A Product of the System

Book 1: Out for Self Series

by Ms. Michel Moore

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Simone knows if she plays with fire, she runs the risk of getting burned, but she just can't help herself. Living large off the paternity scam of a lifetime, she has two baby daddies cashing her out for her infant son. Even her own best friends are getting tired of her low-down, manipulative ways.

Unfortunately, the streets begin to talk, and the out-for-self mother's luck taps out. Not in the mood for apologies, each man wants his child support back in pure blood, no matter who gets hurt or who gets in the way.

When Simone's "meal ticket" son gets older, he discovers he is no more than a pawn and a product of the system. This dramatic tale by street lit master Ms. Michel Moore shows that family can turn on you fast, sometimes even before strangers.

Produced by Buck 50 Productions

Release date: May 29, 2018

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Girl, trust and believe when I tell you thangs is straight lovely for a pretty bitch like me. I just can’t believe how dumb and naive these assholes are in this freaking city. I swear to God, I have never, ever in my twenty-five years of living in the Murder Mitten seen two bigger fools walking the face of this earth than Joey and Kamal’s simple behinds. They must have been born without brains. I know that I’m the shit and all, but, damn!”

Simone was sitting back, styling and profiling on her brand-new plush cream leather couch, with both feet kicked up on the matching marble coffee table. She was like a Supreme Court chief justice judge residing on the bench holding court as she passed her own personal observations and views on different ghetto bullshit. Sporting the latest clothes, a new Lexus in the driveway, plenty of jewelry, and two dudes on her line, Simone was on top of the world and her game . . . so she thought. Having given birth to a bouncing seven-pound baby boy a little over two years ago, her body was finally back in tip-top perfect shape. All the weight she’d gained during her pregnancy managed to stay put in the right places and was toned. Ms. Thang was what many old-school players referred to as a “brick house.” Simone was completely convinced, hands-down, no questions asked, that she was the shit, and no one—man nor beast—could tell her any different. Even if they tried, it wouldn’t do any good. Her self-esteem was seriously stuck on arrogant.

“Them crazy busters ain’t got a clue about nothing. They gonna both hustle to take care of me and Li’l T for the next eighteen years, regardless. Flat-the-fuck-out.” Moving her shoulder-length hair out of her face, she smirked as the tightly twisted blunt made its way around the room to her. Simone placed it up to her nose, sniffing the strong, funky aroma. “Hell, yeah. This dat true shit.” She then put it up to her lips, inhaling deeply several good times, holding the smoke in until she started to choke. Simone tried her best to gain hold of her composure, taking full advantage of the blunt being in her possession. “You watch and see.” She hit it once again and started gagging. “The game is on! Ain’t no nigga around that ain’t gonna serve me and my needs.”

Her friend stared at her all of fifteen seconds before she started to complain. “Damn, bitch! Why you gotsta hog all the weed and shit?” Chari started laughing as she snatched the blunt out of Simone’s hand and protested. “Other people wanna get high too. Shit!”

Chari was one of Simone’s best friends in the entire world and godmother to her son, Li’l T. The two girls had been hanging out with each other ever since the fourth grade at McManor Elementary, when Chari’s family moved to the projects from Grove Hill, a small town located in rural Alabama, right outside of Mobile.

While Simone was high yellow in skin tone, with shoulder-length, golden-brown hair and brown eyes, Chari was just the opposite. The hot Alabama sun had been generous with touching her already-extra-dark chocolate complexion. Chari wore short dreadlocked hair, and her skin was overly cursed with acne, which always brought constant ridicule from the fellas as well as most of the females she would encounter. Her best friend, Simone, didn’t make it any better by always behaving like she was the real showstopper. Chari was content in playing the background position and was disgustingly loyal to Simone. She didn’t mind playing the demeaning role that she was assigned in life. Chari admired her friend and loved listening to her brag about her so-called skills. It often passed the time away while they were getting fucked up. But the truth be told, deep down inside, Chari really felt sorrow for her misguided friend.

Simone struggled to talk, still choking as she laughed at Chari. “Be past careful, girl; don’t be burning up my shit with them ashes.” She made sure to watch her friend like a hawk. It took her two long solid months of begging and major ass kissing to get her new furniture. No matter how much crap she talked, bottom line, she knew her furniture would have to last for some time to come. No telling when Simone’s money train would pull out of the station, leaving her high and dry and flat broke, looking for the next man in line to pick up the slack.

Out of the clear blue sky, Simone jumped up, running over to look out the huge picture window. With the rattling noise of the metallic blinds in her ear, she carefully searched the block for any signs of movement. After peeking out, scanning the premises and not seeing jack, she went back and plopped her body on the couch. The weed had taken over, having Simone posted on paranoid status, thinking that she was hearing things.

“Dang, I swear a bitch thought I heard somebody calling my name,” Simone snickered as she finished her speech. “These trees must got me gone. Anyway, Chari, now, like I was saying, as long as I got Li’l T, then a bitch gonna get tore off, that’s a given. You feel me? In between Joey damn near furnishing this crib and Kamal paying my car note on a monthly basis, I’m tight. Please believe.”

Simone’s tiny son had taken his first steps, celebrated two birthdays, and was smart for his age but was still somewhat confused over which one of his mommy’s boyfriends, who always took turns sleeping in her bed and lying on top of her, was his true biological father. Simone taught Li’l T to call both of them Da-Da, and while not fully understanding one way or the other, he did as he was told. Joey and Kamal both showed Li’l T unconditional love whenever they would be around, and that was all that mattered to him in his little corner of the world.

The entire nine months of Simone’s pregnancy, from conception to delivery, she had both Joey and Kamal running around catering to her every whim or desire. Whether it was an all-expense-paid shopping spree at the local upscale mall or fresh shrimp and lobster meals, it was done. Trips to the day spa to get a full-body massage, including her swollen feet being rubbed, Simone had them both going in circles to please her. She constantly reminded them the reason she was so fat and uncomfortable was that she was carrying their seed. Simone was out cold rolling the dice in the potentially fatal game she was playing. When she got the results from her ultrasound, she, unfortunately, found out it was going to be a boy she would give birth to. She had to think quickly to maintain the game that she had started. The closer her due date got, the pressure was building. Joey or Kamal didn’t have any children, making Simone’s baby their first. She knew for a fact each of them would most certainly want his firstborn son to bear his name and carry on their family legacy. In any other normal situation when a female was pregnant, married or not, naming the baby was no big deal. Yet, nothing was ever easy when it came to Simone and her fast-paced, confusion-filled life.

After weeks of thinking and scheming, she devised the perfect cover to secure her future. She explained to the two devoted expectant fathers that she wanted to name the baby Terrell Harris. That would be after her loving father, who had tragically passed away when she was just a little girl. She even managed to shed a few tears, looking sincere as a fuck when she told the sad, fictitious lie to each one. The crazy reality was, Simone never once met her father or even knew who the buster was, for that matter. She acted her ass off royally, deserving an Academy Award for Best Dramatic Performance in a Baby Daddy Lie.

Touchdown! After all the plotting that Simone went through, it paid off, working like a charm. It had to. Her cash flow and everyday survival depended on it. Joey was the first one to give in to her emotional request (code name for lie). He was easy. His devotion for Simone was true. The things that he did for her and Li’l T were strictly out of love. The day that Simone and the baby were due to be released from the hospital, Joey spent more than a couple of thousand on bottles, diapers, and cases of formula. He purchased a brass canopy crib fit for a little prince and enough clothes for an entire room full of babies. Joey vowed that his son would want for nothing. Simone, being the woman that carried his seed, would, of course, reap the benefits, receiving the same treatment as their son. She was undeniably living on easy street.

Joey offered to marry Simone so they could be a real family, but she flat-out refused the proposal after finding out that Joey’s elderly parents would be living with them. There was no way that Joey was going to leave his folks, who were both sickly and needed him. They’d made sure to give him the best education they could afford. Always taking him to museums, art galleries, and other cultural events to ensure that he was well rounded and responsible, Joey’s parents gave him everything they had. Now was his time to repay their loyalty, and the type of man he was, doing that was not a problem but a privilege.

Kamal, on the other hand, was stubborn, meaning Simone had some heavy begging to do to finally change his one-track sinister mind. He wanted the baby named Kamal Isa Jeffries Jr., after him. Period. Point-blank. He was way on the other side of the meter from Joey when it came to showing any form of compassion. If enough money was involved, he’d smack up, spit on, and rob his own dying grandmother of her last gasping breath. He was spiteful, stingy, and hard-nosed.

Simone believed the fact that both his parents were drug addicts caused him to be so mean-spirited. Late one night after getting overly intoxicated, Kamal even let it slip out that he and his younger sister were both born crack babies, which definitely explained his mind-set. She was happy that she’d never met either one of his parents, knowing they were the reason for most of his erratic behavior. A loose cannon from first conception, Simone would always have to bring her A-game when dealing with Kamal. The hustle was rough as hell, but the final payoff was always fucking gravy. Simone always got her way, even if it took an ass kicking to make it happen.

“Girl, what you gonna tell Li’l T when he gets older and shit? He’s gonna want to know the truth, then what you gonna say?” Chari was honestly concerned for her godchild’s well-being and safety as she reached on the table, putting the blunt in the ashtray. She adjusted her body in the chair, relaxing as she stared at Simone so she could hear her friend’s response clearly to the question. “Then what?”

“Don’t worry about all that. By the time that bullshit jumps off, please believe, I should be pushing a brand-new car every season, living in a plush, lavish condo uptown, and my pockets on swoll. Let me run this, Chari!” Simone rolled her eyes while sucking her teeth, twisting her neck. “Just get ready to ride in that new Lex, all right, bitch?”

Chari hated to doubt her girl or her skills, but she knew that Simone was living foul as a motherfucker, and misery was lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce on her. “I ain’t mad at you. Simone, I swear to God,” Chari insisted, raising her left hand up. “I’m just worried about Li’l T and how his feelings will be hurt when this lie hits the fan.” Her facial expression was full of doom as she frowned at the thought of the outcome: Everything in the dark comes to the light sooner or later.

“All right, Ms. Worried. Stop sending all them bad vibes my way. You blowing my dang-gone high. How about I see if I can get a babysitter, and we go down to the club tonight?” Simone was trying to change the subject and get Chari off her back. “You need to loosen the hell up.”

“You right, Simone. I know I’m tripping.” Chari tried to act as if she was done with the subject. “I’m gonna call Prayer’s behind and see if that jealous Negro she lives with will let her hang out.”

Both girls gave each other a high five as they clowned their friend. “Yeah, he do be acting like her damn daddy,” Simone laughed as Chari grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and started to dial Prayer.

“But for real, for real. I do wish I had a man like Prayer’s. He really loves her.” Chari smiled.

“Whatever,” Simone replied with a sarcastic tone as she picked up the cordless phone off the charger, disappearing into the kitchen. She then swung open her well-stocked stainless steel refrigerator, checking how many juice boxes Li’l T had left while calling her young neighbor, Yvette, who lived just across the street with her nosy foster mother.

Any time Simone needed a babysitter on short notice, the impressionable girl was Johnny-on-the-spot and eager to please. Yvette looked up to her fly neighbor Simone. With all the high-priced cars and trucks that frequently pulled in and out of the driveway, and not to forget all the designer hand-me-downs Simone spoiled her with, Yvette loved being at the house. Whether it was washing dishes, cleaning Li’l T’s toy-filled room, changing his dirty Pull-Ups, or braiding his hair, the orphaned teenager would rush right over to do her undeserving hero a favor, despite her foster mother’s disapproving glances. Ms. Holmes seemed to have a third eye when it came to seeing Simone for what she truly was: trouble brewing.

“Hey, Simone,” Chari yelled into the kitchen, “Prayer said that ol’ boy is out of town, so she’ll be over in about an hour or so.” Chari was always happy when all three of them went clubbin’. It gave her someone to talk to when Simone would pull one of her all-too-famous disappearing acts and turn into a ghost. Simone was good for meeting some wannabe ballin’ dude at the bar, getting invited to VIP, and leaving her friends’ ass out to dry.

“Oh, dig that. That’s tight. Yvette’s young behind is on her way over, so let me get Li’l T up from his nap. Plus, I have to call Joey and see if he’s going to hang out tonight or what.” Simone came back into the living room, starting to gather up stuff to put in an oversized Coach purse, which doubled as her son’s overnight bag.

“Dang gee, Simone, I thought, you, me, and Prayer were just hanging tonight,” Chari questioned with a disapproving frown plastered on her face.

Simone did a double take at her girl, immediately stopping dead in her tracks. Steam appeared to be rising from her head as she leered maliciously at Chari. “Listen, you big crybaby, if Joey and his boys show up down at the club, we all three gonna get free drinks.” Simone threw Li’l T’s stuff down on the coffee table out of frustration. “So unless you got some other fools to sponsor our black asses, shut the fuck up and get ya behind ready. How ’bout that!” The room grew silent as Simone stormed out, marching into the bedroom to get her son up and ready to go over to Yvette’s.

That bitch must be freakin’ nuts! Simone thought as she harshly shook Li’l T awake from his peaceful nap. It was no way in Miami heat hell that Ms. Simone was going to let any opportunity to eat, drink, or party on someone else’s fat pockets slip by. If Chari wanted to stay home and miss out on the fun, then so be it. That would be her fucking loss. Simone was about her business when it came to getting over. If it was ladies free before ten o’clock, then you better know that Simone was walking in at nine fifty-nine on the nose. She was always down for whatever, especially when it wasn’t costing her a damn thang.

“Hey, wake up, Terrell.” She grabbed his little arms.

“Yes, Mommy.” Li’l T began to cry from being instantly snatched out of his teddy-bear, candy-land dreams.

“Come the hell on and help Mommy get your things so you can go bye-bye with Yvette.”

Li’l T was still half-asleep as Simone stood him on his feet, forcing him to walk on his own. Still considered just a baby, he wanted to fall out on the floor, whine, and kick about being too sleepy to move but was wise enough to know that his mother, Simone, didn’t play that shit and would smack his hand, or better yet, his behind.

Li’l T would have been considered a blessing and godsend to most parents, but to his mother, she saw him in a much different light: a meal ticket! The two baby books Simone kept with both Joey and Kamal’s names listed as the “daddy” was proof positive of that messy, underhanded shit.

Misunderstood Chari, still motionless, alone in the living room, finally quietly sat back in the chair without muttering a single solitary word as she listened to Simone bark orders to her son. She knew, once again, that her friend was right about the night.

I guess the fellas should come. Free is free!

It was almost eight o’clock in the evening when Prayer was pulling up in the long, gravel-filled driveway, bouncing her man Drake’s, brand-new, triple-black Range Rover that was sitting on 22s. The sounds were on bump, causing the windows in Simone’s house to vibrate from the bass while all the neighborhood kids stood wide-eyed and amazed at the spinners. They swarmed around to gawk while dancing to the sounds of the music playing. It was a typical scene out of a deep-down-in-the-dirty rap video with everyone snapping their fingers, even Granny.

“Ooow weee! That’s my truck!” one kid yelled.

“No, it ain’t; it’s mine!” screamed the next.

Chari happily ran on the porch and out to the sidewalk greeting Prayer. “Damn, chick, when did y’all get this? This shit is hot to death! Y’all two done moved up in the world like George and Weezy!”

“Girl, stop bugging. It ain’t nothing but another crazy bill to pay.” Prayer laughed, stepping out of the truck. “Another way for Drake’s crazy ass to floss. You know how he do.”

Chari completely tuned out her friend trying to downplay the sweet ride she was gripping and continued to jock. No matter what Prayer said to Chari trying to change the subject from the new truck, they both had to agree that it was the shit, and Drake had truly outdone himself this time. Prayer never bragged about her house, wardrobe, or money. She didn’t have to. Her shit spoke for itself. This female didn’t have to put on airs of superiority or degrade the next person to make herself feel better. She was living her life the way Simone dreamed about, which is probably the reason the two hardly ever got along. Simone was secretly bitter and insecure when it came to Prayer, who was equally as pretty as Simone but carried herself with a lot more class.

“Girl, stop all that fooling and come give me a hug.” Prayer opened her arms, running toward Chari. They both smiled as Chari continued praising her girl. Prayer was rocking a pair of bright white hip-huggers that showed off her shape, a tight-fitting tank top with flashy rhinestones across the chest that spelled out “Diva,” and a pair of raw gator sandals. Her toes were perfectly manicured to match her nails. She had a Christian Dior purse on her shoulder, and her hair was fierce. The girl stayed on point and couldn’t be faded.

“Now, that’s what’s really up, Prayer. You keep you some fly gear on ya butt.” Chari waved her hand around, snapping her fingers twice as the two walked up the stairs, entering Simone’s front doorway.

Simone had been standing in the bedroom window, watching Prayer pull up, fuming with hatred from the whip Prayer was driving and the way Chari, who she thought was her private flunky, was kissing Prayer’s ass. Simone wanted to see exactly what Prayer was wearing so she could try her best to outshine her. She tore through her closet like a tornado, searching for an outfit that would make both Chari and Prayer jealous. Unfortunately, the last few days that Simone tried on her clothes, nothing seemed to fit the way she liked for them to.

Damn, I need some new gear! Them hoes done seen most of this shit. Forget Li’l T. From now on out, I’m buying for self!

Simone snatched up her phone off the bed, dialing Joey’s cell number. After three or four rings, he answered.

“Yeah, what’s good, Simone, baby?”

“What . . .