Page 12 of Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 3

Lil Bill laughed at what I said to his mama.

“Negro, please! He lets me choose whatever I want off the menu. He don’t give me a limit either. We only do five-star dining. Not Fridays or whatever other cheap ass restaurants you used to take me to,” she said.

“I was younger back then. I ain’t know where the fuck I was supposed to take nobody out to eat at. I do now. Closed down the whole restaurant for my wife, just so it could be me and her,” I boasted.

“Good night, Billionaire. Bye, baby,” she said to our son before coming over and kissing him on the top of his head. She did the same thing to Khari, and then she got into her car and left.

Real shit, I was happy to be on this type of page with Sidnesha. We finally had it right. We were on one page now, where the only thing that mattered to us was our son. Now, I had to get shit right with my big ass fuckin’ cry baby upstairs. How the fuck could somebody so fuckin’ little and stress the fuck out of a nigga the way she was? People liked to say that the first year of marriage was the hardest, but I would not speak that shit on us. I had faith that Normani and I could get better, but we would just have to fix the way we communicate because that shit was fuckin’ terrible.

I was standing outside of Trinity’s apartment, waiting for her to open the door. Eventually, I heard movement coming from the other side of the door, and then the door opened really slow, and she was standing on the other side, holding a sleeping Tegan in her arms. She put her finger over her mouth, basically telling me to be quiet as I made my way into the house.

For Trinity to have just given birth to our daughter a week ago, I had to admit that she looked good. Her long hair was braided back into two French braids, and the only thing she wore was one of those nursing bras and a pair of cotton shorts. She had house shoes on her feet and the little burping blanket on her shoulder as she gently patted Tegan’s back. Trinity let me into the house, and I went to close the door.

“She just fell asleep. I’m going to lay her down,” Trinity whispered to me.

I kissed my daughter on her small cheek, and then I followed Trinity. We had to pass the dining room area to get to the nursery, and that’s where I saw a bunch of Happy Birthday balloons and even a birthday cake on the dining room table. Damn. I hoped it wasn’t shorty’s birthday and I hadn’t even said anything to her about it. I waved it off and followed her into the nursery. Trinity didn’t give Tegan the traditional pink and white nursery that a lot of little girls had. In fact, it was more of a safari theme, which was dope as fuck. I missed out on making all this shit because I was still trying to convince myself around that time that the baby wasn’t mine.

There was a huge, stuffed giraffe that sat off to the side of the room, along with different animals. The closet doors were open, and I shook my head each time I saw the amount of clothes this little girl had. The clothes went in order by colors and their sizes. There was also a dresser with the baby changer up top, and that dresser stored a bunch of other clothes as well. A crib, a rocking chair, and antique baby toys that Tegan wasn’t big enough to play with yet also filled the room.

Trinity softly lay Tegan on her back while I stood by the door, watching the entire thing. She patted her on her stomach a couple of times, checked the camera to make sure it was properly on her, and then we both left the room. Then she went into the kitchen and started washing out the breast pump along with some other dishes in the sink. I stood off to the side, watching her, just in amazement at the way a woman’s body worked because not even trying to gas shorty or no shit like that, but I swear it didn’t look like she just had a baby at all.

Billion kept clowning me, telling me I was falling for my baby mama, but the truth is, I just fucked with the type of mom that Trinity was, so I guess that had me somewhat attracted to her.

“Whose birthday is it?” I asked, and she let out a low chuckle.

“Mine. I turned twenty-six,” Trinity told me. She said it like the shit was no big deal to her.

“Why you ain’t tell me it was your birthday? I would have gone and got you something,” I said. She looked up

from the dishes she was washing and stared up at me.

“Because you’re not obligated to get me anything. Tegan is down for the night, and it’s not even nine o’clock yet. After I finish washing these dishes, I can get me a good bath in, find me a good movie to watch on TV, and just relax. That’s the best birthday gift that I could ask for. That and the little girl that I have back there,” she told me.

I nodded, respecting it. With my arms folded and posted up against her refrigerator, I watched Trinity.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked.

“Why?” she questioned.

“Because it’s weird as fuck that we got a whole baby together, and I didn’t even know that today was your birthday. I want to find out more shit about you because now that I think about it, we hardly even know each other,” I spoke up, as she set the dishes in the drainer, that she had on the side of the sink.

“That’s because all we ever did was fuck, Monterius. You never wanted anything more out of me because you had your own situation going on. I really thought about the things that your mother told us in that hospital room, and I want to do the things that she recommended for us to do. I want to keep it to where it’s about Tegan only. At the same time, Monterius, I’m not a stupid bitch. I know you only care to ask me what my favorite color is because you and Twinkle are probably done for good this time. I think everyone in America saw that she just got engaged to that NBA player. I let you play on my worth for too long. This time, you not about to make me out to be a rebound chick. Keep it about Tegan and Tegan only. I done made some mistakes in the past, but now seeing that I have a little girl looking up to me, I have to make better decisions, and that starts with my choice in men,” she said, then folded her arms and looked at me.

I sucked my teeth as I stood and listened to her speak.

“Just tell me what’s your favorite color! Shit!” I said.

She laughed as she grabbed a paper towel from the rack, so she could dry her hands.

“This is backward as fuck. My favorite color is yellow. What else you want to know? My bra size?” she questioned, trying to be funny.

“They probably used to be an A cup. Them shits look heavier now. What you about a C cup now?” I asked.

“More like a D, nigga,” she said, and this time I laughed.

“Bullshit!” I said, removing myself from where I was posted and going over to the cake, so I could look at it.

“Why you didn’t cut your cake yet?” I asked.

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