#unique black girl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theesirenteller · 4 months

Text

Domesticated | Unqiue

🅳🅴🆂🅲🆁🅸🅿🆃🅸🅾🅽

After the passing of his child's mother, Kadeem Mathis better known in the streets as 'Unique or Nique'; has taken on the role of being a full-time parent. Which causes more difficulties rather than smooth sailing, A full time caregiver for his son and new home in Astoria, Queens is needed. What starts off as simply business quickly turns personal when the tender love & care of a woman warms his once hollow heart.]

RATING: 𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀

DEATH had become a normal reoccurrence in Kadeem's day to day life. Oftentimes it was business more than personal. But on December 30th,1992 Kadeem's babymama, Tori was murdered. Their son Jerome was found on the snowy cold floor beside her carved up body. She'd been stabbed over twenty times and left behind the Carvel ice cream store she had previously been in. Kadeem remembered when Tori's mother called him from the hospital. Getting that type of need caused him to abruptly leave his meeting with Raquel and show up with a rapidly beating heart. His henchmen followed behind him with ansty hands that were trigger-finger ready.

Despite not being in love with Tori, he still had a great amount of love and respect for her purely for gifting him Jerome. No child deserved to be motherless and Jerome wasn't even a year old. He never got to properly meet her, know her. He was freshly four months old. Four months old and in the hospital fighting an Pneumonia. Tears glazed his eyes as he watched his son from the incubator. As soon as his mother,Sheronda, arrived at the hospital, he felt secure enough to leave and handle Tori's murderers. And nothing surprised him more than to find out she'd been killed because of her own actions and not because of him. Kadeem learned that Tori had punched out a pregnant woman. A woman whose man she was messing with. Unfortunately for Tori, that girl had a sister from Brooklyn who ran her own gang. Nothing major, just ten girls. But those bitches were ruthless. Stone cold and colder than some men from what Worrell found out. The sadness Kadeem felt for Tori was replaced with anger.

Her hoe-antics got her killed, got her taken away from their innocent child and nearly got him killed in the process of it. Despite his anger, he still avenged her. For Jerome. It had taken less than an hour to locate them. And it took nearly two to off each and every one of them. Each woman and their innocent bystanders had gotten a face full of bullets. It was Christmas and Kadeem was feeling generous. So the man that Tori was fooling with had gotten gunned down too. He thought of taking the man's wife's life but didn't. He left her alone. She'd been in her daughter's room, hugging her child close and he just passed her by. Her child looked a few months older than Jerome. The child shared his same complexion and despite showing no expression on his face, he felt heartbroken. After that, Kareem disassociates from his emotions and thoughts as he leaves the home. All of the events that transpired, all the lives that were lost…felt unnecessary. Unnecessary tragedies.

It'd been a month since then and being thrown into the world of being a single father to a newborn had turned Kareem's life upside down. He could manage the streets of Jamaica, Queens no problem. He was a natural born leader who had an immense amount of respect in the streets. But little Jerome had him feeling like a puppy with its tail tucked between his legs. He needed around the clock care, comfort, and affection. All that Kareem provided without fuss. It was the anxiety that kept him up at night. Anxious at the mere thought of Jerome being in harm's way. Anxious that he could kiss his son good morning and the next he could be kissing his cold dead body before a funeral. Dark thoughts plagued Kareem's mind and all he kept repeating to himself was ‘’tighten up”.

When he left Jerome with his granny, Kareem went nose deep into reconstructing his life. More private, less reckless. He sold his apartment and replaced it with a two story single-family in a nicer part of Queens, Astoria.

He made sure to collect his neighbors personal information from a tech-geek at NYU. Nothing but elderly Indians, Koreans, and a few Africans lived within his block. Mainly all retired or doctors, and some even bodega owners. He had their ss information, background checks, and even family lists with photos attached. Just in case. This was a green zone, a safer spot for Jerome. And he needed to know who moved in or out of it. Make sure nobody like him or who he dealt with had any type of reason for being in this area. On this block. He had his mother decorate the whole place and she approved of the home. She even stayed in it to care for Jerome for a few weeks.

“Kadeem, you gonna need to get a housekeeper and a babysitter, boy. I ain't sign up to be either. I'm cool with watching my baby on the weekends but I ain't raising him Hell, maybe get a in house bitch, a homebody who's eager to play step-mama. I don't know but do something.” Sheronda, his mother announced over Sunday dinner.

Kadeem stopped chewing on his Mac and cheese noodles as he proceeded what she said,” Ma, you don't think it's a lil' too early for this?” His velvety voice silked through the warm dining room. “Jerome don't need no step-mama or no strangers. He got you and he got me, that's all he needs right now. His peoples.”

His mother shook her head in disapproval, “Better sooner rather than later. All that love and affection from use comes second. That baby needs around the clock care and so does this home you bought. Just how you know love don't pay the bills, it don't keep things in line either.” She rebuttals. And her words stuck with him for the next few days despite him not giving her an answer.

His days blended together over the course of the following weeks. And he was thankful that his mother continued to care for Jerome. He had sent a list of cleaning agencies and child caregiver agencies the week before he and Raq had their meeting with Sal Boseill & his gang. Sheronda had gotten started on skimming through agencies. The sixty-five year old was tired and irritated from talking to various managers and coordinators. A lot of them had nasty attitudes and Sheronda damn sure wasn't going to have some lazy, slick-mouth maid up in her son's and grandson's home.

She soon came across the thirty-ninth agency's pamphlet, Lá Casá De La Paz (The house of peace) and what sparked her interest was the dual-care services. They had full time aides who did house sitting and personal care elderly and disabled children. They also had home cleaning services solely. Sheronda hoped that she could finesse the personal care service provider into finding some to care for a newborn who wasn't disabled. Finding a nanny on top of a house cleaned just felt like so much work. And Sheronda's patience was wearing thin.

“Hola, Bienvenida a la casa de la paz, habla María, ¿en qué puedo ayudarle?” The woman on the other side of the phone line greeted Sheronda with a heavy spanish-accent.

“Um, I'm sorry I don't speak Spanish. Do you have anyone that speaks English, Maria?” Sheronda replied.

“Yes, Un minuto por favor.” The woman said before a beeping sound was heard and another voice answered, “Hello, this is Jasmine speaking, how may I help you.”

“Hey Jasmine, my name is Sheronda and I am interested in your dual-care services. I need both personal care and house cleaning services. But, not for me. For my son and grandson…” She then went on to explain her family's situation. And by the end of their two-hour long phone call, a payment plan and a list of caregivers for interviews were listed and scheduled to meet with Kareem. Things were more costly for the family than the average client due to their unique situation. No one needed to get approved by insurance. It was all independent contracting which meant cold cash and a notary contract had been set in place.

Michel'le sat in the bedroom-sized break room of Lá Casá De La Paz eating her lunch after coming to base after a long shift. She ate her plantains, rice and beans quietly in a corner seat, facing the wall. She drowned out the chair-chatter of the middle-aged caregivers who gossiped amongst themselves in Spanish with her headphones. Her cd sat in her waist belt around her waist as Brenda Lee's passion-filled song Emotions played. Her short-chubby legs spun back and forth underneath the chair as she quietly hummed along. A hand roughly rubbing against her shoulder caused her wide-eyed daydreaming gaze to break and her head to snap back. Galinda, one of her coworker’s lips moved and her head nodded to the door. Michel'le could feel the dampness of Gaildna's sweaty hand sink into the cotton fabric of her turtleneck. Michel'le quickly shoved the woman's hand off her and got up from her seat. The metal chair screeched loudly against the cool floor tiles as she rose and rushed out the room.

The music stopped and her earphones now sat loosely around her neck as she made her way to the coordinator's office. More work was exactly what she expected. Michel'le was the youngest in the staff so the patients that the other women refused or didn't show up for; Michel'le stepped in for. A bonus was that despite being an immigrant from Puerto Rico, she knew English fluently while the majority of the staff didn't care to learn. She was currently twenty-four years old despite looking fifteen in the face. Her body, her full figure of large teardrop-shaped breasts, chubby arms, plum oval-shaped thighs, and a large low-hung round fatty-rear that looked as if it should've belonged to a milf with some kids and more than a few sexual encounters under her belt should've had; was what made her look her age if not an age range close to it.

She strolled into Jasmine's office to see the umber-brown Dominican coordinator seated behind her chalky-white desk as usual, dressed in gray and black scrubs.

“Michel'le, Hey, have a seat.” Jasmine greeted as her dark brown eyes settled on the timid-standing young woman at the door.

Michel'le did quietly as told and folded her hands tightly together in her lap as she awaited to hear what she was here for.

“I've got a better position for you. Something long term. Uh-how do you say…longer contract. Off the books for the most part.” Jasmine started off before further explaining,”There's a family located in Queens, The Astoria area so it's a pretty good spot. The pay is very good, a thousand for you a week plus room & board. They want someone to be an in house nanny. Take care of an infant who's around five or six months old, clean the house, make three meals a day. I suggested you for the job along with Sonya, Eva, and Carmella. They have another agency with four other women coming.” Jasmine read over the details before looking directly at Michel'le and sighed.

“Honestly? Nena I want better for you. You're like a daughter to me and cleaning up shit, blood, and whatever else isn't what your life should be. You're a quiet girl, Un Nena Muy Buena (a very good girl) and esoy brujas (old hags) take advantage of that. This could be a start to better employment. Change isn't always bad.” Jasmine was the only one Michel'le shared more than two words with and held eye contact with. Jasmine knew the girl was very timid and a bit of a scardy cat, easily shaken up. And she wanted better for her.

Michel'le dug her tooth into the side of the gums of her lower lip as her nails dug into her palm. Small beads of sweat began to pebble underneath her arms and underneath her breasts. Change? She avoided that like the plague. But, this didn't sound bad. And it appeared that she'd be alone most of the time or in the company of the infant. ‘An infant. A small human.’ she thought to herself mentally. She'd never been around children before, let alone a baby. She didn't have much knowledge about them outside of a few antonym and childcare books she'd read at one of her client's homes.

“I don't know how to care for a child, Jasmine.” She finally spoke up. Spoken an octave above a whisper. Her voice sounded similar to her namesake, the r&b singer Michel'le. Not exactly but similar with its child-like quality, only Michel'le Ramirez was more airy. Her words left her mouth sounding like harmonious ad-libs.She spoke as though she never raised her voice in her life. And she hadn't. Ever.

“You’vee taken care of bed-ridden 80 and 90 year olds. Babies are much easier than that and they don't have slick mouths.” Jasmine dismissed, “You've got this.” She reassured her with a smile.

Saturday, January 28th came quicker than Michel'le expected. Jasmine has given her an address and interview time weeks prior. Morty's Dinner, located in the Hillside area of Jamaica, Queens was where the interviews were being conducted and 10 a.m. was her specific interview time. Michel’le arrived an hour earlier to the area due to wanting to avoid the unpredictable timing of the city's trains. Michel'le lingered around the park nearby for a bit. She was familiar with the area. She'd been to every borough because of her job. The weather was cold. A dry cold that would sting one's bones and redden their noses. She wore a white thermal turtleneck with an ankle-length indigo-blue denim dress, with her thermal long-sleeved long johns underneath. Wool socks covered her feet with four-trimmed rubber black anti-slip boots on her feet. An ankle-length Heather gray wool-trench coat covered her short frame like a blanket along with a crochet beanie that covered her head.

Her wide-eyed gaze swept across the cooped up street corners that were filled with various dope dealers and their clientele. She walked quickly to not bring an ounce of attention to herself. It was a five minute walk to the mom&pop diner she was sent to. Arriving inside the warm, breakfast food scented restaurant at exactly 9:58. She looked around for a man who fit the description of her portfolio. Mr.Mavis was described as a twenty-eight year old dark-skinned black male who would be seated at the last table on the third row. She didn't get a chance to get a full look around because she was harshly bumped into by none other than one of her co-workers, Sonya.

“Cabrón” (bastard) Sonya cussed under her breath as she bypassed Michel'le.

Michel'le squeezed at the leather strap of her purse and glared in Sonya's direction before shifting her eyes to the direction that the co-worker had come from. There he sat. And he wasn't anything that she expected. He was far more. The man across the way had the most vibrant shade of rich-sienna brown skin that looked like fine bourbon-colored mulberry silk. His luxurious attire of a gray colored animal-fur coat and black turtleneck hugged his neck perfectly made him look-like royalty. Sure, his clothes screamed money. But he sat in them with a certain type of class that made him look effortless. He wore the clothes, they didn't wear him. Even the gaunty large gold chain around his neck didn't appear tacky.

Kadeem felt someone staring at him. He felt the gaze from across the room and his eyes settled on, what to him looked like a little girl. She was very short. No more than than five feet tall and that long ass coat she had on was swallowing her up. She made her way towards his direction as his henchmen sat at the booth in front of him. Kadeem and Michel'le stared directly into each other's eyes. But both of them had different gazes. She looked startled and memeriezed while he looked curious.

“Oh hell naw, these niggas runnin' sweat shops too? Send'n youngin's n shit?” One of his men commented a little too loudly as Michel'le approached Kadeem.

She was confident he was the leader, the employer. His presence gave off this type ’je ne sais quoi’ that demanded respect and reciprocated it. His head was held high. Up close his chiseled, almost-angelic Nubian features made the back of neck grow sweaty and her palms grow clammy. His beauty was merely intimidating. “Excuse me, are you Mr Marvis?” Her squeaky tone convinced Kadeem that she indeed was a kid.

Kadeem looked her over before slowly nodding his head, “Sup, babygirl. What can I do for you?” Geez, His voice was as smooth as melted butter glazing toast. It had a subtle rasp to it but held a deep octave that sang off his lips like a Barry white song, “Call me Nique by the way,” he corrected.

“Mr.Nique…” his name sounded sweet like honey coming from her lips, “I'm Michel'le Ramirez, The agency; Lá Casá De La Paz sent me. 10:00 a.m. sharp.” Her words started off shaky but grew more firm towards the end of her informal sentence. Her accent was thicker with some words rather than others.

“Right…right. Have a seat, let Worrell get your coat,” Kadeem nudged his chin up and as if on cue, a light-skinned male in an oversized brown bomber with a low Afro had stood up and extended his arms out to take her coat.

“Oh…um…thank you.” She muttered out quickly as she briefly made eye-contact with the man as she removed her coat.

A dog was a dog and a man was a man. Nique's men and himself included had drank in her body with their eyes. Lustful looks passed across their eyes unt she sat down. Kadeem had taken notice of how Michel'le dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. So tight that her knuckles turned white. He then sent a sharp look forward that caused his four henchmen to turn around in their seats and face forward, “Why don't y'all niggas go take a walk or sum; go get air sum air.” It didn't sound like a suggestion to Michel'le. And given the fact that they all got up and began making their way outside let her know that it wasn't.

Michel'le proceeded to remove her crochet beanie hat. Her naturally curly hair was wavy today, her short choppy bangs sat a few inches above her eyebrows. Her hair fell to the top of her shoulders Now. It was Kadeem's turn to view her through the lense she viewed him in. Kadeem was met with raw beauty. Now that he could fully see her without the coat and hat covering her up, he got a chance to see the full picture. She clearly was no kid. Maybe seventeen if he was guessing her being younger than what the profilio he has yet to read would say. And if she was that young, well he had no reason to employ her. He admired her heart-shaped outward pouty lips, taking notice of how much fuller her bottom lip was versus her top lip. He also likes her flawless ochre-brown skin, the center of the cheeks of her babyish face were a shade of coral that reminded of peaches. Most of all, he loved her big, brown eyes. He had watched Bambi a few times with Jerome and oddly enough, Michel'le reminded him of faline. Her eye shape and her gaze. She was beautiful besides her janky ass bangs and denim dress that was too long in his opinion.

“Would you like some breakfast? Get whateva you want, on me.” He offered with a heavy NYC accent and reassurance that didn't have to worry about the bill.

“Oh…um sure, thanks.” The coral tint on her cheeks deepened as she pushed her hair behind her ears, “Are you gonna get anything? It…um…might be awkward for me to just sit and eat in your face.”

She made him crack a chuckle. A chuckle that sounded like the melodical roar of the engine of a mustang. Deep and smooth. The vibrations of his chuckle bounced off her skin and left goosebumps behind, “I can eat.” He agreed.

Michel'le’s shoulders dropped in relief and she nodded her head, “Cool, thank you.” She then proceeded to open the plastic menu book and skim through it. Kadeem found her awkwardness cute. Different from the woman he dealt with daily or came across.

The waitress had come over to their table and both ordered the breakfast special which included, scrambled eggs, two sausage links, hash browns,a coffee and a slice of apple pie or a stack of pancakes. Kadeem chose pancakes while Michel'le chose apple pie.

“So, why you want the job?” Kadeem asked as soon as the waitress was out of ear shot.

“Well um-”

“Yo, excuse me but you mind looking me in my eyes when you speak to me, baby girl,” Kadeem cut in.

Her blush spread up to the corners of her ears now. Her face grew hot as she moved her gaze from the menu to his eyes. Her mouth suddenly started to feel dry, “I'm sorry, it's a force of habit.” Michel'le quickly apologized with a slight stutter.

“It's all good.” He assured her with a nod, folding his gold-ring covered fingers together as he leaned forward, Kadeem smiled at her with a smile that made her feel at ease. He had a smile that could open the gates of heaven, “So, tell me why you want the job.”

The softness within his eyes made her feel relaxed and more comfortable to open up, “Well, it sounds nice.” She started off with a smile slowly creasing the corners of her lips, “I mean it sounds like light work compared to what I'm used to. I'm good at tranquility, and I want the job because I like spaces that are peaceful and you want a peaceful home. I can provide that.“

The pair shared a lingering look and for Michel'le this was rare. She couldn't bring herself to look elsewhere. The subtle smile on his lips that was slowly turning to a smirk,

“You real sweet Michel'le.” he said casually just as the waitress brought over their food. His type of casualness made her speechless. Unable to respond because she hadn't come across someone like him before. His cool, calm, and calculated demeanor made her feel so frantic and feral on the inside.

The pair mutually and inaudibly graced each other with the respect of silence to enjoy their food while it was hot. The chimed medley of forks clicking against porcelain plates was what could be heard for a good ten to fifteen minutes. Every so often their eyes would meet and Michel'le would be the first to look elsewhere in a bashful manner. Tapping her mouth to clean off any crumbles of food, she proceeded to ask about his son, “What's your baby's name? The profilio didn't give his name, sorry. Just that he's an infant boy.” she nibbled at the side of her lip as asked further, “what's he like?”

The authentic smile of happiness that formed across Kadeem's face at the mention of his son, “My boy's name is Jerome.” The smile on Kadeem's face brightened up the whole room in Michel'le’’s eyes. It was sweet to see.”He's beautiful, real beautiful. The moment we met, I looked into his eyes and just saw an angel. My biggest blessing fo’real.” He could really rant about how great his baby boy was all day, but instead he took out his leather wallet and pulled out a credit card sized photo of the boy. Michel'le moved her plate aside and leaned over the table to get a closer look, Kadeem caught a whiff of her perfume. She smelt like peppermint and vanilla buttercream frosting. An unexpected mixture but he was digging it.

“He looks just like you,” she smiled as she further looked at the photo, “You're right. He's beautiful. I like his eyes, they're pretty.”

“Preciate’ that babygirl, he's my mini me fo'real.” Kadeem replied before he pushed his plate aside and opened the portfolio given to him by her agency. A few things on it made one of his eyebrows raise, “You twenty-four? I woulda guessed seventeen.” He commented aloud as he read, “From Culbra, Puerto Rico, hm? It says you only been in the states eight months, ya English is real crystal clear tho…” he nodded in approval before flipping to client forms.

“Thanks, uh I spoke English back home. It was taught in grade school as a secondary language. Tourism jobs helped me be more fluent too, I guess.” Michel'le shared quietly as she slid over her plate of apple pie. Kadeem nodded his head but didn't utter a word due to focusing on reading over her patient performance biweekly reports.

*You ever taken care of a child before? Cause all I'm seeing here is a whole lotta old niggas here on they last days.” Kadeem began to wonder why his mother went to an agency who specialized in the elderly and not children. His son nor him needed AARP or a bedpan. “No disrespect, sweetheart. I mean I'm sure that them niggas is more of a handful than Jerome.” He quickly added on.

He looked her directly in her eyes as he awaited an answer and despite Michel’le wanting the job, she wasn't going to lie. “No I haven't. Ever.” She admitted with a firm tone. The first one that bothered to appear in the midst of their conversation. She managed to push past her stutter and nervousness to give a solid answer without feeling defeated.

Kadeem sent a head nod her way as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “Ain't much of a problem.” His attention shifted behind her as his henchmen decided to make their way back inside the diner and walk past his & michel'le's table just as he asked, “You know how to cook? Not no hospital patient food, I mean do you know to rock them pots, babygirl.”

“She sholl ain't get that muthfuckin' thick eatin' no

rabbit food.” One of his henchmen muttered underneath his breath as he passed Kadeem. None other than Tez-G. Kadeem shot him a look that could only be read as ‘If I wasn't busy I'd punch you in the fucking mouth’

Luckily, He said it closer to Kadeem than Michel'le because by the looks of it, she didn't appear to hear. The girl was with her head down, silently eating her pie as she contemplated her answer.

“Well, that's uh…a matter of opinion… isn't it?” She replied awkwardly as she fiddled with her fork, “ I think I cook fairly well. I cook for myself only what I've been taught by my mother and her mother. But um, it's not about me. It's about you, serving you what you like.” She clarified before placing a forkful of apple pie in her mouth.

'Serve you' Kadeem liked the sound of that. It fed his king mentality and ego.

“Word.” He smirked.

The remainder of their time lasted ten minutes, when their breakfast desserts were finished, Kadeem stuck his hand out, “Preciate’ you choppin it up wit me, Michel'le.”

As she reached her hand out to shake his,the way he said her name made her feel scatterbrained. Sure, she thought she had a decent name. Michel'le didn't have a problem with it but the way kadeem said it made it sound pretty, Or maybe if only sounded pretty coming from his mouth. Michel'le wasn't able to get in a second thought because he had kissed her knuckles instead of shaking her hand and she wasn't expecting that at all.

“I'll be in touch.” The words that spilled from his heart-shaped lips went in one ear and out the other because she still was hung up on the fact that he kissed her hand. The softness of his lips reminded her of the softness of marshmallows.

“O-okay.” The care attendant managed to squeak out. A wobbly, goofball smile sat heavy on her pouty lips, “Thanks for breakfast.” She rushed out the words with a mousy tone as her anxiety flared up when she stood up. She needed to get up and go before embarrassing herself (further) by talking too fast or stuttering too badly. Her mind was in overstimulation mode. Which was a rare occurrence for a woman like her who walked with a high sense of numbness to any and everything around her.

She swiftly waved goodbye with her hand moving frantically. Kadeem had just sat there with a smirk of amusement laid across his lips as he sent her a head nod. He definitely has his fun subtly messing with her. Michel'le was easy to read in his opinion.Her genuineness was displayed within her eyes. He watched as she rushed out of the diner with her coat and beanie in hand.

Kadeem's attitude during the duration of her interview was the nicest he had been in the last few months. Even before his baby mother's passing, he'd been hard and cut throat. Raq was moving shady and he was smoking her out one flame at a time. Also, he cut corners in his crew, discarding rats and bringing those who showed ‘’loyalty’ at the levels of survival of the fittest. This was war and he needed the strongest soldiers lined up behind him.

“Nique what you did that got that girl running out like a church mouse?” Worrell joked as he slid into the seat that Michel'le once sat in.

“Just being friendly.” Kadeem chastised with a smirk.

“Yeah, be a lil mo friendly and she might go into cardiac arrest or some shit. She got a real bugged out look.” Worrell attempted to widen his eyes enough to get them to be as big as hers.

“You look stupid as fuck, yo. Matter fact, stop looking at me nigga, it's offensive.” Kareem mugged him with a look of annoyance. He let out a chuckle when Worrell huffed. “Come on man, back to work.” Kareem dropped a crisp hundred dollar bill on the table before he rose up from his seat.

Kareem's day blended into the night and that spilled into the early morning hour of six a.m. He'd taken the long way home to his new residence and ended up walking through his front door at 7 a.m. The aroma of Fodgers coffee beans brewing let him know his mother had gotten up and was occupying the kitchen. And after he left his shoes by the door and made his way into the kitchen, he was met with exactly what he expected. There in the center of the kitchen Sheronda was seated at the kitchen table. Her usual silk bluebonnet laid on her head, a mug of coffee in her left hand with a Newport cigarette between her fingers.

“Hey Mama.” Kadeem greeted warmly as he took a seat across from her.

A look of relief flashed across her eyes as her shoulders visibly settled down. With the life he lived, it was a blessing every time he came back in one piece, “Hey suga.” She greeted tiredly with a soft welcoming smile.

“I got some good news, well more for you than for me but still good.” Kareem grinned. And when she raised her brow and awaited his response, he continued “I may have found

a caregiver for the crib and Jerome.”

“How old is she?” Was his mother's first question. She hoped the woman in question was someone seasoned when it came to the task and at least in her late fifties. Her age range request for the agencies was fifty to sixty-five.

“Dang ma, you ain't gonna ask about her credentials first?” He teased with a chuckle.

All jokes aside, Michel'le had sixteen pages worth of up to date credentials that sparked his interest. She knew how to administer a series of medications, change wounds, use stitching to properly cover wounds, hell she cleaned immobile people from top to bottom and the patient's families said she made them feel safe and comfortable. Grown adults who were being cared for like infants,

“If she's something nice to look at I doubt you give a damn about her credentials.” his mother replied while giving him a side-eye.

Kadeem only laughed his mother off, “Man ma it ain't even like that. Plus, I think she's a nun or some shit like that. I mean…she showed up covered up from top to bottom.” Even with the information he had told her, his mother looked at him as if she didn't believe one bit of what he was saying. Kareem only chuckled as he stood up, “Look, do you wanna do the job? Because we can cancel all this.”

Sheronda kept quiet before shaking her head and taking a sip of her coffee.

“Aight then, I'm gonna go check on little man then shower.” He placed a kiss on his mother's cheek before heading upstairs.

All jokes aside, Kadeem had no interest in pursuing Michel'le in any aspect. Romantically, Sexually, etc. His main focus was getting Jerome comfortable so that he could get the kingdom he built in order and be better than ever. Outside her beauty, Michel’le wasn't his type. She was too green and damsels in distress wasn't his thing. But then again, Kadeem couldn't overlook that his taste in women was merely a product of his environment. They were predictable. He knew what they liked and how they moved. They all turned on him at some point. All snakes in the grass looking for the next with more street credibility, money, power, and anything else that was superficial. Like him.