Carl Weber - Baby Momma Drama

“Tell Monica to come outside, motherfucker!” I screamed as he quickly closed the curtain.

I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to control the rage that was building inside me if I saw Monica. For the first time in my life, I truly understood why some guys hit women. I was so full of anger that I just wanted to hurt somebody, and Monica was my first choice. I pounded on Jordan’s front door.

“Open this fuckin’ door, Jordan, or I swear I’ll kick it inl” I kicked and screamed as I pummeled the door. “I want my woman back, you cokehead motherfucker.”

I raced to my car and leaned on the horn. Jordan pulled back the curtain, and his eyes widened as he saw the autographed baseball I snatched off my dashboard. I threw it right at him. It felt so good to watch it shatter the window right in front of his face.

“That’s right, motherfucker!” I returned to his door “Send my woman out here right now or I’ll throw somethin’ else!”

To my surprise, a few seconds later I heard the click of the lock and the door open. She was coming out easier than I thought. But it wasn’t Monica who opened the door. It was Jordan. He must of taken another snort for courage, ’cause I could see the white powder all over his upper lip.

“Tell my girlfriend to come out here. I want to talk to her,” I demanded.

“Well, she don’t wanna talk to you.” His voice was cold as ice. “Now get your black ass outta here ’fore I put a cap in Yo’ ass”

“Is that so, motherfucker?”

I clenched my fist, planning to smash it against his head. Now granted, he’s six feet tall and I’m only five foot seven. Most people would think he had a pretty big advantage against me. But I was a semifinalist in the Virginia Golden Gloves 140-pound weight class my senior year at college, so as far as I was concerned, Jordan was in for one hell of an ass-kicking.

“You must be one stupid-ass motherfucker!,” Jordan said flatly. He lifted his right hand and pointed a black nine-millimeter handgun at my face.

I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. Never once in my arrogance did I look at his hands. Now I was face-to-face with the wrong end of a gun and scared shitless. I was sure that if I moved he would have blown me away and claimed self-defense. I could feel the sweat beginning to form on my brow, and the anxiety attack I had when I first saw them embrace was nothing compared to what I was going through now. I couldn’t move, so I did the only thing I could think of to be sure I’d live to see the next day. I begged. That’s right, I begged. I looked Jordan in the face and I pleaded for my life.

“Don’t shoot me, Jordan… Please don’t shoot me.” I was shaking, and tears slid down my cheeks. “Look, man, you can have Monica… She ain’t worth dying over. Just don’t pull that trigger, man.” I must have looked pretty damn pathetic, because Jordan started laughing.

“Look at you, you little punk. I thought you were supposed to be some tough guy from New York. You ain’t shit. I should shoot your ass just for cryin’.” He cocked the gun and I could hear a bullet slide into the chamber. “Motherfucker, you broke my window, didn’t you? Who’s gonna pay for my window?”

“I will. I’ll pay for it Just don’t shoot me,” I begged.

“Oh, my God! Put that gun away, Jordan!” Monica yelled from behind him. At least she had managed to cover herself up, even if she was wearing a man’s bathrobe.

“Please don’t let him shoot me, Monica. I don’t wanna die,” I whispered, choking on the salt from my tears.

“He’s not gonna shoot you, Dylan.” She tried to reassure me with her calm tone. “Please, Jordan. Put the gun down. He ain’t worth it. I already made my choice. I’m stayin’ with you.” Monica put her hand on Jordan’s arm and slowly brought it down to his side.

At that point I hauled ass the twenty feet to my car, jumped in, and put the car in reverse. I nearly drove right into the crowd of tenants that had come out of their apartments to watch the free show. Before I could put the car in drive, Monica was at my window, knocking frantically. Looking past her, I could see that Jordan was still busy inspecting his broken window. I rolled down my car window.

“Dylan, are you all right? I’m sorry about the way this happened. I never wanted to hurt you.” She had tears rolling down her cheeks, and I almost wanted to feel sorry for her.

“I told you this was gonna happen, Monica.”

“Dylan, I’m sorry, but it just wouldn’t have worked out,” she said sadly. She only looked back once as she returned to Jordan’s side. He put his arm around her and led her into the apartment.

“I’m sorry, too, Monica,” I muttered as I slammed my foot on the accelerator. “I’m sorry, too.”

I’d been driving around Woodhaven projects with an attitude for nearly twenty minutes. I was trying to find building 10, but the numbers weren’t running consecutively and it was confusing the hell outta me. I was so frustrated I was about to give up and head to work, which I was already late for. But of course, that’s when I spotted the building I was looking for right in front of me. I pulled over to the curb and got outta my car with my attitude still intact. This was the last place I wanted to be on a Friday morning. Derrick was gonna owe me big-time for this.

You see, at the end of our visit on Thanksgiving Day, like most of my other visits, I was on the verge of tears. The inmates were allowed five minutes of physical contact to say good-bye to their loved ones. For Derrick and me, it was usually one five-minute kiss, and we had to be torn away from each other when our time was up. But this time Derrick broke our kiss prematurely because he had something to say. Something he knew I wouldn’t like.

“Baby, I need you to do me a favor.” He lowered his head.

“Sure, boo. What is it?” I tried to kiss him again, but he’d only let me give him a peck.

“Well, I…”He paused.

“What is it, Derrick? You know I’ll do anything for you.”

“Would you?” He looked directly into my eyes. “Would you really do anything for me?”

“Yes, Derrick.” I nodded without hesitation. “You know that. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. But this is different.”

“Different how? Haven’t I proven myself over the years? Haven’t I shown you that my love is unconditional? Whatever you want, I’ll do it”

“You sure?”

I took a deep breath before I answered him. I was praying he wasn’t going to ask me to bring him drugs like he’d done Wendy. ’Cause I was not about to do that.

“Yes, Derrick, I’m sure.”

“God.” He exhaled loudly. “I can’t believe I’m about to ask you this.”

“Don’t worry about it, boo. Just ask me.”

“Ah‘ight” He paused and I waited silently. Finally, he asked me, and I knew why it was so hard for him to get around to his question. “Would you… Would you bring Wendy a hundred dollars? I didn’t get nothin’ for Tyler’s birthday, and she spent all her welfare check on his birthday party, so she ain’t got no money.”

“Are you serious?” I leaned as far away from him as I could get. “You want me to give my hard-earned money to your baby’s momma? Have you lost your mind? I ain’t bringing that bitch shit!”

I glared at him. He had set me up with his little humble act. He knew he could get me to say I would do anything. To say I was insulted by this blatant lack of respect was an understatement. I was flabbergasted. What the hell made him think I’d bring that bitch anything other that my size 8½ Timberlands? And the only reason I’d bring her those was to put my foot in her ass.