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think CC’s gonna tell him?” Trisha asked.
    Just the thought of it made Candace’s heart drop.
    “I don’t know. I feel like he won’t . . . . If he was gonna tell, I think he would have done it as soon as Rilla got out.”
    “He was probably scared to tell,” Trisha ventured. “He would have had a lot of explaining to do.”
    “Not really,” Candace said. “He could just tell him I came on to him.”
    “But you still not supposed to sleep with yo homeboy’s girl. Even if they throw theyself at you.”
    Thinking about that incident made Candace sick to her stomach.
    “Whose baby do you think it is?” Trisha asked. Candace knitted her eyebrows. “How am I supposed to know?”
    “You should know,” Trisha said. “You should feel it .”
    “It’s Rilla’s, then,” Candace said. “I feel like it’s Rilla’s.”
    “Then leave it like that,” Trisha said.
    But how impossible was that? Was Candace supposed to take her assumption and run with it like it was fact? The awful truth was she really believed CC was her baby’s father. In the eight months they were together, she and Rilla had quite a few accidents , but never were there repercussions. After only one night with CC, Candace was suddenly with child. That didn’t prove anything conclusively, but it was one hell of a coincidence.
    Too much of a coincidence, in Candace’s opinion.
    * * *
     
    Trisha was the only person Candace knew who didn’t keep her doors locked at all times. This was because her hands were always busy with a bottle or a dirty diaper. She didn’t feel like getting up to answer it, so friends were free to come and go at will, giving her apartment a television sitcom atmosphere.
    As Trisha fed Willie Jr. and Candace cradled Sammy, a woman they both knew walked into the living room. The sight of her was enough to make Candace feel quite uncomfortable.
    “What’s up, bitches!”
    Delia Johnson wore stretchy capris with a fashionable halter top that showed her whole stomach. She had a pearl, teardrop belly ring. She was high-yellow, with thick thighs, protruding hips, and ample breasts. Today her hair was auburn with pink highlights. She wore it pulled back in a ponytail with a bang hanging over her forehead.
    Delia was tall for a girl, just a few inches under six feet. She had beautifully manicured nails and wore sandals to show off her equally sexy toes. She wore no makeup—didn’t have to. Delia was the most beautiful woman Candace ever met in real life.
    But that wasn’t why she was uncomfortable.
    The reason Candace felt like throwing Little Jimmy to the floor and fleeing the scene was because Delia’s boyfriend was a big-time dope boy, none other than CC. Candace knew word would get out sooner or later. It was only a matter of time before the stallion would be in her face, claws at the ready, accusing her of sleeping with her man.
    “Where you on yo way to,” Trisha asked, “the Freaknik?”
    “Don’t hate,” Delia said. She took a seat at one of the dining room tables. “Hey, Candace!”
    “What’s up,” Candace said.
    “Hey, Jimmy! Come here, baby,” Delia said.
    The boy’s head shot up from Candace’s chest. He jumped off of her lap and waddled to Delia, in search of more supple breasts to snuggle against, Candace guessed. “Where Petey at?” Delia asked.
    “He in there sleep,” Trisha said. “And don’t wake him up, either.”
    “You go to school today?” Delia asked Candace. Candace actually jumped from the sound of her voice. Delia was thirty-one years old. She pulled out a lot of hair in all those years.
    “Yeah. I only had two classes today.”
    “Girl, I don’t see how you do it. I went to college for a little bit, but I could only take one class at a time. That stuff be getting all mixed up in my head.”
    “That’s ‘cause you stupid,” Trisha kidded. “You gotta be smart to get through college.”
    “Go to hell. I’m smarter than you,” Delia said. “What’s six plus