Big Girls Do Cry (32 page)

“It’s not a her. It’s a him.”

He lifted his head. “It’s a him? Your stalker’s a guy?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s a new one.” I can’t even describe the look he gave me. He might as well have just called me a fag to my face. “What’s the relationship between you and this
guy?”

“None. We have no relationship.”

The sergeant looked up from what he was writing again. “So, he’s stalking you, but you have no relationship at all? How do you know each other? Are you fucking his wife or his ex-girlfriend or something?”

“We were intimate for a short period of time. He thinks he’s in love with me.”

“Ok-ay,”
the sergeant said, not even bothering to hide his disgust. “So, how exactly is he stalking you?”

“The guy follows me wherever I go. He takes pictures of me and my friends. He came to my job today with flowers and candy.”

“Flowers and candy. Some might say he’s courting you.”

“He’s not courting me. The guy’s friggin’ crazy.”

“Has he violated your person or property? Has he harmed you at all?”

I paused. The truth was that Peter was never standing close by when he was trailing me, so I couldn’t say he was violating my physical space. To my knowledge, he’d never broken into my house or trespassed on my property, and although I suspected he’d been in my car, I had no proof.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Is he calling you and/or threatening you?”

“Well, sort of. He told me that if he can’t have me, nobody will.”

“That’s a rather vague statement. Is that all you got?” He looked like I was wasting his time.

I knew I could make him take me seriously if I told him about Ron and the pictures, but I wouldn’t violate Ron’s privacy like that. I tried one last time to convince the officer that this was not a joke.

“Look, this guy is crazy, and somebody’s gonna get hurt if you don’t do something.”

“I understand how you feel, but unless he commits a crime,
my hands are tied. What’s this guy’s name? Maybe he has a warrant.”

“Peter McMann.”

The sergeant sat up straight in his chair. Finally, the smug, amused look on his face was gone. Something had definitely grabbed his attention. “Did you say Peter McMann?
The
Peter McMann?”

“I guess. Is there another one?”

“Oh my God. Did you say you were sleeping with him?”

I nodded.

“You trying to tell me Peter McMann is gay? Jesus Christ, I know his entire family. My kid plays ball with his son.”

“Look, I’m not here to pull anyone out the closet. I just want the man to leave me alone. I take it you know this guy?”

“Everyone knows Peter McMann.”

I was gonna shit my pants if this guy told me Peter was some kind of career criminal. “Peter McMann is the top investigative reporter for the
Richmond Times Dispatch
. That guy has blown the lid off a hundred stories.”

“Well, if he looks like George Clooney, then that’s our man. Has he been known to stalk people?”

“Only for a story. What exactly do you do for work?”

“I’m the executive assistant to Loraine Farrow at BLAZE. Why?”

“Because Peter McMann doesn’t stalk people; he investigates them. He’s cracked more cases than most of the detectives in this building. Who do you think cracked the James River murders last year?”

“Peter?”

“That’s right. He’s also the one who led to the takedown of the Browns’ drug cartel down Southside.”

I’d heard about the Browns thing. It was all over the news. Well, this explained how Peter had been able to take down Ron the way he had and why he seemed to always know where I was. Of all the men in this world to turn out, I had to pick a psycho investigative news reporter.

“What I wanna know is why a man like Peter McMann has an interest in you.”

“We were just lovers. Obviously, he read more into the situation than was there.”

He looked doubtful.

“Look, I can see where you’re trying to go with this. I’m not a crook, a drug dealer, or anything else illegal. If you want to know why Peter is so interested in me, it’s because I give a hell of a blow job.” The sergeant flinched. Idiot had probably seen more blood and death than I could imagine, but the thought of two men having sex was more than he could handle.

“Now, can you help me or not?”

“Mister, the only help I can give you right now is a little advice. Whatever you’re doing, if I were you, I would stop, because Peter McMann is not somebody you want to play with.”

Tell me something I don’t already know.

It was two in the morning, and the house was quiet. I was alone with my thoughts. I held on to the railing as I slowly climbed the stairs from a late-night pantry raid. Lately, I’d been addicted to salt-and-vinegar potato chips and mango salsa.

I was more than thankful that the lovebirds had finally calmed their hormones and gone to sleep. They’d been going at it ever since they came home from their little Valentine’s Day dinner cruise.

I almost let Tony scoop me up and take me out for Valentine’s Day. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas, and he was begging me to let him come down so he could spend time with me. A night on the town away from Egypt’s controlling ass and some good dick would be just what the doctor ordered right about now too. Unfortunately, that was sure to piss off my baby daddy, Rashad, so I told Tony no and stayed home alone on Valentine’s Day. If only Rashad could have been as thoughtful toward me and kept it quiet in his bedroom tonight.

I waddled down the hall past my room and into the nursery. The truth was, I hated this room, if only because of what it stood for. To me it was a constant reminder that Egypt planned on taking my baby when he was born and shipping my ass to California. I almost puked as I watched her damn near break her back, painting and putting up wallpaper to put this ugly-ass room together.

I wanted to say,
What the fuck is the point? He’s never going to spend a night in here
, but obviously I knew it wouldn’t be smart to reveal that plan. Better to let her continue in her fantasy world, where she thought that my baby was going to be hers.

The closer it got to my due date, the more she played the role of expectant mother. Last week, some white chick named Hannah from her job even threw her a baby shower. They had the nerve to have me there front and center, rubbing on my belly like I was some kind of Buddha. Meanwhile, they presented Egypt with all the baby shower gifts. It took all my strength to get through that charade.

The one thing I did like recently was that I’d started Lamaze class, and Rashad was my official coach. I say official, because, of course, Egypt had to tag along. But I didn’t care. I just ignored her as much as I could, focusing on my breathing and allowing Rashad to hold my hand and encourage me the way the teacher instructed. Egypt was so into the whole experience that when the pregnant women in the room practiced the breathing techniques, she was panting right along with us. She looked like such a fool.

I laughed at that image as I sat down in the glider rocker next to the bassinet and opened the bag of chips. Egypt hadn’t put up any curtains yet, so the room was partially illuminated by the streetlights. Unfortunately, even in the half-lighted room, I could still see the ugly lavender she’d picked out for the walls. Why the hell she would pick such a girly color when we’d already found out the baby was a boy made no sense to me. As far as I was concerned, it was just another sign that she wasn’t fit to be a mother.

It didn’t really matter anyway, because she was never going to be a mother to this child. I had a plan, and as long as the arrival of my mother in a few weeks didn’t ruin things, I would be keeping this baby and the money. I wasn’t sure if she was coming to help Egypt after the birth, as she claimed, or to keep a close eye on me, but with her intuitive behind, she was the only person who could really stop me.

I patted my stomach gently.

“Did you know they plan on shipping me out right after you’re born, junior?”

The baby started squirming.

“Calm down, little one. I’m not going anywhere, not without you, at least, and perhaps your daddy. “

After one last kick, he settled down.

“That’s right, junior. You’re gonna be with your real mommy,
not an auntie who wants to pretend she’s your mommy. They think I’m moving to L.A. and you’re staying here, but I have news for them…. Oh, I’m moving all right, but they don’t have any idea where. Although once he finds out, I really believe your daddy will come follow us.” I smiled at the thought.

“‘Cause, baby, ain’t no way in hell am I giving you up to Egypt. Nope. I’m not giving up my baby to that bitch who stole your daddy from me in the first place. That’s what’s wrong with this whole picture.”

Suddenly, the nursery door opened. Light from the hallway flooded the room.

“Isis?” It was Rashad, and he was carrying a baseball bat. “I thought I heard someone in here. What are you doing up?”

I answered him once my heart rate calmed down. “I was talking to your son.” I placed a hand on my belly. “He keeps kicking me.”

Rashad walked into the room and sat down on a short stepladder Egypt had used to hang wallpaper. He looked rather
GQ
-ish, sitting there with no shirt and his plaid pajama bottoms, holding the baseball bat.

“Hey, Rashad, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I pointed at where the bat was positioned between his legs. “Is that a baseball bat, or are you just happy to see me?” I said with a laugh.

“Huh?” It took him a second to catch on to the joke, but then he laughed too. “You stupid, Isis. You know that? Real stupid.”

“Yeah, I know, but—” The baby kicked me hard, and I held on to my stomach. “Oh, there he goes again.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but you need to talk to your son.”

“I wish I could.”

“Why can’t you? You’re his daddy, aren’t you? Put your hands on my stomach.” I guess all he needed was an invitation, because he didn’t hesitate to lean over and touch my belly with both hands. “Now talk to him.”

Rashad looked up at me. I was giving him a gift, and his smile let me know he appreciated it.

“Go ahead, talk to your son.”

He leaned his face close to my stomach and spoke softly. “Hey there, little man. This is your daddy talking to you. I just want you to know that I love you, and I can’t wait until you come out into the world.”

Rashad pulled his hand away quickly. “Oh my God, I could feel your stomach moving. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

“No, silly. He’s moving because he likes what you said. He was just trying to let you know that he heard you.”

“Really? Can I talk to him some more?”

“Of course you can.”

He placed his hands on my stomach again. “Like I was saying, I can’t wait until you come into the world. Me and you, we’re going to be tight, man. Just like me and your grandpa before he passed away. I’m never gonna let you down, man. I promise.” You should have seen the pride in Rashad’s eyes as the baby moved around under his hands. It truly was a beautiful sight.

“I can’t believe I was just talking to him. Man, that was crazy cool. Thank you, Pooh.”

I took a deep breath, then sat back in the chair, his hands still on my belly. “Pooh. Wow, you’re taking me back.” He had called me by the pet name he gave me when we were a couple.

“Yeah, we do have a lot of history, don’t we?” His voice softened, and his eyes looked kind of distant for a second. Like me, I’m sure he was thinking of what used to be, in another place and another time.

“We’ll have even more history in a month or two.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father.” He started to rub my belly, but it felt more like a massage.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have a baby.”

After a few moments of silence, during which he kept massaging me, I said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh-huh, ask away.”

“Are you going to be satisfied with just one child?”

“Of course I’d like to have more than one child, but right now I’m satisfied with the one that you’re carrying.” He removed his hands from my belly.

“Don’t stop. It relaxes the baby,” I said, though it was really for my own benefit.

He smiled and put his hands back on me. “Have I told you how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me and Egypt?”

“Uh-huh, you sure have, but I’ll tell you a secret.”

“What?”

“I’m not having this baby for Egypt. I’m doing it for you. Only you.”

He stopped rubbing again. I almost wished I hadn’t said what I did, because I could see that my confession bothered him. “Really? Why? She’s your sister.”

“Because I could see how much you wanted a baby. It was tearing you up inside. You’re not a drinker, but you were drunk every night. If I hadn’t agreed to have this baby for you, who knows where you might be right now? Heck, you might not even be married.”

“Yep,” he admitted, “that was definitely a low point in my life.”

Then he tried to minimize his own pain by saying, “Don’t get me wrong. Egypt and I would have been okay even if we didn’t have a child, but this is so much better.”

I wasn’t interested in hearing about Egypt, and especially about the strength of their relationship. I kept the focus where I wanted it. “I couldn’t bear to see you that way. You haven’t realized by now that I’d do anything for you? I never stopped loving you.”

“Whoa.” He moved back to put a little distance between us. “This conversation is getting a little uncomfortable for me.”

“Why? Because you feel the same way?”

“No, because I’m married to your sister. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Well, I’m having your baby. Does that mean anything to you?”

He sighed. “Of course it does. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m married to your sister.”

I was getting so sick of everyone considering Egypt’s feelings, like I didn’t matter.

“What if I told you I was willing to have another baby by you?”

I guess I’d caught his attention with that one. He stood there speechless, just long enough for me to complete my thought. “Instead of moving to L.A., what if I move to Petersburg or Williamsburg? Nobody has to know but me and you. Egypt can have this baby, but the next one can be mine. Matter of fact, we can have two: another boy and a girl. It’d be nice to have a daughter, wouldn’t it? Plus, all your kids will have the same blood.”