Daddy's House (5 page)

“
Do I look like a mufuckin’ snitch to you!” I felt some warm shit runnin’ down my spine. Mr. Sorenson made me hot. I banged the cement wall until the C.O. moved closer my way. “Don’t let this pretty face fool ya! I’m a soldier! Learned from the best! My respect is all I got.”

“
Oh no…I only meant give up the one who told the Feds all about you.”

“
My baby girl? Fuck naw. Just ‘cause she punked out on me don’t mean shit! She ain’t snitch! Y’all just tryin’ to set us up! Divide our family in two. Yep, that’s right, them mufuckas is trying to trick my ass.” I nodded my head. “Me and my daughter gon’ be tight when I get out.

Tell them mufuckas that!”

“
Oh, and they want your connect as well,” he said, two inches away from my face. “Would you be willing to turn state’s evidence on both of them?”

Did this mufucka not hear what I just said? I’ma kill this…
With clinched teeth, I foamed at the mouth like a
pitbull. I tried to spare his ass, but I sacked the lil’ white
man like a defensive lineman. I choked the shit out of him
after he hit the concrete. I grabbed the steel chair lying
next to me, and stuck his head between the hole. But I underestimated the C.O. He was quick…too quick. Within seconds, he was all over me, trying to unglue my hands from the legs of the chair, and the steel bar that was lodged in Mr. Sorensen’s throat.

I blacked out. I couldn’t hear a voice in range. It took seconds, probably minutes, to bring my ass back. “It ain’t worth it, baby,” I finally heard the C.O. say. He kept looking back and forth toward the door. My guess, he was waiting for backup. I still didn’t care.
Dead Man Walking,
was all I wanted.

“
Let go of the chair,” the C.O. spoke calmly.

We were all on the floor, intertwined like a damn pretzel. The more blood I saw, the more turned on I was. It was like having an orgasm. My heart pounded. Sweat formed all over me. I started to smile from that sweet pleasure of really injuring his dumb-ass. Then laughter set in. I gave in because I wanted to. I released my grip, mad that I didn’t get my full pleasure. I wanted his white-ass carried out in black body bag.

I could’a snapped his neck with my bare hands, but I had to play it smart. I had some unfinished business to take care of on the outside. The King Pin drug charges held over my head would be nothing, compared to the book they’d slam on my ass if I killed that dude. I looked around the room, and wondered why the officer hadn’t called for backup.

“
You too pretty for this,” the C.O whispered.

That was it. I surrendered. I lifted my weight off my ex-lawyer, and turned around to be placed in handcuffs. Mr. Sorensen didn’t move. He looked at me through half closed eyes. “Leave me here and you’re dead,” I whispered, while the C.O. sent a message through his radio. The prison nurse was the first to trample through the door, followed by three other guards. As they ushered my ass out, I had to put on the charm. “So, you really think I’m pretty?” I asked the slim C.O. as the two female officers stared in shock.

The male C.O. said nothing. He never answered, just nervously looked the other way. “Listen Officer Wells,” I said, eyeing his nametag, “I just need someone to talk to.” I threw him a puppy dog nod, and ignored his co-workers.

I
got his ass. Damn, he’s cute
, I thought.
I could get
with a man like him
. I walked back to my cell smiling…no shackles, no handcuffs…and a report from the outside on the way.
Always on top of my game
, I boasted.

Chapter Four

I turned in small circles inside the train station, realizing I was a little turned around. I searched for the Seventh Avenue exit sign for the third time. When I turned again, I heard someone call my name. My heart instantly skipped a beat.

“
Candice, is that you?”

I turned in the direction of the voice.

“
Gurl…what the hell you got on?” I knew it was Tracey. It had been a while since we’d seen each other, but she hadn’t changed. Still a thick chick, she reminded me of Adele Givens’ character, Tricks from
The Playa’s Club.
Though only twenty-eight, Tracey looked as though she’d lived a hard, long life, and her speech confirmed it.

“
Bitch, what’da hell you been doin’? Liftin’ weights and shit? Look at you, all toned and shit. You still a lil’ petite bitch, though. And you still killin’ em with dat ass,” she said.

She grabbed my arm and twirled me around, studying me like I was gonna be sold on the block. “Damn, Candice, yo shape look good enough to eat, but where the hell are yo shoes, and what happened to yo clothes? And what’s that white shit on the side of your mouth? You must‘ve been sleepin’ like hell on the train.”

I wanted to ask her where the hell her original set of teeth were, because she was laced with four gold teeth shining brightly in the front of her mouth. Instead, I replied, “Long story. Can we get outta here?”

I started leading the way, like I knew where I was going. For some reason, now that I was around Tracey, I felt even more embarrassed than before at my appearance. Tracey had always known me to be real serious about my clothes back when I had money. Whatever was hot, I rocked. And if I was five minutes late on it, Rich would already have it waiting for me. That was the life I used to live, and Tracey knew it.

She walked behind me in her black freak’um dress and three inch green heels staring at my outfit, probably wondering how I’d gone from riches to rags. She didn’t say much more, just shook her head until we got outside the station.

“
Where’s your car?” I asked, looking around.

“
Car? That’s funny. Bitch, I barely make enough loot to keep a roof ova’ my head. I catch rides with my flava of the month, or rely on pit and pat.” She smacked her lips together.

“
Who is that?”

“
My feet, bitch.” She laughed wildly. For some reason, Tracey had that kind of laugh that made other people want to laugh too…Even if you didn’t think it was funny. She started walking down Eighth Avenue, but kept talking. “But you can’t do that, cuz. We gotta get yo ass some shoes before we do anything else.”

I shook my head and followed. We stopped at some off-brand store to get me some shoes and a jacket, compliments of Tracey. It wasn’t what I wanted, but served the purpose.

After that, it took us another thirty minutes to make it to Tracey’s apartment on West 127th Street. We didn’t talk much on the way there, because she’d been on the phone with someone named Luke the whole time, the guy she called her flava of the month. They talked in codes mostly, with uh hum’s and ah umm’s. I felt kinda strange, so once we approached her apartment, and she hung up the phone, I asked her if she’d been talking about me. Tracey was my cousin, but I had serious trust issues.

She put her hands on her hips and hesitated before responding. “Damn, girl, you still nosey. But if you must know, yes. I called my friend Luke, ‘cause I want him to meet you. He’s a playa and knows big people in big places,” she smacked, in between words.

I gave her a funny look and crossed my arms. I knew game when it was being dealt. “What is he, a pimp?” I asked. “‘Cause I ain’t no hoe.”

“
Shit, you used to be drug dealer, what’s the difference,” Tracey fired back. At first she had this nonchalant look on her face, until she noticed the sadness in my eyes. “Look, lil’ cuz, I’m just an outta shape stripper. I ain’t got yo shapely bod, lil’ waistline, and big tits,” she said with resentment, grabbing one of my nipples at the same time. “I think you got what it takes to make some serious money in this town. I got somethin’ better in mind for you.”

Damn, those were the exact same words that came from the conductor on the train.

I snatched my breast from Tracey’s grip, and followed her into the apartment. Either my vision was fucked up, or her place was some trash.
A real shit hole
, I thought. I couldn’t believe my eyes. As I entered, I stepped on shit like old magazines and dirty panties right at the door.

What the fuck?

It smelled like a damn dog had pissed all over the
place, but there were no pets in sight. I took a few steps
forward, trying to find some floor space so I wouldn’t fall
and bust my ass, when I noticed the unspeakable. This
nasty heffa had a dirty sanitary napkin sitting on the edge
of the couch. That was it for me. I knew I had to find
another place real soon.

Tracey grabbed the pad like it had a right to be there. Then she bent over and picked up a few dirty plates from the floor, as if that little spot cleaning was all she needed to make the place presentable. I thought to myself, you’ll need Neicy Nash and the Clean House crew up in this spot. I was so stunned. I found comfort near the wall. I waited for her to say something comforting like,
make
yourself at home
.

Instead she said, “Bitch, why you standin’ there lookin’ retarded? Move that stuff off the couch and sit down. Don’t worry, bitch, this the fun house!”

I folded my arms like I always did when in uncomfortable situations, and plopped down in the raggedy cloth chair. My eyes darted to the end of the hall, letting me know Tracey’s place was small. There were only two doors to the back of the apartment, which meant a bedroom and a bathroom.
Damn, she really is doing bad
.

Tracey was never the type to hide her feelings, so she started talking about my mother, and the rest of the family who had gotten locked up with us. She wanted to know how it all happened, and why I was the only one who got out. She’d heard the rumors that spread throughout the family, but wanted to hear it straight from me.

I held nothing back. It was actually therapeutic. We talked for hours, while I gave a detailed account of how things got started, who was doing what, and how much money my mother was really making. Before long, Tracey looked at her watch, and jumped up like she was late for work or missing something really important.

She walked over to a tiny hall closet, threw me a worn towel and washcloth, and pointed to the bathroom. “I’ll get you a t-shirt and some shorts. Clean yo’self up before Luke gets here.”

“
I’m not really up to meeting Luke tonight. I need some sleep,” I said.

“
Look, there’s some bologna in the frig. Make yo’self a sandwich and wash yo ass. I’ma be back. I’ma bring Luke,” she said, with her hands clutching her flabby hips.

“
I don’t eat bologna,” I said to her backside.

“
Well, eat a damn mayo sandwich.”

Suddenly, back to back loud knocks banged on Tracey's door. At first I was okay with the loud knocks until I glanced at Tracey. She always played Billy Bad-Ass, but her side-ways funky look made me think she was unsure about who knocked uncontrollably on the other side.

"Who the fuck is it?" she yelled nervously, moving toward her front door. "You ain't let nobody follow you, did you?" she whispered.

I looked crazily wanting to choke her ass. I shook my head back and forth rapidly like a mute. Words weren't important- my life was. If the person on the other side of that door wanted me, I damn sure wasn't gonna let'em hear my voice.

The knocks got louder and Tracey yelled again. "Who is it?"

Still no response.

Tracey backed up slowly as the banging sounds increased. It sounded like somebody was using a pole to punch at the door. "Open the fuckin' door!" a voice yelled.

My body froze, but my eyes remained glued to the door. I hopped up, charged to the left, and did a flip over the back of the couch. Contemplating my next action, my body shook like a vibrating dildo. Whoever was on the other side of the door was serious about getting in. My heart pounded as I thought back to my New Jersey attack. These people really wanted me.

"Tracey, let me the fuck in," another voice shouted.

Next thing I knew, Tracey let a smile slip through her mouth and headed for the door. When she opened it, a young boy looking like he hadn't reached puberty yet walked briskly in the door.

"Winky, I'ma fuck yo ass up?" Tracey belted.

"Why? You shoulda opened the damn door."

"You out there knocking like the damn police."

"I got it like that…remember, I paid the rent up in this mufucka last month."

"Get yo high- ass outta here."

I stood all the way up figuring things were okay. When I looked Winky in his eye, I could tell he had been smoking. He smelled like a truck load of weed, and walked real jittery all over the apartment.

"Look, I gotta go," Tracey announced. "Whatchu got for me?"

"A lil' somethin', somethin'."

"Somethin' what? You ain't gettin' no ass."

"Who want your stale- ass pussy? The whole neighborhood had it all ready.”

Winky laughed, then asked me if I wanted to smoke a blunt with him. I just shook my head.