“You ain’t my man, or my daddy, Paul. You can’t tell me what to do. If I put P.J. on, my stamps and cash will go up. Shit, it’s gotta be better than the little bit of change you call yourself dropping on me once a month.”

“You know you’re playing yourself. I take care of P.J. all year-round, and still give your sack-chasing ass money. Give me a fucking break.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a break. If I take P.J. and move away, you won’t have to worry about it. Stop fucking with me, Paul. You already know P.J.’s size, so I ain’t gotta tell you. ’Bye, nigga!”

“You fucking bitch!” Paul screamed into the phone, but the line was already dead.

Rhonda hung up the phone and enjoyed a devilish giggle. There was something about plucking Paul’s nerves that brought her a sick joy. She tried to act like she was truly over him, but it was a lie. Paul had been the best thing to ever happen to her. He might not have been the most romantic cat, but he took care of home. He always made sure Rhonda and her children didn’t go without, even before P.J. came along. In the end, it was her own laziness and greed that drove him away.

Paul had moved on to greener pastures. He was rebuilding his life, and even had someone new. Rhonda had met her twice, and could honestly say that she couldn’t stand the bitch. She paraded around in her little business suits and pressed hair, making Rhonda want to choke the life from her. It wasn’t that Marlene had ever done anything wrong to her, Rhonda was just hating.

She had tried on several occasions to get back into Paul’s good graces, but always ended up coming up short. She thought it was because of Marlene, but the reality was that Paul was just fed up with Rhonda’s shit. He no longer had the patience for her or her ways.

It didn’t matter to Rhonda, though. He could have his happy life and everything in it. As long as she had P.J., Paul would be bound to her. He might turn her away now, but there would come a day when he would give in to her advances.

A knock on the front door brought Rhonda out of her plotting. Alisha came out of the back room to get it, but Rhonda beat her to it. She opened the door and a dark-skinned kid, wearing a fitted Yankee cap and a white T-shirt, strode in.

“Alisha,” Rhonda said and turned to her daughter. “Take P.J. and Pooh outside. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Why I gotta take them?” Alisha whined, and was rewarded by an open-hand slap.