Rhonda sat at her usual post on the far end of the couch with her TV tuned to BET. She had finally gathered the strength to finish cleaning her house. As a reward to herself, she was going to get sky high and drunk. She was just about to crack open another Corona when someone knocked on the door.

“Alisha, didn’t I tell you to take your fucking key when you left this house!” she shouted. Angrily, Rhonda made her way to the door and snatched it open. To her utter shock, it wasn’t her daughter standing on the other side.

“Hey, Rhonda,” Paul said in an all-to-calm voice. His eyes were bloodshot and held more than a slight glint of madness.

“Paul, what the fuck are you doing here? I’ve got a restraining order out against you!” she reminded him.

“I just came to see my son,” Paul said.

“P.J.’s not here, so you can leave.” She tried to close the door, but he caught it with his foot.

“That works, too, ’cause we gotta talk.” He invited himself in. He crossed the living room with Rhonda on his heels.

“Paul, I hope you didn’t come over here to start no shit, ’cause if you did…”

“Is P.J. my son?” he blurted out.

Rhonda was stunned by the question, but being a skilled schemer, she recovered quickly. “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?”

“Just answer it!” he barked.

The tone of his voice made Rhonda nervous. She had seen Paul enraged, but the state he was in was totally different. There seemed to be something terribly off kilter about him that day.

“Of course P.J. is your son. I ain’t got no reason to lie,” she told him.

“Good, then maybe you can clear this up,” he said, handing her the printout.

Rhonda cautiously took the paper from Paul’s outstretched hand and read it. When she got to the bottom, the blood immediately drained from her face. Though she was no medical technician, she got the gist of what the printout was trying to say. She looked over at Paul, who was watching for a reaction.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” he said in a harsh tone.

“Paul, where the fuck did you get this shit from?” she asked, wheels spinning, trying to piece together a story.

“Doesn’t matter where I got it, what I wanna know is is it true?”

Rhonda could’ve guessed where he got the paternity test, but she knew off the back it was Marlene. She had the resources and the motive to do some underhanded shit like that. When Rhonda caught her on the streets, it would be on and popping. Rhonda saw the seriousness in Paul’s eyes and couldn’t think of what to say. She could continue trying to convince him that it was all bullshit, but you couldn’t argue with scientific proof.