Below The Belt

Round 8

DeAndre's POV

Tonight was the night.

Tyreek's rematch with Red and his first time back in the club since he lost his title.

Tyreek had texted me early in the morning asking if I was still going. Of course I said yes. When he responded saying 'It's okay if you can't make it', I knew for sure that I really had to go. I'll be damned if he starts expecting me to disappoint him on important dates.

Antwon was still upset about not being able to go, but when I told him he could chill at his grandmother's house until I got back, suddenly he was ecstatic.

I didn't have the best relationship with my mother... Mostly because she didn't raise me. My grandmother raised me while my parents fucked off to do whatever addicts do. My dad ended up leaving a few years after I was born, and my mother stayed her ass in the streets, as far away from me as possible.

I considered my grandmother to be my real mother. She took care of me for years. And then she helped me take care of Antwon until she passed when my little man was eight.

And wouldn't you know it, two years after her death, here comes my mother. Claiming she was clean again. Claimed that she found capital G 'God' and had all of her sins forgiven.

Bitch I ain't forgive you so how the hell you gon' go pray to another nigga for forgiveness?

Either way she seemed to think being a church goer meant I should forgive her.

I didn't.

But she was arguably better and wanted to be in my son's life, so I allowed it every once in a while.

Even if I had to deal with the most excruciating conversations while I dropped my son off with her.

"So you're going to a boxing match?" Yvonne, formerly known as my mother, asked as she stood in her kitchen cooking. "I've never known you to be interested in boxing, baby."

"You've never known me to be interested in anything, Yvonne." I countered, causing her to cut her eyes at me. I only shrugged at her- I ain't scared of her ass. She ain't my mama, so fuck do I look like calling her that? "If you must know, I'm going to see a friend fight. It's an important match and I told him I'd be there."

She side eyed me once again as she stirred her pot of whatever-the-fuck. "I've never known you to care much about others either."

This bitch has got to be out of her coke fried ass mind.

I felt my nostrils flare as I tried to control my temper. My son was somewhere in here, and unlike this bitch, I cared enough about my child to care about how my actions affected him. "Yvonne, you don't know me. You don't. You want to pretend you do so you won't have to think about how you abandoned your alleged only son for the Double D-" Drugs and dick. "But you don't fuckin' know me and you never will. You're lucky I'm givin' you the chance to know my son because you sure as hell don't deserve the chance to ruin the only thing I love in this world."

Yvonne finally set her spoon down and turned to look at me with disappointment in her expression as she rested her hands on her hips. Like I give a fuck about her disappointment. I was disappointed in her for more than twenty years. "When will you let this hate go, baby? I know what I did when you were younger. I know I wasn't there the way I should've been. But you only get one mother and this is how you choose to treat her?"

"You allegedly only got one son and you see how you chose to treat me." I countered as I crossed my arms. She frowned, but I continued anyway. "You think I'm just mad about you leavin'? Leavin' is the best thing you ever did for me, lady. I'm mad that you let me starve everyday because you wanted to spend your money on dope. I'm mad you didn't enroll me into school when you was supposed to, had my real mama struggling to get me caught up once you dropped me off on her. I'm mad that you brought man after man into that house after my ain't shit ass daddy left. Had them niggas in there doin' whatever the fuck they wanted as long as you got your fix right?" This time her expression finally faltered, and her eyes flickered away to look at anything but me. "Nah, you had shit to say right? You don't wanna talk about how many times I woke up to your boyfriend sneakin' into my room? How about when they'd steal from me? Or how about all the times you tried to offer me up for a bag? How about when you'd lock me out of the house for hours to days at a time? You wanna talk about that, ma?"