Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 36- Momma Peaches

It's time. I've been putting this shit off for far too long. I can't believe my ass is nervous, too. However, this morning, I wake up knowing in my heart that today is the day I need to see Isaac. For weeks now, I've let that last argument with Terrell fuck with me. Yeah, I'm sorry that I blew up at him, but shit. He hurt my fuckin' feelings, and that shit doesn't happen often. I'm wrong for jumping on him when all he did was spit the truth. Cedric senses my change in mood, and even after a good dicking down, I'm not even in the mood for flapjacks.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's up?" he asks, sipping on his coffee and staring at me from across the table.

"Nothing's up. I got a lot of shit I got to do today."

"What kind of shit?" I stab him with a sharp look.

"Look. I ain't trying to get in your business or nothing. It's just that you've been walking around with your bottom lip mopping the floor. C'mon, talk to me."

Staring into those beautiful green eyes, I want to crack my chest open and confess everything, but now ain't the time.

"Later," I tell him, getting up.

"Right now I got to get over to the Big House."

Cedric's thick brows jump up, but he doesn't say shit when I finally turn to get my purse and car keys.

An hour later, my ass is sitting in a metal chair, waiting for my husband to be led into the visiting room. For the hundredth time, I'm thinking my ass should've smoked something to relax my nerves before I rolled up in here. At last the doors open, and a stream of niggas are directed into the room. My eyes zoom to the nigga who still holds the biggest part of my heart: Isaac. Six-five with shoulders the size of mountains and there isn't an ounce of fat to be seen nowhere.

His muscled thighs and arms have me itching to stand up and rip my muthafuckin' clothes off right here and now—fuck the consequences. Ain't that the damn reason I've put up with his bullshit for so damn long? Yeah, he did a lot of good shit, too, but his ass was careless when it came to handling my heart. I ain't mad because his ass used to slang or gangbang with the best the streets had to offer. Neither one of us wrote the rules on how to survive out here. But I do fault his ass for whispering those sweet lies into my ears night after night. I'm equally mad at myself for believing them.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't my baby girl.You've come out to see me, huh?" Isaac's eyes twinkle like black diamonds as he settles down into his chair behind the Plexiglas.

"You're looking good, Peaches. Then again, you always did take good care of yourself."

"Thanks. You look good, too," I say, raking my gaze over his shaved head and remembering what it used to feel like when I gripped the back of that muthafucka when he was fuckin' the shit out of me.

I look around and complain, "Goddamn. It's hot in this bitch."

Isaac chuckles. "Yeah. I miss you, too. Believe I'm counting the days until I get some of that homemade peach pie."

I roll my eyes, but my damn smile remains in place. He has that effect on me.

"I've been hearing some disturbing things from the street. How's Terrell holding up?"

"Like a soldier," I tell him, not wanting to get too into that shit in case muthafuckas are listening.

Isaac bobs his head, while a half smile slopes one side of his mouth.

"Good. Glad to hear that shit. The war behind these damn bars is as heated as it is out there on the streets. These fuckin' hooks in here are strutting with they chests all out because I hear some bitch has been taking out a lot of Terrell's crew."

I shake my head. "Look, I didn't come up here to rehash all that gang bullshit. I've come to talk to you about some other shit—our bullshit, as a matter of fact."

If my getting heated bothers him, it doesn't show on his face. "A'ight. Say what's on your mind."

I shut down. My throat closes the fuck up. Isaac cocks his head.

"What? Am I supposed to be a fuckin' mind reader now?"

"Fuck you, Isaac."

"Hell. I wish you could. Maybe it would work out some of that stress in your face."

"The stress I feel right now, baby boy, is all on you."

"What the hell have I done from behind bars that's supposedly causing you stress now?"

"Don't be an ass. It's what you did before you got in here. It's what you did the entire time we were together."

"Aw, shit. Not this again."

"Yes, this shit again. It's about all those fuckin' bitches you fucked in all those other area codes that I let slide."

"Look, Peaches. I've apologized for all that shit. What else do you want me to say? Shit. I'm a man, and a man has fuckin' urges and needs that you and all those man-hating bitches out there will never understand. So if you ain't got shit else to do but be sitting up in the house and getting mad about shit that happened years ago, then you do you, boo. Personally, I don't want to fuckin' hear about it no goddamn more."

He jumps up out of his seat and starts to head to the door. "Get your ass back over here, nigga. I ain't finished talking to you."

Isaac, as well as every nigga up in here, whips his head around.

"Y'all mind y'all's fuckin' business," Isaac barks.

Everybody turns away, but we both know they're watching to see what the fuck he's gonna do.

"A'ight," he says, though I know if he could reach through this damn fake-ass glass right now, he would slap the taste out of my mouth for disrespecting him like this in front of so many people.

"Speak your piece, Ma. Clearly you got a lot on your chest." Isaac plops down into his chair.

I take another moment to try and calm down, but at this point, it's impossible.

"I need a simple yes or no."

A muscle twitches along Isaac's jaw as he folds his arms.

"A'ight."

Heart hammering, I lock gazes with my love, my husband, and pray like hell that I'm wrong in my suspicion.

"Are you Mason's father?"