The Therapist.

| Chapter 35. |

"Jazz, we're home!" Devin opened the front door, walking into her house.

Javon walked in behind her, going straight to his room. It was 10 at night, 2 hours past his bedtime. He was exhausted and still had one more day of the week left. Devin walked into the kitchen, putting her purse down on the counter as she took notice of the bouquet of flowers by the trash can.

"Jazz, where did these flowers come from?" Devin called out, grabbing a vase from under the sink and placing the flowers in it with some water.

"Huh?" Jazz responded, Devin walking out to where he could see her in the living room doorway.

"I said, who brought these flowers?" She repeated, as Jazz cracked a small smile.

"Me."

"You're a liar." She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath.

"I did, bae, I did." Jazz continued playing his game, not even glancing at Devin.

"I don't believe you." She shook her head.

"Alright, I'm lying. I meant to actually throw those shits away because that's some punk ass shit to bring a girl some flowers. What this the 1800's or sum?" He scoffed, pressing multiple buttons on the PS3 controller.

Devin kissed her teeth. "It's sweet. Were they a delivery?"

"Nah, some guy dropped them off." Jazz answered.

Devin's eyes went wide with Jazz's response. "Guy? What did he look like?"

"Tall white dude, with these blue ass eyes, why?" Jazz replied, grabbing a handful of chips.

"Cameron was here?!" Devin shouted, looking at Jazz as if he was the last person she wanted to see.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask. Who the fuck is Cam? Or Cameron? I assume it's the same person." Jazz paused his game, finally glancing up at her.

"None of your fucking business, where is my phone?" She asked, walking back towards the kitchen for her purse. "Why didn't you call me and tell me he was here?"

"That shit don't matter. You had that white dude around my son?" Jazz glared, as Devin pulled her phone out of her purse.

"Why the fuck does his race matter or if I did? It's not like you was playing daddy these last six years." Devin scoffed.

"Who cares? That's some disrespectful ass shit, Devs. And you know it."

"Disrespectful? You're the equivalent of disrespectful, Jazz." Devin replied back, seeing that Cameron's number was nowhere to be found in her phone. She hadn't noticed but once realizing it, she scrunched her face up in an confused expression. She didn't delete his messages, calls or even his number so what had happened to his contact?

"Pfft, whatever." Jazz interrupted her thoughts, rolling his eyes.

"No, this ain't no whatever, Jazz. We seriously need to talk." She sighed, throwing the phone down as she dismissed the Cameron matter for the time being.

"Ain't shit to talk about." Jazz mumbled, taking a seat back on the couch.

"Oh, so you living here rent free ain't shit to talk about? You disrespecting me in front of my son, ain't shit to talk about?" Devin followed behind him, Jazz going to unpause the TV.

"Devin, damn! Stop calling him your son, like I ain't do shit. Fuck, you pissing me off with that shit." Jazz snapped, as Devin put her hands on her hips.

"Jazz, shut the fuck up. You ain't do shit but be a sperm donor. Besides that- you haven't done anything for him and you know it."

"How was I supposed to when you was nagging all the damn time? Shit," Jazz responded, putting the game on as Devin stood in front of him looking dumb founded. "Where you been Jazz? Where's Javon's diapers, Jazz?"  He mocked her. 

"Excuse me? If I could remember correctly, the first eight months of my son's existence you brought one pack of fucking diapers. One! I wasn't supposed to complain about that when you're his damn father?!" She exclaimed, balling up her fists.

"Then one day I come home from work and boom! Jazz is nowhere to be found. I had to raise my son my damn self, Jazz! You didn't give one fuck about me or Javon! Because if you did, you would have been in his life!" Devin shouted, the sound of gunshots in the background increasing as Jazz turned the volume of the game up.

"Javon didn't even know he had a fucking father for so long. He had to go to school with other little boys and girls everyday that's boasting their dad and what does he say? Oh, I don't have one! Or oh, I don't know mine!" Devin screamed. Jazz continued to ignore her, as she shook uncontrollably from anger. She walked right in front of the TV, hit the eject button on the PS3, snatched out the disk and threw it to the floor before smashing it with the wedges she still had on.

"Devs, what the fuck?" Jazz screeched, standing up and walking over to her.

"My name is Devin! Not no fucking Devs! And listen to me when I'm fucking talking to you!" She shouted in his face, not bothering to back down.

"I tried to be nice to you, Jazz. I tried. After you invite me to lunch at McDonalds, try to get me to order off the damn dollar menu, insist that I wait on you hand and foot and not only disrespect me but my son as well, I am fucking done!" She screamed again, her hand coming out and smacking him across the face the hardest she could. 20 times harder than the slap she had gave Cameron. She watched his hand go up, as he attempted to caress his cheek.

"Tomorrow, when I get home from work- be prepared to get out my damn house." Devin wiped away her few tears, heading towards her bedroom. "Oh and Jazz? If you leave before that, remember to not show back up."