Change in the Wind: The One-Shots

by veiland

A collection of one shot stories inspired by YOU! Keep 'em coming! If you like what you read, contribute to my one-shot list. You'll find the link on my profile. The characters can be any out of Change in the Wind and I don't have a lot of rules. Use your imagination!

21. A Mother's Lament

A/N: I was supposed to publish this a while ago, but I added one last mother. Angst. Just warning you now.

Also, R/S/T/L next, then, finally, Lester!

---

A Mother's Lament

Alicia Odom Guerrero

I still don't believe I'm about to do this and, if I succeed, I'll lose all respect for myself, my ex-daughter-in-law, and my son.

I've lost respect for my husband for even making this request.

The bus over to the women's center at Rikers still doesn't have any decent heat, and that's hell on my fifty year old bones. I shoulda put on two pairs of socks but the dryer ate 'em again; my next apartment is gonna have a washer and dryer. I'm tired of visiting the Laundromat. Mack gave me a coat last Christmas and that was the best gift he's ever given me. I'm good and warm but I need to find my gloves. I'm always losing gloves.

We get off the bus and get processed in. It's packed today. Last Saturday before Christmas; everyone's trying to visit. I'm not really here to visit, well, not like I normally do. I'm usually here to buck Yala up, keep her spirit up, keep her focused on proving she's innocent and getting out, but not today.

My business today is to break Yala. My business is to convince her to give her children away.

—oOo—

Mr. Santos, Mack's boss, was the first to drop by. By the time he was done outlining what the streets were sayin' and what the legal situation was, I was scared outta my mind. Then Dero called and asked me to come see him at Sing Sing. He'd just finished a stint in seg 'cuz he tried to kill those rumors there. He'd heard through the prison network and got scared for our son. He admires that Mack's stayed out and the idea that Mack might be running a con?

Our son had just left; I saw him, just a quick glance, pulling out of the parking lot as I got there. I signed in and sat at the table while they pulled Dero back for visitation. He shuffled in and coughed before sitting, his cold gray eyes sweeping me as he did. There was something in his gaze, something as cold as the wind off the Hudson, that sent fear up my spine and he didn't get any warmer as we talked.

I told him Mack swore he was clean and my man told me to do what I had to do to make shit happen for Mack. Mack's gotta get outta NYC before I gotta bury him. The only way that's gonna happen is if I support my son stripping his wife of her rights to her boys. Mack'll die before he leaves his boys behind.

I've been lucky; I'm the only one of my friends that hasn't had to bury somebody yet. I don't wanna bury my son.

We all fucked up, but McKinley has a chance. My son has a chance but … it'll only happen if I break Yala's hold on him and that hold is the boys. I can't believe I'm doin' this … but blood before water. Mack, Med, and Midi are blood, my blood, my man's blood. I look at Med and Midi and see Dero. I see how it could be. I see the smarts in those boys that my man and my son have and my grandsons still gotta chance to be big if I can make this happen.

I'm prepared to be ruthless where my boys are concerned.

Dero approved of that mindset. He had never seemed scarier than he did in that moment, when he demanded I say whatever I had to say and do whatever I had to do to break Yala. Make her give those boys up so Mack could move to Florida. Our grandsons have a chance and he don't want our son to die for Yala's bullshit. Yala means nothing to him.

He wanna meet his grandsons someday and not behind bars like Mack.

I don't know if I really agree with this. Mack and Dero? They have that mindset because they were sitting pretty in jail. Three hots and a cot. Me and Yala? I hustled to keep clothes on my son's back and food in his belly when Dero was locked up. Yala worked three jobs to give those boys everything they needed when Mack served time. Mack and Dero don't understand what that's like, to work hard for your kids and do your best for them while trying to support someone who needs you but can't do shit for you. Someone who needs money for commissary and needs socks and visits and news from the block, but can't hold you when the pressure is overwhelming. They don't respect the strength it takes to hold down someone in prison while still keeping yourself and your babies alive. They don't understand what it's like to have all the pressure on you and crack under it.

My son thinks I'm wrong for looking for someone to hold me when life gets tough? My son is a handsome man. Women will line up to hold him if he needs 'comfort'. No woman I know has it like that. What man is lining up to hold a fifty-three year old woman with rough hands and feet who works the night shift and spends her days sleeping? I can barely meet men, let alone sleep with any!

And my husband doesn't respect Yala? He should worship that girl. She's the mother of his only grandsons. She held his son down for years. She hasn't received any of the respect she's earned from our family, only suspicion, disrespect, and contempt. So she has a temper. So what? Everyone does and she didn't have that anger before Mack did time. She got that anger after tryna survive for thirty months on her own. Before Mack did time, our family liked Yala. She had a good head on her shoulders and she adored Mack. No, she worshiped my son and treated him like a King.

So, there's a part of me that doesn't respect what my son is doing. He's making shit easy for him. He's not giving Yala what she gave him, not by a long shot. Is he gonna fill her commissary? Is he gonna make sure she gets visits from the boys? Is he gonna do what she did for him when he was locked up? Because it woulda been much easier for her to divorce him and move her boys to Atlanta when she got that good job offer, but she stayed true to him. She turned down a good job to do what was right for my son and her sons and McKinley divorced her.

What are the vows? I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part? I remember mine. Dero had better not start thinking he's gonna leave me but it seems prison erased those words from McKinley's memory.

My son? He got a job offer and he's moving. Taking the boys if I succeed, leaving Yala behind. Just blatantly disrespecting her. I have to remind myself that he's leaving because the dope boys are after him too, but Mack's been in danger before and survived. Why the hell-fire hurry to leave now?

Mack should be on a plane down to Miami now and he's not coming back until the second. If I know Thomas, Mack'll come back ready to break Yala in pieces if I don't succeed. I love my nephew, but he's a little schemer and he's slick. Thomas had the ideas. Mack was the muscle. Even now, with their jobs at RangeMan, Thomas does the talking. Mack hustles.

Thomas'll start talking that yak yak in Mack's ears and Mack'll want to break Yala. If Dero's there, it'll be worse. Mack's stubborn, but he can be swayed by the right people and those two, and my mother, are the right people. They all have Mack convinced that leaving Yala, taking her boys from her, is the right thing to do.

My job today is to accomplish that before he comes back to do it. My job today is to come and take the last thing she has in this world away from her: the presence of her sons.

—oOo—

Yolanda stops at the entrance, scans the room, and spots me. She smiles, a beautiful smile that fills her entire face. My daughter-in-law is a beautiful woman, but orange is not her color. Mack looks good in orange. He looks good in most colors, except yellow. He looks terrible in yellow and I guess that shoulda been my first sign that my son was meant for greater things. He wasn't meant to rock yellow flags all his life.

Her hair is curled this time. Good; I put money in her commissary on my last visit and told her not to skimp on herself. She's a lady, not an animal, and she should remember that. I've always been a little jealous of Yolanda; she's the ideal Dominican beauty. When McKinley first brought her home, I thought she was Puerto Rican or Cuban. Smooth light skin, full lips and light green eyes, her faced is only marred by the small scar she has over by her ear. High school fight, she once said.

"Alicia!" She walks over quickly and hugs me tight, before I'm even standing. I smile and motion for her to take a seat.

"Yolanda. How are you holdin' up?"

She sighs. "Same ole, same ole. Tryna stay outta drama. Tryna make sure Mack's sorry ass lawyer is on it." She leans forward. "That fucker had the nerve to come here and tell me the feds wanted to give me 84 months, with time served, and he thought I should take it. Seven fucking years! Ahmed'll be in high school by the time I'm out." She flops back in her chair, a scowl on her pretty face.

It's a bad deal, but she's not thinking straight. She still thinks this shit is just gonna go away. She needs to get strategic.

"Look at me, Yolanda." She stares. "Negotiate a deal—"

"What!"

I raise a hand. "Negotiate a deal, baby. I know you don't wanna, but you have to."

"No hell I don't!" she yells, her chair falling over. She kicks it to the side and the officers rush in. I stand to stop them from arresting her ass.

"Please. I need to talk to her. She's pissed."

"We don't give a damn how pissed Miss Yolanda is," the officer says, looking at Yala in disapproval. "This isn't her chair. This belongs to the taxpayers of New York and she don't have the right to kick it over like it's her shit at home."

I clear my throat and stare at Yala, hoping to shut her up. It's clear she wants to make some smart-mouth retort. "Understood," I reply quietly, hoping they won't take Yala away. I got one shot at this and if Yala's temper ruins it, my son will know. She's lookin' at me like I betrayed her and I know that feeling. I know how she feels.

"Yolanda!" I put every bit of my authority in my voice and she freezes. "Sit." She walks back over, stiff legged, and picks up the chair. She sits and the guard backs away, still watching us

"Now listen to me. This ain't 'bout you. It ain't bout what you want or need. This is about your boys. This is about Med and Midi and don't interrupt me when I'm speaking." She flops back against the seat, an angry look on her face to stop the tears.

"Lemme be real with you. You fucked up." Her face tightens. "Yeah, you fucked up. You had drugs in your house—"

"I did not!"

"Who did?"

"Leon!"

"And how did Leon get in your house?"

"I didn't know that fucker had drugs!"

"You knew he was a dope boy."

"Yeah, but not that he was keeping his stash in my house!"

I shake my head. "Don't matter, Yala. How did he get those drugs across your threshold? You let him in. That makes you an accessory, baby." She shakes her head, unwilling to admit or accept that. "Fine. You ain't gotta accept that, but lemme ask you this: When Mack was slanging, how much attention did Leon pay you?"

She looks insulted. "Excuse me?"

"Leon pay you attention when you were married to Mack? How 'bout when Mack did time? He pay you attention then?"

Her lips purse. Imma take that to mean no.

"All of a sudden, Leon's sniffin' round you like a dog in heat. He talkin' sweet, tryna get to know you better, tryna be there for the boys, right?"

She cuts her eyes at me, still listening.

"Yeah, I know. I been there. I been where you are. When my man got locked up, his dope boys did the same thing to me. Didn't pay no attention, until they found out I had the majority of his stash in my house. Then I got plenty of attention. Why you think Mack never let 'em know where he lived? Mack kept an extra apartment—"

"To hide the bitches he was fucking!"

I groan. "No, he kept the extra apartment to make sure that when shit happened, you were protected! He learned that from watchin' me! He learned that from watchin' his Daddy. If, if, my son was fuckin' women there, which I doubt, it had to be about business. You know how that shit works. If they'da searched your apartment, you woulda come up clean. They'da found his shit at the rat hole he was keeping to store it cuz Mack put you first. He protected you from his racket."

"They searched my place when he got arrested! They tore shit apart, ripped it, threw it around like it didn't mean nothing! Called it illicit gains or some shit!"

"But they didn't find a damn thing, did they?" I'm staring at her, willing her to understand how much my son loves her. Loved her. He loved her. He woulda died for her and she fucked up with him.

"No," she mumbles.

"No. They didn't find shit in your house cuz that's where you and his sons laid your heads at night. Mack kept you away from his illegal shit and you stayed free while he did time. He made sure to protect you."

"Mack got that stuff out of my house because I demanded it," she replies. "Med was the fastest baby I ever saw and I didn't want him getting into Mack's stash. Now, where you goin with this Alicia?"

"Leon brought his shit to your house. Who's in his house?"

She swallows hard, a tear falling down her cheek.

"Some other bitch, right?" She nods. "His baby momma, right?" She bites her lips and I stand and go get her some tissue. "He learned from his boss. He protected his and just fucked you and fucked you up. Was Leon fuckin' other women?"

Yala purses her lips. "I was Mack's wife. He didn't need to fuck nobody else."

Lord! You obsessed with his dick! Then again, Dero's got that swerve. I get it. "Fine. I agree with you." She nods. "Anyway, Leon all up in your grill tryna play Daddy to boys that already got a Daddy. He watchin' you, and watchin' Mack, tryna figure out what's up. You know why?"

Her head shakes. "Nah. Why?"

"Tell me, how long has Mack worked for RangeMan?"

"Since he got out."

"And he rose through the ranks quick, didn't he?" She nods, drawing a pattern on the table with her fingers. "Driving a brand new Tahoe. Two bedroom apartment in fucking Prospect Park. Fresh and clean in his new suits and shit. Working with other hustlers. He looks like he got money now, right?"

"Yeah. I told him to throw some of that the boys' way. They needed new clothes and, from what Midi tells me, Daddy's been buying lots of new clothes. I guess he finally believes me when I tell him the boys outgrow everything before you can blink."

I chuckle. "So did Mac, honey. The boy grew like a weed. Anyway, hustlers pay attention and his Daddy started hearing rumors. That Mack had a new hustle. That he was selling to big money names in Harlem and Westchester. He's not on the block anymore. He's got that Wall Street connection."

She nods slowly. "Yeah, Leon was asking me 'bout that, 'specially after the boys said Mack got a promotion. They tryna break in, tryna get those coked-up white boys. He wanted to know who Mack's supplier was and how he was movin' his shit. They thought he might be pulling some Ricky Barnes shit. I kept telling Leon that Mack was out the game."

No. No no no no no … she knew? This bitch knew? She knew the boys on the block were looking at Mack! Ain't shit she can tell me that'll convince me otherwise because Yala's not a stupid girl. Girl was smart as hell. I should know; Mack supported her ass through college and Yala grew up in the hood. She knows what those questions were about.

The hustlers and dope boys were looking at her ex-husband, father of her babies, and she didn't say shit to him! They thought he held onto that money to get himself a supply and start slanging again once the heat died down and she said nothing!

Yala is quiet, thinking now, but I'm just amazed at how willfully she turned a blind eye on what was going on. Then again, to be in this game, even as a wife or girlfriend, it's what you do. I did, for a very long time. You justify everything in your own head and I know that's what she's doing now, but no matter what: she knew the hustlers were looking to make my son drink that milk. No matter how angry or hurt I've been at Dero, when someone was after him, the Queen held his back. I always let him know what the news on the block was so he was never caught off-guard.

Yala, I'm sorry baby, but Mack's right. You his ex-wife. You not his Queen anymore. I can't protect you when you didn't protect him. Everyone's telling me that you one of his problems and I'm finally seeing it. I'm sorry, but my son comes first. I refuse to bury him.

If you'd had his back I'd tell Dero to go fuck himself, but you left the father of your sons out there to get shot. I always assumed you were telling Mack what was going on. I never thought you'd let him walk around blind!

I sigh mentally, putting up my defenses, ready to break her. I'm so so sorry, Yala.

"It's bullshit. He got a promotion. His hustle is all legal, but you think the dope boys give a damn? You think they look at him and see a legal hustle? Or do they see that he mighta held some shit back to set himself up again when he got out? My son was smart. He only got caught cuz he was betrayed." Yala nods. "Mack learned from the mistakes of those around him and when he got out he was determined to never go in again, but you think the dope boys know that? You think they believe that? How long you think it'll be before they run up on him?" Her eyes widen. "What? You know the hustle. You know the streets. You know that you're never really outta the game—"

"Till someone's singing your name," she says softly. She stares at the table for a few minutes then looks up. "Does he know?"

He would if you'd told him! "I don't know."

I stand and go get us some sodas and chips from the machines. Yala's looking all around her. This visiting room is packed today with children and women trying to get those Christmas visits. This is about the only time you'll find men visiting too. They put strict limits on today, to make sure every woman got to see her family, so I don't have much time left.

I return to the table and pass her the chips and a soda. "I don't know if he knows what's up or not but I do know that if some shit happens to him, this is what'll happen to the boys." I lean forward. "First, they'll become wards of the state unless someone steps forward to claim them. Either way, with their Daddy dead and you in lockup, they're still wards of the state. So they'll be put in a foster home placement within the family cuz I promise you, someone in our family will take 'em. If not me, then one of the cousins."

She nods, relieved. I dare not tell her that Tom-Tom will demand to take 'em. My mom has copies of Mack's papers that he signed. I found 'em looking for her medical records. Mack made it clear in his papers that, should he die, Tom-Tom should get the boys if there are any issues about custody. Yala would have a fit; Tom-Tom would tell her to go fuck herself and she'd never get a visit from the boys.

"Now, I been told that the law says that the state has the right to sever your rights after two years if you were receiving any federal aid. That daycare Midi was in? You got him in with a voucher cuz you left Mack's name and income off the application. That means Midi is subject to the law." Her jaw drops. "So you lose your boys legally anyway."

"Alicia! Alicia, I can't lose my boys! I can't! Mack was in jail when I filled out that application! He didn't have an income—" She's breathing in little spurts, her eyes wide and filling with tears.

"It don't matter, baby. That's federal law." She bursts into sobs. "You gonna lose 'em, baby. You ain't Momma for the next however many years. You momma but you ain't gonna be with 'em. Point blank. So the question is, do you wanna lose 'em to the government? Or to Mack? And if you lose 'em to the government, Mack's gonna get 'em fast."

"Is that why he's tryna take my babies away?"

"Nah. He's tryna move 'em to give 'em a better life. He wanna get 'em outta these piss-poor schools and into sunshine and good schools. He's tryna make money, legal money, and give 'em the best life he can."

I sit back. This is gonna hurt.

"He wanted to do that with you by his side, baby, but you fucked that up running around on him. He's been hurt for years, not seeing other women, not running 'round, because you was his queen and you kicked him out. He turned his life 'round for you and you kicked him out since he wasn't a dope boy no more."

She reacts the way I mighta if someone'd said that shit to me twenty years ago. She stares, unwilling to accept my words, unwilling to believe that her mother-in-law, the woman who's had her back for years, is telling her that she screwed up and her mistake will cost her everything. She already lost her man. Now she's gonna lose her kids.

Her face finally crumples and the tears flow. I stand and walk over to the window, leaving her to sob by herself.

Some grief is too private to share, even in the middle of a crowd of people.

I grab a box of Kleenex from the guards, who are all somber and watching her. Yala's grief is affecting everyone in the room. Conversations quiet, children stare, people turn their heads away. I finally return to her and sit the Kleenex in front of her. She wipes her face and stares at the table.

"What should I do?" she whispers, sniffling.

"You believe their daddy will do what's right for 'em?" She nods. "Then let him. Other thing you need to know." She looks up. "The federal lockup in Danbury is gonna be a male prison. If you don't let Mack take the boys, you'll serve your time in Alabama and they'll be here." She looks horrified. "There's a pen in Florida, north Florida, but it's the closest to the boys you might get. If you plead, you can ask to serve your time there and ask Mack to bring the boys to see you once a month. I think he'll do that."

Her lip quivers. "Alicia, this isn't fair! I'm innocent! That shit wasn't mine!"

I close my eyes and wish her a better life than mine. I'm sorry, Yala. I'm so so sorry.

"Yala, it's too late for those words now."

—oOo—

Yolanda 'Yala' Odom Mendoza

(A/N: Flashbacks will be non-linear)

Alicia leaves and I'm shackled and taken back to gen pop. My shackles are removed and I'm left to myself.

One day, Imma own this! Imma run Brooklyn! No one'll be bigger than me!

Such a bragger, but I loved that about Mack. He was larger than life, bigger than Brooklyn. He believed in himself and what he could do and it was exciting being around him. Mack was everything you could want: sexy as hell, smart, and tough. He commanded respect. He slanged his and kept it low-key. He didn't flash. No jewelry, no flashy watches, no labels on his clothes. His fresh Tim kicks were as 'conspicuous' as he got.

Every girl at PS 500 wanted him but he chose me. Me! Ms. 'Too Tall-Too Thick-Too Smart'. "Who gave you the glasses? Mr. Magoo?" The girls were haters, envious when Mack scooped me up in his black Civic coupe with the spoilers to take me out.

"You must be fuckin him. No way he thinks you that hot. What you do, lecture him when y'all go out?"

That shit hurt. I was smart, yeah, because I wanted to escape Brooklyn. I wanted to escape the tiny apartment I lived in with my Momma. I wanted to escape my brother's dope slanging and guns. I wanted to escape seeing my Momma get high on my brother's supply and my brother moving out cuz of it. I wanted to escape the rats and roaches and the lights getting cut off. I wanted to escape everything and the books were my way out. I refused to be what I saw around me: a baby mama.

And yeah, I was fucking Mack. I got one look at his dick and decided that if I had to lose it, why not lose it to the boy known for being the best? I gave it up to Mack and it wasn't great the first time. It hurt too much.

I still don't know how he talked me into it the second time, but it was better. The third time felt pretty fucking good and the fourth time? The fourth time I understood what all the romance books were talking about. Mack was like a drug and I wanted more. I guess he agreed cuz after I had my first orgasm, he was mine and I was his.

He spoiled me but he made me stay in the books. "You too pretty to be stupid, Yala," he said. "I need a smart woman holding me down. Get that paper."

Pretty? It was the first time any boy called me pretty, but Mack was a man, not a boy. "You get your paper." I was kinda embarrassed that he dropped out, but not enough to stop seeing him.

He snorted. "I got that hustle. You get that paper. Me and you? We'll take this shit over."

"Fine, but I'm it. No other bitches." I was nervous about dating Mack. I was a geek. Why did he want me? He could get any girl he wanted and, before me, he had.

He looked at me and laughed. I wasn't laughing and he finally stopped laughing and grinned at me. "You got me."

"I mean it. I catch you with another bitch and that's the end of you."

He nodded. "Aigh."

He meant it too. Those other bitches ran up on him and he'd smile and ignore 'em. Women would post him at the club, right in front of me like I wasn't standing there, and he'd dance a two-step with 'em and pivot back to me. He made it clear to the world that I was the future wifey.

It gave me the confidence to stand up for myself. I fought the chick going after him hardest. Got suspended but I damn near bust her head in. She barely left a mark on me. One small scar. She transferred to get away from me cuz I told her if she ran up on my man again, she'd have trouble breathing. After that, they stopped talking shit about how I was too soft to fight for my man. Actually, I got lots of respect for that and the word went out: I was smart, a geek, a nerd, but don't mess with my man or it might be the last thing you do.

I hit the books hard and studied. I got an F in physics junior year and Mack looked at me like I lost my mind. He told me that he could get pussy anywhere, but a smart woman with good pussy was what he wanted. If I couldn't be that chick, he was moving on.

I brought that F up to a B fast.

I couldn't understand why he dropped out. Mack was so smart! He understood things when you gave him a real-world example. He wasn't stupid. He just had so much energy, drive, and ambition. School frustrated him, with all the 'stupid' rules and meaningless shit to learn so he quit (honestly. I haven't used 90% of what I learned since senior year. AP Calculus? AP Biology? AP Chemistry? When's the last time I needed to call on that knowledge? I don't cook meth! Why don't we stop talking about test scores and start talking about how meaningless some of that is?). He started slanging and repping his flag. He was moving major product in no time and climbed the ranks quick because he was known for being cool in a crisis.

OK, so the fact that he slanged bothered me, but what else could he do and make the money he did? Mack made serious money and he wasn't stingy with me. My brother was pissed that my boyfriend made more than he did. He started watching Mack, trying to copy his style, but Mack's an original. There can only be one.

I got my high school diploma and Mack bought luggage for me to go to college. I didn't go far, just to Mercy, but he acted like that was big shit. He was prouder than I was, especially when I won a scholarship. He got my acceptance letter framed when I got it and he dropped me off when it was time for me to go. My Momma was too high to do it and my brother got locked up three days before. Mack was my only option and he came through.

I was in Westchester, living well in the dorms, doing good in my studies, but men? Who could hold a candle to my man? I didn't need to date those clowns on campus because I had a real man looking out for me. I could call him and tell him I needed money, clothes, whatever, and Mack made it happen. Every time. I asked for $1000 once, just to see what would happen.

I got it two days later.

"You good, baby? You need more?"

I was stunned. "No. I don't need this, actually." I handed it back to him. He looked confused.

"Then why you ask for it?"

"To see if you'd come through."

He snorted. "Imma come through. Best believe, long as I got that work, you'll get what you need." He put it back in my hand. "Hold on to it. Just in case."

We tore through the condoms that night. I believed him. He'd always come through.

I got that paper. BA in Sociology. I started looking for a job and the condom broke. I was scared outta my mind but Mack was calm. Cool in a crisis.

"Aigh. So let's do this." He was staring at my stomach like he could see the baby. I could see the idea was making him hard.

"Do what?"

He looked up at me. "Get married."

"That's my proposal?"

He grinned and got on one knee. I got the right proposal and we got married.

I married my high school sweetheart, McKinley Ramon Odom and, nine months later, I had his first son, Ahmed Madero Odom.

—oOo—

"Mommy!"

Midi runs at me and I squeeze him extra tight. My baby. He's tryna hide it, tryna be strong for me, but he hates that I can't come home. He's just like his Daddy. Mack junior, with his heart on his sleeve. Med walks over more slowly, looking me up and down. Med is my child and there's no denying it. He's cautious, the little schemer. I can tell he's already accepted that Mommy's not coming home anytime soon and, mentally, he's trying to accept that but he's still hurt.

I scan the room for Mack but he's just made it to the bench. Don't know how I missed him. Every woman in this room is lookin' at him. Mack's still fine as fuck and dressed like money. It's like hanging a ribeye in front of a bunch of wolves.

He nods at me. He never speaks until the end of my visit.

Med and Midi tell me everything going on. Apparently, the 'Boss Lady' is coming to NYC soon and they're all gonna go to Manhattan. They're excited. They've never met her and Daddy likes her.

I'm sure Daddy does. I wonder what this bitch looks like.

She's takin' 'em to see the Rockettes (really? How old is this bitch? 50?) and the Christmas tree and ice skating. Daddy's boss Jorge is coming too, with his daughter Annie. Annie's cool but she's a girl. They're not cool on girls, except for some little Zoe child Med keeps mentioning. I wonder who this child is.

The 'Boss Lady' is bringing her nieces too and they're gonna have fun and go out to dinner and it's gonna be fun. Oh! And Daddy is takin' 'em to Miami for Christmas! He said they'll barbecue and have fun at the beach and Uncle Thomas is gonna plan something special.

So the propaganda war begins, huh Mack? Didn't even have the nerve to tell me!

The boys are all excited. Med tells me about school (Is my son developing his first crush? This Zoe girl must be important. That's four times he's mentioned her.) and Midi tells me everything he can think of.

Midi will be the world's worst spy but right now, he's Mommy's best.

Mack stands and the conversation dies off. Their soft, squirmy little bodies stiffen and stand. I'm kissed and hugged and told I'm loved (Midi whispers for me to come home) and they back away to the door.

My vision of them is blurred by tears, but it doesn't matter. I smell the spicy clean scent before my sight is blocked.

"Yala."

"Mack."

"I'm taking the boys to Miami for Christmas. Visit only."

So now you tell me? After the boys already told me? For once I hold my tongue and look in Mack's eyes and, for the first time ever, the love that used to live there is gone. There's no hope, no love in his eyes or his voice. It's really over, really and truly over. My husband will never return to me and I react the only way I know how.

—oOo—

"You really need to get a handle on that anger, Mendoza."

I'm in seg. I lost it. I threw a chair at Mack and screamed at him. Mack calmly batted the chair away and sighed. He threw deuces and left with the boys, who were looking at me in shock.

That's what made me stop. Med and Midi were lookin' at me the way I used to look at my momma when she was high and screaming. Like I was someone they didn't want to be related to and were. Someone they loved but were afraid of.

I stopped, embarrassed that they were seeing me like that, but Mack had them through the door and away from me in the blink of an eye. The guards shackled my ass and flung me into seg, 'So I had some time to think'.

I don't need time to think. I don't want to think. I don't want the mental image of my boys' faces when they saw me lose it to flash in my mind again.

I sit on the bunk and cry. I was never supposed to be here! I was smart! I got a degree! I wasn't my momma, some coked-out baby momma! I made it out the hood, made good, got married and had my babies. I did shit in the right order! How in the hell did this happen?

—oOo—

"Yolanda Odom?"

I barely had time to open my mouth before the officer was pushing me back. I landed on my ass, Midi still secure in my arms, and yelled.

"Fuck! Who the fuck are you? What in the—"

"Sorry, ma'am," the younger officer said quietly, helping me off the floor. He helped me over to the couch. "Ma'am, we're NYPD, executing a search warrant for McKinley Odom. He's your husband?"

I shut my mouth and nodded. There was like twenty officers in my apartment, tearing my shit apart, talking in code. I knew the rules: don't speak. Answer yes and no. Call the lawyers.

"Do you know where he is?"

Like, GPS coordinates? No. Did I know he was in Queens? Yeah. Probably in Jamaica at that moment, having a meeting with his boys.

"No."

"We have a search warrant to search your home. Do you mind staying there?"

"I have another son asleep in the back."

I heard Med's scared voice and stood. The officer pushed me back on the couch and yelled 'Minor child!" Another officer walked forward with him. Med was looking around everywhere, scared. They handed me Med and we sat on the couch while they tore my home apart looking for drugs and guns, but I knew there weren't any there. I told Mack never to bring that shit home after Med started crawling. Med moved faster than any baby I'd ever seen and I was scared he'd find a gun or some drugs and that would be the end of my child.

After an hour, they finally left. No words. No apologies. Nothing except, 'Wherever your husband is, he needs to turn himself in."

I looked at my home, at the complete destruction, and felt the rage take me. I'd worked hard for this home. I worked hard for everything here and in one hour it was all destroyed. Everything I'd worked so hard for. Gone. I screamed until I nearly lost my voice.

The phone rang and I glared at it. Midi started crying, hungry, and he set Med off. I ignored the phone, got Med set in his high chair with a bowl of cereal and put Midi to my breast. The phone rang again and I grabbed it.

"You OK?"

Mack's voice was tight and worried.

"They destroyed our home—"

"Don't." Right. Don't use his name. "The boys OK?"

"Yeah. They're eating."

I could hear the smile in Mack's voice. "Midi havin' one the finest meals of his life, huh?"

"I can't even smile 'bout that right now. I'm scared…I'm so scared."

"Shhh…it'll be OK, baby. Look, call Miami and trust him. I trust him with my life."

I wondered if he meant Thomas or Dero. Probably Thomas. I hadn't seen Thomas since Med's baptism, but I remembered him. Fine as hell but cold. If Mack was all heat and warmth, Thomas was an iceberg.

"OK."

"I love you."

And that made everything OK. "I love you too." Click.

I hung up and looked around.

Well, love made everything OK until I had to clean up my house.

—oOo—

"Thomas."

Thomas hadn't changed. Ice water in his veins, but the moment I told him Mack had been arrested, he told me he'd be on the next flight. He wasn't joking. Mack was arrested right after he called me and I was looking at Thomas by dinner.

"Shit. What happened?" He was staring at the apartment in shock and slowly building anger.

"They executed a search warrant."

"They're not supposed to destroy your home doing it. You got a copy?" I stared at him. Thomas merely looked at me. "No?" I shook my head.

First smile I saw on Thomas's face. He shouldn't smile too often. That shit's scary.

"Good. Violation of your rights and Mack's. You have a right to get a copy of the search warrant and they're limited to the areas specified. I'm headed to get him a lawyer tomorrow. You wanna come?"

Med ran into the room barefoot, with a Thomas the Tank Engine toy in hand, and stared at Thomas. His gaze shifted to Med, barely three and not quite potty trained (he still had night accidents) and he smiled. That smile Thomas should show off more. It was Mack's smile and Med responded to it. He grinned at the new person, drool dripping down his chin.

"Hi!"

"You can't be Ahmed," he said softly, sinking to his knees. Med toddled right over and Thomas picked him up and held him. "You're too big to be Ahmed."

"Med!"

Thomas laughed. "You know your name, huh?"

"Med!" Why wasn't my son speaking more words? I was racking my brains to figure it out!

"OK, Med. I'm gonna find someone to fight for your Daddy's rights. You wanna come?"

"It's bedtime. Let me get him dressed," I state, stepping forward to take him.

He waved a hand. "I'll do it. You got Midi. Where can I bunk?"

"Umm…" We had a two bedroom and there really wasn't room in the boys' room.

Thomas stared at my face then walked off. He came back moments later.

"If you're cool, I'll split the bed with you tonight." His face hardened. "You're Mack's. I got zero interest."

"Good, because Midi's our chaperone." Midi was twisting in my arms, trying to find his big brother.

"Cool. We'll get the destruction in this place documented and cleaned up and I'll sleep on the couch tomorrow." Thomas was tickling Med under his chin and smiling at the drool.

"How long are you staying?"

"Until I make sure everything's straight. Mack needs a lawyer, you'll need some help, and I wanna know how he got caught."

"Me too."

"I'd estimate a month at least. Dero will be here soon to help. You cool with that?"

Two men in my house for a month? Look, call Miami and trust him. I trust him with my life. "Yes."

He left carrying Med. I heard the shower going a few minutes later and ran to the bathroom, wondering if Med had pulled the lever for it again. He was obsessed with it.

Nope. Thomas. Naked, with my naked son. He raised a brow and I blushed. "Sorry."

I backed out.

That dick ran in the family.

—oOo—

Daddy took us to see …

Daddy took us to do …

Daddy … Daddy … Daddy.

It's like Mack's shit never stank! I busted my ass for years to support him and he got out the pen and never looked back.

Mack's back on the bench again, but his face is tight. Worried. I wonder if he knows yet. I'm sure he does. Mack was a street hustler. I'm sure he knows he's being watched. He always had a sixth sense for that.

He's in jeans and Tims today, looking fine as all hell, and the boys have on new clothes too. Fresh kicks and smart haircuts. I smooth Midi's hair back from his face and smile. Last Saturday before Christmas. Alicia is coming to see me too. This is a great day.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Midi?"

"When are you coming home?"

Med groans, but I'm caught by Midi's diction. Mack's on it with the boys. It's like listening to myself in high school. I had perfect diction. Excellent elocution and both of the boys have been practicing their best language with me.

"I don't know, Midi."

Med changes the subject to their trip to Manhattan. I tell him to describe everything and I'm captivated by the way he tells the story. He can really weave words. I can feel the snow and cold, the wind on my face as I ice skate for the first time with MA, Ms. Stephanie's niece, to help me, and the fun of eating hot dogs and sausages at a fancy restaurant. Annie knew how to ice skate and so did Mr. Jorge and Mr. Javi. Mr. Jorge and Ms. Stephanie helped Midi learn to skate, holding his hands and going slow in the middle of the rink.

They had lots of fun, even though they had to hang out with girls.

Ms. Stephanie is old, Mommy's age, Midi says, and I tickle him for that. I ask him to describe Ms. Stephanie and the description is definitely not Mack's type. Maybe it really is just a boss-employee thing with them, but who does that for their employee's kids?

I laugh all the way through and I'm grateful they had fun. I'm grateful they had the experience. They took over Mr. Javier's apartment and ate wings and watched cartoons and had the best time. And Daddy's bosses had a food fight! Daddy got mad and cussed them out and they had to pretend to be asleep when Daddy walked back in, but Med wanted to throw mashed potatoes too!

I laugh so hard I cry. That sounds like Mack. I tell Med he tossed enough mashed potatoes as a baby. He tossed so many that Daddy wouldn't let me make mashed potatoes for a while. Med asked Daddy if they could do the Manhattan thing again next year and Ms. Stephanie said she'd start planning with Daddy.

Mack stands. The boys both hug me tight and back away to the door.

"We leave in two hours."

I nod.

"Lawrence tells me they offered you a deal."

I glare at him. "Trying to talk me into it?"

He shakes his head. "Do for you, Yala. I'm just trying to make a way."

I snort. "The boys are a bit young to take the SAT, Mack." He flushes. "Yeah. I noticed. What's up with that?"

He's quiet. "I took the GED. Waiting for the scores. Trying to make sure the boys don't slip."

"You were always smart, Mack."

He smiles. "I had to keep up with you."

Not like a degree did me a lot of good. Look at where I am now.

He stands. Midi runs back over and jumps in my lap, hugging me tight around my neck. Mack smiles and walks over to Med, leaving me one more minute with Midi.

"Midi? What's wrong, baby?" I whisper, hugging him tight.

"Daddy's got a lady, Mommy."

My blood runs cold. "You met her?"

He shakes his head. "He talks to her on the phone every night."

"What's her name?"

"Andrea."

—oOo—

"Hey baby."

Mack's voice sounded tired and worn. Thirty months. Thirty months without my man. He pulled me into a hug and we stood and rocked for a moment.

Mrs. Guerrero, Mack's abuela, agreed to babysit the boys that night. I needed him and … yeah, he needed me too. I could feel how much he needed me.

"I made mofongo and yucca and peas. I didn't know if you'd want a steak or fish or—"

"I'm cool with whatever you made. You know I never stress dinner." He smiled but it was tired.

"Then let's go home."

I had a Honda Accord, only a few years old, because Dero insisted. The government confiscated Mack's Acura and I had to sell the minivan when I couldn't make the payments. "You're carrying my nephews around NYC. I don't want them in a shit car and I'm not using my car since I'm overseas. Swallow your pride and accept this."

Swallow my pride? Fuck you, Dero!

I'm the one busting my ass being Mommy and Daddy to these boys. They miss Mack like you don't know. Med definitely missed his Daddy and Midi? Midi kept wondering who the man was we kept visiting. Daddy is concept to him, but I made sure the boys didn't forget Mack. At the minimum, they know what their Daddy looks like!

I had one job, a good one as a Program Director for a charity, but after Mack got locked up I realized how much his money covered in our house. Mack's income had to be 65% of our household income and losing that in one shot? My income covered rent! I had the degree and a legitimate fucking job but I couldn't pay for shit and it wasn't like we were living large!

Mack believed in keeping shit low-key, so we had my Honda minivan and Mack's Acura. We had a two-bedroom and we lived quiet. We looked like any 'wannabe suburban someday' couple. Mack's drug money covered our needs and when he got locked up I had to get a second job and then a third one, but it still wasn't enough money to cover our needs.

I tried leaving the boys with my Momma once because I was desperate and she was fresh out of rehab. She promised me she was done shooting dope, so I left the boys and told her I'd be back in one hour.

Midi got burned on her crack pipe while crawling around.

I arrived to pick them up and she was passed out. Midi was screaming and Med was talking to the 911 operator, telling them that his baby brother was burned and Abuela was asleep and he couldn't wake her up. I scooped the boys up and got out quick before ACS woulda been in my shit.

It was the last time I saw my mother. I have nothing to say to her. She put my sons in danger and she thinks I'm gonna forgive that? Please.

Alicia has been a god-send. She understands because Madero has been locked up forever. She told me not to be 'shamed to call on family and friends so I did. First time she complained I looked at her hard.

"Can I call on family or not?"

Alicia talks much shit, but the moment you ask her to put her money where her mouth is, she's got all kinds of excuses and complaints. She learned quick with me: you offer and I'm taking you up on it. Don't hand me an excuse. Just help me. She shut her mouth and never said anything again. Mrs. Guerrero, Mack's abuela, is much easier to deal with but I'm afraid she won't be able to keep up with the boys. Med's so quick and Midi's getting faster trying to follow his big brother everywhere.

Havin' to bust my ass with three jobs made me hard. I don't have time for your bullshit and excuses anymore. Rent's coming and these boys eat their weight in whatever you put in front to their faces. I'm glad mac and cheese is cheap. Med needs new clothes and so does Midi. Med's hard on everything you put on him, running and jumping everywhere, so no hand downs for Midi. I haven't had new clothes or shoes in a long time and I shop consignment and Goodwill exclusively. The boys get everything. I make do.

I'm a professional, working for a homeless charity, and I barely dress better than the people I'm supposed to help! I got a job offer six months ago for our Atlanta branch and considered it seriously before turning it down. I don't know anyone in Atlanta so I wouldn't have any help. Besides, when Mack was in prison, the boys needed those visits so they could get to know their Daddy. I love my husband. I turned the offer down.

The first check I got from Dero was a stunner. He sent $1000. I called him but he'd been deployed, so I called Thomas.

"What's this about?"

"You know Mack would never leave you without. He hid his stacks."

"Why didn't he tell me?!" I was furious.

"If you'd known about it, you woulda started tapping it immediately and they woulda caught you and confiscated it. If he'd put it in your name, the government woulda confiscated it and forced you to prove how you earned it. Could you?"

Hell no. And he's right. I would have tapped any bank account I could as fast as I could.

"Exactly. Dero's his Florida cousin and in the military with no record whatever. They'd have to have cause to search his shit. Believe, you get something from me or him and it'll be because Mack made provisions for this shit. He made plans just in case this ever happened. Besides, those are our nephews, our godsons. We'll come through to help you with 'em."

He hung up and I sat on my couch and cried.

Imma come through. Best believe, long as I got that work, you'll get what you need.

He came through. Long as I hustled, I had enough to keep us above water every month.

—oOo—

"What are you gonna do?"

Mack shifts and slides his fingers between my legs. I lean back against and enjoy the easy way he's playing my body. He didn't miss a thing, but I had to tell him to be gentle. He was pounding me at first, as if I might disappear on him. The look in his eyes was wild, as if he still didn't believe he was out and I was in front of him, naked and still in love with him. We didn't even make it to the bedroom the first time. We ended up fucking on the kitchen floor.

Neither of us thought about condoms. I hope I don't get pregnant. That's the last thing we need right now.

Dinner's cold but it can wait. Mack clearly wants to see me get mine again and he does. I don't hold anything back from him and he smiles as I reach my orgasm again.

"What?" He's licking his fingers, clearly pleased with himself.

"Nasty."

He sticks a finger in my mouth and I suck. "You. Best thing I've ever tasted. What was the question?"

"What are you gonna do?"

He sighs and rolls onto his back. "I'm done with drugs."

My body freezes. "What?" I ask cautiously.

He's quiet, staring at the ceiling. "I was locked away from you and my boys for thirty months. I'll never put myself in a place to have that shit happen again. Besides, I'm too old for this." He looks over at me. "When's the last time you've seen an old banger?"

"Define old."

"Exactly."

"Then how are you gonna make that paper?" I can feel the panic rising. "We got bills, baby."

Mack's income was serious. We gotta replace it cuz Thomas ran out of checks six months ago. Mack put two years' worth away and I've been scrambling ever since. Thomas fronts me what he can but he's also paying off Mack's lawyer. We're both squeezed tight.

"I dunno. I'll figure something out."

I choke back the panic and slide from the bed to go warm his dinner. I bring it back and Mack eats every bite. I ended up making a steak and he demolishes everything and sits back with his beer, smiling. "Excellent, baby. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He sighs. "I gotta figure out what Imma do, but Imma come through. I'll get a job."

"You mean it? You're out?" He nods. "OK. If you go back in, I'll divorce your ass and move." His face is like ice but his eyes show terror. "I mean it. Life got serious when you were in. I'm happy you're out, but I'm not Alicia."

"I'm not my father."

We'll see. Put your muscles where your mouth is, baby. Rent's due.

—oOo—

"Where the fuck have you been!?" I hurl the plate at Mack's head, not sure why I'm doing this, not sure where this rage came from, but this is insane! He's been out nine months and he's never home at night!

"Work," he says, ducking and pivoting. It's like he has a force-field around him. Nothing ever hits him!

"Nobody works till five in the morning! Nobody!" I scream, throwing the rest of the dishes at his head.

I just woke up, ready to get the boys ready to go to daycare and Mack's just walking in. This shit is ridiculous and every time I ask him, he says RangeMan. RangeMan! Who the fuck asks a newbie to work a fucking 18 hour day? This is the fourteenth goddamn time!

I'd believe him if the phone numbers weren't such a problem!

"Who the fuck is Dee?"

"Who?"

"Dee," I snarl, tossing the paper at his head. I turn and grab the pile I've been keeping. "Dee, Lisa, Nene, Kate, you got bitches comin' outta every fuckin' where and I'm supposed to believe this five am walking in shit is nothing? You ain't working these kinda hours all the fuckin time."

Mack drops into a seat at the kitchen table and removes his boots. I'm waiting, arms crossed, for an answer.

"I don't know who any of them are—"

"Nene's number was in your pocket!"

He sighs and rubs his eyes. "Fuck! Nene is a contact. I need to follow up on that."

"So who the fuck is she?" I'm breathing hard to keep the tears from falling. I knew I'd never keep anybody like Mack. I knew he'd fuck around and leave me at some point.

Everyone leaves me.

"We searching for her man. He skipped on bond and she's the best contact we have for him right now." He shifts through the stack to find her number and puts it in his pocket.

"Bullshit!" That's the lamest story I've ever heard. Why he keeps telling it, I don't know. Is he slanging again and don't wanna tell me so I don't panic? If he's slanging, I'll deal. Just don't lie, Mack. Don't lie to me!

Mack stands, a tired look on his face. "Yala, I got no reason to lie. Now, Imma get the boys up and ready to go to daycare. You wanna take your time getting ready for work?"

"I got the boys," I reply, storming off. "They need somebody who'll be there and not lie to them. You tryna hide your shit behind fancy words right now, but you're fuckin' round. When I come home tonight, I want your ass to be gone! When you stop collecting the phone numbers, we can talk about you comin' home!"

I hear the footsteps behind me, but Mack slides between me and the door before I walk in. He lifts me against the wall, opens my robe, and slams me on his dick. Well, it's not a slam as much as a slide, cuz I was already wet.

Tino took care of that. If you're fuckin' round, I'm not fingering myself all night waiting for you to come home. I'm handling business. Or Imma find someone to handle business.

I wrap my legs around him and ride him out, listening to him whisper in my ear.

"I'm not fuckin' anyone else. You da wifey. It's always been about you. I came home to wake you up sweet and you throwing shit at me! Trust me, Yala! Trust that I love you! I love you!"

I do. I do trust you, Mack. I just don't think you're faithful. You never worked like this when you slanged. You were home nearly every night. Six out of seven nights, you were handling business. You have any idea how much I love you? Miss you? I'm scared you'll leave me. I'm scared you'll leave me with nothing and two boys to raise and I'm not strong enough to go through that again. I'm not your mother! I need you to come home and tell me it'll be OK again.

I'm your queen, your wifey, and you're my King. I've held you down, been there for you, and loved you. I had your babies! I kept it tight, looking good for you. I'm your queen and you got other bitches' phone numbers in your pockets! You never did that shit to me before RangeMan! You never disrespected me like that! You never let me think there was a contender for my throne!

And your dick's still the best. Bring that bad boy home and there won't be any problems!

When I find this bitch, it's on. Imma bust her head wide open.

I sob as the orgasm hits and I mouth the words. I need you, Mack! I love you!

—oOo—

"What's your problem, Mendoza?"

I'm in here with all of you. I'm in here with drug addicts, child molesters, murderers and thieves. And my husband is fucking some bitch named Andrea. That's my fucking problem. "Nothing."

The bug snorts. I'm learning jail lingo. "You a fucking lie." She leans against the bars of my cell. "You know what your problem is?"

"That you want to use your amateur psychology on me?"

She smiles. "That you're too smart to be in here." I stare at her. "I checked your rap sheet. You don't have one. Second arrest and you hit it out the park this time. Congrats."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, well, some of the smartest women I've ever met have done the stupidest shit in the name of love."

"I didn't love Leon."

"I wasn't talking about him." I freeze. "Honey, everyone is checking your ex-husband. Fine doesn't begin to cover that man. So what happened?"

"Why? You wanna fuck him?"

"Was that the problem?" I don't say anything. "Was he a cheat?"

I stand up and walk over to the door. "No, he wasn't," I whisper.

It's the first time I've admitted it out loud to anyone else.

Mack loved me. He was faithful. I was his queen and I fucked it up not trusting him when he proved, for over a decade, that he'd come through. He proved he'd hold me down when my life was a mess. He proved he'd hold me down even when he couldn't stand by my side. When he needed me to hold him down, believe in him when he was trying to turn his life around, the Queen turned her back on him. The Queen started fucking pawns in the game like they was major playas. Now he's got dope boys after him and some bitch named Andrea tryna be his new Queen and I'm in fucking jail.

Irony? He's still holding it down. He's paying my lawyer. He's bringing the boys to see me. He's doing it now because I'm 'Mommy'. I wish he were doin' it because I'm wifey.

"So?"

"Why do you care?"

She sighs. "Because you made one hell of a mistake to end up in here and it's clearly connected to the sexy man who shows up here 2-3 times a week to bring you your sons. You wanted his attention back? You wanted him to come back?"

I nod, too embarrassed to speak, too ashamed to say it.

"Then you went about it the wrong way. You needed to humble yourself to him. No man's gonna come home to a woman who screams at him all the time. We keep telling you that you got an anger problem and you don't wanna listen. So since you seem to be listening now, hear me: you got an anger problem, Mendoza."

I'm trying to control the panic and anger I feel every time someone tells me that. "I—"

"You do. Right now you're trying to control it, which is good. You need to. But you need to find out why you have such extreme reactions. As it is, we watch you in the monitor station and we can literally countdown to your blow up. We watched you today and got ready to haul your ass to seg for another stint." My face gets hot. "You need to get some help."

She stands up straight, so I do too. "You're a smart woman, too smart to be in here, but you're in here because you made the wrong decisions with your life. First problem? You fell in love with a drug dealer. I checked the background on you. Your mother was an addict and your brother was gunned down doing the same thing and you fell in love with a man who dealt drugs for a living? Really?"

She raises a brow and I shrug. Where I come from, all the men are either dope boys or addicts. I chose the biggest dope boy around. Go big or go home. Besides, Mack's heart wasn't in it after we had Med. He looked at the little miracle we'd produced and, like Michael Corleone, he wanted out. I was proud. I wanted him to get out.

"Now, honestly, the fact that he did his time and got out and you were never implicated was a miracle. You should have steered clear of all dope boys after that."

I flush. Yeah, I know that now. My life was hard enough when Mack was arrested and the bug just said what Alicia did: Mack protected me from his racket because he loved me. Leon? Asshole.

"Your first arrest? Domestic violence against that man. Paperwork states you lost your temper and started throwing shit at him. So arrest one for anger. Arrest two?" She raises a brow. "You took your anger at him leaving out on the wrong person and who's hurt in the end? The two beautiful little boys who cry every time they have to leave you."

She walks away.

I ignore dinner and my shower crying into my pillow.

—oOo—

"Lawrence."

I can hear the sigh of aggravation. "Ms. Mendoza. How can I help you?"

"I'm ready to talk to the prosecutors. Let's make that happen."

"Ms. Mendoza—"

"I want a better deal." I breathe in and hold it for a moment. "Sixty months or less. Nothing more and the more time they take off the sentence, the more I'll talk. I don't know much, but let's use what I know to get the best deal we can. And I'll sign over custody of my sons to my ex-husband and give him the relocation order he needs."

"I'm on my way to Rikers, Ms. Mendoza." Click.

I head back to my bunk and lie on the cot.

I fucked up.

I made a mistake but my mistake wasn't letting Leon in my house.

It was not trusting my husband when he was turning his life around. I'd always been embarrassed by the fact that Mack was a dropout and he slanged for a living, but once he got out of prison I didn't support him in trying to do anything different.

I had my pride. I wanted him to see I wasn't the same willfully blind girl he fell in love with. He left a girl behind and came home to a woman, a harder, more worldly woman who'd had to bust her ass to support him. I took him his sons on visitation day, kept the commissary account full, and made sure the boys had everything they needed. I wanted a marriage of equals, but I didn't know how to ask for it. I'd never seen it and Mack had always been my protector, my savior when things were rough.

Mack got a job and worked double shifts to take care of us and, instead of recognizing that legal jobs don't pay like street hustlin', I let my fears take over. I ignored the fact that Mack still made more money than me, even hustling legally, but he was never stingy. He did for me and the boys first, always. I thought he might be running around on me, looking for another woman, someone who would adore him like I did before he went to prison.

I was wrong. He wanted me, with all my flaws and insecurities, but he didn't want to be disrespected. It took some amateur psychology and blunt talk for me to finally see that. He loved who I was and I didn't trust his love. Now Mack's making good, getting his GED, making major paper. He got a promotion and is on the come up. He's doing so well now that he needs to run for his life.

He held me down for years. He always came through. Time for me to do the same for him. I can save my sons by saving their father.

Maybe someday Mack'll realize how much I still love him. I just wanted him to come home.

—oOo—

Tatiana 'Ana' Mildiani

"Look, Ana, you really don't have a lot of options here." Georg finishes the last of my mother's pierogis and sits back, patting his stomach. I hate my brother sometimes but I have to admit: he's a good lawyer. No, he's really brilliant and I need help.

"I'm a mother. I cannot give up my daughter—"

"I'm a father." Georg's voice is hard. "I'm a father who loves my kids, so don't pull that with me. Love of a child is not limited to one sex or the other. Your ex loves his daughter. He's been fighting for years to have access to her and now he's got it."

I swallow hard and sit back. I need an option and I can't think of one. I called Georg over, bribing him the promise of Mama's pierogis, to get his help. It's rare I have time away from the restaurants and I'm taking advantage of it. I pull my heavy hair up into a bun and secure it with an elastic and two bobby pins before standing to take his plate over to the stove.

"More sauce this time, Ana."

Yes, sir. I should make you get them. Might be the only exercise you get today.

Georg burps then finally gets off his rapidly expanding ass to get a root beer from the fridge. I place the pierogis on the table in front of his seat and sit, wishing I could open a window or do something to let some air in. Our house smells like Christmas a Christmas overload. Mama's been baking up a storm, trying to fill her time.

We're both trying to fill our time.

This is our first Christmas without Annie and Mama doesn't know what to do. Annie's been her little cooking companion since the day she was born and having to stop and take care of her was the only way Mama would stop cooking. Now there's nothing to make her stop and we have enough food to sell the extras at the restaurant.

I'm spending more of my free time in the mall. It's ironic. I often wished I could leave Annie somewhere and shop in peace and now all I want is my daughter by my side, telling me that the dress is pretty but it's not pink.

"You don't have a lot of options, Ana," Georg says, bringing me back to the present. "If the police or the Feds start investigating our cousins at any point, you and I are going to jail. If you try to testify about what you know, you'll end up dead."

"Witness Protection?"

"Possible, but if you enter Witness Protection, you'll lose your daughter unless you can get Jorge to give up custody of her. How likely is that? And once in Witness Protection, you'll be banned from making contact with her except during prescribed times."

"That's not fair!"

"That's the law, Ana! Jorge would have an excellent case for the state courts. He's never been in any kind of trouble except parking tickets. RangeMan is a security company and he's in management there. He has the means and ability to protect Annie and he will. He has family in the area and he's already making a bid for full physical custody. You're screwed there."

George starts on his second plate while I let my head drop onto the table. Yes, Jorge has power now and we feel it. He refused to come over here for Christmas! He brought her over on the 26th, the most he would compromise, and he refused to wait outside in his car like Papa wanted. He stared at my Papa coldly before replying that he didn't have to bring Annie over and they certainly didn't have to stay, but any place he was unwelcome was a place his daughter was unwelcome.

It was the first time in years Mama had overruled Papa. She reminded Papa that Jorge had joint custody and could walk out of our house at that moment, so Papa needed to be polite and remember that Jorge had power with Annie. Now that she knew who her father was, Jorge was not a man who could be ignored any longer.

Mama paid for her bravery later that night but Papa played nice while Annie was in the house.

"What's your exit strategy?" I ask in a whisper.

Georg wipes his mouth. "Witness Protection," he whispers back. "That's why I know the rules and regs. My wife knows that if I call home with the code word, start packing our most important stuff immediately."

"Mama?"

"Either you take her or I do."

"So what are my options, Georg? What can I do?" I stand and pace the kitchen, frustrated by this entire situation.

"Two things. One: What's more important? Your daughter or you having custody of your daughter?"

I whirl around, furious. "That's not an either/or, Georg!"

"Yes, it is and if you don't see that, you're not fit to be a mother."

He belches as I consider grabbing mom's meat mallet and slamming it over his head. He's staring at me calmly.

"My head's as hard as a brick, as my wife will happily tell you. What's more important? Annie? Or custody of Annie?"

Annie. My daughter is my world. My mother rolls in and takes her usual place at the table.

"I can hear you two in the back," she says softly. Georg swallows hard and drops his eyes on the table. The facial bruises are terrible, a mottled purple and dark red that only highlight Mama's pale blue eyes and blond hair. I begin to stand but Georg motions for me to sit. He walks over to the fridge and riffles through until he can find a bag of peas, which he places on our mother's face gently.

"The pierogies were sublime, Mama." My mother beams. Papa takes all the credit but Mama's recipes are what made our restaurants famous.

I hate my father. That's why I don't want Annie to live with Jorge. I don't want her to feel the sting of confusion when Jorge hits her the first time. I still remember the pain. I was my Daddy's princess, just like Annie is Jorge's, and Daddy started beating me up the moment I started questioning him.

I learned not to question my father and accept his decisions as fact. He wanted an accountant. I became an accountant, even though I hate math. Yuri became a doctor and Georg became a lawyer. Only Yuri is safe from our family mess. Well, mostly safe. He provides medical care under the table for our cousins when they get hurt or shot. He refuses to put his license at risk, though. He refuses to become a 'pill mill', but getting married and having kids gave our cousins leverage. They're starting to lean on him to do just that.

"Thank you, Georg." She pinches his cheek as I take the plate over to the sink. "Now, let's make some decisions."

"Mama?" We both turn.

"Arkady and Valery just left the restaurant. They want double the payments. Your father is working his way to the bottom of the bottle."

I sink into the seat, stunned. We don't have it. We don't have the money, which means Papa will come home angry and wanting to hit someone. I wonder if Patrina is interested in clubbing tonight. Then again, if I leave, Papa will hit Mama.

No, I have to stay home tonight. Mama won't last another round. Georg is ashen, fiddling with his pen. There's no sound except for the tick of the clock. Mama's words have stopped the world for us.

Mama's eyes pins me in my seat. "I'm in a wheelchair because I accepted your father's words and fists for thirty years. Now? I plan to kill him. Tonight."

"Mama!"

"No! He took me from Georgia and brought me here, away from my family, away from everything I know, and beat me. He took my recipes and built his empire but never respected my contribution. He used my womb but never respected my effort in giving him the three children he beat until they jumped to his orders. He says he loves his grandchildren but he grows irritated when Annie plays too loud. She's a little girl. She does what little girls do." Mama's gaze is like a laser. "I failed you. I failed to show you what a good husband looks like so you didn't see Jorge for what he was. He was a man who loved you. He would have given you the world. Now, Annie's in danger and I refuse to allow Pytr to raise a fist to that child. You will give her to Jorge and you will enter Witness Protection with your brother."

"Mama—"

"You will do what's right for her, not you! That's the mark of a mother, Ana! I've been a poor one. Be a great one to yours!"

—oOo—

I'm packing, tears flowing down my cheeks, preparing to run for my life.

Georg called the Federal prosecutors. We're all aware of the investigation into our cousins and we've been quiet, wondering how it would end. Now we know how it will end.

It will end with the Mildiani's taking a stand.

It will end with us refusing to cower anymore.

It will end with us walking away from everything we've built.

It will end with me walking away from my daughter. No, it will end with the US Marshals tearing me away from her.

Mama's quiet. "I asked Georg, a long time ago, what would happen if we went into Witness Protection," she says, handing me a sweater. "Did Georg tell you you'd get visitation?"

I feel betrayed all over again. "No! No, he didn't! Why can't we take Annie, if Jorge will get visitation?"

"Because Jorge would have to agree to allow Annie's name to be changed, agree to her relocation, and he'd have to agree to see her only once a month. He'd have to agree to not know where his daughter lives and not contact her outside approved times. That's why and he'd never agree to it. If he refuses to agree to it, Annie can't enter the program."

"Why do I have to be a great mother and he doesn't have to be a great father?! Why do I have to give my daughter up?"

My mother clicks her tongue and shakes her head sadly. "Because he hasn't had a chance to be a father, Ana. We took that from him for years and now that he's had a taste of being a parent, he's fighting harder than ever before. He'll never stop fighting for Annie." She sighs. "King Solomon would find splitting a modern baby impossible."

"That still doesn't answer my question, Mama."

Mama stares at me before shaking her head again. "Ana, our family problems are not and never have been Jorge's problem. He's never met your cousins. He doesn't know them and they don't know him. All he's ever cared about is his daughter and he's being a great father. He's doing what a parent does. He's fighting for his child!"

"And I can't fight for Annie, too?" I'm desperate for Mama to change her mind!

"Your fight will leave her dead," Mama says baldly. "Your fight will leave you dead and when you're dead, who will take her except her father? He has first rights to her should you die. That's why you do what's right for her. You don't disrupt her life just because you need to save your life. You allow her to grow up with her father, with her father's family, with people who love her." She pats my hands. "You don't have to go into Witness Protection with us."

I smile, relieved, and sit on the bed. "Thank you."

"You can strike a deal that will send you to prison in exchange for your testimony against your cousins. Then you'll go to prison while Jorge gets custody of your daughter and you can try to survive in prison where your cousins could easily order your death. Once you're dead, Jorge has sole custody of your daughter, you're dead, and the rest of us will mourn you under our new identities in new cities."

"Fine. I'll take her and run."

"And how long would you survive? No social security number, no credit cards, no birth certificate, no money. Leave your cell phone and you can't take your car. You might as well be one of those Mexicans we hire under the table. If we go into Witness Protection, who will you call when you need help? The moment Jorge and the police find you, you're going to prison for custodial interference and who gets Annie? Assuming Jorge and the cops get you first."

My stomach rolls. Mama's calmly packing.

"You see? I've thought this through many times. There's no option that leaves you out of prison with Annie as long as your cousins live. You are a liability and you're too important to the business. They will never let you go. If you enter Witness Protection, you are guaranteed one visit a month with her. You will be able to remain a part of your daughter's life. Jorge can post pictures of her on his twitty thing and that picture thing you're always on and you can see how she grows. It's not the same and no, it's not what I want either, but a price must be paid, Ana. You are the one in the most danger, child. You will pay the highest price."

"Why leave her with Jorge though? Won't our cousins use her as bait to find me?"

"It is possible, but I doubt Jorge will allow Annie to leave his sight. He'll be a protective father once he knows the danger. Besides, in Witness Protection, neither he nor she will know where we live. Threatening Jorge will gain them nothing."

I curl up on my bed and sob. This is ridiculous! I had the baby! I fought my father to keep that baby, to keep that little moment in my life when a man loved me for me, not what I could do for him. I loved Jorge and now I'm being forced to give up my last connection to his love.

My last connection to the only moment in my life when I thought I'd escape my father.

My mother strokes my face and sighs. "There's one other option for you."

I wipe my face. "What?"

Mama's face is lined with years of worry and regret. "Do you still, anywhere in your heart, love Jorge?"

"I love our daughter so I can't hate him."

"That's enough. Ask him if he's willing to give her up. Tell him everything and ask for his help."

—oOo—

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

If this is the end, thank God it came quick. I throw on my robe and run downstairs to answer the door. "Hello?"

There are two uniformed police officers at the door. "Ms. Mildiani?"

"Yes, Tatiana Mildiani. How can I help you?"

They both take their caps off. "Ma'am, we regret to inform you that a"—he checks his card—"Pytr Mildiani was found dead in his car tonight. Murdered."

I freeze.

Murdered. Mama hasn't left the house all night. Who did it? "Right," I whisper. "Please, come in. Let me wake my mother."

The officers stand in our living room. I head to the back, where I find Mama already awake. She's smiling. "I heard. God heard my plea."

"I'll call Yuri and Georg."

"Good." She wheels herself out, regal as a queen, to receive the news. I flop back on her bed and smile.

"He's dead," I whisper. "My father's dead, murdered, and all I feel is relief."

—oOo—

Yuri and Georg arrive within thirty minutes and we all sit around the kitchen table, survivors of years of bullying, abuse, and hatred. We're smiling like loons. All of us. None of us misses him.

"Cheapest burial possible," Mama mutters, writing a list. "We sell the restaurants and pay your cousins back for their 'business loans'. We sell everything we have."

"Annie?" I'm hopeful.

Georg shakes his head. "At the moment, we're about to play two different groups off against each other, the Feds versus our cousins. I'm sending my wife and kids away."

"Same here," Yuri says, stretching his long legs. He just finished a shift at the hospital and he looks exhausted. "Shit. If only we'd waited twelve hours."

My heart sinks. I'm still going to lose my daughter. I still lose the most.

"Look, here's the situation. Even with Papa dead, at some point that investigation would wind its way around to us. All of us would be indicted. I stand to lose my license. All of us stand to lose something." He turns to Yuri. "Changing your name means breaking your history with the AMA. You might lose your entire career." Yuri moans. "Ana? You're in the worst position of us all. You were actively laundering their money. If we want to survive, we have to sing like songbirds to the Feds and get the best deals possible."

Georg sighs and passes me a thick stack of papers. I start flipping through. Petition to change Annie's name, petition to change the terms of custody, and a petition to change visitation. I put the papers down and stare at my heartless brother.

"No, I'm not being a shit," he says, correctly reading my glare. "If Arkady and Valery didn't do it, then we don't have much time before they find out Papa's dead. Then Arkady will be around here for you. He needs one of us to keep his empire going. Papa laundered the money through the restaurants. You either run them or continue as the accountant." He swallows hard. "You know what happened to Ilsa."

I can't forget and the memory sends me to the bathroom.

Ilsa's family ran out of money and Valery put her to work in one of the family 'massage parlors'. Ilsa was so bubbly and happy as a child. Her eyes look dead now. I've never asked and I don't want to know.

There's a knock at the door and I hear a quiet conversation. I flush and try to cool my face before returning to the kitchen. Jorge's here. I'm shocked.

"Jorge?"

"Ana." He scans me coolly then turns back to Georg. "You called. What do you want?"

"Our father is dead. We're planning on going into Witness Protection. If you want Annie, you need to take everything you can from this house tonight."

Jorge's cool face drops. He looks flabbergasted. He turns to me. "Ana?"

I stare at Mama, who nods. Somewhere deep inside me, I find the courage to make the most painful decision of my life.

"It's not a joke. I'll help you pack."

—oOo—

Jorge makes one phone call and, twenty minutes later, twenty guys in all black show up at our house. They arrived with boxes, tape, bubble wrap and newspaper and start packing Annie's clothes, shoes, toys, anything I point out as belonging to Annie.

We're all astonished at the display of power. Jorge directs them to do what he wants and they don't hesitate. They get straight to work.

"Who's watching Annie?"

"She's at RangeMan."

Javier Cruz shows up an hour later. I remember him. Jorge's best friend, his childhood friend. He smiles at me as he enters. "Ana."

"Javier." I get him a quick hug. I like Javi. He was always so funny.

"What happened?"

Jorge, who had reentered the living room at the sound of his voice, starts the story. Georg jumps in and, between them, they give Javi the entire picture. Javi crosses his arms across his chest and frowns.

"First, my condolences."

"Thank you," Mama says.

"Second, until you get a deal, you're still in danger." He pulls his phone and dials. "Les? Sir, I have something I need to run by you." He repeats everything and listens as the person on the other end speaks. "Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you, sir." Click. He makes another call and, twenty minutes later, someone else in all black shows up and hands him a box. He turns it on and walks from room to room. None of us know what's going on except Georg, who pales. He finally finds what looks like a tiny microphone, snaps a picture of it with his cell phone and waits for a response. His phone beeps and he nods and puts it back in place. He waves us into the master bathroom, shuts the door, and turns on the shower.

"Your entire house is bugged."

My stomach drops. Georg drops into Mama's old vanity chair, his usually red face a pasty white.

"I would guess that the FBI has been listening in." He looks at Yuri and Georg, grabs a piece of paper from his pocket and writes a note while continuing to speak. "You'll need to leave over the next day or two. No hanging around. Start packing in the morning and get your things together to make a run for it."

He turns the note around and we read. Your families need to leave. Now! These aren't FBI bugs! We're offering you a RM safe house. Works similar to WP. Just get your families to RM.

Yuri and Georg exit the bathroom.

"Done," Mama exhales loudly. "Thank you." Mama exits the room and grabs a piece of paper. Everyone, go back to your families and pack. We'll meet up at the RangeMan offices.

"Not here?" Yuri asks.

No. Just in case there's a watch on this house, Javier replies.

—oOo—

Now we know. Our cousins mean to kill us. They killed our father. We're nothing to them.

We had a tense, sleepless night at RangeMan, all of us taking up two of their apartments, all of us scared and worried except Mama. Mama spent her time asleep. "Your father is dead and we're about to go into Witness Protection," she said as she woke up this morning. "What is there to cry about?"

We stared at her before Yuri finally muttered, "Georgians."

Javier called the prosecutors so we can all talk. I sign the paperwork handing over custody of Annie to Jorge, tears blurring the pages.

"I'll put photos and video on Instagram and Facebook so you can see her," he says quietly. "I'll make sure she doesn't forget you. The Marshals allow for one visit a month?" I nod, miserable. "I'll make sure she makes it."

"It's not the same, Jorge!" He raises a brow and I close my eyes and swallow hard. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"For?"

I sniff and he hands me a handkerchief. "I'm sorry for not allowing you and Annie to get to know each other." Now my daughter will grow up without me, only seeing me once a month, and wondering who I am. What kind of mother gives up her daughter?

"You know what I'm sorry about?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry you allowed your father to make you think I wasn't fit to be your husband." I open my eyes and Jorge's staring at his fingers. "I loved you, Ana. All I wanted was to make you proud of me. I wanted to treat you like a queen."

"My father?"

He scoffs. "You did whatever your father told you to, with the exception of dating me. I was your one big rebellion and when it was over you went right back to him and fell in line."

"Then don't do that to Annie. If every little girl marries her Daddy, then what does that say about you?" He pales. "My father was ambitious and determined to make something of himself. He came to this country with nothing and died with three restaurants, a big house in Sheepshead Bay, and three kids to his name. Ambition. That's what you had in common. He just never gave anyone else credit for his rise."

Jorge is pale and quiet as the notary stamps and signs the paperwork, ignoring us. Annie comes running into the room and I listen as my baby tells me of her great day with Daddy. They're headed to see Abuela and she's so excited! Mama smiles as Annie tells her all about her other grandmother

There's not enough time in the world for me to hug her, to feel her silky hair and soft skin. There aren't enough moments in the world for me to remember how her voice sounds and to capture how happy she looks, the way she smells and the exact color and shape of her eyes.

My baby will grow up without me. At most, she'll get once a month visits from me. One time a month to try to stay a part of her life. I'll miss her growing up, becoming a woman, going to prom and homecoming. I'll miss all those special moments a daughter has with her mother. If Jorge marries, some other woman will have those moments with my daughter. Some other woman will raise my child. I'll be the woman on the other side of the screen, hoping she still remembers me.

"Babu!"

My mother rolls in and smiles at Annie. She motions for me. "Go clean yourself up."

I head to the bathroom and wipe my face, wishing there was a miracle product that got rid of puffiness immediately. I walk out and Javier's there.

"Let's take a picture," he says, smiling. "Mommy and Daddy and Annie."

"OK!" Annie runs over to Jorge and he picks her up and twirls her around. He reaches a hand out for me and I take it, wishing this was permanent.

So many wrong choices in my life. So many choices made for me that I never had a say in. So many choices I simply accepted because I wasn't strong enough to say no. But Jorge was a choice I made and I loved him. My love for him didn't die until my father beat it from me. And Annie was my choice too. The first, last, and only time I stood up to my father and my daughter was the result.

They could have been my present, if I'd had the strength to make that choice. I didn't and instead, they both will become my future, past, and present. My father is dead, killed by his own greed and anger. I did what he said and I have nothing. In the end, I have nothing.

But, hopefully, my daughter will have everything I never had and, perhaps, that's enough. That's the thought I'll console myself with tonight as I sit in my bed and drown myself in bitter tears.

"Smile!"

Mommy, Daddy, and Annie. The first, last, and only picture we've ever taken as a family.