DEEPLY ROOTED
“And where do you think you’re going?” Onika Chambers grilled her daughter, Antonia, from the doorway of her bedroom.
Seated on the edge of her twin-size bed and slipping her feet into her Steve Madden heels Bronx bought her, Toni peered up with slight annoyance.
It was almost ten a.m., and she was already running behind for his viewing.
Stonebridge was an hour from Prospect Pointe as it was.
Instead of catching the bus, she set up an Uber to pick her up.
She would take the bus back. This last week had been unreal, and as much as she wished it wasn’t happening, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.
This tiny apartment was suffocating, and she was more than ready to bust out of there, even if it was for the final goodbye to the man she loved.
It didn’t feel like home. She missed being under Bronx in the townhouse he purchased for them.
When she wasn’t there, her girl, Symphony, let her crash at her spot.
Onika wasn’t letting her out of her sight, though.
Toni was tired of sitting around, listening to her and Urso get fucked up, curse each other out, start fighting, and eventually start fucking so loud it echoed through the entire apartment.
“I’m going to the funeral. What do you think?” Toni sneered, bringing herself to her five seven stature.
She faced the mirror to the dresser in front of her, examining herself in the black suit and white blouse tucked into her slacks.
Turning from side to side, she made sure her panty line was straight but was a little self-conscious about the slight pudge in her stomach.
It really wasn’t noticeable except to her.
She ran her fingers through some of her wavy hair cascading over one shoulder.
She’d always taken pride in her hair. If you tugged on her shit, it was all scalp.
She wore braids sometimes and quick weaves, but she couldn’t afford a lace front like all the other girls, so she learned how to take care of her own hair.
Arms tucked across her full bosom, Onika glanced at the ground and tittered.
“You want to go in there and make a damn fool of yourself?” she questioned, watching Toni fix herself in the mirror until she was satisfied with her appearance.
“He was my boyfriend. He’s the father to this baby,” Toni conveyed, spinning on her heel and facing the woman who birthed her.
“A baby that you already agreed to give up.” Urso, her stepfather, exhaled smoke from the Newport he blew and slid up behind her mother in the doorway.
His dark, coal-like eyes raked over Toni like he had x-ray vision and could see her underwear. She hated when he looked at her like that. It never mattered that her mother was right there to witness it either. She would pretend she didn’t notice.
“Let’s not forget about that. You owe like Pookie, and we intend to collect. I already got some people lined up, making bids,” he told her, nodding.
Shaking her head, Toni’s stomach curled.
This nigga. She’d hated Urso from the day her mother married him.
Once upon a time, Onika was her best friend.
There wasn’t anything that Toni didn’t think she could tell her.
Now, this woman in front of her resembled evil incarnate.
When she woke up in that hospital and saw her mother standing there, she just knew she was in a fresh new hell.
After doing everything she could to escape, she ended up back in her orbit for the simple fact that Toni forgot to remove her as an emergency contact in her records.
The doctor let her know that she was five weeks pregnant, and at first, her mama called her every name but a child of God.
When they got back to the apartment, it was Urso who was overjoyed by the news.
Together, they decided that Toni would take one for the family.
Children were a hot commodity on the black market.
Onika knew firsthand from dealing with all the desperate couples that passed through the adoption agency.
She and Urso were trying to find young, stupid girls to give away their babies so they could sell them and split the profit.
Toni being pregnant came at the perfect time, so they intended to cash out. It was all a nightmare.
“Making bids like some auction for a piece of jewelry or a rare vase. Do you hear yourself?” Toni questioned, shifting her hardened glare to her mother. “This is your grandchild we’re talking about.”
Narrowing both eyes at her, Urso shook his head.
“That baby will be much better off with people who can take care of him or her. You don’t have a job, Toni. You barely have an education,” Onika ranted.
“I have a high school diploma and a bachelor’s in administration,” she reminded her.
“What does that mean when you still ain’t got a job?
You talking about becoming a social worker, and they don’t make no damn money.
You’ve seen them bitches down at the damn DCF office.
Them hoes are busted!” Onika pointed out as Urso passed her the cigarette.
“Wake the fuck up! The only person you should be thinking about saving is yourself! And the rest of your family. So, you should figure out a new career path, especially if you think you’re going to stick around here. ”
In khakis, a wife beater, and taco meat curling on his chest with his belly hanging over his belt, his whole image reminded her of Clifton Powell as punk ass Chauncey in Menace to Society.
He wasn’t shit, and Toni could never understand what her mother saw in him.
He was a leech. When they got married, he brought his two daughters to live with them without even asking.
Toni was forced out of her own bedroom and had to sleep in the living room on the couch while they shared her former space.
The only reason she had a room now was that both girls were now living on their own or with their sponsors. She could never keep up.
Chai and Uma treated her like Cinderella.
Nobody said shit if they sat on their asses all day, leaving her to do everything around the house while they gossiped and allowed dishes to pile up.
Those two enjoyed making her miserable. There were times she had to slave over a stove and make sure everyone ate, only to get the scraps off their plates and still have to clean the kitchen too.
All while their parents ran the streets.
Mostly regulars at the casino or local bars, Urso nor Onika would ever check Chai and Uma on how they treated her.
Urso had a drinking problem and was addicted to pills and cocaine, so he was always high or looking to get that way.
It was obvious from how Onika behaved over time that he had roped her into that lifestyle.
Now their life consisted of one con or another to get by while milking welfare, SSI, Medicaid, and all that other shit for him.
“I have to go.” Grabbing her purse from the bed, Toni slung it over her shoulder and pushed past the two in the doorway.
“Don’t get any ideas about trying to run off with our fucking meal ticket, Toni,” Onika warned.
“Go with her. I don’t trust her ass,” Urso urged.
“Oh, we don’t have to worry about that. She ain’t got nowhere else to go with that boy about to take that dirt nap.” Onika skimmed Toni from top to bottom, shaking her head.
Exiting the five-story building into the brisk day, she was glad when the Uber pulled up.
Right after the service, she had to go to work, so she wasn’t in the mood for this bullshit as it was.
Her mama was wrong about one thing. She did have somewhere else to go.
She just wasn’t sure for how long. The townhouse was on the border of Stonebridge and Prospect Pointe.
Bronx purchased it for that very reason.
It was thirty minutes either way to where he needed to be.
She would have to figure something out. There was no way she could allow them to take her baby and sell it like some handbag.
This was the only thing she had left of Bronx.
It would be a cold day in hell before she allowed them to take it from her.
Pastor Christopher Vaughn went on about living for God, asking for repentance, and believing that despite the type of thug Bronx Andrews was to the streets, it was very possible for a man like him to be accepted through the pearly gates of Heaven.
In the front row, the immediate family sat stoically.
The only person crying was Fancy, Bronx’s high school girlfriend and fiancé.
She did an ugly cry against her mother’s shoulder, and off to her right, Brenda Andrews stroked her back with dry eyes.
Beside her, her husband, Braxton, remained with his chin up.
With his eyes fixated on the gold-plated casket, he absorbed the pastor’s words.
In the far-left corner beside it was a blown-up picture of Bronx in a suit, sporting his famous boyish grin that made all the girls swoon.
Bull clenched his jaw, listening to all the other religious bullshit he didn’t believe in.
In his opinion, there wasn’t nobody coming to save shit.
When you died, that was pretty much it. There was no afterlife or meeting up with all your dead loved ones.
Bull thought it was all a bunch of fairytale bullshit.
His faith died when his grandfather passed away.
Dragging him from his darkened thoughts, the church doors closed, and it was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention in that direction.