Carl Weber - Baby Momma Drama

“I was doin’ okay till you showed up with that sour-ass look on your face. Monica is wrong for doin’ you like this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over her.” Joe knew I was lying. I could see it in the look he gave me. But I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my broken heart, so I changed the subject. “All I wanna do is get that son of a bitch Jordan for pulling that gun on me”

“That, my brotha, you don’t have to worry about. I’ve got something in the works that’ll make Mr. Jordan Brown wish he’d never met you or your woman.” I knew whatever Joe had planned, Jordan was in for a world of hurt. Joe was the type of brother that liked to play games. When it came to revenge, he was the master. Somehow, I felt better knowing he was on the job.

“Look, man, I need a little favor,” he asked, changing the subject again.

“Name it.”

“Remember that woman Rebecca from the post office I met at your store?”

“Yeah, the one who came in with that brown-skinned wench, looking for the Brotherman comics.”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What about her?”

“Well she’s coming down from Richmond tonight”-Joe hesitated for a minute-“and she’s bringing her friend Jasmine with her. I was hoping that you might-”

“Ah, hell no, Joe! You know I can’t stand that bitch!”

“Come on, Dylan. It’s just one night.”

“No way, Joe. No way am I baby-sitting the customer from bell.”

“How many times do I ask you for a favor, Dylan?”

He was right. Joe never asked me for much. He’d just offered to take care of Jordan for me. Still, asking me to spend an evening with Jasmine was like asking me to cut off my right arm. Rebecca and Jasmine had been customers in my Richmond store a few days before. Rebecca, a dark-skinned cutie with dimples to kill for and a short finger-wave hair-style, was fine as hell. She was wearing a Post Office uniform, but it didn’t matter, ’cause baby had all kinds of back. Straight up, she was the only woman I’d met since Monica and I separated that came close to piquing my interest, and she was flirting with me from the minute she walked in. I was just about to make a move when good old Joe walked into the store. Well, that was the end of that. I don’t know if it was his light skin or his height, but he definitely stole Rebecca’s attention from me. Before I knew it, they’d walked away and left me with Jasmine.

While Rebecca was all temptation, Jasmine was all business, and to be honest, I don’t really remember much about her physical appearance. But I do remember her mouth. She was a real bitch. I didn’t make a habit of using that word to describe a woman, but in Jasmine’s case it fit. She had asked me for some hard-to-find comics called Brotherman. I brought her to the front counter and explained to her that they were expensive. She didn’t seem concerned about the price until I rang them up and asked her for $130.00. That’s when she turned into the kid in The Exorcist. As God is my witness, that woman cursed me out in ways I never thought possible. She called me a nigger, an Uncle Tom, a sellout, a black motherfucker. All because she thought I was trying to rip her off with the price of a comic book. She made such a scene, the other customers dropped their comics and left. I gave her the price guide to prove I wasn’t cheating her, but she threw it back at me. I probably could have dealt with all that. We had customers every day that didn’t understand the collectibles market. But she took things to another level. Would you believe that ignorant bitch had the nerve to tell me, “That’s why I don’t shop in black businesses. ’Cause niggas never do shit right!” She stomped out of the store, grabbing her friend Rebecca. On her way out the door, she said she knew where a white-owned comic book store was and that she’d get what she needed there.

I could feel my temples throb just thinking about that shit, so I turned to Joe and refused his request. “Read my lips, Joe. No fucking way!”

I wasn’t about to give him time to talk me out of leaving. I was about to slide out of the booth without another word, but as I turned to leave, there they were, Rebecca and her friend Jasmine, the customer from hell.

“Hey, Joey,” Rebecca squealed, sliding into the booth next to him.

“Hi, Dylan.” Jasmine actually sounded timid as she sat next to me.

“What’s up?” I mumbled rudely. I didn’t make eye contact with her as I kicked Joe’s ankle beneath the table.

“What’d you do that for?” he yelped.

“Damn, Joe. I’m sorry. It was an accident.” I gave him an evil look. “Anyway, I’m outta here.” But instead of moving so I could get out of the booth, Jasmine put her hand on my arm.

“Dylan, before you leave, can I speak to you?”

“You already called me a nigger and a sellout. I don’t think there’s anything else to be said unless you’ve learned to curse in another language or something. Now could you get out of my way?” I demanded, barely able to look at her face.

“Please, Dylan. It’ll only take a minute. What are you afraid of, anyway?”

“Afraid of? Do you know where I’m from?” I took a deep breath, rolling my eyes at Joe. “Look, Jasmine, I’m already mad at one woman, okay? So unless you want me to take my aggravation out on you, let me pass.” The two of us were now locked in an angry stare.

“Dylan, man, do me a favor. Just talk to her.” Joe tried to intervene before we had a repeat of the other day.

“For what, Joe?”

“Because I asked you to, that’s why. I didn’t hesitate when you asked me to help you with Jordan, did I?”

I pointed my finger at him weakly. “This shit ain’t fair and you know it.”

“Life ain’t fair, Dylan.” He smiled as he put his arm around Rebecca.

“Come on, Jasmine.” I glared at her. “You got five minutes to speak your piece. And don’t be cursing at me.”

“Hey, you can have all the privacy you need right here.” Joe stood and grabbed Rebecca’s hand. “Come on, baby, I been waiting all night to see you dance.”

“Is that so?” she giggled.

“You damn right! My daddy told me once, you can always tell how good a woman is in bed by the way she dances.”

“Well, then, baby, you’re in for one hell of a treat,” she pulled him closer and winked, “’cause I damn sure can dance.”

The two of them moved out to the dance floor, and Jasmine nervously moved into Joe’s seat across from me. I was amazed at how attractive she was. With all the attitude she had given me when we first met, I never really bothered to take a good look. She had big, light-brown eyes and a dark-caramel complexion. Her hair was the same color as her eyes and she wore it feathered back over her shoulders. It was hard to judge her figure, because she was sitting, but I did get a good view of her ample cleavage. I was so busy admiring her looks that for a second I forgot what I was so mad about

“Dylan,” she interrupted my fantasy. “I’m not used to doing this… I guess my personality can be a little overbearing. But I want to apologize about the way I acted in your store last week. It was very immature. And I figured out you weren’t cheating me when I went to three other stores that tried to charge me almost twice what you did. I’m really sorry I was so ignorant.”

“Okay, let’s say I accept your apology. Why the big change? Where’d all this come from? You were ready to take my head off the other day. Now you come all the way to Petersburg to apologize?” I’m sorry, but call me a skeptic. I wanted to know why I was so blessed. I just didn’t believe she didn’t have another motive.

“Look, Dylan, I’m woman enough to admit when I’m wrong. You’re a black business owner who I embarrassed in front of a store full of white customers. You don’t know how bad I felt about that when I got home.”