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IRISH LIANE GRINSTEAD LA, CALIFORNIA| OCTOBER 7th 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝖾𝟪𝟢𝗌－𝟫𝟢𝗌
Irish watched boredly as Ermias held Emani with tears in his eyes. She cooed and giggled as her father spoke to her as if she could understand. Irish let them have their moment, aimlessly looking around the visitation area.
She watched as the people around her argued, cried, and tried to sneak kisses as if she were in awe of human interaction. "Man, thank you, Irish. I don't even know how to repay you for this" he smiled, kissing the baby's face repeatedly. Irish shrugged, resting her elbows on the steel table before resting her head in her hands. "Keep your folks away from me and mine, that's all. Emani's no problem anyway. Everyone loves her" she told him making Ermias' ears quirk up.
"Who's everybody?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "My sisters, you remember Beenie, Priya, and even our producer. They spoil her like I had her."
He nodded with a small smile before letting it drop. He felt so useless when it came to his child. The only thing he could do was send money for her. He couldn't hold her nightly, change her diapers, bathe her. He allowed Irish's words to circle his mind causing him to realize something.
"Who's your producer?" He asked. Irish opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by Ermias. "Is it that nigga, Al?"
"Hell no, not him. We have a new producer." She responded and he waited for her to elaborate. She never did, adverting her attention to the scenery once again. "What's his name?" Ermias pushed, having a gut feeling that this person had some kind of impact on Irish's life. Why else would she be so secretive about the person?
"Michael" she blandly responded and Ermias smirked. "That's the name of the nigga that took my spot?"
Irish's eyes widened, spit getting caught in her throat. Ermias chuckled as she coughed out of shock and rapidly shook her head. "No, it's not like that. It's work" she said and he hummed unconvincingly. "You feel something for ol dude, tryna hide him and shit. What's going on, yall fucked or sum? Let me know what it is Irish." He pressed causing her to cut her eyes at him.
"I don't feel anything, and Ian got shit going on with nobody. Stop tryna play Sherlock Holmes, you don't know shit" she spat and he nodded. "You definitely like him. Why you getting so defensive with yo weird ass."
"You the weirdo, mark ass nigga. Worrying about what the fuck I'm doing. The only person you gotta clock is lil ol Emani."
The two sat in petty silence, outwardly displaying their attitudes. Irish went back to tuning him out as he played with his baby. Eventually, she fell sound asleep in his arms as he rocked her. Ermias took that time to stare at Irish who was staring into space, thinking hard about something.
"It's okay to feel Irish. Stop letting good shit pass up on you cause you wanna play robot to everyone around you. That fake hardbody, distancing shit gets old fast." He told her, watching as she rolled her eyes. "Childish as always" he grumbled shaking his head.
