Naughtier than Nice Read Online Free Page B

kind of money Tony makes.”
    â€œAnd neither did my father, but he worked, sacrificed, and we had a great childhood.”
    He took a breath. “We need to do the numbers, that’s all I am saying. Be logical about this.”
    â€œDo the numbers. Sure. You’re right. I’m being emotional, not logical.”
    â€œWe’ll talk about it after we’ve both calmed down. Not after Angela has changed the energy.”
    â€œSure. Let’s bow down, then allow her to control when we have our conversations.”
    â€œI’m not dodging the issue; it’s just that I want to try to write a bit before I go to bed.”
    â€œWhatever, Blue. I’m starting to get sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
    â€œWhenever Angela calls, we end up having an issue. This is getting old, Tommie.”
    â€œTell her that calling Mo every blue moon and letting her hear her have a good time in a foreign country is not the same as quality time. Remind her that she is Mo’s birth mother and not her second cousin twice removed, so she has responsibilities both emotional and financial and Mo should be a priority, not a second thought and not an afterthought, but her first thought and her first course of action. Each time she eats she should want to be sure her daughter has food, and it should be food on the same level, not a Happy Meal from McDonald’s. And ask her about the long-overdue child support. Ask the refrigerator; this house needs the money. You are Mo’s primary caregiver, not her, so know her role.”
    Now Blue looked like he had a migraine plus a side of Ebola with a touch of hemorrhoids.
    He said, “You’re right. She’s her biological mother, but you have taken on the role of mother.”
    â€œParity. All I want is
parity
in this relationship. I want to be an equal partner and be respected.”
    â€œI do respect you, Tommie. There is parity.”
    â€œI want consistent parity. You’re here with me, then you run off and make unilateral decisions, as if we’re not a team. It’s as if you have a kid and want to cut away my chance to become a mother.”
    I stepped out through the front door, put a smile on my face, said good-evenings and waved at our neighbors. Vince waved. So did Dana. Their two preteen children called out to me. His oldest daughter, Kwanzaa, from Vince’s previous marriage, was there too. I wanted to ask Dana how they made it work. I left home, fled the Leimert Park area, the echo of African drums in the air as theNubians congregated around the park’s fountain to celebrate life, and headed in the direction of Frankie’s crib. I had on Old Navy sweats, a wrinkled X-Men T-shirt, trainers. I sent a text message, then deleted it from my history and turned my cellular off. I wasn’t planning to go, but the migraine. If I didn’t go, I’d lose it tonight.
    I looked at my hand; it trembled.

Tommie
    Feeling conflicted, I drove through the top three richest African American communities: Ladera Heights, Baldwin Hills, and View Park–Windsor Hills. I inhaled the air where family incomes were six or seven figures, where all were seemingly affluent and had created their own black Beverly Hills. The air smelled and tasted the same as the air in my working-class zip code, maybe worse, because smog rose and polluted their gluten-free world the same as it dropped down and polluted mine. Many properties were carved into hillsides and had stunning views of the Pacific Ocean, even though the beach was seven miles away, and ten minutes from Hollywood on a good traffic day.
    If Blue and I had that kind of money, if we could live on top of the hill, maybe our situation would be different. If we had money, maybe he wouldn’t be afraid. Maybe I wouldn’t be angry. Maybe Mo’s mother would become irrelevant. We’d have ninety-nine problems, but needing her financial support wouldn’t be one.
    She