“Girl, let me let you go. I started to ask if that was water I heard in the background.”
I laughed. “It is.”
“Well, I love you, baby. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
“I love you too, Ma. See you soon.”
My brows slowly bunched as I thought about what my mama said. My luck was just bad enough for there to be some merit to her words. Being pregnant would definitely track with the way I had been feeling. Even though I was home alone, my paranoid ass looked over my shoulder, just in case, before squatting and opening the cabinet under my sink.
I had a few pregnancy tests on hand. It wouldn’t hurt to take one just to clear my mind. After quickly scanning the instructions, I picked up one of my disposable mouth wash cups and sat on the toilet. Before I even started to pee, I knew what the results were. The two pink lines were just confirmation. I was pregnant. Now what the hell was I going to do?
I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. The mystery of the paternity had a lot to do with that. The last thing I wanted was a baby with Cyrus. At the same time, the life growing inside of me was innocent. It had nothing to do with my volatile relationship with Cy. None of that mattered right now.
The first thing I did was call the person me being pregnant would matter to the most, besides me, of course. I didn’t even bother to get off the toilet before I dialed Ceasar’s number. Most people didn’t reveal their pregnancy until after the first trimester. I had no idea how far along I was, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was pregnant. I knew Ceasar well enough to know that he would flip when he heard the news. Maybe he would even drop me from the label.
“What’s up, superstar?” Ceasar’s fake ass answered after the first ring.
“I called to tell you I just found out I was pregnant.”
“Nah, that ain’t gon’ work for me.”
“What do you mean it’s not gon’ work? It’s a baby.”
“My point exactly. That’s not the look we want for you. Being barefoot and pregnant with no ring on your finger. You’re supposed to represent a boss bitch, not a baby mama.”
“Bosses can’t have babies?”
“Make that appointment, or do you need an escort?”
“I’m not doing that shit. I literally just took the test, Ceasar. This is my body. I have the right to make decisions about my own body.”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are all of a sudden. You should be glad I had Cyrus carrying your ass all this time. Your career is washed, and you know it.”
“Wow, so if it’s like that, then set me free.”
“You must be out of your damn mind.”
“You say my career is already over. Me being pregnant is good for both of us actually. I want out of this shit,” I said before ending the call.
As the elevator climbed to the third floor, I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself to deal with Cyrus. So far, he had been doing a mediocre job of following the terms of our agreement. That didn’t mean I didn’t dread seeing him as usual.
Somewhere beneath all that niceness, Cyrus was still the predator I couldn’t stand. I think he was concerned about what I would do now that I was actively bucking the system. Cy was just as worried about his image as the label was. He was right to be worried. I was getting away from him and the label. I just had to figure out how. I was still undecided if leaving was worth losing everything that I had worked so hard for.
When the elevator made it to my floor, I walked out and straight across the hall to the studio. It was eerily quiet considering how rambunctious Cy and his crew usually were. As a matter of fact, as I walked through the glass doors, Cy was the only one I saw.
“You always right on time,” he said, standing from his seat and extending the blunt he was smoking.
I took it from him and stuck it between my lips as I carefully looked around the room. Before I inhaled, I remembered the test.
“You here alone?” I asked, passing it back to him without hitting it.
“Yeah, I figured we needed some privacy. Plus, I know you hate having my guys up in here being all loud and shit.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. There was no telling how many times I had fussed about him and his entourage crowding the studio when we were supposed to be working.
“I’m trying to do better, C. I hope you see that.”
“I’m glad you’re alone. We need to talk,” I told him.
