight that they looked melted on my curves, and the hot-pink shirt I wore was dipped low to show my healthy cleavage. I considered myself a real sexy chick. Didn't know why I put up with Tremaine and his mess, but after today I was so done with him.

I glanced at my watch, realizing that I would have to cancel my plans and take Keith to the barbershop myself. I turned off the TV and picked up my keys from the table. Knowing that we were getting ready to leave, Keith put his jacket on and grabbed a fistful of Hersey's kisses from the table. That was another thing I often complained about. Tremaine was fit as ever. Body was tight, and he worked out faithfully at the gym. But Keith was only six years old, and he was overweight. I tried my best to get him to eat the right things, but he always fussed about wanting sweets. I asked Tremaine to help him lose weight, but he wasn't even down with that, He said Keith would eventually lose his baby fat and that it made no sense for him to work out with him at the gym. What kind of excuse was that? The only reason he didn't want Keith at the gym with him was because Keith would interfere with Tremaine trying to get on hoes. That's all he did twenty-four/seven, and he had no shame in his game, as he traveled from one bitch to the next.

I truly felt like I was in this mess by myself. Realistically, there was no need for Tremaine to be a part of Keith's life. He was doing more harm than good by showing up when he wanted to. I swear his actions work my nerves, but I had no one to blame but myself for upping the goodies the first week I met him.

Back then, he was so fine to me. When I spotted Tremaine in the club, I was like,
Damn, that's going to be my future husband
. Many of the chicks in the club were riding his nuts, but all I did was stay back and watch. When he approached me, I played him off. That didn't last for long, though. I gave him my phone number, and every time he called, our conversations were cordial. I seriously thought he was on some real shit. I thought he was about handling his business, but I soon found out that he wasn't. By accident, I discovered that he had a seven-year-old son with a chick named Bree. After Keith was born, and several years later, Tremaine had a daughter by a chick I used to go to school with, Monica. Him and Monica just had a son too, and with all these kids, I didn't understand why the nigga didn't just strap the fuck up. He was always complaining about catching heat from child support, but that's what happens when a motherfucker doesn't pay up like he's supposed to. I had no sympathy for him, and you better believe it that Keith and I were going to get what was due to us.

As for them other bitches, none of us got along. I despised Bree and Monica just as much as they despised me. Tremaine was trying to play all of us, but he wasn't doing nothing but playing himself. I still dished out the pussy from time to time, because I had a motive. It was green and he had plenty of it.

The second Keith and I arrived at the barbershop, Tremaine called. “I'm at your apartment. Where are you?”

“Where do you think I'm at, Tremaine? I'm at the barbershop, waiting for Keith to get his hair cut. We've been waiting all day for you to come. I got business that I need to take care of, and I wasn't going to sit around all day waiting on you.”

“Calm down, a'ight? I was only fifteen minutes late. You act like it was an hour or something. Traffic was backed up and I got to your apartment as soon as I could.”

I was tired of arguing with this fool, so I hung up on him. I don't have time for excuses. Tremaine had too many of them. If he thought I was going to waste my breath going back and forth with him, he was sadly mistaken. I told myself that what he wouldn't do, I would. Where he fell short, I would pick up and do what needed to be done. That's why Keith was now in the barber's chair, getting his hair cut and trimmed to perfection.

“Girl, remove that mean mug from your face,” Big Mike said. “You too fine to be coming in here all mad like you do all the time. Every time I see you, you got that same tight look on your face.”

I could only laugh. Big Mike was right. Because every time I had to come here was because Tremaine was a no show.

“I hate to be ugly like this, but Tremaine be working me. He needs to step up, so I can step back a little.”

“As a mama, you don't ever need to step back. Keith gon' always need you, so get that thought out yo' head. Tremaine just be going through a lot. He got a lot on his plate, but at the end of the day, he tries to be there as much as he can for his kids. You can't knock him for that, and he be doing way more for his kids than some of these other niggas do. Ain't that right, li'l man?”

Big Mike poked Keith in his stomach and he nodded, agreeing with Big Mike's statement.

“Y'all can defend Tremaine all y'all want to. The bottom line is he ain't right. If I have to spend the rest of my life telling him so, I will.”

“You're wasting your time. From what he told me, that noise you be spilling goes in one ear and out the other. You need to chill, Keysha. Being that way ain't going to make him change one bit, and talking all that ill shit in front of yo' son like that ain't cool either.”

“It's cool to me, because Keith needs to know the truth about his daddy. I'm not going to sugarcoat shit. If he's a deadbeat, so be it. I can't fake it and pretend that everything is all good when it's not. Sorry.”

Big Mike didn't have anything else to say. He kept cutting Keith's hair, ignoring me. I got up to go holler at some of the stylists I knew. When Tremaine came through the door, a thirsty trick sitting in a chair damn near broke her neck as she snapped it around so fast. Several of the stylists were eyeing him too, but out of respect for me, they didn't say anything.

I, on the other hand, had to admit that Tremaine had it going on. He rocked a pair of sagging jeans and the compression black T-shirt he had on clung to his muscular frame. His biceps were covered with tattoos, and the cap on his head was cocked slightly to the side. Shades shielded his hazel eyes, and the richness of his chocolate skin was as smooth as his walk. I understood what all of the stares were about, but nobody knew what a headache he was but me.

“I think I just spotted my next baby's daddy,” the chick sitting in the chair said. “Damn, he fine. He is definitely knocking at the door to my pussy.”

Bitch, please
, I thought. Tremaine wouldn't dare give her the time of day. She was not his type. She needed to lose at least a hundred pounds to be considered.

I cut her off quickly and halted her thoughts of bringing another fatherless child into this world. “Don't get your hopes up,” I said, exaggerating. “He already got four kids and four more on the way. He broke as fuck, and to be truthful, his dick ain't all that.”

Some people laughed, causing Tremaine to look my way. He was trying to ignore me while he stood talking to Big Mike and playing with Keith.

“Well, it must be about something if he's popping out babies like that. Evidently, somebody is enjoying his sex.”

I didn't bother to comment. If she wanted to take her chances that was on her. But just to let her know that I was speaking from experience, and that I knew what I was talking about, I walked over to Tremaine to confront him about his tardiness. Like always, he blew me off.

“Do me a favor. Let's step outside and then you can talk yo' shit. I'm not gon' let everybody up in here know my business.”

I took Tremaine up on his offer and went outside to get into his Lexus with him. He thought he was going to tune me out by turning up the radio, but I turned it down.

“I know you get tired of me griping all the time, but here's the deal. If you can't be on time, for one damn week out of the month, then don't come. I made plans to have some me time, Tremaine. It is so unfair when I have to sit around waiting for you to show up. Then you never answer your phone when I call you. I have no idea when you're coming, and you always make excuses about being late.”

“Like it or not, those excuses be my reality. I know I be late sometimes, but you know damn well that there has never been a time when I simply didn't show up. I do my best, Keysha, and you know it. For once, just one damn time, I would like to hear something positive from you, instead of all of this negativity.”

“You want to hear something positive? Here you go. Nice shoes. Nice haircut. Nice clothes and nice car. Your son needs shoes, his hair was fucked up, his clothes are too little, and his mother is riding around in a 2007 car, when it's 2013.”

Tremaine laughed and flipped his cap on backward. “No offense, but Keith's mother needs to stop working these part-time jobs and get a full-time position. That way she can buy her own car. As for all of that other stuff you mentioned, the problem is you be spending too much money on name-brand shit that Keith don't even need. He quickly outgrows that stuff and you be throwing money out of the window. Then you expect for me to keep dishing out money when you ain't even spending it right. Truthfully, you need to be shopping at flea markets, discount stores or Walmart. Figure out how to budget the money I give you and get off my damn back.”

I could have punched Tremaine in his face. At first the conversation was going cool, but this nigga tripped when he started talking about my son wearing clothes from flea markets and shit, especially when his ass wore the best of the best.

“Do your other kids wear clothes from flea markets? Do you encourage that bitch Monica to buy shit from Walmart? The last time I saw her, her and those other two crumb snatchers you got were rocking the best of the best. That purse she was carrying did not come from Canal Street in New York. The bottom line is you're playing favoritism when it comes to your kids. I will not stand by and let you treat Keith any kind of way. As he gets older, he's going to recognize that shit, and that's gon' be a real big problem for you.”