Carl Weber: Baby Momma Drama

© 2003

First of all, I would like to thank God for giving me the opportunity to write another book during a hard year. I would like to thank my readers for supporting Lookin’ for Luv and Married Men. Without you, I would have no career. I hope you enjoy Baby Momma Drama as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d also like to thank all of the bookstores, book clubs and radio stations for all their support. Once again, I would like to thank my agent, Marie Brown, for all of her support. And last but not least, I would like to thank my editor, Karen Thomas, and the Kensington staff for a fantastic publishing experience.

To contact me, e-mail me at urbanbooks@optonline.net, visit my website www.carlweber.net, or write me at PO. Box 3045, Farmingdale, New York 11735.

My neck was stiff from sleeping the wrong way most of the bus ride, but I didn’t let that bother me. The only thing I was really concerned about was that my hair was gonna look like shit from leaning up against the fogged-up window. Lord, please don’t let my hair be messed up. My hair is my strength, kinda like Samson. When my hair is a wreck, I’m a wreck. But as much as I hated what these long trips did to my hair, the thought of seeing Derrick every weekend was the only thing keeping me together. Yes, I hated the fact that it was Thanksgiving Day and I’d be missing my mom’s smoked-turkey dinner. And the Lord knows I didn’t wanna hear my sister Stephanie or my grandmother, Big Momma, about me missing all my family from out of town for the second year in a row. But Derrick was my man, and he had to come first no matter what.

I met Derrick about four and a half years ago. At the time I was working in the downtown Richmond, Virginia, branch of the Post Office as a clerk. When he walked into the lobby my tongue nearly fell out of my mouth. He was so fine in that designer suit, I wanted to jump across the counter and tongue him down. Six foot one inch tall with an olive complexion highlighted by blue-green bedroom eyes, and hair black as coal, with big, soft curls. His face was narrow, with two of the cutest dimples I’d ever seen. He wasn’t just fine. He was fiiine! And I wasn’t the only one licking my lips. Every woman in the lobby was staring him down, even the stuck-up old woman who always complained about our service. When he walked up to the front of the line, he must have known I was looking, ’cause he gave me a smile that could have melted Mr. Freeze’s heart.

“Can I help you?” I blushed, practically begging him to come over to my counter.

“I’d like to mail this priority.” He leaned over the counter with a seductive stare. I looked down at the package and noticed that it had a large white label with a James Center law office as a return address.

Damn, fine and a lawyer! I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, were the only thoughts I could muster at the time.

“I’m a lawyer,” he said, showing me those gorgeous teeth as if he was reading my mind. “My name’s Derrick Winter.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Winter. My name’s Jasmine. Jasmine Winter. Oh, my God, I mean Jasmine Johnson.” I couldn’t help but blush again.

“Well, Jasmine Johnson, you taking time off your super-modeling job or what? ’Cause baby, I’ve never seen a post office clerk look as good as you.”

I know it was just a line, but the way he said it made me turn three different shades of red. Not only was he gorgeous, he had a way with words that made me weak. He eased me into small talk so smoothly that I ended up talking to him for five minutes at my counter. Somehow, small talk became an invitation to dinner, and a post office line full of angry customers. When I saw my supervisor walk into the building, I jotted down my address and phone number so he could pick me up later that night, and watched the man of my dreams walk away.

It took me almost two hours to get ready for dinner that night, and Derrick, unlike most brothers I’d dated, was on time. There I was, standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a curling iron in my hair, trying to decide if I should open the door or just let him wait until my hair was done. I decided on the latter and ran to the front door, shouting.

“Just a minute, I’m still getting dressed!” I ran back to the bathroom and my curling iron, praying he would understand.

I don’t know how long I left him outside, but he was the perfect gentleman when I let him in. He just smiled at me with those pearly white teeth while I admired his dimples.

“Damn, baby, if I’d known you were going to look this good, I could have waited outside all night.” He smiled seductively, looking me up and down.

I spun around so he could see all the curves that my tight-fitting mini dress would reveal. Taking my hand, he led me out the door to his Porsche and whisked me away to The Tobacco Company, one of Richmond’s nicest restaurants for dinner and atmosphere.

Derrick treated me like such a lady that night. When we arrived at The Tobacco Company, he wouldn’t even let me order. It was as if he knew exactly what was right for me from that point on. We ate shrimp scampi and drank Moët till I was silly drunk, then we walked over to the club After Six and danced until they were ready to close. Derrick was having such a good time, he bribed the owner and DJ into staying open an extra half hour. It was the most perfect evening I’ve ever had, and quite honestly the most fun I’ve had in my adult life. It was as if that perfect date would never end. By the time I awoke from my fairy tale, it was two weeks later and we were a couple. A month later, he’d moved in.

Derrick had shown me romance in ways I’d never dreamed of, showering me with diamonds and furs. He even bought me a new car. There is no question that those were the happiest six months of my life, and if you knew my life, you’d know happiness was rare. Yeah, those were happy times, all right. That is, until Big Momma got involved. God, I remember it like it was yesterday. Big Momma was at the house eating dinner when Derrick looked at his watch.

“I’ve got to go to court,” he said, kissing me as he got up and put on his sport coat.

“What kind of lawyer did you say you were?” Big Momma asked him with that tone she used when she thought we were lying.

“I’m a defense attorney. I do mostly legal aid work through the night courts,” he answered, no doubt expecting Big Momma to shut up. But he didn’t know Big Momma at all. She never said anything unless she was going to make a point.

“Ohhhh, so that’s why you leave my grandbaby every night and don’t come home until the wee hours of the morning?”

She lit a cigarette, and that scared the hell outta me. ’Cause when Big Momma lit a cigarette, one thing was for certain: trouble was about to raise its ugly head.

“Big Momma, why you askin’ Derrick all these questions?” I interrupted.

“Hush, child. Let the boy answer for himself. He’s a grown man” She smirked at Derrick. “Well, Derrick, is that why you leave my grandbaby all alone at night?” I could see Derrick sensed trouble, but he still played it pretty cool.

“Yes, ma’am, night court doesn’t close until four o’clock in the morning.”

I sighed with relief. Big Momma was up to something, but Derrick seemed up to the task.

“So I guess you know Judge Jackson and Judge Jones?”