Chapter 23
Seth
I roll my eyes, but I follow June Bug down the hall to what I think is his bedroom. He holds my daughter, who is now sticking her index finger in his ear. He doesn’t seem to mind.
We go into a bedroom, and he turns on the TV to a cartoon. He puts Jasmine on his bed, and she’s immediately transfixed by a talking dog on the television.
I cross my arms and wait to hear what bullshit will be spilling from his mouth. It doesn’t take long.
“You disrespect my cousin, and I’m gonna handle it. If I see any pictures of you and some Sethhead or hear any rumors, I’m gonna fuck you up.” He lowers his voice when he says fuck, but Jasmine’s not paying attention to us anyway. “I’m not going to give you time to explain. This isn’t the justice system. You are guilty the moment I hear a rumor. Got it?”
“Don’t threaten me,” I say in response.
“Or what?” he asks, taking a step closer.
“I’m not scared of you, and you can’t kick my ass. I’m not some little punk you can intimidate.” This time, it’s me who takes a step closer to him. “And don’t start any shit in front of my child. Ever,” I warn.
He smirks, but he nods. I think I see admiration in his eyes.
“One thing I can’t stand is a man who’s a pussy,” he says. I look around him at my daughter and hope she doesn’t overhear and start repeating these words.
“Stop cussing in front of my daughter,” I hiss.
“I might respect you yet,” he says. He picks up Jasmine and says, “Come help Uncle June Bug in the kitchen. You want cookies?”
“Nom nom!” She bounces in his arms.
“I don’t feed her junk,” I say as I walk behind them.
“Then don’t. Uncle June Bug does, though, so you’re gonna have to get used to it.”
“Stella is a bitter Betty and a giant pain in the ass,” Leon whispers to me a couple of hours later. “I left her, and then I got with Donna, who’s even worse than Stella.” He looks behind him as both his ex-wives cook in the kitchen. “This friendship of theirs is only to spite me.”
Just as he says it, they both laugh. That’s probably how the friendship started, but that’s not why they’ve remained friends. I won’t tell him that though.
Layla is on the other side of the room talking to June Bug, but she looks over and smiles at me. I never noticed how pretty her eyes were before today. She has a cute little nose too. It’s like a perfect little button in the middle of her face. I’ve always known her plump lips were nice, but since I’ve tasted them, they’re beyond nice. They’re perfect.
I raise my glass to her, and she does the same.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s been buzzing all day. My dad woke me up this morning with the news that I got married. He seems excited about it, and I’m not sure why. I wonder if he thinks I did this because of his advice. I didn’t, but if he thinks that’s the case, that would be the first time I ever took advice from him about anything.
I did this for one reason only. I did this for my daughter, and I only would have picked Layla. She’s not impressed by guys with money, and she wanted nothing to do with me at first. Colt Chastain says that’s how he and his wife started, and I know for a fact they’re happy. I’ve seen it, and he talks about her constantly. Coach is happy too. Why can’t I have some of that for myself? According to Vickie Chastain, everyone deserves love.
Besides, Layla is gorgeous, and I’ve always been physically attracted to her. From the first time we met at the hotel where she used to work, I noticed her, and as judgmental as she’s been toward me, she’s always liked my daughter.
Eight months ago:
“I would have sworn the building would have disintegrated into ash the moment he walked through the doors,” she whispers to Jeannie. They’re both standing at the front of the church, right in front of the altar. I have my back turned to her while I talk to the minister who will be baptizing Jasmine, but I know the ‘he’ she’s gossiping about is me. I don’t know how I can offend someone so much simply by existing.
“Why would you think that?” Jeannie asks.
“Because churches and whores have never been a good combination. Haven’t you ever read the bible before?”
After hearing her last statement, Reverend Okoye turns and eyes her before he walks away. Layla doesn’t notice. She just giggles like a schoolgirl gossiping in the hallway.
“Girl, hush,” Jeannie says with a giggle. “Seth’s a sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart my black ass,” she whispers. “Do you know what he said to me when he saw me here today? He pretended he didn’t know me and said that the homeless shelter was down the street. Then he—”
I tune her out. I remember what I said, and it was good to see the expression on her face. But what I don’t understand is why she’s here. I didn’t invite her. I’d never invite her, but I know who did.
I give Jeannie a look of disapproval. I make sure her husband doesn’t see me do it. Layla sees me, and I narrow my eyes at her.
“I think everyone is here,” I say to Jeannie. I plan to do everything in my power to ignore my unwanted guest. After the ceremony, I planned to take everyone to lunch at a local restaurant, but Jeannie and Coach decided to throw a reception at their townhouse instead. Jeannie felt the restaurant was too impersonal.
When they first suggested it, I almost broke down in tears. It’s the first time anyone has ever volunteered to throw me a party. I accepted, but now I realize I’m stuck with Layla. If we had gone with my idea, I’d tell her she’s not invited if only to piss her off. She inches closer, and I freeze. She looks at the baby in my arms who is fast asleep. She’s in a big, frilly white dress that Jeannie bought for her. She told me in her culture, it’s customary for the godmother to supply the dress for the baby. She not only got a dress but shoes and a matching headband too.
“Mr. Wakowski,” someone whispers, “we’re all set for streaming if you want to double-check to make sure your other guests can log in.”
I attempt to hand Jeannie the baby so I can call my father to make sure he can see and hear, but Layla intercepts and holds her arms out.
“Let me hold her,” she orders. “I like babies.”
“Really? Even one that belongs to me?” I tease, but I slide Jasmine into her arms. She doesn’t budge. Normally, she only likes to sleep in my arms or on my chest.
“The fact that she belongs to you only means she needs me more.” She looks down at Jasmine and gently rocks her. She makes little cooing sounds and says, “You’re so cute, I could eat you.”
“Isn’t that what the Witch in Hansel and Gretel said?” I mutter. She ignores me, and I walk to a quiet part of the church. My father answers my call right away.
“Hey, Son,” he says into the camera. He looks nice in the gray suit I sent him. “I can see and hear just fine.” He smiles as if that’s some great feat. A great feat would be if he got his ass here and joined me in person. That would be a fucking miracle, but the Rapture will happen before that.
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure. We’re gonna get started soon.”
“I’m so proud of you, Seth,” he says. I don’t know if that’s a result of his therapy, but he says he’s proud of me every time we talk, and I hate it. The last fucking thing I want or need from him is praise of any kind. It’s too little too late.
“Well, if that were true, you think you’d—” I hold my sharp words and take a deep breath. There’s no point in making him feel bad. All that does is make me feel worse. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”
He exhales and smiles sadly. “I can’t wait to see you two at Thanksgiving. It’s going to be really nice this year. I ordered a little turkey onesie for Jasmine already.”
Instead of rolling my eyes like I want, I force a fake smile on my face and say, “Yeah. Me too. I’ll talk to you in a bit.” Thanksgiving with my father is the last damn thing I need, but my schedule allows it this year, and I haven’t been able to come up with an excuse not to go. Besides, every time I tell him I can’t visit, I have to deal with the hurt sad look in his eyes.
I end the call, turn around and almost bump into Colt Chastain. I also notice that Layla’s lurking around within hearing range, and I wonder if she heard any of the conversation with my dad. I’ve noticed she’s a nosey thing, always lurking around wherever I am, probably looking for more ammo to judge me. If we weren’t in a church, I’d give her the middle finger. Instead, I ignore her. She’s not even one of my invited guests.
Colt claps me on the back. “You’re doing great.” We’ve become friends since I became a single father. He was in the same situation as me before he met his wife, and he knows how hard it is juggling our job while being a single parent to an infant. Lucky for him, he found someone who not only loves him but his son. Now they’re married and have another son. What the hell do I have? But there’s a big part of me that wants what he has. I just can’t figure out how to get it.
“Thanks.” I shrug as if the compliment is no big deal, but it’s everything on a day like today. “Though I don’t know why Jeannie insisted on a christening. Since when has the Lord ever been good to me? And why did she invite her?” I point to Layla, who is still close enough to hear. The minute I point at her, she looks and narrows her eyes at me. I can’t flip her the bird, but I scowl at her. She scowls back.
Dead mother. A deadbeat father that I’ve been taking care of since I was a tween. He might as well be dead for all the good he’s done for me. That’s my legacy.
“I don’t want to hear that talk,” Colt says. “You know Vickie has volunteered to watch Jasmine for you whenever you need, even though you made the Walshes godparents over us,” he teases. “You’re a good dad, and you’re doing the best you can.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
He leaves and returns to his family.
Layla is still eavesdropping and still holding my daughter, and she doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed about it.
“Why are you following me around?” I look down at her. She’s in a burgundy pantsuit. She has a black shirt with burgundy flowers underneath. Her hair is swept to the side, and her lipstick is the same color as her suit. She has a nineteen-fifties look about her. I’d die before saying it out loud, but she looks pretty. More than pretty. “And why are you here? I don’t remember inviting you. Are you here to try and hook up with one of my teammates? Today is about Jasmine. This is not about you hooking up with a basketball player.”
She does nothing but gush about Jarvis and Harris, two of my teammates. They’re both here, but she’s holding my baby and following me around instead of fawning over them. I wish she’d either leave the church or leave me alone. I can’t stand her judgmental attitude, and I hate that she’s so beautiful, especially in that outfit. If she were ugly, I could deal with her better. Not only that, but she smells good too.
“Following you around? Are you mistaking me for a Sethhead? Don’t flatter yourself, Whorekowski. I’m here because Reverend Okoye says it’s time.” She looks into my eyes, and I think she wants to say more, but she doesn’t. She walks away, and I follow her to the altar. The pants fit just right around her ass. I don’t even care that we’re in a church. All I can think about is taking her inside one of these small rooms and stripping her down to see what’s underneath that suit.
I grin sheepishly when I get to the altar and Reverend Okoye smiles at me and gestures for me to take my spot. Layla hands Jasmine to Jeannie, and I stand next to them.
Layla sits in the front pew as if she’s family. She pulls out her phone and starts to record. If it was anyone else, I’d stop the ceremony and ask that she put the phone away, but I leave her alone.
I might not be able to stand her, but she won’t post anything on social media. She might dislike me, but she won’t do that to Jeannie and Coach. I try and do my best to pay attention, but my mind wanders and so do my eyes. They land on her again. She’s holding the phone but looking over it and at the altar. She looks up and our eyes catch.
I wait for her to scowl or to mouth something crude, but she doesn’t. She holds my stare. Jasmine finally lets out a wail when the minister touches her, and Layla looks away from me to my baby.
From where I’m standing, I see Layla whispering shh, but my daughter screams for the rest of the ceremony. Once Reverend Okoye finishes, I take a very unhappy Jasmine away from her godmother. It’s past her naptime, and I try my best to rock her to sleep, but she won’t settle down. I take a seat on the front pew next to Layla.
“Let me try,” she says.
“I’ve got it. She’s my kid,” I say in dismissal.
“I’m good with babies. Come on.” She holds out her arms, and I gently place Jasmine in them. I wait for her wails to escalate, but the opposite happens. They become quieter until they stop completely. Layla hums a soft lullaby to Jasmine, who is transfixed by her. She can’t sing worth a damn because the humming is off-key, but Jasmine doesn’t know any better. She smiles at Layla, who smiles back.
She looks at me with a smug look on her face. “See? I told you. I’m good at this.”
“Why are you at my kid’s christening?” I ask her.
“Jeannie invited me.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here,” I practically hiss.
“Go over there and tell her and her big husband how you don’t want me here. I dare you,” she challenges.
“But why would you come?” I ask.
She flares her nostrils and says, “Because I like babies, and I need to make sure the man upstairs doesn’t punish this baby because she’s yours.” She juts out her chin as if her words are important.
I look at my daughter, who smiles when she sees me, and I run my hand over her head, careful not to disturb the headband that Jeannie insisted she wear.
“No one is going to punish her. She’s going to have everything I didn’t have.”
Maybe the idea began to form in my subconscious on the day of the christening. Whenever it was, it got us here.
“You and I will get along fine,” Leon says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’ll have you two over next weekend for dinner. It will just be the four of us without a side of bitterness, anger, and bitchiness.”
Just as he says it, Stella walks up to us and gives me another glass of champagne. She gives her ex the middle finger as she walks away.