A few years ago, I had to shoot her cousin in the foot for thinking he was going to check me about not wanting to marry her. From that day forward, her family learned to stay the fuck out of my business.
Her message made me furious. I was tempted to go in and pack my daughter’s shit. I tried to do things the right way, the civil way. See what the fuck I got when I tried to be civil? I pounded on the door, deciding not to use my key.
If I barged in, I was going to put my hands around Cindy’s neck. As much as I wanted to choke the hell out of my daughter’s mom, I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t even want to put my hands on her and would never do that.
The last time I hit a girl, I was seven years old, and my mama tore my ass up. Not wanting to shake Cindy until her brain rattled around in her head was the reason that I needed to take a breath when I made it to the door. As I stood there, I closed my eyes and inhaled. I could hear her shuffling around inside on her way to answer the door.
“Nicholas, what are you doing here?” she asked after opening the door.
“Let me tell you something, bi—Cindy.”
I took another deep breath to compose myself before continuing. There wasn’t a plane of existence where I would think it was OK to blatantly disrespect the mother of my child. Cindy had given me my most prized possession in the world. She was a piece of work, but I wasn’t going to handle her like she didn’t mean anything to me. Just because I didn’t love her didn’t mean that I didn’t care about her.
She propped her hands on her hips, and I swore a hint of a smile played on her lips. She loved this shit. Cindy lived for the drama, but I wasn’t with it. You couldn’t tell her that she wasn’t a star in a reality show. This wasn’t TV. This was my life. Amira was my daughter.
“Are you going to come inside, or are you going to stand out there looking crazy?”
“Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re playing with, but don’t ever threaten me with taking my daughter away from me again. I will burn this fucking house to the ground and leave you with the ashes. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
So much for keeping my composure. If it was cold, there would be steam coming from my head. Amira barely spent any time at her mom’s house because even when she wasn’t with me, she was with her grandparents. I knew the importance of her having her mother in her life, but was she really in her life?
“You know I was just fucking with you, Nicholas, damn.”
“Don’t play with me like that. I keep telling you don’t fucking play with me like that.”
“OK, damn.” She rolled her eyes.
“Come with me.”
“What the hell you mean come with you? I’m watching my show.”
“Fuck that show, Lucinda. You want to be in my business so fucking bad, so let’s go.”
“Where are we going, Nicky? I hope it’s somewhere to eat ’cause I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“Take me by Rock Lobster. I want some lobster cakes and a Caesar salad.”
“Order delivery to my house,” I told her.
I wasn’t making any stops. Cindy wasn’t bothered as she followed me with her heels clacking on the concrete driveway. Once she joined me in the car, I took off for my house.
“This is nice, Nicholas. It’s time for me to upgrade my ride. Don’t you think?”
“That’s not the type of shit I think about.”
“What do you mean? I’ve had that car for three years.”
“OK. Is it running? Are you having any issues with it?”
She frowned but answered anyway. “No.”
“OK.” I shrugged.
I picked up my phone from the console and finally responded to Jameela’s message.
Me: How’s seafood sound?
