Read Online Baby Momma 2 by Ni’chelle Genovese - Free Book Online Page A

of the main lights were off in the house but the sitter had left the foyer lit. She was sitting in the living room, doing some shit with these long-ass needles. I guess that’s what the fuck knitting looks like. Boring, I thought. Darla was an older, maybe late-forties white lady with stringy brown hair. Michelle found her through some kind of nanny referral service. She came with this long list of celebrity clients, a resume, a background check, all that shit. The needles clinked together as she dropped them into her little nanny knapsack and walked over to us.
    â€œHello, misses.” She always called us that like we weren’t some damn grown-ass women, always talkin’ in her polite little field mouse voice. I bet she had a gazillion cats at home an’ shit, or a million of those little white china baby dolls and she be talkin’ to ’em and shit like they real kids. That’s what the fuck she looked like in her pink and white “Nannies ’R’ Us” uniform that the agency made her wear.
    â€œA visitor came by not long after you left. As instructed I did not approach nor open the door. The children are upstairs in bed. They are very well behaved and beautiful little ones. Feel free to reserve my services anytime.”
    I didn’t hear a damn thing after the word “visitor.” Who in the hell came by the house?
    You would’ve thought the two of us were wanted fugitives the way we suddenly looked at each other. Both of us asked the same question in our heads without needing to speak it out loud in front of this person who didn’t need to know our business.
    â€œDarla, I’ll see you out. Thank you so, so much for your time this evening.” Michelle took over and walked Darla toward the front door. She locked and bolted the double front doors, set the alarm, and together we went down the hall into the study that we never used. It wasn’t a large study, I guessed. I ain’t never had a house with a study so I wouldn’t know. Michelle picked all the books that lined all the walls, most of which she’d said she read. I’d skimmed through a few but they were all, “think about this, grow rich that,” a ton of shit I couldn’t get into. The only one that I’d actually read was an old voodoo tale that scared the hell out my ass and I ain’t touched another one since.
    Our entire house minus Chelle’s “sanctuary” had hardwood flooring, which I personally hated. Michelle’s reasoning was it would not only add value to the house but it’d be easier to keep clean with the kids. When I told her I didn’t like hardwood floors because they’re cold, Bam, she had them install heaters in the floors. Nothing, not a single thing, in the house was mine or had my touch. Everything was Michelle’s vision or Michelle’s idea or customized to Michelle’s liking or her idea of comfort. She’d furnished and picked it all out before we moved from Virginia as a “gift.” She ain’t even bother to think that I’d have liked to at least have some say in what color walls I’d want to stare at every damn day, or what kind of couch I’d want my ass on? Hell, I ain’t even like the colors or the design on the sheets on the damn bed. Ugh.
    We walked up to the oversized mahogany desk in the center. Michelle plopped down in the leather seat in front of the touchscreen HP and I sat in her lap, since it was the only place to sit.
    â€œYou ever even learn how to use that damn camera system?” I was being a smartass on purpose. Since the day it was installed I’d never figured out how to use it and I sure as hell wasn’t sure if she had.
    â€œThe man said it’s twenty-four hours and backed up to a main server, all we have to do is enter the password and we can view the footage.”
    I wasn’t sure why I never thought of it before. The cameras were all some