Daddy's House

by Azarel

  When I spotted a lady with a baby and a few bags scattered on the floor, I climbed over her to the window seat, thinking it would be the perfect spot to hide my bare feet.

  The woman sniffed like she had allergies or something, and then shot me a funny look. I didn’t care, getting to safety was more important. I turned my head while she shifted in her seat, and moved her bags back and forth. The moment my eyes looked ahead, I forgot all about the rude woman, and focused on getting my money together for the conductor headed my way. Mr. Lawrence was right, he did have that no-nonsense look. He was tall and bald, and reminded me of Charles Barkely.

  As I dug in my purse, scrambling for money, my neighbor hopped up like she couldn’t take it any longer, leaving me wide open for the conductor to see. He walked right up to my seat, and hit me with one word. “Ticket,” he said sternly. His eyebrows were thick and bushy, and made me scared to even speak.

  “I…I…gottta pay cash.”

  “We don’t take cash,” he spat.

  I looked around to see if there was someone I could give the cash to, so they could just charge my ticket, but no one was seated nearby. I pushed all the money I had left into his face.

  “That’s not enough!” he fired. “The ticket is $64.00.” His scowl sent chills through my spine. He obviously meant business. “You gotta get off at the next stop.”

  “Nooooooooo…please,” I begged. I gripped his pant leg like he was my man leaving me for good.

  “Look,” he snapped. He turned and lowered his voice. “I normally put people off my train for this kinda shit, but I got somewhere for you to go.” He looked from right to left before speaking, “Come with me.”

  “Where we going?” I asked, following three steps behind. He ignored me and walked straight ahead. He didn’t even grab the ticket being held out by the man who was sitting near the end of the car. He just kept moving, bypassing several passengers in the next three cars.

  Finally, we came to what looked like a maintenance closet, but it read Handicapped Bathroom. I started getting nervous, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

  Before I could think, he pulled my hand, yanked me inside, and locked the door. The sounding of the lock reminded me of my four day stint in jail. The only thing different was that I wasn’t locked up this time with Rich, but with this half of a man in front of me.

  He unbuckled his belt and looked me dead in the eye, while he spoke. “It’s your lucky day today. I’ma save you some money.”

  “I got $55.00,” I pleaded.

  “I got something better in mind for you, sweetness.” He shot his tongue out like a poisonous rattle snake.

  I backed up against the dirty wall, and eyed the growing bulge in his pants. Damn, I thought, I gotta fuck for a train ride? His grin held power over me. There was no escaping; his oversized body blocked the door knob. I squeezed out half a fake grin, noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead. I made sure I clocked his name tag in case he needed to be identified later.

  “Marlin, why are we here?” I asked, letting him know I had one up on him.

  He disregarded my question, and placed his left hand forcefully on my shoulder, pushing me toward the ground. I was no stranger to bobbing the knob, but that was when me and Rich were an item. I closed my eyes, thinking of Rich, as my body slid downward. My knees hit the floor of the tight six-by-six bathroom, while my face dodged his rubbery dick. It dangled in front of me momentarily, until he grabbed the back of my head, and shoved his dick against my lips. I purposefully closed my mouth tightly, but his grip proved he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Afraid of what might happen, I opened wide, and latched on loosely.

  I slobbered and sucked lazily, while tears fell from my face on to my pajama top. Even though I wasn’t doing much, he grabbed my head tighter and pressed harder, making me realize my second-rate job still felt good to him. I started making little circles on the head, hoping that it would make him cum fast.

  The conductor continued to moan in a light voice, like it was the best head he’d ever gotten. I thought about biting the hell out of him, but then what? Where would I go? I needed to get to Tracey. I closed my eyes, and thought about when Rich used to love me. I reminisced on the times he held me in his arms. In between my thoughts, I could hear his moans getting louder.

  “Damn!” he shouted. His breathing got faster and faster, “OOOHHH… YESSSSSSS…”

  The more he pushed inside my mouth, the more I cried inside. He began to make crazy movements with his ass. “Damn, girl,” he mumbled. When he held out his hand to clutch the wall, I knew the end was near.

  Instantly, I started cooperating, which made him make a hissing sound like a satisfied snake. Quickly, I grabbed a hold of his five inches and stroked him faster, like a pro. Pre-cum dripped, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he sung, “Uhhhhhhhhh!”

  His voice was loud enough for people to hear, but he didn’t care. He moved in and out of my moist, warm mouth quickly, even though his pants straddled just below his knees, holding his legs hostage for extra movement. Before I knew it, he’d pressed so vigorously, I just knew he was about to hit the back of my tonsils.

  “Oh, shiiiiiit!” he shouted, as his breathing resembled a man going into cardiac arrest. He stumbled back, like he couldn’t breathe, shoving my head back from his clutch. I prayed he was dying for real.

  I wiped the cum from the side of my mouth. Finally his dick went limp right before me. Within seconds, he pushed his dirty dick back into his pants, and walked out like nothing ever happened. No wiping off, no thank you, and no goodbyes.

  Even though his conversation wasn’t wanted, it would’ve made me feel better to hear him say something. Getting myself together, I got off the floor and dried my tears. Minutes later, I found my way to the front car, and curled up in a seat like an embarrassed, cheap prostitute.

  If I hadn’t betrayed my old crew, I’d surely have him killed the second his shift ended.

  By the time the train pulled into Penn Station, I felt like a sure candidate for the crazy house. I couldn’t believe I was actually getting ready to enter the big bad world of New York, looking and smelling like last week’s trash.

  I pushed past the people exiting the train, only to run dead into Marlin again. He was standing outside the tracks with a policeman in uniform. They had obviously been talking about me, ‘cause when I looked like I was gonna go the other way, the police officer motioned for me to come toward him with his finger. He and Marlin were standing side by side and I was scared as hell.

  “You tryna skip out?” the officer said, in an unfriendly tone.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, in shock.

  “You told this man you were gonna pay him, but hid in the bathroom, huh?”

  If my eyes could’ve stabbed the conductor, he would’ve been dead. “No, sir.” I shook my head from right to left continuously, like my batteries were stuck.

  “Pay, or go to jail,” Marlin said, with a slight grin.

  I dug deep into my purse, crumbled up the last of my money and slid it into his hands.

  Marlin didn’t even count it. He probably didn’t care that it wasn’t enough. He nodded to the officer a sign that said my debt was paid, and then I was excused. I rushed up the stairs into the busy station, without looking back. With every tear left in my body falling, I wondered how the world could be so cruel. Why I was even born?

  Chapter Three

  “Velma Holmes, Visit!” a tall, slender C.O. yelled at me.

  “Rude bastard,” I mouthed, as I moved in his direction. I cut his ass in two with my eyes. “That’s Miss Holmes to you.” I shot him my, fuck you nigga glare, and blew his dumb-ass what he thought was a kiss, but it was a death wish. Chop sui, nigga! Chop mufuckin’ sui, I thought.

  I knew the visit was from my lawyer. His two-bit-ass had me in this shit hole way too long. Three hundred twenty-two days to be exact. I was tired of hearing ‘bout all his empty promises, ‘bout how I would
be out in a matter of days. Shit, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. What the fuck? My daughter, Candice been out! Today is lynchin’ day for his ass. I was tired of this damn jumpsuit, eatin’ the slop they called food, and lookin’ at the same ol’ walls day in and day out. The lack of sunlight wasn’t good for my complexion. Only good thing ‘round here were the dykes.

  My girl, C.O. Carter, had hooked me up wit’ a freaky cell mate, who was doin’ that Verizon thang. Not only was she lickin’ my pussy every night after nine, but on the weekends too. Boo lovin’ definitely had its benefits.

  The moment I hit the hallway toward the visitin’ room, all the inmates started sweatin’ me like I was Beyonce or some shit. I’d become the jailhouse celebrity. But I had every right to it. After all, I was Queen B.

  “Whaz up, Big V?” one of my pressed flunkies yelled, from across the room. I gave that bitch the middle finger.

  A C.O. walkin’ in the opposite direction, shot me a look that said, don’t say shit. But that didn’t intimidate me. I just stared at her like she was next in line for a beat down.

  It took a second for the officers to prepare a private room for me and Mr. Stupid Ass. I watched him through the glass fumbling papers, and sweatin’ like a fat kid who’d misplaced his food.

  “Go on in,” mumbled the tall C.O.

  That was all I needed to hear. “Yo, why the fuck am I still in here?” I shouted, bursting through the door.

  My lawyer’s eyes darted to the officer. But little did he know, I had these C.O.’s trained. During my visits, didn’t none of ‘em sleezy bastards say shit. I had ‘em trained like circus animals. The C.O. didn’t flinch. Three inches taller than me or not, I could easily chump his slinky-ass anyway. My lawyer’s white-ass must’ve forgot that I was Big V, the hoe that put the “b” in bitch…a legend in the streets. I pulled the steel chair back with my foot. Sat down across from his ass, and watched as he tried to untie his tongue.

  “Uh…uh…,” he stuttered, “how’ve you been making out, Velma?”

  I stared at him cold, and tossed him a smirk. I leaned back in my chair, lettin’ the legs rock on twos. “What the fuck is your name again?” I asked, in my thick Brooklyn accent. I continued to look him directly in the eye, but he wouldn’t meet my stare.

  The sound of the squeakin’ chair probably fucked with his head. “Cat got your mufuckin’ tongue?” I asked.

  “Uum…uum.” He tried to clear his throat. “You forgot my name?” he asked, adjusting his Rite Aid looking bifocals. He turned away from me, which pissed me off. I pulled my chair closer, then reached my hand under the table, snatched the zipper from his pants, and grabbed his little three-inch dick. I squeezed it until his face turned blue.

  “Look, you white piece of shit, I ask the questions. Got it?”

  His ass was scared as two straight men going to prison. Nada! He said absolutely nothin’! Ending my point, I rubbed my fingers across his top lip. “Can you smell what shit smells like, ‘cause that’s what you’re full of!”

  He fearfully reached for his briefcase and pulled out a worn business card. “Mr. Sorenson,” he said trembling.

  “Listen up, and listen good, cracker,” I growled, rising from my seat. I snatched the card, and threw it like a Frisbee across the room. “A sista been in here way too fuckin’ long. My time is up. Or kiss your family goodbye.”

  I stuck my finger in the middle of his head, leaving a deep dent. I turned to see what the C.O. thought ‘bout my behavior, but his head was buried in a magazine, which meant he didn’t give a shit. I turned back around, and brought up as much flem as my throat could gather. Hog spit never felt so good. I let every bit go, and it landed right on the corner of Mr. Sorenson’s lip.

  “That does it,” he said, trying to put a little bass in his voice. He wiped the saliva from his mouth, and gave me the evil eye. Mr. Sorenson stood up with more confidence than I’d ever seen him with before.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get that for you.” I reached for his tie.

  He backed up. “After all I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get?” he asked, with his finger pointed toward his face.

  “While you home fuckin’ your wife every night, I’m in this mufuckin’ wastin’ away…missin’ out on cash!” I threw the table across the room. “You haven’t done nothin’ as far as I’m concerned. Ten g’s, you bastard! Ten g’s, is what I paid your thievin’ ass. And for what? I’m still here. You see me,” I said, turnin’ around like I was a high fashion model. I mixed my raspy voice with some bass. I was prepared to catch a rap for this mutherfucka. I meant business. “I belong back on the street!” I said harshly. My words slid off my lips like syrup off a pancake. “You get me outta here, ‘cause I got bizness to handle! You wit’ me?”

  “I...I...just need some, basic information,” he finally spoke. “I think I need to turn this case over to somebody with more experience,you know, more aggressive.”

  “Whatever the fuck it takes, you stutterin’ bastard.” I started pacing in the small space. “Just remember, I hired you. You’re responsible for my fate,” I pointed.

  His face balled up into a bright red twist. “I assure you, Ms. Holmes. I assure you,” he stuttered. “One thing might move this situation more in our favor.”

  I cut my piercing eyes at him. “Our favor?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he trembled, “I’ve gotta get you outta here, remember?” His smile was plastic. He closed his briefcase and moved slowly toward the door.

  I stumped my foot. “How you gon’ represent me?” I tripped him when he passed me. All his shit fell out of his briefcase. “Get up, you dumb mufucka.” I stood in front of him just to fuck with his ass. He was pitiful as hell. I decided to cut his lil’ short, stubby ass some slack “Whatchu thinking?” I asked.

  “The DA’s office is willing to cut your time if you give up a few of your people,” he replied, scrambling to get his papers.

  “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.