Me, My Curves, and I {Interracial Romance} #Wattys2017

Cynthia vs Myself

"Danny!" I turn to Trisha while she furrows her eyebrows and a frown appears on her face. "Yeah, Trish? What's wrong?" I query because now my heart is beginning to plummet down to my gut. "Five days ago, Kandi, Vera, Michelle, and I went to Wendy's and hid in the bathroom stalls when we recorded a conversation between Angelica and Cynthia in the restroom." Trisha notifies me and plugs the earphones in her phone while she turns on her phone before she plays the audio.

"No, Cynthia. She's not even all black; she's actually a mulatto and I've seen her family at the high school graduation nine years ago." Angelica says.

"Whatever, Angelica! Ever since I damaged that fat mulatto's apartment seven months ago while she and her family along with Danny went to California, there are no arrests so far. And when I take you with me to see Danny, I'll file the divorce papers from his father and I will dispose that woman out of Danny's life like a garbage disposer, making him my next groom." Cynthia loudly claps her hands and begins cackling.

"Cynthia, please promise me that I'll be the maid of honor to your wedding." Angelica begs.

"Yes, you will, Angelica." Cynthia answers. "Oh! And by the way, do you know who the actual father of your baby is?"

"Yes and it's Coco's husband, Mr. DiMicco." Angelica reveals. And what they say next, brings a new shocking frontier of my life along with the news I must discuss with my father.

"It has been six myriad years and nobody caught us yet!" Cynthia cackles as the sound of the door closing shut. After discovering that Cynthia reveals her blanket statement, my jaw clenches very taut and I crack my knuckles while this robust feeling of feeling red hot in the face overwhelms my emotions of anger and sadness because I thought Bobbi OD'd on three Lexapro pills and the nerves of my intuitions are telling me that Cynthia and Angelica did something more sinister to Bobbi. The memories of Miss Vivian and I meeting Officer Martinez begins to rush back in my head.

"Trish, I'm calling Dad. Thank you for informing me about the recorded audio. Love you." I tell her and remove the ear bud of the earphones out of my ear. I exit Momma's apartment and dial my Dad's phone number. Putting the phone to my ear, I listen to the first two rings until a complacent male voice calmly breathes, "Hello, Danny! It is so great to hear from you!"

"Hey, Dad. I want to say I'm sorry about the way that I spoke to you, but I meant what I said about Cynthia-"

"No, Danny. You were right. I lost my ability to control my marriage with Cynthia because your mother and I used to take control of you and your siblings when you guys were little. And I couldn't see what she really needs or want despite the money she begs for me to give her. I understand that you and your brother need a father, not an enemy for breaking up your relationships with your girlfriends." Dad fesses up. I nod in agreement.

"I understand, Dad, and I love you." I say. I listen to Dad chuckling through the speakers with a calm and benign tone in his voice. "I love you, too, son. Despite the fight we had, it doesn't stop me from loving you, your brother, sister, and your mother." Dad says.

"Dad, I also want to tell you something." I confess.

"What is it, Danny?" Dad intriguingly question.

Jaelyn's POV

The ladies and I are cracking up at a joke Cousin Michelle makes. "Back in the nineties, we used to take pictures of ourselves with a Polaroid camera and put them in a big ass yellow envelope and send it to our boyfriends and the guys would send the same kind of pictures to their girlfriends before sexting came into style. And we would mark the envelope with a black Sharpie saying, 'Property of someone's name and last name!'" Cousin Michelle cackles. We all laugh in the living room while the masseuse removes the hot stones off my lower abdomen, the cramps that I had dwindled. And now, I'm getting the cocoa powder rinsed out of my hair to prepare my hair to be deep conditioned. "Jaelyn, baby! Your hair is darker!" Mom astonishingly gasps. I guess the person hands me a handheld mirror because I furrow my eyebrows.