Chapter Ava Reynolds
AVA REYNOLDS
A few days before my baby shower, Zahra, Rhythm, and Tempo came over to help me get my life together.
My living room and nursery still looked like a baby boutique had exploded in them.
Christmas had been good to my son. The amount of stuff Reek, my sister, and the rest of the crew bought him was ridiculous.
I had little designer outfits, tiny gym shoes, stacks of onesies, blankets, baby monitors, rattles, bottles, pampers, bath sets, hooded towels, bassinets, swings, and enough baby lotion to moisturize him through kindergarten.
Zahra sat on the floor in the nursery folding little sleepers while Czar slept in the portable bassinet beside her.
Rhythm was by the dresser organizing baby toiletries into acrylic bins she brought from Container Store because, according to her, my child deserved “aesthetic” storage.
Tempo was hanging tiny outfits by size in the closet and roasting me every time she picked up another pair of baby Jordans.
“Your baby has more gym shoes than most grown men,” she said, holding up a tiny pair of black-and-red ones. “This is actually sick. He does realize that if you have a girl, she can’t be wearing all these gym shoes. She will have to be a lady.”
I was on the floor by the glider, cutting tags off wash and burp cloths. “He sees baby gym shoes and blacks out.”
Rhythm set another pack of wipes in a bin and said, “At least the baby will be coming into the world fly.”
“It’s coming into the world spoiled,” I muttered.
“That too,” Tempo added.
I looked around the nursery and smiled. The room was finally starting to look how I wanted it to.
The cream walls felt softer with the cute animal decals on the walls.
The crib was made up with the most adorable linen.
The little bookshelf was filled with books I couldn’t wait to read my baby.
The rocker sat in the corner with a throw draped over it.
Everything still felt surreal, but in a better way than before.
Zahra looked over at me. “So, are you sure you don’t need help with the baby shower this weekend?”
“No,” I answered. “The event planner has it all covered.”
There was a knock at the door. So, I struggled to get on my feet. The further along I got, the bigger my stomach protruded. I was almost eight months by now, and I was feeling every bit of it.
“Who is that at the door?” Tempo asked.
I blew a heavy breath as I thought of the answer. “Probably one of my baby’s daddy’s minions. Those are the only people that come over unannounced.”
On my way to the door, I hoped it was Kam.
I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, and he hadn’t been at the gym either.
I figured the shootout at my pop-up had probably been a lot, even for somebody who moved how he moved.
Still, he was a street nigga. I knew enough by now to know he had seen his share of violence before.
So I wasn’t exactly worried. Me and him barely knew each other. But I still wanted to know he was okay.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Kam. It was Jamir standing there with a backpack and a black case in one hand.
He answered the questions in my eyes. “I’m here to install cameras.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, tilting my head dramatically.
“Reek sent me to install security cameras in your unit.”
Rolling my eyes, I stepped aside and let Jamir in. He followed me as I stomped towards the nursery, in search of my phone. When the girls saw my attitude and Jamir, they got concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Zahra asked.
“Reek sent Jamir over here to install cameras.”
“Okay?” Tempos asked, still confused by my attitude.
“Where are you installing these cameras?” I asked Jamir.
He looked around the apartment, answering, “Entry points. Main living area. Hallway leading to the bedrooms.”
I folded my arms. “And Reek will have access to them?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unnecessary,” I said.
Tempo glanced over from the closet. “After what just happened at your pop-up?”
“I don’t need him being able to see any and everything happening in my condo,” I fussed. “That’s not weird and stalkerish to y’all?”
Tempo shrugged. “Its cameras all over my house.”
“Mine too,” Zahra muttered.
“The homes you share with your husbands,” I reminded them. “I don’t need him watching everything I do. That’s weird.”
Jamir stood there quietly, probably wishing he had sent one of his assistants instead of coming himself.
I pulled my phone out and called Reek with the phone on speaker.
He answered after two rings. “What’s up, baby mama?”
“Why is Jamir in my house to install cameras?”
“Because after what happened at that event, there’s no way I’m not having eyes on where my child lays his head.”
“Told you,” Tempo muttered.
“The baby isn’t here yet,” I shot back.
“I need eyes on you too.”
“You’re doing too much.”
“No, I’m doing what will keep you safe.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
That irritated me more. “That’s not how asking works.”
He let out a breath that sounded like he was trying not to get annoyed. “Ava, they shot up your event in broad daylight. Men died. You were inside that building with my baby in your stomach. I’m not playing around with this.”
“And I said you’re doing too much.”
“Well, too bad.”
“Reek!”
“I said what I said.”
Then I hung up before he could say anything else and stood there with the phone still in my hand, trying to swallow back a feeling I hated.
When I turned around, all three of them were watching me. Jamir, to his credit, had made himself scarce by stepping toward the entryway to get to work.
Zahra looked at me first. “This isn’t really about the cameras.”
“No. It’s not.” I pouted as I sat in the rocker, rubbing my stomach.
“I hate feeling watched, and I hate a man deciding what would happen around me and expecting me to just accept it because he meant well. That’s what Mercer did.
That man always had eyes on us, and it was never about love.
It was about control. It was about ownership.
It was about making sure we knew he could get to us wherever we were, know whatever you were doing, and remind you that everything you had come through him. ”
Zahra’s expression softened immediately because she understood before I even finished saying it.
I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “People hear a man is providing or protecting and think that automatically means something good. But that’s not what it always meant in our house.
With Mercer, if he paid for something, it came with strings.
If he gave you something, you owed him. If he protected you, it was because he wanted access to you, not because he respected you. ”
Rhythm’s lips pressed into a tight line as she looked at me with sympathetic eyes.
“My father made it feel like him ‘caring’ came with so much. So, when a man starts deciding things for me and putting cameras in my house and saying it’s for my own good, my first thought is not, ‘Oh, he cares.’ My first thought is here we go.”
Zahra nodded slowly because she had lived the harsher version of Mercer in a way I never fully had. She walked over to the rocker and sat beside me on the floor. “I get it. But Reek’s protection is not the same thing as Mercer controlling his daughters.”
I wanted to believe that, but I had allowed my father to fool me too.
“Mercer watched us so he could control us. He wanted leverage,” Zahra explained. “Reek is trying to watch over you because he is scared something will happen to you and the baby.”
“That still doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I muttered.
“No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t.”
“You can understand the intention and still not like how it feels,” Rhythm told me.
I blew a heavy breath, staring out of the huge picture window. I couldn’t help that Reek had suddenly made me feel smothered. In my life, a man paying, giving, or protecting meant he expected the right to manage you after.
Zahra rubbed my arm, soothingly. “You don’t have to like the gesture. You just have to be honest with him about why you don’t like it.”
After the girls left, I sat in my apartment for all of five minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore. Something about not hearing from Kam still wasn’t sitting right with me.
I got up off the couch, rode the elevator to Kam’s floor, and headed down the hall. The closer I got to his unit, I saw that his door was cracked open. I cautiously approached the door, listening for his voice. When all I heard was silence and could smell the strong aroma of paint, I peeked inside.
The condo was empty. There was no furniture or signs of him.
There were two men inside painting and a woman deep cleaning.
One of the painters looked up at me from behind a face mask and roller, and the woman paused with a vacuum in her hand like they were trying to figure out why a pregnant woman in a hoodie was standing at the door looking shell-shocked.
“Sorry,” I spit as I stepped back, turned around, and felt my rage climbing.
Kam was gone, and I knew Reek had something to do with it. I started to hyperventilate, imagining that Kam’s dead body was floating in the Chicago River or decomposing in the woods somewhere.
I stormed down the hall, skipped the elevator, and took the stairs.
By the time I hit the first floor, I was zipping my hoodie all the way up and pulling the hood over my head.
I still had on leggings, my oversized hoodie, and house shoes because I hadn’t been planning to leave the building.
But at that point, I didn’t care what I looked like.
I walked straight outside to Malik’s truck. He was parked where he always was. The second I got to his window, I slapped my hand against it hard enough to make him jump out of his skin.
“What did you do?!” I demanded. “Where is Kam?!”
Malik casually stared at me as he rolled his window down. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit!”
He said nothing, and that only made me madder. “You expect me to believe that man just disappeared and his whole apartment got cleared out and painted over, and you don’t know anything about it?”
Malik’s eyes dropped to my feet. “You need a coat and some real shoes on. It’s cold out here.”
Seething, I yelled, “Fuck you!”
I turned and stomped off to my car. I tore the door open, hopped in, and took off.
The whole drive to Reek’s spot, I was shaking with anger. I knew where to go because I had heard Saint talk of their routine enough. I knew the trap Reek liked to be at during certain hours.
By the time I got to the block and hopped out, every security guard standing outside looked oddly at me, my belly and house shoes.
I stormed by them, pushed through the front door, and went straight inside.
The trap smelled like weed and chemicals.
A couple of men looked up when I came in, but I scanned the room until I found him.
Reek stood at one of the tables bagging up work with a scale and stacks of little baggies spread out in front of him.
He had on a black hoodie and gloves, looking so fine that it pissed me off more.
The second he saw me, he stopped what he was doing and came around the table. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I walked straight up to him, screaming, “What did you do?!”
When he just looked at me with sympathy in his eyes, I knew I was right. He had killed Kam.
Tears came to my eyes. “I asked you not to do it! You don’t want me to be happy!”
That got everybody’s attention. A couple of the men near the back slowly found reasons to mind their business, but I knew they were still listening.
He walked towards me, casually telling me, “You shouldn’t be here with The Crown lurking.”
“I don’t give a fuck about The Crown right now!” I snapped. “What did you do to Kam?!”
Reek glanced around the room, then reached for my elbow. “Come here.”
I snatched away. “Don’t touch me!”
He ignored that and led me toward the back anyway, not rough, but firm enough that I knew I had no choice.
Once we got a little farther from everybody else, I cried, “What did you do?”
Looking into my eyes, he told me, “I didn’t kill him. I made you a promise, and, though everything in me wanted to bury that nigga, I didn’t. I gave him a choice—"
“A choice? What are you talking about?”
“I gave him a choice between you or leaving the building with enough product to make a lot of money, and he didn’t choose you. That nigga chose the money, and if he was really about you, he would have chosen you.”
“Well, neither did you,” I shot back. “You didn’t choose me either. I guess I’m not good enough for a nigga to ever choose me.”
Sympathy poured from his eyes as he watched my tears. “That’s not true.”
I looked away, but he reached out and gently grabbed my arm anyway.
“That’s not true,” he repeated.
The tears came harder. “Let me go, Reek!”
He didn’t, he held me enough to keep me right there while he insisted, “That’s not true.”
I yanked my arm again, hating how soothing his voice sounded.
“You had no right! You don’t get to keep doing this to me.
You don’t get to control who’s around me, who wants me, who talks to me, who comes into my life, putting cameras in my condo, while refusing to give me what I want. That’s not your right!”
He stared at me, saying nothing for half a second too long.
“That’s what Mercer used to do,” I said, voice shaking now.
“He’d decide what was best. He’d decide who got access to us.
He’d decide what we needed, what we could handle, what kind of lives we should live, and then everybody was supposed to be grateful because it came wrapped up in money or protection or his sick version of caring. ”
Reek’s grip loosened some, but he still didn’t let me go. “I am not Mercer.”
“You’re acting like him!” I spat. “You keep trying to control things around me while acting like it’s for my own good. That is not love to me, Reek. It feels like somebody else deciding what my life should look like.”
“I would never do that to you.”
I laughed through tears. “But you are.” I snatched my arm free, wiped my tears, and said, “Just leave me alone, Reek.”
Then I turned and walked out before he could stop me again.
I didn’t look back as I passed all the crew and their stares. I just kept going. Because if I had looked back at Reek then, I might’ve folded, and I was done folding for men who kept making me feel like being chosen was too much to ask.