Money-Makin' Mamas by Smooth Silk Page A

I knew. I’d heard every word my daughter had just told me, and she didn’t have to go into further details about it. At that point, I knew that Ray had to die.
    I held Chyna in my arms, allowing her to cry hard on my shoulder. I cried too, but not in front of her. It was later that night when I sat on the edge of my bed with a Glock 9 shaking in my hand. Ray was supposed to come over, and I waited for him to come through the door so I could blow his fucking brains out. I didn’t need the police, and I didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened. Putting him behind bars wasn’t good enough for me. He needed to be six feet under; there was no other option. With that in mind, I waited. Waited for hours, but Ray was a no - show. I called his phone; he didn’t answer. Called around looking for him; nobody knew where he was. And by four o’clock in the morning, I finally realized that maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t come. My daughters would’ve witnessed a murder that they definitely didn’t need to see. They would see me in handcuffs, and knowing that they’d be thrown in the foster care system woke me up. This was something I had to plan for. I had to be real careful, and then execute a plan that would wash that nigga off this earth. I finally smiled that night while thinking about how I wanted it done.
    I had never forgiven myself for what had happened to Chyna, but today that nigga was going to pay for all the hurt he’d inflicted on me and my girls. Maybe some people thought I was a coward for not smoking his ass myself, but that was in no way the case.
    If Ray was killed, 99 percent of the people would think I’d done it. No one would ever suspect Chyna, but if they did suspect either of us, we both were covered. I, myself, was at home, cooking some seasoned catfish and coleslaw for me and my girls. If I needed an alibi, I had some.
    I heard Chyna knock on Ray’s door.
    â€œWho is it?” Ray shouted.
    â€œIt’s me, Ray. Chyna.”
    Less than ten seconds later, I heard a firecracker sound pop five times through my speakerphone. I tightened my stomach to cool the queasy feeling I had, but when I heard Chyna’s voice, I could tell everything had gone as planned.
    â€œDone,” was all she said.
    â€œGood. Now come home. Mama got something real good waiting for you.”
    â€œI don’t want fish,” she said. “I want chicken.”
    Yeah, sometimes my daughters were some ungrateful bitches, but I loved them nonetheless. “Chicken it is then,” I said. “Anything you want.”
    Right then and there, Chyna had earned her badge of honor from me. We never told Simone or Karrine shit, and when they heard about Ray being killed, they took the news real hard. Even at his funeral they could barely look at him and they couldn’t stop crying. With my black silk dress on that squeezed my size forty double-Ds and cut above my knees, I had no problem looking at him. While nobody was looking, I leaned down into his casket and pretended to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. Instead, I spat in that motherfucker’s face and said good riddance to the nigga I hated the most on this earth.

Chapter Eight
    Karrine
    â€œMama!” I yelled from the bottom stair while looking up at her bedroom. She said she was going to take a shower, but I needed some answers right here and now.
    I had been in downtown Chicago at a new nightclub that had just opened last night, and I saw Ray’s down chick, Tracy, who Simone had beef with. She and a gang of bitches she was with started looking my way, but since Simone or Chyna didn’t go with me, I was pretty much on my own. My girl, Lylah, was with me, but she wasn’t the type of bitch to have my back. Only my sisters were, so I knew when it was smart for me to clamp my mouth shut and make a move before some shit went down. On my way out, one of the chicks whispered some noise