Page 45 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy 3

I walked over to the playpen and scooped Oaklynn up, hugging her against my chest.

“Daddy gotta go handle something, pretty girl.”

I kissed both her cheeks until she giggled, then tried to sit her back down. The second her feet touched the floor; she reached both arms back up toward me.

I laughed and picked her right back up. “See, now you making it hard for me to leave.”

I kissed her one more time before handing her to Noree.

“I’ll call you.”

I made it to the door before stopping and looking back.

“Oh, one more thing. We can get that DNA test handled after the interview tomorrow. I got somebody who can pull up to my crib and take the samples. I’ll pay to have that shit expedited. You cool with that?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“Aight. Bet.”

Then I headed out.

Itossed and turned all night.

A few hours after Ozy left, he called me so we could go over the questions, and the whole time, I was a nervous wreck.

We went over the paperwork I needed to sign too. It was a featured-artist agreement covering this one song.

Derez had worked everything out with the label so they could release my vocals, properly credit me as a featured artist, and make sure I got paid directly. The agreement said that after the label took its contractual share, the artist royalties from the song would be divided evenly between Ozy and me. Fifty-fifty.

That surprised me. He was already well-established in the game, and I was nobody, but I smiled a little when I saw that agreement because it meant he was trying to make sure I was good in every way.

Once we got off the call, I got my baby and myself ready for bed. I thought I was about to be counting sheep, but really, that never fucking happened.

All I could think about was whether the cameras would catch my good side, whether the questions and the way we rehearsed answering them would be good enough, and whether they were going to love the song when it premiered. All of that was floating around in my head until the sun started coming up.

It was now six-thirty in the morning. I had already showered, and of course, my baby was still knocked out. I threw on something chill, just an oversized sweatshirt with the matching pants. It was cute. It was pink with little floral designs embroidered into it.

I grabbed a big tote just in case.

I made sure to pack my own makeup, my own flat iron, a half wig, something to do my edges, some gel, and all that good stuff. My smell-goods too. Just enough so I could make sure I looked and smelled up to par in case the glam team was slacking.

My heart was racing more than ever as I slipped on my shoes, and then I heard a noise. I peeked my head out of the bathroom and heard feet shuffling, then a yawn. I laughed a little because that confirmed it was my sister.

Nourah came and stood in the bathroom doorway with her arms crossed and her eyes halfway open.

“Ree Ree…I’m so damn tired…you’re lucky I love you and my wittle Oaky Woaky.”

It didn’t surprise me at all when this heffa pulled a small bottle of orange juice out of her purse along with some champagne.

“Forget about me though! Cheers to your very first radio interview on a major fucking radio station. Like, hello.” She yawned in the middle of her own toast and had to catch herself. “I’m sorry, my bad. But let’s have a little sip of some mimosas. You know one won’t hurt.”

“Girl, you are too crazy,” I said, but I was already walking toward the kitchen behind her.

Nourah popped the champagne while I grabbed two wine glasses since I didn’t have any flutes. I sat them down, and she poured. Then she opened that little bottle of Tropicana and put maybe three drops in each glass, which was not a mimosa at all, but I ain’t say nothing.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “And I know I say this all the time, but I really am.”

“Aww, sis, that means a lot.” I picked my glass up, and then I remembered. “Oh, and I have a surprise for you.”