Torn (15 page)

"Hey, ma."

"Mo, baby, is that you?" Mrs. Mitchell said, turning around.

"Yes."

"Girl, come over here and give me a hug." She wiped her hands on her apron.

With a huge smile on her face, Mo happily walked over to the woman she loved just as much as she loved her own mother and hugged her tight.

"How's everything been?"

"Good. How did everything go at the doctor's?"

"I'm pregnant and I'm already three months." She grinned from ear to ear.

"Oh, Mo!" Mrs. Mitchell responded, speechless.

"I know. I can't believe it either!"

"Girl, I could kick yo' butt! Why you ain't call and tell me right after you found out?"

"'Cause I wanted to tell everybody at the same time. Plus, I wanted to see the reaction on your face."

"Well as you can see I'm elated! Congratulations. I've wanted you to have Quan's baby for years."

"I know you have."

"I ... am ... sooo ... happy ... for ... you." Mrs. Mitchell held Mo's face in her hand. "I know you're not biologically my daughter ... and that I can never take the place of your mother ... but you have always been like a daughter to me. You will never know ... how pleased I am in my heart ... to know that you are having my son's first child and that we're finally going to make this bond we have official. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to this family and my son."

"Ahh thank you, ma." Mo blinked her eyes profusely so she wouldn't cry.

"Now don't get to crying and carrying on, you gon' mess up yo' makeup," Mrs. Mitchell replied, wiping her eyes.

"I'm trying not to, but you're making it hard."

"So have y'all set a date for the wedding?"

"No," Mo said as she washed her hands. "Quan said he wants to be engaged for a minute."

"A minute? Girl, you better get a wedding date outta that boy."

"I'm tryin'," Mo chuckled, peeling a potato.

"Speaking of my slow son, where is he?"

"Who you callin' slow?" Quan asked, entering the kitchen.

"You."

"Mama, you know I fight old people."

"Alright, mess around and get yo' ass beat if you want," she challenged.

"Man, if you don't get somewhere and sit yo' old self down," he teased, taking a lid off one of the pots.

"Put my lid back on my pot!" Mrs. Mitchell yelled, slapping the top of his hand with a wooden spoon.

"But mama, I'm hungry. Let me just get a taste."

"Taste, my ass! You'll eat when everybody else eat. Now give me a hug."

"What? Nah, I ain't giving you no hug. You won't give me no food."

"Quan, if you don't give yo' mama a hug..." Mo laughed at his silliness.

"Well give me a kiss then." Mrs. Mitchell tried to kiss his cheek but instead Quan played her and eased his head back.

"What you want a kiss for?"

"I know about the baby. I'm so happy for you two. I'm gonna be a grandma again!" Mrs. Mitchell gushed, stealing a kiss anyway.

"A'ight, a'ight, gone!" He pushed her back.

"Oh hush boy." She smiled, hitting him in the arm.

"So when are you gonna marry my baby?"

"What you mean? I already gave her the ring."

"I know that. I wanna know when you're gonna set a date." Mrs. Mitchell went back to sauteing her food.

"I don't know. I ain't even thinking about that right now."

"Well you need to be. I don't want my grandbaby being born out of wedlock."

"Me either," Mo chimed in.

"Why not? Diggy did," Quan replied.

"If Diggy jumped off the goddamn roof would you do it, too?" Mrs. Mitchell questioned.

"Here you go. I knew I shouldn't've come in here. All I'm doing by marrying Mo is making it easier for y'all to gang up on me."

"It ain't about ganging up on you, Quan. If you do something wrong I'ma tell you and so is Mo. We both only want what's best for you."

"Uh huh." He rolled his eyes.

"I swear you's a hard-headed little ole boy."

"Mama, you need help with anything else 'cause I'm done peeling these potatoes."

"Thank you sweetie, but no, everything else is done. What you can do is help me take these plates into the dining room."

"Okay." Mo got up.

"Oh and Quan."

"Yes, mama," he responded dryly.

"I love you, but please don't be engaged for nine more years." A month and a half had passed and Mo was now four and half months pregnant. Earlier that week, she and Quan learned the sex of the baby. They weren't having twins, but they were having a girl. She couldn't wait to start buying stuff for the baby. Her daughter was sure to be her little "mini me." Mo was ecstatic and so was Quan. He was overjoyed with delight when he found out the sex of the baby. Mo didn't understand why though. Since she'd known him, all he'd ever talk about was having a boy.

Mo naturally assumed that he'd be disappointed by the news. After the initial shock of his reaction, she shrugged it off and enjoyed his happiness. The sex of the baby didn't matter anyway. The only thing that mattered was that the baby was healthy. Being on bed rest and not being able to eat her favorite foods was still killing Mo, but she was adjusting. Her blood pressure was beginning to stabilize and their relationship was still going strong, so she couldn't ask for more.

One day in particular, a pay-per-view fight between Zab Judah and Floyd Mayweather was coming on, so Quan decided to invite his pot'nahs over. He hadn't been kicking it with his boys like he used to, so to see them would be fun. Quan missed being in the hood shooting the shit wit his boys, but he knew his main priority was to be there for Mo and his unborn child.

Besides that, he couldn't leave Mo's side if he wanted to.

The girl wasn't letting him go nowhere. If she was gonna be miserable, then he was gonna be just as miserable as well.

Every second it was Quan do this, Quan do that. Quan was so sick of hearing his name being called.

Then on top of that, Mo continuously complained that her back ached. Every other day Quan would have to rub her back, legs and feet down with alcohol. He swore that if he didn't have some type of release soon he was going to lose his mind.

Being at home with Mo just wasn't cutting it.

DJ Drama's mixtape was playing. Lil' Wayne's down south voice was rapping about gettin' some head. The music was bumping out of the surround speakers so loud that the floor was shaking. Although it was loud, Mo was all the way up on the third floor, so she could barely hear the music. Quan had the perfect bachelor pad in his finished basement. There was a wet bar fully stocked with his favorite liquor, a pool table, dart board, Mortal Kombat arcade machine, flat screen television and even a stripper pole.

The basement was Quan's chill spot. It was his place of sanctuary. Whenever he was having a hard day or just wanted to get away from it all, he would go down there to chill. He'd kick off his shoes, fix himself a stiff drink and just unwind. Mo wasn't even allowed down there unless she was handling her biz on the pole for her man.

Just as he was about to turn off the stereo, Quan heard someone knocking on the door.

"Who is it?"

"West."

"What up, nigga?" Quan opened the door.

"Shit, ready to see this fight."

"I feel you. Zab gon' whoop Floyd ass."

"Right. Ay, I know I ain't the first one here. Where everybody at?" West questioned, taking off his jacket.

But before Quan could answer, there was another knock on the door. It was Stacy and Cam.

"What's good, fam?" Quan spoke to everyone as they walked through the door.

Everybody was just starting to settle down and get into the fight when somebody else started banging on the door. Quan knew it could only be one person - his little brother Diggy.

The dude was a wild boy. Diggy just didn't give a fuck. He was the type of nigga to act first and ask questions later, which was what normally got him into trouble. The boy was quick to flip and spaz out on a person at any given moment, but he also had a sweet endearing nature about him as well.

If you were sad and needed to smile, Diggy was your man.

He was always cracking jokes, making people laugh.

Whenever you needed him, he was always there. To him family always came first, and money over bitches was the way he lived every day.

"Yo, who the fuck is that bangin' on the door like they the goddamn police?" Cam asked, taking a sip of beer.

"My crazy-ass brother. Yo Stacy, get that for me," Quan said.

"Nigga, what you doing bangin' on the door and shit? You know his wiz upstairs tryin' to sleep," Stacy questioned Diggy as soon as he opened the door.

"Shut up, fat boy. If I wanted to hear a muthafucka bitch and complain I would've stayed at home wit my girl," Diggy declared as he walked past.

"You gon' quit talkin' about my weight."

"This ole sensitive-ass nigga. Look, I'm sorry. I won't talk about yo' fat ass no more."

"Yo Dig, leave that dude alone before he start cryin'." Quan grinned.

"Fuck both of y'all." Stacy put up his middle finger.

Quan had an array of food and liquor prepared for the occasion. There was beer, chips, mozzarella sticks and hot wings. Although there was a brawl in the middle, the fight lasted twelve rounds. Floyd beat Zab's ass. The men were drunk as hell. Quan himself had consumed more than five beers and three shots of Hen. The nigga was fucked up. After the fight was over, the guys sat around, sparked up a blunt and talked shit.

"Damn, Stacy, how many wings did you eat? There ain't hardly none left," Diggy teased as he fixed himself another plate.

"Yo, I'm gettin' about sick of you!" Stacy shot up from his seat.

"What, Big Pun? I'm supposed to be scared?"

"Ay, you know Stacy ain't no joke wit them hands," West remarked.

"Man, I'll fuck Biggie Smalls up!" Diggy said, getting up in his face.

"You'll do what?" Stacy said, grabbing a hold of Diggy's neck and putting him in a choke hold.

"Man, if you don't let me go!"

"Say uncle!"

"Nigga, you got me fucked up!"

"Say uncle!" Stacy ordered, tightening his grip.

"A'ight, nigga, uncle! UNCLE!"

"That's what I thought, lil' nigga. Stay in a child's place."

"Fuck you, nigga. Grab me again!" Diggy fixed the collar on his shirt.

"What you gon' do?"

"Grab me again we gon' slap box!"

"Slap box? Nigga, we ain't twelve!" Stacy chuckled.

"Don't get scurred. Let's see who get the most hits to the head!"

"Man, if you don't get yo' drunk ass on." "See, I told you this dude know what's good. I was gon' slap the shit out his fat ass!" Diggy joked.

"Y'all niggas is silly," West said as he and the rest of the fellas bugged up laughing. Quan was on the floor dying, he was laughing so hard.

"But ay, you see how Stacy big ass hemmed that nigga up real quick. I told y'all that nigga wasn't no joke wit them hands."

"I agree. I'll bet a grand that Stacy would whoop yo' ass," Cam bet Diggy.

"Nigga, I got a g for every bump on yo' face that I will murda this dude," Diggy debated.

"Son, don't hate, my face smoother than yo' chick's lumpy ass."

"Yo don't talk about my girl!"

"Y'all gotta stop, my stomach hurt," Quan begged, unable to laugh anymore.

"That's that dude," Stacy chuckled.

"So how you feel about being a daddy for the second time?" West asked as they all calmed down and Quan passed him the blunt.

"Oh I ain't tell y'all, we having a girl," he boasted.

"Word, that's good, man. So you happy? You ain't disappointed?"

"Hell nah. Why would I be? I already got a boy and now I'm gettin' ready to have a girl. Shit, I'm good. I can't ask for more."

"Sherry know Mo pregnant?"

"I don't know. I don't fuck wit her like that no more. I just go over there to see my son and that's it."

"How many months is Lil' Quan now?" Cam questioned.

"Seven. My lil' man gettin' big. He crawling and everything."

"Yo Cam, let me ask you something?" West questioned, curious.

"What's good, fam?"

"Do you ever feel bad about not tellin' Mo about the baby?"

"Yeah ... I mean sometimes ... but shit ... I ain't tryin' to get in the middle of they business. My sister been fuckin' with this man for what ... nine years, and if she ain't left him by now, then she ain't," he answered in between taking pulls off the blunt. "Besides ... I told her not to fuck with that nigga in the first place."

"I feel you." West nodded his head.

"Why, nigga? You catching a conscience or something?" Quan joked as he hit the blunt next.