The Ex Factor: A Novel (30 page)

“Walik?” Monica was insulted. “I don't want that fat-ass dead-beat ma'fucker, please.”

“Speaking of deadbeat, he's supposed to be coming over here
today. He promised Jamal that he was going to take him to the movies.”

“Oh, here we go with his promises again.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Aunty's having a baby by Daddy.”

“Damn, you sound like Listra.”

“Well, what do you expect? Being pregnant by your brother-inlaw is not exactly something to brag about. Shit, if you wanted a bitch's man, you shoulda picked another bitch, not your sister. I love you, Monica, but niggahs get killed for less than that.”

“Look, I'm not asking for you to understand. I just want you to be my sister.”

“I'm your sister regardless, but wrong is wrong.”

“Look, this is my life.”

“Yeah, you sure right, so don't be mad when you get what your hand calls for.”

“I gotta go, Imani,” Monica snapped.

“Yeah, I'm sure you do.”

Imani hung up and looked at Jamal. “Jamal, what are you doing and why have you been sitting at that window all day?”

“Is Walik coming? He said he was coming this morning.”

“Well, Jamal, it's going on eight o'clock. I don't think so.”

“Can I call Kree?”

“Kree?” Imani couldn't believe it. She hadn't mentioned Kree since they'd broken up two weeks ago.

“Yeah, Kree. I wanna talk to him. I miss him,” Jamal said.

“No, you can't call him. And you may as well get him off your mind because he's not coming over here no more! I broke up with him.”

Instantly Jamal started to cry. “Why you do that? Why did you break him?”

“I didn't break him. I just don't date him anymore. He's not my boyfriend, so you won't be seeing him again. So stop crying over his ass. You have a father.” Imani picked up the phone and called Walik's cell but didn't get an answer.

“Imani,” Jamal whined, “can you call Kree please?” He started biting his bottom lip and rocking back and forth.

“What did I just tell you!” The more Jamal asked her to call Kree, the more aggravated Imani became.

“Please!”

“No!”

“Why, did he say he didn't like me anymore because of the shouts I made on the radio?”

“He never said he didn't like you, Jamal.”

“Did he say he didn't like me because I couldn't speak Spanish? I can speak it now, listen.” He spoke slowly. “Geraldo…Rivera.”

“Boy, shut up and go play a video game.” Imani was trying desperately to fight off her memory of speaking Spanish.

“Can you call him please,” Jamal continued to beg. “I've been saving my candy, I got it from the Puerto Rican store, see, Chico Sticks.”

“Boy!” Imani yelled, “if you don't leave me alone—”

“Why would you do that, Imani?”

“Do what?”

“Break Kree.”

“I didn't break Kree and why you in my business?”

“I love Kree.”

“You have a father.”

“I don't like Walik! You're the one who likes Walik, not me!” Jamal yelled. “Call Kree, Imani, please. I just wanna say good-bye.”

Imani got off the couch and walked into her bedroom. She was sick of Jamal. He followed behind her. “Please…”

“I'ma smack the shit outta you!”

“I can't believe this!” Jamal started to cry and stomp. “I loved Kree, he was my daddy. He said I was his boy and that we could do some things! How could he just leave me!”

“Jamal, you have your Pa-pa Red.”

“Red makes me sick!” Jamal kicked over the chair in Imani's room. “I've been waiting by this stupid window”—he pounded
his fist—“saving this stupid candy”—he emptied his pockets and crushed his candy with his feet—“and all this time he wasn't coming back! I'm mad, Imani!” His tears started flying everywhere. “I'm so mad! Kree was my dad and he just left me.”

Imani couldn't believe it. What the hell was she supposed to say? “Jamal…I-I didn't think you cared whether he said goodbye or not. I thought you would just get over it. I mean, you got me, and all I had was my mother.”

“Is that what your daddy did, Imani, he just left you?” Jamal asked.

“Yeah, Jamal.” Imani wiped her eyes. “I guess he did.”

“
I
'
M GETTING READY to leave for work, baby,” Sharief said to Monica, kissing her on the forehead. “What time are you leaving?”

“In a minute. I'ma get up now.” She stretched. “Have the kids left for school?”

“Yeah, I saw them off a little while ago. All right, I have to work a little late today. So I'll call you.” He kissed her again and left. As Monica heard the front door close, she turned over in bed and called out sick. She'd plan to call out since last night, she just didn't want Sharief to know she'd be home. Lately money had been extremely tight, and she didn't want to hear him complaining.

First I'm going food shopping
, Monica thought,
and then I'ma come home and sit my fat ass on the couch and watch the soaps all day.
She dressed and headed for downtown Brooklyn. She went to Key Food first and brought three bags of snacks. She couldn't wait to get home. All she could think of was a day alone. For a moment she thought about Sharief, so she called the station to see if he wanted something to eat for later.

“Detective Winston, please.”

“Detective Winston is not here.”

“Will he be back… this is his-his-his fiancée.” Monica figured that
fiancée
had a better ring to it than
girlfriend.

“Ma'am, you need to speak with the detective about that. I have no idea when he'll be back.”

Monica could tell the officer was getting agitated. “Just one more thing. Can you please tell me the last time he was at work?”

“Almost a month ago, ma'am. Now I really need to go.”

Monica stood still for a moment. Trying to think of what was going on in her life a month ago. She couldn't put her finger on it… for some reason she felt like she'd been fat, broke, and pregnant forever.

Monica jumped in the car and drove home. She tried her best not to think much because she knew it would only make her head pound. She opened her front door with grocery bags in her arms and there was Sharief, lying on the couch. His feet were stretched over the arm with a beer in his hand and two empty bottles on the floor. He gave Monica a crooked smile as she stood in front of him. She placed her hand on the side of her protruding stomach. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were at work.”

“Naw,” he said.

Monica could tell he was half drunk. She ran her hands over her eight-month belly. “Why not?”

“I decided to take the day off so I came back home.”

“And how many days have you been leaving and coming back home?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He took a sip of his beer.

“I called the station and they told me you hadn't been to work in a month, so why are you lying?”

“ 'Cause I knew this is how you would act.”

“Don't put the shit off on me!” she screamed.

“See.” He sat up. “Look at you. Do you know how hard it is for a black man—”

“Save that bullshit! Why aren't you at work and where have you been?”

“I been coming home every day. You know Celeste pressed charges on me.”

“That was months ago. You told me that she hasn't been in court. And you said that the same lawyer I spent all my money on promised the case would be thrown out.”

“Well, when you're black man in the police force—”

“I don't wanna hear no shit about you being black, save that. What the hell is going on that you aren't working? We need money, Sharief. I'm a nurse and I only make so much money— not enough to support five people. Now, you better talk and talk quick because I can't take it and I need to know something!”

“My captain suspended me.”

“Suspended you?” Monica was stunned. “What happened to desk duty?”

“My captain didn't find me fit, so he suspended me.”

“But you said that since he called in a favor for you, he wouldn't suspend you.”

“Well he did.”

“Why?”

“Because he did!” Sharief snapped. “Shit!”

“But you said desk duty,” Monica pressed.

“Look, I was already on desk duty.”

“Why?”

“A few months ago I was making an arrest and accidentally shot the guy.”

“So what, you're a cop, y'all are always accidentally shooting somebody.”

“They accused me of being drunk when I did it. But I wasn't. Come on, baby, I don't even drink like that. So when I went to report to work a month ago, my captain announced that I had to leave, that administration made a decision to suspend me without pay, pending Celeste's charges.”

Monica looked around her house, her eyes darting from one
piece of furniture to the next. “I'm having a baby, Sharief. I can't take care of you, my baby, and three other children.”

“Oh, a niggah down on his luck and now he and his kids gotta step?”

“I never said that. I just said that I can't do it all.”

“Look.” Sharief walked up to Monica and placed his hand on her stomach. “It's gon' be all right, baby. Just trust me.”

“I'm trying to.” Monica's eyes welled up with tears. “I really am trying to.”

“
I
'MA BEAT YOUR ass, Jamal!” was the routine statement that Imani had been screaming at her son all week. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” All week long Jamal had been in everything. From fighting the kids down the street to breaking things around the house. And Walik making promises every day and never keeping them was making the situation even worse.

As Imani looked out the window she heard a knock on the door. She walked over and looked out the peephole. It was Walik. “What?” she said, snatching the door open.

“Wassup?” Walik stepped inside. “I came by to see my son.” Imani looked at her watch. “It's ten o'clock in the morning on a Thursday. He's in school.”

“Oh,” Walik said, sitting down on the couch. “I'll wait for him.”

“That wasn't an invitation for you to come in,” she said sarcastically.

“Whatever, yo.” Walik looked around the room. “So wassup? You can't never call a niggah?”

“You keep waitin' for that phone call.” Imani rolled her eyes. “Anyway, when Jamal comes home from school maybe you can talk to him about the way he's been acting.”

“Yo, he don't listen to me. His ass is spoiled.”

“Why don't you take him out so y'all can get your hair braided together. He gets out of school at three. You can walk down and pick him up.”

“What? Yo, I don't do that. When I get my hair braided that's my time.”

“What about his time?”

“I spend time with my son.”

“When?”

“When I spend time, shit. I'm here now.”

“But why are you here? He's in school. You ain't come here to see him, you came here to beg for some pussy, which you ain't gettin'. You know what, just step.”

“What, bitch?”

Imani rubbed the temples of her forehead. “I tell you what.” She looked at Walik. “Be gone.”

“You putting me out?” Walik couldn't believe it. “Ai'ight, it's good, I can check Shante anyway.”

“Okay,” Imani said, holding the front door open. “You do that.”

As soon as she slammed the door behind him her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Imani Reid, please.”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Reid, this is Ms. Wilkerson. Jamal's teacher.”

“Is everything okay?” Imani started to panic.

“Well, no. I really need to see you. Jamal's being suspended from school for fighting. And for the past two weeks, he's been disrupting the entire class.”

… … …

I
'
MA BUST THIS
li'l niggah's ass!
were Imani's thoughts on her way to pick up Jamal.
When the hell did he become a terror at school? A class clown, yeah. But a terror? Hell no.

“Ms. Reid,” Jamal's teacher said. “Lately Jamal's been out of control.”

Imani did her best to control her anger and embarrassment.

“While Jamal is a good child,” the teacher continued, “he seems to be having trouble with listening, which seems to affect his behavior. Is there anything going on at home?”

I wanna fight this bitch
, Imani thought,
I really do.
“Excuse me?”

The teacher went on, “He's not doing well with following directions and the fighting must stop. We will not tolerate that here. Please talk to him. He can come back in two days.”

… … …

“GO TO YOUR room, Jamal!” Imani screamed at him as soon as they got home. “Go to your damn room!” Imani picked up the phone and called Monica on her cell phone. “Monica.”

“Yes, Imani. I just got off work,” Monica said, sounding annoyed.

Imani started crying. “I don't know what to do with Jamal. Every day it's something different with him. Today he got suspended from school.”

“What? Why?”

“For fighting.”

“My nephew Jamal?” Monica couldn't believe it. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, Monica, please, I just went and picked him up.”

“What about your new boyfriend, Kree? You said that Jamal loves him. Maybe you should have him talk to Jamal and see what's going on.”

“I wish I could,” Imani snapped. “I don't go with him anymore.”

“I thought Jamal really liked him.”

“So what? Jamal'll like the next man.”

“Well, just how many men do you plan on introducing him to? What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just up and introduce your son to man after man and think that he should just deal with it when you break up. Stop it and stop it right now. You know what we went through. I will not have my nephew going through that shit. It's hard enough not having his real father; don't take every man that he loves and trusts away. Get your shit together, Imani. I have enough problems of my own, believe me.”

“Humph, speaking of your problems, how's Raven Symone and the Olsen twins?”

“Getting on my fuckin' nerves. I can't stand it. My house is never clean. All they do is argue and fight. All I hear all night is,
Leave me alone, don't copy me. I'm telling, and get outta my room.
”