Daddy Cool (4 page)

He pulled out onto the deserted street and drove silently toward the main street, which would lead eventually to the highway.

IT TOOK LESS THAN an hour after arriving back in Detroit for Daddy Cool to take care of his business. The first thing he did was to drop off the briefcase with the twenty-five thousand dollars. He received his ten-thousand-dollar payment for the contract, then started for home. It was three o'clock in the morning when he turned off Seven Mile Road and drove slowly down Ripelle Street. The neighborhood was still mixed but was quickly becoming predominantly black. The homes were well taken care of because the blacks in the neighborhood had paid top dollar to purchase the high-priced homes from the fleeing whites. The well-kept lawns gleamed brightly in the moonlight.

Daddy Cool had a feeling of pride as he drove slowly up to his expensive ranch-style home. He had it built from the ground up, after first putting his money into a poolroom so that he could give the appearance of being a smart businessman. He had been around too long to fall into the trap that many of the other money-hungry blacks fell into: buying high-priced homes with no apparent means of support.

The circular driveway was always a source of pride to him, but now, as he pulled into it, his lips tightened into a snarl. The long, powder-blue Cadillac parked in front of the carport brought his anger to the boiling point. He knew at once who the car belonged to. It was one of the young boys in the neighborhood who thought of himself as a pimp. Many times Daddy Cool had sat in his poolroom and listened to this same young man talk about his exploits with the young girls of the neighborhood. Now the young man was spending his time with Janet, Daddy Cool's young daughter. He had warned the girl about the boy, but she hadn't paid any attention to him, thinking he was just being old-fashioned. She loved the attention she received when she and the self-proclaimed pimp rode through the neighborhood with the top down.

Pulling up behind the car, Daddy Cool sat quietly behind the wheel, using the time to gain some control of his temper. He had never let any of his children see him in a rage, and he had no intention of losing it now. He remembered his only close friend, Big Earl, begging him to let him handle the young punk who was so disrespectful. Daddy Cool had laughingly put the massive black man off. Earl was several inches taller than Daddy Cool, who himself stood over six feet. As Daddy Cool thought about his friend's quiet request, he couldn't help picturing the massive black with his oversized head. Even for his huge body, Earl's head was too large-it was deformed and roughly the girth and shape of a young watermelon. His eyes were bulbous and froglike. A vivid pale scar ran from his forehead to his neck, cutting his face into two unequal halves. Both of his ears had missing lobes, and what remained had healed unevenly.

The man was grotesque, to say the least, and he brought fear to many who saw him for the first time. His only desire was to serve Daddy Cool, who gave him a place to stay behind the poolroom and a job that kept him off the streets. For that his loyalty was complete. He would freely give his life for the tall, light-complexioned man who accepted him so freely without question.

Now the thought of this man's desire to take care of the young pimp named Ronald brought a slight smile to Daddy Cool's face, but he didn't really need Big Earl to do anything for him. He could take care of Ronald himself. If he ever made up his mind to do it.

As he stared ahead at the parked Cadillac, he knew the boy had seen his headlights when he pulled up. But Ronald had made no attempt to pull out of his way. Instead, Ronald had wrapped his arms around Janet and kissed her slowly. Finally, having watched too much, Daddy Cool pressed down on his horn, blowing it loudly as he again fought down his boiling temper. The young pimp was thoroughly unlikable. He seemed to go out of his way to antagonize Daddy Cool.

With slow deliberation, Ronald started the motor of his car as Janet jumped out on the passenger side. She waved and smiled brightly at Ronald, then whirled around on her heels. Her lips came down into a frown and Daddy Cool knew that she was angry. He took a quick glance at his watch and noticed that it was almost three-thirty in the morning. That was one hell of a time for a girl just sixteen to be coming home. Although she was on the verge of turning seventeen, she was still a child to him.

Janet waited with her hands on her hips while her father pulled up and parked under the car shed. Daddy Cool sighed as he got out. His anger was going to be his downfall one day if he didn't learn to control it better. Even as he approached the girl he cautioned himself about his anger. His temper was already almost out of control and he didn't really know how much he could take. From the happenings of the past night's work, he was still keyed up to a high pitch. He tried to slow himself down.

"Well!" Janet snarled like a young jungle cat. Her bright teeth gleamed in the moonlight. She was a bewitching picture standing there with her hands on her hips. Her hair was long and silky, running down to her shoulders like shining black silver. Her face had a golden tone to it, more Mexican than Negro. Her lips were thin, like her father's, and she had the same leaping black eyes, which looked like those of wild hawks with their eyes gleaming under the moonlight.

"You know you didn't have to do that, Daddy," she began. "We knew it was you pulling up behind us. Ronald only wanted to say goodnight to me without pulling away at your sudden appearance as if he was frightened. I mean, he's a man, too, even if he is much younger than you."

It wasn't so much the words she used that hurt him, it was the tone of voice. She spoke to him as if she was scolding a child. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand came up and knocked her to the ground. She stared up at him in surprise. This was the first time he had ever put his hands on her, and she couldn't believe that it had happened. Before she could say anything sassy, he reached down and jerked her to her feet.

"Hear this, little bitch," he growled, and he didn't recognize his own voice. "If you ever try speakin' to me in that tone of voice again, I'll kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit sideways in that goddamn Caddie, you understand?"

Before she could shake her head one way or the other, his hand moved in a blur. Twice he slapped her viciously across the face. Her scream came out shrilly at first, then louder. He twisted her around and gave her a violent shove toward the front door.

"And another thing, Miss Fine, as long as you live under this goddamn roof, you had better make sure that motherfuckin' door hits you in the crack of your ass before twelve o'clock at night," he stated, then added, "Do I make myself clear?"

Janet could only shake her head. She was too frightened to speak. She had never really seen the man who was walking swiftly behind her. This wasn't the soft old man she could bend around her fingers like putty. No, this was another person, one whom she had never seen before. For the first time in her life she feared the man who had always been dear to her. She trembled as she hurried toward the front door. With shaking hands, she inserted her key and quickly opened the front door.

Tears ran freely from her eyes as she staggered across the threshold. As Daddy Cool entered, the first thing he noticed was his wife, to whose arms Janet had fled.

"Oh, Mother," she cried over and over again.

"Now, now, child," Daddy Cool's wife, Shirley, said. "It's okay, honey. Everything is all right." Her eyes sought out those of her husband. The sounds from in front of their house had awakened her, but she had no knowledge of what had happened to her daughter.

"He struck me," Janet finally managed to say, as large tears ran down both her cheeks. A sob caught in her throat as she remembered the vivid scene that had just transpired.

Shirley was dumbfounded. She didn't have the slightest idea who her daughter was talking about. It never even entered her mind that Daddy Cool was the one she was referring to.

"Larry," Shirley said, addressing her husband sharply, "what is the child talking about?"

"She tryin' to tell you that I slapped her," Larry Jackson stated, as he stared cold-eyed at his wife.

"What!" Shirley exclaimed loudly, unable to catch up with the conversation. She couldn't believe what she had heard.

"I said she is tryin' to pull your coat that I slapped the shit out of her," Daddy Cool stated harshly.

"You slapped her?" Shirley murmured over and over again. Even now that the words were out, Shirley still couldn't believe what she had heard.

"That's right," he stated again. "If you had taken care of your responsibilities like you should have, this wouldn't have been necessary. I told you before I left to stay on this kid's ass and make her come home early!"

"Shit!" The word came out louder than she had intended. Shirley dropped her eyes. She didn't like the cold gleam that came into her man's jet black eyes. "I mean, Larry, you know she won't mind me. Hell, if she won't mind you, how the hell do you expect me to make her mind me?"

With firm hands Shirley slowly disengaged herself from her daughter.

"Okay now, Janet, it's all right. It won't kill you. Maybe it might slow you down some, though." She gently pushed her daughter away.

Finally Janet stopped crying. The tears stopped flowing and anger began to overwhelm her. For the first time in her young life she was speechless. She had been slapped, and to her that was something unheard of. As the thought of what had happened dawned on her, her cheeks became red with a futile anger.

"Mother," she began, then didn't really know what she wanted to say.

"Larry," Shirley said, "don't you think it's a late date to start using a strong hand on her?"

"Not as long as she keeps her young ass in my house," Daddy Cool stated harshly, his anger still not completely under control.

"Well, that's not so difficult to handle," Janet replied, sparks of fire leaping in her cold black eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked softly. The gentleness of his voice hadn't fooled Shirley. She had lived with the man too long. She knew his moods almost as well as he did. She tried to catch her daughter's eye so that she could warn Janet, but the young girl was now in open rebellion. With her mother near, she believed she didn't have any reason to fear her father. What had happened outside would never occur in front of Shirley.

"What I mean," Janet said contemptuously, "is that I don't just have to live here. I can easily find me a small apartment somewhere." She shook her head quickly, tossing the hair back out of her face.

"And just how the hell do you expect to pay the rent, may I ask?" Daddy Cool asked quietly, watching his daughter closely. Each word she said seemed to burn inside his head.

"That shouldn't be too hard either," Janet stated coldly, her face flushed with anger.

"I suppose you think that punk Ronald is going to pay your rent for you, huh?" Daddy Cool inquired.

"He just might at that," she said in a sassy manner, while her mother let out a gasp.

"Larry," Shirley interrupted, "let's let this thing ride until morning. Maybe after we sleep on it we can talk about it with less heat, okay?" She stared from one face to the other. They were so much alike, she reflected. Each one was strong-willed and neither one would willingly give in. If only she could think of some way to get them away from the conversation. Shirley saw the danger that loomed ahead, while her husband was too angry to realize that he was driving his daughter up a one-way street with no way of getting back.

Daddy Cool let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, I'll just bet he'll pay out cash money for a place for you. By the time you finished selling ass each and every night, you'd have made enough money to pay the rent of a penthouse!"

Janet let out a gasp. "Is that what you think?" She stared at her father with hatred. "You don't think no better of me than that," she stated again, not really believing the words she heard.

"It's not you I believe in. It's that funky nigger you think you're playin' around with. He ain't nothing but a petty-ass pimp, so what makes you think you'll be treated any better than the rest of his girls?" Daddy Cool asked coldly, his jet black eyes flashing their anger.

Janet whirled around on her heels and stalked off toward her bedroom. Her stepbrother Jimmy stood in her path. There was a smile on his lips, revealing that he had overheard most of the conversation.

"Would you mind getting out of my way?" she scowled in a scorching voice as she stared coldly at the tall, well-built boy.

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said as he bowed from the waist, grinning. "Anything your highness might want. I'se the black boy to do it." He used a southern dialect that he knew would irritate his half sister.

"Get out of her way, Jimmy," Daddy Cool ordered, as he watched the exchange between the teenagers.

"Yes sirreee," Jimmy replied, jumping back quickly.

Shirley let out a sigh as she watched her daughter stalk off. This morning's work wouldn't be soon forgotten, she reflected as she watched Janet's proud back.

Shirley turned to her husband. "Well, Larry, I think you overplayed your hand that time, honey."