“Girl,” Tammy grumbled. “That woman downstairs is getting on my last gotdamn nerve. I don't fucking know her. I don't know shit about her besides the fact that she was a junkie who wanted dope more than she wanted me. That womancrushedmy dad. He loved her so much, and he searched for her for years. After a while, we just assumed that she’d been eaten by the streets of New Orleans. And now that he’s happy, that bitch suddenly falls out of the sky. No doubt to fuck everything up. Tracy, I will not let that woman hurt my papa.”
“Maybe you should just stay away from her while she’s here. I’m sure we won't be on lockdown too long.”
Tammy blew out a frustrated breath.
“That’s another thing. How the hell am I supposed to pull off this wedding trapped in the house?”
“Oh my God, Tammy,” Tracy said with a roll of her eyes. “You ain't pulling shit off. You have a wedding coordinator. She’s gonna be pulling this shit off. Stop being a bridezilla. Your wedding is gonna be perfect.”
“It has to be,” Tammy responded, reaching for Jack Jr. She propped him up on her shoulder and kissed his dark wavy hair.
“You, my dear, are marrying a man that would eat a bullet for you and your son. Not to mention…he’s tall, dark, and real easy on the eyes.”
Tammy smiled and relaxed against the sofa. “Yeah,” she responded in a dreamy whisper. “Luca is everything. You're right, Tracy. Shit as long as he shows up, everything will be perfect.”
“Yep, perfect.”
“Tracy, you're like the bride whisperer. You're the best,” Tammy grinned.
“Really? Soo…does that mean that you kinda owe me?”
“Owe you?” Tammy asked, glaring at Tracy.
“Yeah. What are my chances of getting out of being a bridesmaid?”
“Really, Tracy?”
“Girl, I’m getting so damn fat. That dress is not gonna fit me,” Tracy frowned.
“Hmph, the dress can be altered. Ain't no getting out.”
Tracy pursed her lips, but Tammy shook her head. “Don't get no attitude with me,” she told her. “This is what happens when you go raw dog in a public toilet.”
Tracy frowned. Tammy was starting to be just as vulgar as Victoria.
“Tammy, you have no class.”
“Maybe not,” Tammy giggled. “But I’m not the one that got knocked up in a bathroom stall.”
“It was on the sink,” Tracy mumbled under her breath.
“Mm-hm.”
Tammy handed Jack back to Tracy. “Here ya go. Get you some practice.”
As Tammy stood and walked over to the door, Tracy placed her nose to Jack’s neck and took a whiff of his sweet baby scent.
“Oh by the way,” Tammy said, leaning against the door frame, “I heard you farting before I came in.”
“Wait…wha—”
