Page 60 of Church Girl
“Look, Sheree, I’m not doing this with you. Now you know how I get down, so don’t think just ’cause our daughter is back there that I’m gonna let you come up in here and show your ass. Not in my shop.”
“Your shop, your shop. That’s all you care about as usual.” She waves a hand, resentment dripping from every word. “All I’m saying is, you could’ve included me in hiring a nanny for Gia. How do I know she’s even capable or experienced enough for the job? I’m sorry—what’s your name again?—Amira? How old are you anyway? Nothing personal, but you look young enough to need a nanny yourself.” She chuckles at the tail end of the insult.
I part my lips to tell her to get the hell on, but Aaliyah tilts her head, the same sweet smile on her face.
“It’s Aaliyah, but you know that. And usually when someone starts off any sentence with ‘no offense’ or ‘nothing personal,’ they mean just the opposite. But since you seem to be upset and in a bad mood, I’m not going to charge it to you because I totally understand that we all have difficult days when we wake up on the wrong side of the bed. And bless your heart, youshouldbe concerned about who’s in your daughter’s life, as you’re her mother. That’s your right, another reason I will gladly excuse your bad behavior. I’m twenty-four and quite capable of caring for Gia, as I’m sure she’s expressed to you. And from the time I’ve spent around her father, I am very assured he wouldn’t hire anyone if he didn’t have the confidence they could protect and care for his daughter. So please don’t worry, okay? I hope that makes you feel better.”
Well...shit.
I glance at Sheree, and her stunned expression reflects the same surprise reverberating inside me. I don’t know why I’m shocked, though, after how Aaliyah took down the principal up at Gia’s school. Still... This must be that nice-nasty I hear about with Southerners. She even threw a “bless your heart” up in that muthafucka. And I didn’t have to be from there to know exactly what that meant.
Apparently, so does Sheree because the surprise washes away from her face, anger pinching her mouth and darkening her eyes. Yeah, I’d be embarrassed, too, if someone who looked like they were woken up by chirping birds and dress-making mice gave me the business.
“Excuse me,” Sheree hisses, leaning forward.
I shift forward, too. Now if she thinks she’s gonna put hands on lil’ mama, she got the wrong one.
From the fury tightening her face, Sheree catches my movement, and she barks, “Whothe fuckdo you think you are talking to me like that?”
Aaliyah shrugs, lifting her palms. “The nanny.”
I try to swallow down my laughter. I really do. But the bark of laughter from the back tells me two things: one, Chelle and the other artists are listening to everything that’s going on out here, and two, they’re enjoying their selves at Sheree’s expense.
“Bitch,” Sheree snarls, stepping closer, but I’m faster and step in front of her, blocking Aaliyah.
“Nah, yo. Watch thatbitchword,” I say, even though minutes earlier Malcolm had used it toward Sheree. Funny how hearing it applied to Aaliyah has me feeling some kind of way, but when it was directed toward Sheree? Yeah, she earned that. You had to give respect to earn it. And Sheree had lost all of mine a long time ago. “Now I told you I’m not gonna let you bring this bullshit up in here. You’ve dropped Gia off, so you can go.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” She crosses her arms, loosing a cackle. “You must be giving ol’ girl the dick for you to be standing here defending her ’n’ shit, and for her to think she can talk to me any ol’ way.” With another bitter burst of laughter, she leans around me, smirking at Aaliyah. “You think just ’cause you bussin’ it open and giving him that young girl pussy that you can keep him, sweetie? Got news for you. Men like him don’t stay, and they for damn sure aren’t loyal or faithful—”
The fuck? “You for real, Sheree?” I growl. “This what you want to do? Right here?” The hurt seethes, and only Gia being in the building keeps me from airingallher shit for everyone to hear.
“Since that was directed to me, please let me clear up any misconception,” Aaliyah says, her tone still sweet as sugar. “You are the only one who seems preoccupied with who Von is giving ‘dick’ to, as you put it.” And goddamn. Even though I’m mad as fuck, hearing that prim, soft voice wrap around the worddickhas my own hardening as if it came accompanied by a hand job. “Von is my employer, and whatever is between y’all isn’t my business or concern, so please leave me out of it.”
It’s like every time Aaliyah opens her mouth or makes her presence known, it stirs an anger in Sheree that should be directed at me.
“Whatever,” Sheree snaps. “Just know your place. You’re thenanny. Not Gia’s mother. So next time you want to take yourself up tomy baby’sschool and show your ass, remember that. Yeah—” she smiles, looking like a shark showing all her teeth as she switches her attention to me “—I called up to the school to find out why Gia wasn’t in school today since you didn’t see fit to give me the full story. The principal told me how this one—” she jabs a thumb in Aaliyah’s direction “—came up there. I think my lawyer would be interested to know the nanny had to go up there ’cause you couldn’t be bothered untilshedidn’t know how to act. Got my daughter up there fighting. I wonder what the court will think about that?”
“You threatening me?” I quietly ask, studying her.
I love my baby girl; God knows that I do. But her mother? I’m questioning my life decisions right now, staring at her smug expression. There are times like this one when I really do believe she hates me more than she cares for Gia.
“They’ll probably wonder why the school didn’t call you in the first place,” I say. “Then they’ll probably ask when was the last time you were up at the school for a parent-teacher conference, a parents’ day, hell, to bring Gia lunch? And just in case they do ask, best believe I’ll have the answer. Then they’ll most likely wonder why a mother who spends her days taking selfies for the ’Gram is even in their court on some bullshit. Then they’ll revisit why they didn’t give her physical custody of her daughter in the first place. And we both know the extraordinary circumstances of them giving that to me instead of you, don’t we? Want me to remind you since you insist on standing in my fucking shop when I’ve given you chance after chance to leave?”
Several beats of silence pass between us where we stare at each other, until she balls her face up and whispers, “I hate you.”
Not giving me a chance to return the sentiment, she storms out. My heart pounds in my chest, the fury, the fucking pain, coasting through me. Fists clenched at my sides, I inhale a deep breath, bowing my head, trying to fight past the emotion assaulting me.
When a small hand covers one of my mine, I almost snatch my fist away, not wanting or needing her sympathy or pity. But at the last moment, I stifle that urge. I don’t pull away. And though it sends splinters of fear through me, I call out my lie, admitting the truth.
I do want her touch.
Her softness grounds me in the here and now, reminds me that I can’t allow my resentment and hurt about Sheree and our past to harden the part of me that Gia needs.
Flipping my hand over, I thread my fingers through Aaliyah’s and ignore the words whispering through my head like an indictment.
You need her, too.
Nah. Been there, got the ex-wife to prove it.
