“I am doing everything I can. It’s not like I can walk up to him and get him. I can’t find him, and you can’t either.”
“You got me fucked up. Don’t tell me what the fuck I can and can’t do. That nigga will be found, and I will put a bullet in his shit. You will catch one too if you keep fucking with me.” He lifted his head from his plate to connect with my eyes. He threatened me without a smile. I knew he was serious. He just didn’t know I was serious about the same thoughts, even if mine were never spoken.
“I call and I text with no answers. I can’t go to court because there is no custody order in place. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“Fuck the bullshit. Get my son here today or that’s yo’ ass, Crystal!”
“I’m not a magician! What do you think I don’t miss my son? I think about him every second! MJ is my world!” As quickly as the words slipped from my lips, I knew I had messed up.
“What the fuck I tell you about calling him by that name, huh? You want to disrespect me in my fucking house by calling my son another man’s name?? Bitch I’m trying to be nice and keep yo’ ass around for my son, but you testing me.” He came to me and slapped me across my face so hard I dropped to the floor and saw stars. I felt the saltiness of my blood pool in my cheeks.His hands clamped onto my shirt, and he picked me up like a ragdoll and brought me to his face.
“You ain’t gone fucking learn until I really hurt yo’ dumb ass.”
My face stoned over, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry or even giving him a response.
“Oh, you a little tough today, huh bitch?” He let my shirt go and placed me on my feet to slap me to the ground again. This time, he rained blows on me for God knows how long. I zoned out, thinking of how sweet the revenge would taste when I stood over him as he took his final breaths. I wouldn’t have one ounce of regret. He was a monster. When he got good and tired, he issued one last threat before he hit the door.
“You better make yourself useful if you want to stay alive.” He stalked away, and the door slammed so hard a picture dropped off the wall.
Count your days bitch!
***
After a few hours, I managed to pull myself together. This needed to be over sooner rather than later. I was doing everything I could to get to Terror. I called him and Ma Lyn a million times, but there was no answer. I felt like, after my last meeting with Terror, we were working through our issue. He had even agreed to let me see MJ. Then nothing. Silence. I don’t know what made him change course, but I needed to get my son back in my possession. As much as I hated to admit it, he was my livelihood. I scrolled through the few social media accounts he had, hoping to find some clues. He rarely posted on IG, but I was hoping that something would come up. He didn’t post anything recently, but when I went through his tags, that bitch popped up. She was tagging him in all types of shit. They had kissingpics. And recently, a pic of them out on the balcony under a city skyline. They were dressed like they were going somewhere fancy. I fumed in my seat. If my body temperature had shown any indication of my internal feelings, my makeup would have melted off. I was ninety-eight fucking hot.
For one, where the fuck was MJ? He is keeping me away from me for what? To wine and dine this bitch that needed a girdle on with that dress she was wearing. It damn sure ain’t look like he was worried about safety. He was just doing this shit to torture me because he was a bitter ass nigga. He acted like he didn’t have any money or something. The shit he spent on MJ, he didn’t miss. He was already opening a new restaurant after the fire. He had me all the way fucked up. I had a mind to show Kole all these pictures when he came back. On second thought, I had to be smart. This was about me getting what I wanted. For that to happen, I needed my son to be with me and to be safe. I couldn’t let Kole get hold of him either.
It hit me. I had to play nice with this bitch away from Terror. I dug into her profile. Although it wasn’t listed where she worked, I looked through her posts and found her friend. Her friend Chante listed her job, and after a few hours of scrubbing through the comments, I saw something referencing that they worked together. Shit, I felt like I was an FBI agent who just cracked a case. I finished my makeup and headed out the door, praying that she was working today.
An hour later, I stepped into the hospital's lobby. I wanted to see her, but I didn’t know exactly where she worked or in which department. She was probably one of those CNA-type chicks who got a little education and thought that made her something. I spotted the man working the front desk, and I knew I could get everything I needed from him. He was overweight and ugly. He looked as if he hadn’t had a haircut in weeks. Hewas precisely the type I wouldn’t be caught dead with. It didn’t even take five minutes, and his fat, round ass was eating out of my hand. He gave me Dyami’s department and exactly how to bypass everything to get up there after I slid him my text to talk number. He was one of thoseI’m about to call you right nowniggas. It was sad to see his eyes light up when he heard my phone ring. He was way too easily persuaded after that.
On the ride up the elevator, I made a mental note to use a different exit because I already had a text from him. As I went to her floor, I prepared to dramatize the script that I had rehearsed in my head time and time again on the way over. I stepped into the front of the HR office, and tears began to sting my face as I asked for Dyami from the front receptionist. When Dyami came from the back, you should have seen her face. She was absolutely shocked to see me. I owed that bitch for how she got down on me in the restaurant that day. I wasn’t going to go there. I was too pretty to fight, and looking in her face, I could tell why she didn’t mind doing so. This nigga was downgrading. Her natural hair just lay there lifeless, no real makeup or glamour to her face, and she wasn’t fat, but she damn sure wasn’t tight as I was.
“Please, can we go somewhere and talk?” I begged, grabbing her wrist. She snatched away quickly.
“Look, I’m at work. I have nothing to do with you and Marcos. Please don’t come here again,” she whispered and tried to leave, so that’s when I raised my voice.
“IT’S ABOUT MY SON!” I boomed, and that got her attention. She turned and focused on me again.
“I would never mistreat MJ. Now I can’t tell Marcos what to do, so I really don’t understand why you're here,” she said with an attitude. I didn’t expect her to have so much fire with her. From what I knew about Terror, he never liked feistywomen. Then again, what did I know about Terror? Nothing from the way he had been treating me.
“I know you wouldn’t, that’s why I’m here. I know we got off on the wrong foot, and for that I’m sorry. I know you are with him, and I am fine with that. I want y’all to be happy. But how can I be happy, and I can’t even see my son? I know what’s going on, but he can’t do this. I know my son loves me and wants to see me. I’ll do whatever it takes. If Terror wants to do supervised visits, I will. But please, I want to see my son!”
I saw her disposition cracking at my words. She tried to stand tough, but she couldn’t. “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t make any promises, so do not come here again.”
She went back to work without another word. Even though it didn’t go exactly how I had planned it, I felt I planted a seed. My wheels would continue to turn until I got exactly what I wanted.
Chapter 35
Dyami
My lunch break consisted of me spending time with my mom. She was doing well, even though she had taken a step back with her recovery. When she first woke up, everything seemed to be functioning correctly. After a few days, she started having a delay in her right side. Her hand or leg would go out when she was trying to do regular tasks, and they decided to put her on the therapy floor immediately. They thought that if they addressed the issues early, perhaps it wouldn’t be permanent. I prayed they were right. I watched her as she struggled to reach out her right arm fully. She reached for the pencil the nurse held out in front of her, but couldn’t quite grasp it. It fell onto the bed as soon as it was within her reach. She huffed in frustration.
“It’s okay. These issues can occur occasionally, and they may not be a long-term concern. We will keep working at it,” the nurse said soothingly. She took my mom’s vitals as my mother stared out the window blankly. She didn’t speak again until the nurse left.
“I’m ready to get the hell out of here!” My mom said.
“I know, Momma, but you are doing good.”
