Daddy's Boy (23 page)

When the doors of KuJoe’s 2016 CTS-V
sedan opened, I waited with bated breath to make sure it was him
and not one of his lackeys who had come before I climbed out as
well. I grabbed the suitcase from the seat next to me and closed
the door. Walking toward him, I stopped several feet away, barely
preventing myself from rolling my eyes when he smirked at
me.

“
Glad to see you got my
money,
Tyler
,” he
said. “But I’m going to need more. You see, you were late with the
payments. So I’m going to need to add some interest.”

“
There’s $80 thousand in
here, KuJoe,” I spat. “More than what you said I owed you and more
than enough interest, as well. So take your goddamned money and
leave me and my daughter alone. Stop threatening to kidnap her and
turn her into a child prostitute, and stop threatening to turn me
back out onto the streets because you got your fucking money,
okay?” I hoped the feds heard all of that because KuJoe hated it
when someone told him what to do, and he especially hated it when
someone disrespected him. He was about to blow, and he was going to
start beating the shit out of me soon, so they weren’t going to be
hearing much more from me in a bit.

KuJoe’s eyes narrowed. “So, what? You
got Mr. Money back, and you think you tough shit? What, you done
fell in love? Let me tell you something you fucking piece of shit.”
KuJoe lifted his hand up, and I was prepared for the slap—the
backhanded, “pimp slap”—even before I felt the harsh sting of it on
the side of my face. My ears ringing, my left cheek burning from
the force of it. I felt something wet, and I lifted my hand to my
face as I turned back to look at him. KuJoe was wearing his rings,
so it stood to reason the dripping liquid on my face and my fingers
was blood. “You are still the fucked up, crazy, lonely, broken,
scared, and stupid little girl you were twelve years ago. You can
tell yourself you’re a man now because you always felt that way.
That you always felt you were born into the wrong body. That it was
all a mistake. But let me tell you something. You being born a girl
was no mistake. You were born a woman so me and other men like me
could fuck you and make money off you just like the whore you are.
And you buying a dick, changing your hair, getting those pretty
breasts of yours cut off, and getting all your insides scraped out
isn’t going to change a thing.” KuJoe’s harsh and hateful words
were punctuated by punches to my face and stomach. I could hear the
detective screaming in my ear, but I was helpless to
respond.

Finally, I was on my back, KuJoe’s
hands wrapped around my throat as he strangled the life out of me,
with the darkness finally—finally making its way to my eyes.
Descending over the final part of me. When I heard a voice. A
sweet, beloved voice. One I thought never to hear again.

“
Put your hands above your
head, and back away!”

Was that
Dodger?

It couldn’t be. There was no way that
was Dodger. He couldn’t be there. He didn’t even know what was
going on. This wasn’t his case. He wasn’t involved.

“
This bitch belongs to me.
Life and death is MINE!”

Wow. KuJoe just sounds
delusional now.

“
Kushawn Davis! You have
three seconds!”

That
really
sounds like
Dodger.

“
Three!”

I miss Dodger.

“
Two!”

I wish we didn’t end on
such bad terms. Because I think I…

“
One!”

I gasped, as KuJoe released my throat,
and I breathed in lifesaving air.

“
Fuck you,
pigs!”

Love him.

The area surrounding me was filled
with the sound of gunshots. Ten to be exact. And then KuJoe’s body
fell on top of me. I could barely see—so much damage had been done
to my face, but I saw the federal agents and detectives who had
been with me rushing toward me. Two of them rolling KuJoe off me
and another crouching next to me. I thought it was Detective
Coleman, but when he gently caressed the side of my face, I knew
who it was.

“
Do-Dodger?” I
whispered.

“
Yeah.”

“
H-How?” I
asked.

“
My old pal in ICE told me
you contacted the FBI about KuJoe, and they contacted ICE. I had to
be here for you.”

I shook my head. “N-no.”

“
Yes, I did.”

I wanted to say more. To
tell him there was too much history. That I was too damaged, that
we didn’t even know each other, but before I could say that, I
realized I was shaking, and it was really, really cold. In Los
Angeles. I’d watched enough episodes of
Law & Order: SVU, Criminal Minds, Grey’s
Anatomy
, and even
Supernatural
to know I’d sustained
some type of injury, and my body was going into shock.

“
Do-Dodger, I was hurt,” I
told him.

“
Yeah, baby. You
were.”

“
No, idiot.” I sighed.
“I-I’m going into sh-shock.”

“
What?”

I hissed as Dodger’s hands started to
move over my body, touching bruises left by KuJoe. I gritted my
teeth as his hands moved over my abdomen. But as his hands moved
back up over my head I screamed.

“
Shit,” I heard him swear
before the darkness finally consumed me.

Chapter
Fifteen

Beep.

Thump. Thump.

Beep.

Thump. Thump.

Beep.

Thump. Thump.

I was going to kill whoever the genius
was who thought it would be a good idea to make all the machines in
the hospital make noise. It’s not a good idea. Not when you’re a
patient, and you’re suffering from a fucking brain injury and sound
makes you want to punch someone in their throat cavity.

You know, if a throat cavity even
existed, or whatever.

I groaned, as I opened my eyes,
looking around at the sterile walls of my private hospital room,
and scowled. I absolutely, totally, one-hundred-percent, hated it
here. I wanted out, and I wanted out now.

I heard steps in the
hallway outside my room, and I turned my head toward the door,
preparing myself to scowl at one of the nurses or the doctors who
were constantly coming in to check on me, or to poke me with a
needle, or touch me, or run another test, or change a bandage, or
to tell me how
lucky
I was to have
Mr. Vanderbrook
there with me when I came upon that police
stakeout.

Lucky, my eye.

If I were so lucky, then why did
Dodger bring me to the hospital, tell them he was going to pay for
everything, and then leave, never to be heard from
again?

Not that I cared or anything. But he
could have at least made sure I wasn’t taking advantage of his
generous hospitality… at the hospital.

The door to my room opened, and Amanda
and Tim walked in, Stella between them. My eyes filled instantly
with tears, and I sat up in bed, fully, holding out my
arms.

“
Stella!” I gasped out a
sob.

“
Daddy!” Stella raced
across the room and threw herself into my arms.

“
No running!” Amanda, Tim,
and I all admonished simultaneously. Though the hospital room
wasn’t all that big, with Stella’s condition, one could never be
too sure how far a distance she could jog or run before her illness
could be aggravated, and she could wind up back in the hospital,
needing a procedure or a transplant or something else.

Stella curled up against me and rolled
her eyes. “Chill. It wasn’t that far.”

“
Chill?” I repeated in
shock. “Since when do you say ‘chill’?”

“
Seems our Stella McKenzie
made a new little friend at school,” Amanda told me.

Which was code-speak between adults
that Stella had fallen in with the wrong crowd.

“
Ahh, I see.” I looked down
at Stella. “And who is this new friend?”

“
Her name is Denise, and
she’s like the coolest girl in school,” Stella told me, her eyes
shining.

“
Really?”

Stella nodded.

“
Well, that’s nice you have
a new friend, but I want you to remember something, honey. You have
to stay true to yourself. People are going to say stuff to you,
about you, around you. They are going to act a certain way and try
to change you, but you can’t let them. Don’t ever let someone
else’s darkness put out your light, okay?”

Stella frowned for a moment, but then
she smiled at me and touched my cheek. “You mean, don’t ever let
someone make me a bad girl, Daddy?”

I inclined my head and then pressed my
face tight against her hand. “Exactly, baby girl. Remember how I
told you I always knew who I really was, and there were other
people who wanted to make me someone else?”

Stella bobbed her head.

“
Well, I let them do that
for a very long time, and it made me very sad, and then mad, and
then I did things to make me forget I was being who they wanted me
to be. But eventually, I became who I always wanted to be, and I
was a lot happier.”

Stella tilted her head to the side and
touched my eye. She shook her head, frowning. “That’s a lie,
Daddy.”

Amanda gasped. “Stella! Don’t call
your father a liar.”

Stella looked over her shoulder at
Amanda, before looking back at me, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,
Daddy. I didn’t mean to, but you’re not happy.”

I gave Stella a small smile. “That’s
because I got hurt, baby girl.”

Stella shook her head, her honey
blonde curls swinging around her face. “Nuh-uh. You never look like
the happy daddies at school or on TV. You always seem sad. You need
to have a mommy you can come home to and talk about work and
kiss.”

I choked out a laugh. “Remember,
Daddy’s gay, Stella.”

“
Oh, yeah.” She nodded.
“Then you need another daddy.”

Dodger’s face flashed across my mind’s
eye then, but I pushed it away. How many times had he and I gone
around and around? It wasn’t meant to be. Besides, now that KuJoe
was no longer hanging over our heads, and I had more money than I
knew what to do with—with Dodger’s eighty grand and the other money
I had in my account—I could actually find something reputable as a
profession and get custody of my daughter. Actually take care of
her. I could be a father to her.

“
Maybe later, baby girl.
But right now, I just need my little girl to be happy.” I hugged
Stella to me tightly, smiling when she giggled.

I glanced up at Amanda and Tim,
nodding when I saw the tears in their eyes, knowing they understood
my unspoken decision. I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to
get out of the hospital, but as soon as the doctors released me, I
would be selling my condo and starting a new life with
Stella.

One where I was no one’s whore, just
someone’s dad.

****

Two weeks later

I walked around my now almost empty
condo, holding tightly to Stella’s hand. The only thing I was
leaving behind was the furniture. Well, whatever hadn’t been
completely destroyed by KuJoe’s enraged temper tantrum, which
wasn’t much. It was strange seeing the place as it was now, with
fresh eyes. I had spent so many years walking through the hallways
of that place as a specter, seeing it through the cynical eyes of a
broken being filled with darkness and the thick, oozing, black muck
of my decaying soul, I had never noticed just how beautiful the
place had the potential to be. But now, as the movers removed the
last of my things, with my former neighbors looking on gleefully,
no doubt excited to have me finally vacating the premises, I
trailed the floors with Stella by my side, sad that I had wasted an
opportunity to actually make my environment a little more…
welcoming.

I sighed. That damn therapist. The
bitch was rubbing off on me.

Detective Coleman had suggested I see
a psychologist when he’d come to close the case with me in the
hospital and take my final statement. We’d spoken for a few hours
and after much cajoling—read: badgering and blackmailing—on his
part, I’d finally given in. I’d had two sessions with Brandi Perez
so far, and she was an amazing woman—definitely able to see through
my bullshit and make me talk when I didn’t want to. She’d even made
me write a letter to my long lost female self, body parts and
all—and wasn’t that weird, writing a letter to the vagina I never
should have had in the first place—apologizing for the abuse I
suffered and then the prostitution I entered into willingly as a
means of survival and in order to pay for the surgery to be my true
self.

Brandi was a treasure, but
in just two sessions, I’d found myself actually
thinking
about things I wouldn’t
have normally considered before, and there was a crack in the wall
I’d erected around myself. It was disconcerting. Alarming.
Unnerving.