Chapter 30
Betty Wright's soft, melodic sound travels through the house just low enough that Mama's shouts to clean up can still be heard over the music. It's funny how this mission to save Paryis started as my own and now Mama's hijacked it. I guess I should be happy that she's finally stepped up to the plate but ever since she has, it's like all the swings she takes are at us.
I roll my eyes as I hear Mama shouting at Simon to straighten his room. I sit on my knees scrubbing away at the inside of the tub, occasionally stopping to inhale air that doesn't consist of Ajax or Lysol.
Betty's call for us to take the pain with the gain keeps me from shouting at Mama to calm down. She's been like this ever since I told her what happened at the interrogation. She was so agitated by Gutierrez's threat to take Paryis away that she leaped into action the next day. She started by taking Paryis to her pediatrician, who then referred her to a child psychiatrist, who led us to Tammy, Paryis' new therapist.
I guess that bitch Gutierrez really kept her promise cause one week after Paryis started seeing Tammy, Child Protective Services called to say they were coming to do a walk-through of the house and a full analysis of us. Hence why I'm on my hands and knees scrubbing away at dirt that isn't there while Mama stomps through the house, barking orders at everyone.
I sit back on my knees and pull the yellow scrubbing gloves off one by one. I throw them to the floor, pushing sweaty strands of hair back with the back of my hand. I stand on the edge of the tub while I use the showerhead to wash away the blue tint of the Ajax. I climb down to use a cup of water to catch any spots I missed when the door flies open.
An annoyed look immediately settles on my face.
"What now?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
"I don't know who you talking to but you can save the attitude for when you talking to yo friends," Mama says.
A small part of me is happy for Gutierrez's threat cause it reminded Mama that she's still a mother, but the show she's putting on for us is unnecessary. The house ain't even as bad as she making it seem and yet, we were woken up at 6am to clean up. She's acting like she's been in charge which is funny, since I've been the one keeping us together for the last few months. We might have been behind on dishes or laundry but I'm only one person and who am I to boss around Simon or Paryis? That was Mama's job but she left it up to me to do.
Now, she's treating me like I'm only a pawn in the plan to keep Paryis from being taken away when I'm the one who set that plan in motion. If it wasn't for me, Paryis would never be in therapy right now and this visit may not have happened at all. We wouldn't even have had a chance to explain why Paryis is where she belongs if I didn't push Mama to take her to therapy. Even then, she waited until the last minute.
It's sitting on the tip of my tongue to tell her about herself but today isn't the day so I swallow the attitude as best I can.
"Yes, Ma?" I ask her.
"Mhm. That's what I thought," Mama says, "I need you to tidy up Ace's room while I help Paryis make it seem like she's been sleeping in her own bed."
"What's wrong with her sleeping in her brother's room?" I ask.
"Look, I don't wanna give these people no reason to take her away. I don't know why you even told her she could sleep in that filthy ass room," Mama snaps.
I twist my face up. That itch on the tip of my tongue is begging to be scratched.
"You know it's not just a sleeping problem with her right? She's depressed. Everybody she loves is being taken away from her. She almost broke down when she saw me leaving Ace's room, thinking it was him. I wanted her to feel better. That's why I told her she can sleep in there," I snap back.
"I'm telling you now, Candyce. Today ain't the day. You been saying slick shit all day but don't think I won't slap some sense into you," Mama says.
"I don't know why you think this slapping me in my face shit boutta be yo newest thing," I mutter.
"What was that?" Mama asks, cupping her ear.
"Nothing," I say.
I walk past her but she catches me by my arm. Her lips are pulled back like she's trying to collect herself before losing her patience with me. I've seen her do it all my life up until Daddy died. Then she stopped discplining us altogether.
"Candyce..." She warns.
"Do you want me to clean the room or not? The people can be here any minute," I say.
I don't wait for an answer. I yank out of her hold and storm down the hall to Ace's room. I feel Mama's glare drilling a hole into my back the entire time but I don't care. Once I make it to Ace's room, I slam the door shut.
One look around the room and I'm bout ready to scream. I told Paryis she had to clean the room to stay in here but all she's done is clear the path from the door to Ace's bed by pushing everything out of the way. There's still broken picture frames and plastic shards of trophies everywhere. Now I can see why Mama was mad about her staying in here.
"Dammit, Paryis," I whisper.
I get a closer look at what's on the floor. I sigh, realizing most of it is Ace's memorabilia from the years before he was a drug lord. His football trophies, pictures of him with Daddy and pictures of him and Caesar are all destroyed. I pick up the picture of him and Caesar. It's the least destroyed with only a slight tear from the thumbtack that was holding it up.
I can't help smiling at the picture. Caesar looks the same, but different. Younger. More innocent. They look too happy for anything bad to have happened yet so I'm guessing they were about fourteen, which is before Daddy or Caesar's grandma died. He's mugging in the picture, throwing up his set while Ace does the same. Two fake chains hang around their necks. One of which I remember gave Ace a bad rash but he wouldn't stop wearing.
Ace's hair is twisted into dreads that almost brush his forehead. I can't believe I forgot about his dreadhead phase. When we first got back from LA, Ace decided he wanted to be a gangsta. He asked Mama if he could lock his hair up to fit whatever image he had created in his head, but she said no. Then, he asked Daddy who said 'yeah' and his decision always trumped Mama's.
I grab a tack from the floor and hang the picture back up. Like I told Paryis, the room should feel like home when Ace comes back. So instead of throwing everything away, I make neat piles of what to keep and what to throw away. Unfortunately, all of his trophies are tossed. But, I'm able to salvage most of his pictures with some tape or with a few minor scratches on them.
As I'm sorting through the piles, I come across a picture frame. The wooden popsicle sticks are smashed from being trampled on but some of the glued on hearts remain. The picture is of Ace and a little girl. They stand at the same height, so they must have been the same age when the picture was taken. Ace is much smaller than I remember him being so it's hard for me to pinpoint exactly how old he was. He has on a red Polo shirt with matching plaid shorts. The girl has on a blue tank-top with tan shorts. They're hugging each other something fierce but I can't place the girl.
I pass it off as an elementary crush but I put it with the keep pile anyway. If it mattered so much to Ace that he kept it all these years, I'm not gonna be the one to throw it away.
When I'm finished, I go downstairs to retrieve a black garbage bag. I'm in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets when the doorbell rings.
I freeze. All the movement from upstairs stops and the floor stops creaking with it. Soft knocks follow the second doorbell ring.
After a minute, someone shuts the music off. I peek to see who's answering the door. When I see that it's Simon, I rush to the door before he can open it. He has a full mean mug on his face like he's ready to chase off whoever's on the other side of the door.
"Why you gotta look like that?" I say to him.
"Look like what? I always look like this," He says.
"Exactly. You tryna scare them off?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
He smacks his teeth, moving away from the door.
"If the music wasn't so loud maybe you would have heard them knocking on the door so you could be the one to answer it. That way you can be fake, smiling in these people faces like they ain't here to break up our family," Simon says, sitting on the couch.
"Is that what they're doing? They're here to take me away?" A soft voice erupts behind me.
I turn around to see Paryis standing in front of Mama on the steps. Her hands are pressed into Paryis' shoulders but her eyes are trained on the door. I let out a sigh of relief that I'm not the one who has to answer her question. I couldn't bear the weight of promising her things we have no way of knowing will be true.
The person knocks again. All three of us jump. Simon rolls his eyes.
Mama turns Paryis to face her. She crouches so she's eye-level with her.
"No baby. Nobody's here to take you away. They just wanna make sure you're okay," Mama says.
"And what if they don't think I'm okay?" Paryis asks.
I can hear the tears settling into her voice along with the tremors.
"Well then they'll do what they think is best for you until we can show them otherwise. We're your family," Mama points to me and Simon, "We know what's best for you. And we love you. So you're not going anywhere as long as we're here."
"But you're okay right? You like being here with us?" Mama asks.
Paryis nods her head.
Mama wipes her tears away.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," Mama says.
She cups Paryis cheek and kisses the side of her head.
The person knocks again, this time a little less patiently.
"Mrs. Ortiz? I'm Leslie Sullivan from Child Protective Services. You're required by law to open the door or else I'll have to come back with the police."
"I'm scared, Mommy!" Paryis says.
She buries her face in Mama's shoulder. Mama chokes back tears as her eyes find mine. I give her a sad smile.
I told her Paryis called her mama.
"We answering the door or what? Cause ain't no more cops coming through here," Simon says.
I look at Mama for confirmation. She pulls Paryis away from her and wipes her face clean. She whispers a few more calming words to her before Paryis settles down. Her eyes are still red which isn't good for the visit but fuck it. I pull the door open anyway.
The woman standing on the porch is short with short blonde hair. She wears a pantsuit with a hideous white shirt underneath that ties into a bow at the collar. She's wearing flat shoes so her pants drag a little. She holds a stack of papers tucked inside of a blue folder in her hand. She sticks the other one out for me to shake.
"Hi. I'm Leslie Sullivan with Child Protective Services. And you are?"
I shake her hand.
"Candyce Ortiz. Paryis' big sister," I say.
"Nice to meet you," She says.
I can't say the same so I give her a fake smile and open the door wider to invite her in. She steps inside and I close the door behind us. Mama, Paryis and Simon are all on the couch.
"It smells like Thanksgiving in here!" Leslie laughs.
Mama smiles, "It's a pumpkin spice scented candle. We wanted to get into the holiday spirit."
Leslie smiles.
"Well that'll do it," She says.
I stand awkwardly by the door while Mama smiles at the ground. Leslie clears her throat.
"Do you mind if I take a walk through the home before I ask you guys some questions?" She asks.
"Yes, of course," Mama stands up.
Paryis grabs her hand. Leslie must notice because she shakes her head.
"It's okay. One of the other children can show me around. I know how tough these visits are for the children so maybe it's best if you stay close by," Leslie says.
"Thank you," Mama sighs.
"I can show you around," I say.
Leslie smiles at me. Mama mouths a 'Thank you' my way.
I lead her upstairs first. We start at the far right of the hall, where Simon's room is. I open the door, silently praying she doesn't go through his closet.
Leslie steps inside first.
"And whose room is this?" She asks, checking the file in her hand.
"Simon, my twin brother."
She walks around the room, looking at the dark anime posters on the wall.
"Does Paryis spend a lot of time with your brother?" She asks.
"No. Simon's real reserved. He stays to himself for the most part," I say.
She walks over to his closet. I hold my breath when she pulls it open. Thank god, all of the shit he's stolen is gone. But that relief only lasts until we're out of the room.
Did he sell the rest of that shit?
I push my worries aside while Leslie pushes open the door to the bathroom. She flicks the light on. I must say I did an amazing job in here. I turn to Caesar with the cleaning when my sister's livelihood is at stake. I smirk to myself while she pulls back the shower curtain to reveal the tub.
She stands in the middle of the bathroom jotting down notes in her folder. I lean against the doorframe while she opens the medicine cabinet. She examines a bottle of Aleve before putting it back. She opens the drawers beneath the sink. She sorts through my tampons and pads while I roll my eyes. Then she pulls out my pink ring of birth control pills.
"Uh, that's-- those are mine," I say.
"Oh sorry," Leslie says.
I smile awkwardly as she closes the drawer.
"Do you share this bathroom with Paryis?" She asks.
"Yeah."
"So the birth control pills are in her reach?"
My tongue twists into a million tiny knots when I try to speak. So it's no suprise when this comes out of my mouth:
"I mean, I hide it all the way under the tampons and stuff. She don't have to go in that drawer yet so she'll never find it. But I can put it in my room now if you think it's safer. It's just easier to remember to take it every morning during my morning rou--"
Leslie holds up a hand.
"There's no need," She says.
She gives me a smile as she walks out of the bathroom.
I mentally slap myself while she takes the lead down the hallway.
The next room she goes in is Paryis'. The walls are bubblegum pink, her favorite shade, just like mine. Her drawers and bed are white but the sheer canopy net draped over her bed is pink. Her toys are tucked away in the brown toy chest near the closet. Mama made sure to leave some baby dolls out to make it seem like Paryis was playing in here recently.
Her dollhouse is in the corner of the room. Her tea-cup set is sitting on a kiddie table with her stuffed animals sitting in the chairs around it. The entire room is every little girl's dream. Yet, Paryis can't seem to spend one night in it alone.
"This is very nice. Does Paryis enjoy spending time in here?" Leslie asks.
"Yeah. Sometimes it's hard to pull her away from it to get her to eat," I say.
Leslie smiles.
The next room is mine. It's in and out, and that's probably cause I'm here with her. Then she starts down the hall to Ace's room.
"Uh, before you go in there you should know that the federal agents destroyed the room when they were looking for my brother. It's a mess but we've all been helping to clean it up," I say.
Leslie stops a few feet from Ace's closed door. She opens her file and scans through it.
"Yes, I remember reading that in Paryis' file. Was she here the night everything happened?" She asks.
I nod my head.
"So she saw..." She starts.
She can't bring herself to finish the sentence but I know she's asking if Paryis saw Jonah get killed. I nod my head.
"They came in here in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. They woke everybody up and I guess everyone, including the SWAT team was on high alert," I say.
Leslie's face falls apologetic.
"I'm sorry for your lost," She says.
I nod my head. I still haven't gotten around to appreciating anyone's sympathy.
Instead of going into Ace's room, Leslie turns on her heels.
"I think we're done up here," She says.
I'm grateful cause I don't know what evidence Paryis left in Ace's room that would show she's been sleeping in there. I didn't have a chance to go through the whole room so there's no telling what stuffed animal she left in there.
Downstairs, I show her Mama's room and Jonah's playroom beside it. We don't spend much time in there since the legos are in the same design he left them in the day he played with me. The checkers board Simon and Jonah left is in mid-game, never to be finished again. It's so fucking depressing, even Leslie doesn't go in. She just stands by the door and peeks inside.
After the tour is over, we re-join Mama, Simon and Paryis in the living room. There's a couch against the windows that Mama and the rest sit in and two high-back armchairs Leslie and I sit in.
"I haven't had a chance to introduce myself to the rest of you but my name is Leslie Sullivan, Paryis' case worker," Leslie says.
I don't like how she says 'case worker' like Paryis' case is gonna stick or something.
Leslie's eyes fall on Paryis sitting between Simon and Mama, hiding behind Mama's shirtsleeve.
"Hi there, Paryis. I'm Leslie but you can call me Sully if you'd like," She says.
"Like Monster's Inc?" Paryis asks.
Leslie smiles. I guess that's the reaction she got from all the kids.
"Yes. Exactly like Sully. You know how in the movie Sully and Mike Wazowski tries really really hard to get Boo back to her home?" Leslie asks.
Paryis nods slowly.
Leslie leans forward as if she's trying to get as close to Paryis as she can with a coffee table between them.
"You remember how much Boo loved Sully and how much she wanted to stay in the monster world with him?"
Paryis nods again.
"But that world wasn't safe for Boo was it? So Sully had to return her to her real room before it was too late, right? That's what I'm trying to do for you," Leslie says.
"But this isn't a monster world," Paryis says.
Leslie smiles, "I believe you. I just need to make sure. Is that okay with you, Boo?"
Paryis smiles.
Leslie leans back in her seat, opening her file back up. Now it's time for business.
"So, Mrs. Ortiz," Leslie starts.
"Rochelle is fine," Mama says.
"Okay, Rochelle. I see here that you haven't had a job since you were sixteen years old, at which time you used to work at a gas station is that right?" Leslie asks.
Mama visibly tenses.
"Yes. I met my husband at the time and he and his family were very generous. When we had my son, Ace, two years later, his parents made sure I didn't have to work and could stay inside with the baby. It's been that way ever since," Mama says.
"So your husband's parents still help out then?" Leslie asks.
"No, uh, they died right before the twins were born," Mama says.
I notice Mama start to wring her hands together.
"So how is it that you make money?" Leslie asks.
"Our father owned a few businesses so he set aside money for us in his will. My brother Ace, now owns similar businesses and they're still running while he's gone. I also own a nightclub," I interject.
Mama shoots a look my way. Leslie looks skeptical but she turns her attention to me anyway.
"You own a nightclub?" She asks.
"Yes."
There she goes flipping through her papers again.
"It says here that you were formely employed as a stripper. There's no mention of your new business venture," Leslie says.
Once again, time freezes. I can feel Mama's eyes on me but I refuse to look in her direction.
"That's old. I stopped doing that months ago. I'm telling you I own a club now," I say.
"Okay. I'll be sure to include that in my notes," She says.
I notice that her pen doesn't move.
"And Simon, is it?" She asks.
Simon's head lazily turns towards Leslie.
"What?" He asks.
"Simon," Mama says.
"It's okay, Rochelle. I was expecting this kind of greeting. Not everyone is okay with the idea of someone coming into their home uninvited and unwanted," Leslie says.
Simon leans his head against the couch and stares at her.
"So, Simon, I've read about an incident involving you and the police. It says you were charged with destruction of property and disturbing the peace as well as some other things," She says.
Simon picks his head up.
"That was never proven. There's no record of that happening," I say.
"There's FBI testimony to it. An Agent Gutierrez?"
Simon smacks his teeth.
"How she gon testify to something she ain't even see?" He says.
I try to tap into our twin telepathy to tell him to shut the fuck up before he says something he shouldn't. When he starts to say something else, I jump in before he can incriminate himself.
"Actually, that's the woman I was telling you about upstairs, Leslie. She's the lead detective on my brother's case so I don't think she has a reason to be all that honest," I say.
"Right, right. I'm sorry to bring it up but we have to check all our boxes," Leslie says.
"Go on with your questioning, please," Mama says.
Leslie clears her throat. She shuffles more papers around in her lap. Then she's right back to leaning forward with her hands clasped together.
"Would it be okay if we talked about Paryis' father?"
Everyone in the room stiffens.
"What about him?" Mama asks.
"Well, it's just that his death can't be ignored when evaluating if this is the right home for Paryis. Mental illness aside, he was her only link to the family."
"He's not the only link," I say.
"Yes, I know that she has brothers and sisters here but you guys aren't her caretaker. Rochelle is. Not to mention she's just lost a child."
"What does that mean?" Mama snaps.
"It means you're her stepmother so it might be easier for you to dismiss the needs of Paryis while you're grieving the loss of your own child," Leslie says.
Mama sits up.
This woman don't know what the hell she done got herself into, I think.
"Ms. Sullivan," Mama says, "I know you're only here to do your job so I won't hold what you just said against you. How could I? You're finding out about this family through people and systems that don't wanna see us together. So let me tell you what kind of stepmother I am. I'm the kind of stepmother who gives up sleep to make sure Paryis can sleep through the night. I'm the one up at six-thirty, getting her ready for school and outside at 3 o'clock everyday, to pick her up. I've been her mother since before Santana died and I'm gonna continue being her mother now that he's gone. I love her like she's my own and marriage has nothing to do with it. She's my daughter just as much as the one sitting next to you," Mama says.
I stare between the ferocity in Mama's eyes and the embarrassment behind Leslie's. That's what she get. Who she think she is coming in here and refering to Mama as Paryis' stepmama? As if Santana was the only reason Paryis was allowed to stay with us. Mama made that decision, not him. A few pages in a file won't tell you all that though.
"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Ortiz. I didn't mean to offend you in any way," Leslie says.
"Yes you did," Simon says.
"I can assure you I didn't."
After a long pause, Leslie clears her throat.
"Can we get back to Santana, please?" Leslie begs.
Mama nods her head.
"It's my understanding that he had an untreated bipolar disorder, is that correct?"
Mama nods her head again.
"As you know, mental illnesses can sometimes run in families. Have you or Paryis' doctors noticed any signs that would explain her reluctance to sleep or decline in normal social behaviors?"
"No. None of my children have what Santana had," Mama says.
I look at Simon.
Leslie frowns.
"Really? I don't claim to be a psychiatrist so please don't take this the wrong way but Santana had five children. It's hard to imagine that none of them picked up his behaviors."
"I just said no," Mama says.
"It's just... nevermind. Why don't I talk to Paryis alone?" Leslie asks.
Mama prevents Paryis from moving.
"What were you saying?" Mama asks.
"Nothing I just--"
"Cause Paryis has seen three doctors so far and none of them have said anything about her father's illness. She's in therapy right now to work out her insomnia but they think it's a form of PTSD from what she's seen. It's nothing that can't be fixed," Mama says.
"It's just how can you be sure that she doesn't have it if the rest of your children haven't been tested? There's a possibility that it skips generations but wouldn't it be best to know?" Leslie asks.
She's not at all subtle about glancing over at Simon. He catches it too.
"What you tryna say?" He asks.
Aw, fuck. Here we go. If one more of us gets offended and takes it out on this lady, we might not see Paryis ever again.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Leslie says.
"So why you looked at me after you asked the question?"
"Si," I warn.
"Nah. I wanna hear what she gotta say," Simon says.
"Again, I'm not a licensed professional--" Leslie tries.
"Then why you asking questions you don't have the answers to? You looking at me like you know me or something. Ain't you here for Paryis? Keep the questions about her. If the doctors say ain't nothing wrong with her then let the shit go. Fuck is you still asking about it for?"
"Simon!" I yell.
The doorbell chimes before the conversation can spiral further out of control.
"Were you expecting someone?" Leslie asks.
I can tell she's desperate for a distraction. She sounds like she needs water too. Her voice is constrained and her white face has gone red.
If we lose Paryis cause of Simon's anger, I swear I'ma diagnose the nigga myself.
I get up to answer the door without answering Leslie. I have to take a step back when I see who's waiting for me.
I step outside, closing the door behind me.
"What you doing here, Max?" I say.
"I need to talk to you and you ain't been answering yo phone," She says.
"So you came to my house?" I ask.
I'm still shocked that it's her at the door. I feel like I've stepped out of one time vortex and into another. I'm supposed to be getting the conversation back on track, not letting it derail further by standing here talking to Max.
"Yes. I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" Max says.
"I'm in the middle of something," I say.
Max smacks her teeth.
"You still mad about that Trinity shit?"
I stare at her, trying to read between the lines. This is what I'm talking about. My mind isn't even on no club shit right now.
"About me talking shit while she was dead?" Max asks.
"I mean, it left a bad taste in my mouth but I'm not mad."
Max chuckles, "So that's why you been acting funny."
I sigh.
"I just said I'm not mad. And I'm not acting funny. I been busy," I say.
"Too busy to text a bitch back?" She says.
What am I, her boyfriend?
"Max, my niggas don't even grill me this hard. What you want?" I say.
"I wanted to know where we was at with the club. Lucky mad as hell I left Pink Fantasy the way I did so he ain't give me my old job back. Rent's due in two days so something gotta give," Max says, crossing her arms.
"I paid you already," I say.
"Okay..." Max says.
"So why you on my porch like I owe you something?" I say.
"Bitch ain't nobody here for a handout! I came to see how long you it was gon be before the club opens again. I can't keep hitting licks with Phora," Max says.
This is too much. Her attitude already threw me off and now she's talking about hitting licks with Phor? I feel like I'm reading a book with a page missing.
"What licks you been hitting with Phor?" I ask.
"Some minor shit here and there," Max dismisses.
"Minor shit like what?" I ask.
"You really wanna know, Candyce?" She asks.
I cross my arms, waiting for her to talk.
Max sighs, "Me and Phor been going to the club every night. We see a cute nigga with money and we dangle a threesome over his head like a carrot. When he get fucked up enough, we take him back to his place and jack him for whatever he got."
I'm tempted to go inside and just close the door. The club been closed for a few weeks and bitches is already resorting to armed robbery?!
"You been robbing niggas, Max? What the fuck!" I whisper.
"Bitch chill out, nobody holding no nigga at gun point. Phor distract em while I put something in they cup. If they too fucked up to tell us where they live then we bring em to a hotel. We ain't hurting nobody," Max says.
Here I thought she was looking at one charge but she's looking at two. They out here roofying niggas like that shit is cool. I don't know what to say.
"Y'all trippin," I say.
"What you mean? Money talks, bitch. Didn't you turn to a drug dealer when times got hard? How is this any different?" Max asks.
The question so stupid, I choose to believe she didn't ask it.
"What the fuck y'all gon' do if them same niggas run across y'all again? The city small; it's bound to happen," I say.
Max shrugs.
"If it happens, we'll be ready. We came up off a gun last time."
My eyebrows shoot up. Max must be spending too much time with Phora. To say she's so streetsmart, she's acting greener than my damn yard.
"You stealing from niggas that own guns? Max, do you hear yourself right now? What if that gun got bodies on it?"
"Aight, aight! Look, Candyce you doing too much! You acting like I'm tryna make a career outta this!" Max says.
"You might have to," I say.
"The fuck that's supposed to mean?" She asks.
"I mean, I can't have you in my club with who knows how many niggas after you. I got enough enemies of my own, I'm not tryna add to the list," I say.
"Wait. So you firing me?" Max asks.
"Yeah, bitch. What y'all doing is a lil much even for me. I can't have that shit in my club," I say.
"Well damn, bitch. I thought I was talking to a friend. I ain't know I was talking to my boss," Max says.
I think about what Caesar said about not mixing friends with business. I ain't tryna throw Max to the wolves with her rent due but what else can I do? I can't risk another shootout at my club when it opens. The city will close my shit down so quick. Not to mention that bullets don't have names on them. They might be aiming for Max and hit me or somebody else. To avoid all of the unnecessary drama, I'd rather cut my losses right now.
Max shakes her head as she walks down the steps.
"You know something, Candyce? You one fake ass bitch. I don't know how I stayed friends with you this long," Max says.
"Fake?" I say.
"Yeah, bitch, fake. I came to you as a friend to talk, even after you turned your back on me the second they closed down your club. I ain't come here with my fucking hand out. I came here as a friend but you won't even let me in yo house," Max stops and turns around.
"I should've known better then to be fucking with you. Soon as you stop needing me, our friendship stops too. But you expect a bitch to come running when you need help. You know what, Candyce? Fuck you and yo whack ass club! You a whole fucking drug dealer looking down on the next bitch's hustle. You so green to this shit street shit, you don't even see how foul that it is."
She's loud as fuck at this point, so I'm assuming Leslie can everything she's saying. Now, I'm fuming. Cause all bullshit aside, we was doing semi-good in our CPS interview and Max wanna come here and fuck it up cause she's feeling hit?
Right bitch, wrong fucking day.
"Girl, fuck you too!" I yell back, "You forgetting you was just a stripper when I asked you to be my partner! Not the other way around! I put you on! Now you wanna throw shit in my face cause you can't pay yo bills without me?! You so busy stealing from niggas, maybe you needa be on Chef Highway somewhere, popping that pussy for some bands since that's all yo dumbass know how to do anyway!" I say.
"Bitch you was a stripper too! Or did this lil' drug money get to yo head? I put you on at Pink Fantasy. You wouldn't have touched no money if it wasn't for me," Max says.
"And yet, I still passed you in this game called life. Step yo cookie up. Finish robbing niggas with Phor so y'all can be tweedle dee and tweedledum together. Now get the fuck off my porch!" I say.
"You gon' have to see me one day, Candyce!" Max says, going back to her car.
"Yeah, in jail bitch!" I say.
Max gets back in her car, slamming the door behind her. She makes sure she points her middle finger at me as she drives off.
What the fuck just happened? I think as I go back inside.
Four years of friendship down the drain, over nothing. What was I supposed to do? Invite her back to my club so I can get shot? Get the fuck outta here. I ain't dying for no bitch that wanna air everything out on mad day. That's a typical fake hoe for ya. In my face and in my circle all that time but had animosity brewing just under the surface. Then had the nerve to call me fake? Tuah.
I don't have time to think through the shit with Max cause when I go inside, only Mama and Simon is on the couch. Simon's booted up by the mouth with his arms folded across his chest. I guess comparing him to Santana really struck a nerve with him, which is exactly why I played it smart keeping my diagnosis to myself.
"Where's Paryis?" I ask.
"Upstairs talking to Leslie in her room. You outta be lucky too cause she woulda heard everything you and that girl was arguing about," Mama says.
She looks me up and down with digust. I know she has a lot to say about Max calling me a drug dealer. Not to mention, she just found out I was a stripper twenty minutes ago.
I don't have time to explain myself, not that I'd even know what to say 'cause Paryis comes bounding down the steps with Leslie behind her.
Paryis runs to me and hugs my leg. There's a big smile on her face as she stares up at me.
"What you so happy about?" I ask her.
"I lied really good. I think she believed me so now I can stay," Paryis whispers.
I stare down at her, hating what her answer does to me on the inside. I glare back at Mama. Who the fuck teaches their daughter to lie? Then again, who am I to talk? Mama just busted me in two lies.
Maybe we not the best role models for Paryis.
Leslie finally descends the rest of the stairs. She approaches us.
"You'll recieve a notice of the DCFS final decision regarding Paryis in a few days," She says.
"Does that mean she can stay?" I ask.
"It means she's not being taken out of here today. I have to verify some of the new information you all have given me and then sit down with my bosses to figure out next steps for Paryis. It's a process but you should know soon," She says.
I stand there dumb-struck. How are we supposed to continue with our regularly scheduled program while any day they can come by and take Paryis away? Is the suspense a necessary part of the process?
Leslie bends down to Paryis' eye-level. She extends her hand.
"It was nice to meet you, Paryis," She says.
Paryis lifts her head with the utmost confidence.
"It will be nice to meet you too if you don't take me away from my family," Paryis says.
Leslie grimaces. Then she shakes me and Mama's hand since Simon ignores her altogether.
We all go to the door to watch her leave. Me and Simon stand in the doorway while Mama and Paryis peers from inside the house.
Once her car takes off down the street, Mama slaps the back of me and Simon's head.
"A drug dealing, stripper and an uncontrollable hothead. If she gets taken away, it's y'all fault," Mama says.
Then she slams the door, leaving us out there.
The argument that's been sitting on the tip of my tongue all day fizzles out. How can I get mad at the truth?
"Fuck that hoe anyway," Simon says.
"Maybe she's got a point," I say.
Simon scoffs.
"Yeah right. Bitch swear to God I got a bipolar disorder so you know you can't trust her opinion on Paryis."
I open the door without answering him. Leslie was spot-on about Simon. Her quick grasp of his situation goes to show there might be some truth in her decision if she decides Paryis would be better off without us.