Daddy Cool (14 page)

"So I'm going to tell both of you how I feel. Now, Earl has already told you not to come back into the poolroom unless you got my permission, and I don't think that will be coming no time soon. So," Daddy Cool stated coldly, "since I'm not about to give you my permission on the poolroom, I'm going to add one more little thing to it."

He stared directly into Buddy's eyes. What he saw there gave Daddy Cool reason to hesitate on what he was about to say. Over the years he had gained a liking for his older stepson, and he didn't want to judge him the same way he would judge the younger boy.

"At first," Daddy Cool began, "I was going to tell both of you to go home and pack your shit. But on second thought, I've found reason to be a little more reasonable." Daddy Cool glared angrily at the two boys, who listened to every word he said as if their lives depended on it-which was close to the truth.

"Now, instead of kickin' both of you out of the pad, I'm goin' do it this way." Daddy Cool watched his two stepsons as his words seemed to rock them off their feet.

"Now, I want Janet home, but I can't find her. So I'm going to leave it up to both of you. You have got one week to bring your sister back home." He raised his hand, stopping the comment that the younger brother was about to make.

"I just want you to bring her there so I can talk to her, that's all. Now, if you can't do this, I want both of you to pack your shit and get the fuck out from under my motherfuckin' roof. Do I make myself clear enough?"

He stared from one brother to the next, watching them closely. He knew how close he had come to putting them both out but had caught himself just in time.

For one, Buddy was thankful for the second chance. His face was flushed and there was no resemblance in his features to that of the man who had entered the poolroom earlier. He believed implicitly that what he had always feared was about to happenbeing put out on their own, with no means of support except for the income that they made off their notorious stickups of the neighborhood dope men.

The younger brother, Jimmy, was a different case altogether. He thought differently. The thought of being kicked out of the luxurious ranch-type home didn't fill him with fear. He was all too ready to step out on his own. Youth and a kind of bravado was on his side.

He didn't believe anything could really happen to him. Even now, with Daddy Cool glaring angrily at him, he drew himself up and sneered, revealing yellow teeth as he placed a hand on his hip and spoke sarcastically.

"Big deal. Now we're supposed to spend all our time checkin' out all the whorehouses to see where Janet is workin' at, then...."

That was as far as he got. Before he could finish, Daddy Cool had moved across the small space separating them and reached him. Grabbing him by the collar of his navy-blue shirt, Daddy Cool pulled him close and slapped him viciously across the face.

"Boy," he said, and his voice was at a deadly low, "I don't know what you're tryin' to say, but Jimmy, this time you had better get it together!"

Jimmy, staring into the wild eyes of his stepfather, believed for a second that he had gone too far. But since he knew truth was on his side, he decided to play it for all it was worth. He tried to disentangle the hands that held him so tightly.

"Listen, man, I ain't got no reason to lie," he began. Then when he felt Daddy Cool easing his grip, he continued. "If you don't believe me, ask old black-ass Bill standin' back there against the wall. He done turned at least two tricks with her, so I sure ain't lying!"

The elderly black man called Bill tried to make himself smaller in the small crowd. He bent down; the last thing he wanted was to be put on Front Street.

Daddy Cool released his stepson and turned around and searched the crowd like a blind man. There was a distant look in his eyes. He was gazing at the crowd of onlookers, but even though his eyes were wide, it was as though he were blind. The shock of his stepson's words was still ringing in his ears. The truth was something he didn't want to hear.

In his private hurt, he didn't see the angry glare Buddy gave his younger brother. What Janet did, Buddy reasoned, was her business. He didn't like the idea of her turning tricks, but again, it was her business.

Earl watched the man he loved fumble around like a blind man. The hurt was too apparent. He was like a man in shock. "Bill," Daddy Cool cried, "Bill, you bastard! Come up here! I want the truth out of you, nigger, and nothin' but it!" he yelled, still not really seeing the man he sought.

Bill, on the other hand, believed that Daddy Cool was staring right at him. He came from the rear of the crowd, cursing his luck. The last thing he wanted was to face an angry Daddy Cool. When he reached the front of the poolroom, he held back, keeping a pool table between him and Daddy Cool.

"Yeah, Larry," he said, using Daddy Cool's real name."I'm here, man."

Fighting back the tears that threatened to pour out, Larry Jackson managed to get himself under control. He focused in on the man he wanted.

"Tell me, Bill, tell me the truth. Is this young motherfucker lying?"

Before Bill could answer, Daddy Cool screamed, "If he's lyin', I'm going to make sure his young ass pays for this shit. I mean it, Bill. I don't play this kind of shit!"

There was desperation in his voice. For a second, old man Bill started to lie, but his eyes caught those of the younger man and his knees began to shake. He knew if he lied he would have to pay for it. The younger violent black man who had made the claim would wait for him outside the poolroom, and Bill knew at his age he couldn't handle the younger man. An ass-whipping was something he didn't need.

He dropped his head. "Yeah, Larry," he stated, "it's true. I turned a trick with her for twenty-five dollars. I didn't know she was your daughter, I swear. I just picked up a young girl on Woodward and took her to the motel. It wasn't until afterward that a fellow told me she was your child." He began to blubber. Tears of fear rolled down his cheeks as he saw the cold, deadly stare that Daddy Cool fixed on him.

"I swear," Bill continued, "I just didn't know. She's a fine young thing, and I was just spendin' some money. You can't hold that against me, Larry, you just can't!"

The man's words beat at Daddy Cool like sledgehammers. He heard them but didn't want to hear them. The man's begging was enough to assure him that he spoke the truth. Now the only thing he could think of was why?

The question kept ringing in his mind. If she needed money, all she had to do was contact him. So why be a whore? She wasn't an addict, or was she? This was a new perspective. If the nigger she messed around with had made an addict out of her, then he could understand it. But first of all, he would have to find out if this was her problem. Whatever it was, he would help her and take care of the person responsible for her problems.

"As for you," Daddy Cool stated, staring down at Jimmy, his younger stepson, "I want you out of my house today. When I come home, have your shit and be gone. If I find you there, I'm going to forget you belong to your mother and kick all the grippers out of your ass! Do I make myself clear?"

He stared down into the younger man's eyes, waiting for a reply that would be smart enough to let him go the way he wanted to go. He wanted to explode in violence. For one of the few times in his life, Larry Jackson was damn near out of control of his emotions.

Knowing that his stepson had this information and had kept it to himself helped to foster his anger. He didn't even consider the older brother; his anger was all for Jimmy. The smart-ass one. The one who enjoyed breaking such news in front of all the loafers in the poolroom. At that moment, Daddy Cool was gripped by an emotion to kill. He knew he wanted to kill, and it didn't concern profit this time.

"You scummy little motherfucker!" he swore in Jimmy's face. "I could cut your motherfuckin' balls out and enjoy every minute of your pain! But I can't allow myself that enjoyment at this time. But Jimmy, I want you to know, boy, from here on out, just because I live with your mother, that don't mean nothing. If you so much as cross my path, I'm going to try my goddamnedest to kick all the black off your ass!"

To retain his pride, Jimmy tried to break the grip Daddy Cool had on him. But for all his twisting and turning, he couldn't make the older man release his collar. Even though Jimmy was dark, people could see that he blushed from the embarrassment. He cursed wildly, his temper getting the best of him. Never before in his life had he been treated in such a way in front of other people, and his pride couldn't stand it.

"Goddamn it," he swore, "turn me loose! I ain't the one who turned her out, so why the fuck are you tryin' to take it out on me?"

Jimmy's words rang a bell with quite a few of the men watching. They believed that he was getting a raw deal. It wasn't his fault that his stepsister started selling pussy, so why should Daddy Cool take it out on him?

But Daddy Cool was thinking altogether differently. He didn't blame Jimmy for his sister's predicament. What he blamed Jimmy for was keeping it quiet. The young boy should have come to him at once with the wire that his sister was out on the streets. Then, between them, they might have been able to do something about it.

But Daddy Cool knew the makeup of Jimmy too well. He knew the young boy enjoyed seeing his sister out there, and that was the reason why he had waited, then tossed it into his stepfather's face when he had got the chance. For being that petty, Daddy Cool had decided to make him pay.

No more would he shoulder the responsibility for the acts the young boy committed. From now on when he got into trouble, he would have to get out of it the best way he could. No more would Daddy Cool send a bondsman downtown to get him out. Those days were over with.

"I'm goin' turn you loose, boy," Daddy Cool stated, "but just remember what I said. Act like we live in two different worlds from now on, 'cause if you don't, I promise you a world of trouble that you can't begin to understand that I can cause you!"

He released the boy, then turned to his older brother. "Buddy, you see to it that he gets the fuck out of my house. What you do is up to you; I'm not puttin' you out, so it's your choice." Daddy Cool turned on his heels and walked swiftly to the rear of the club.

Earl watched the two brothers pick up their friend and hold him up. Then they started toward the front door. When he was sure that they would go out without causing any more trouble, he turned on his heel and followed his boss to the office.

U WAS DARK OUTSIDE, even though it was still early. Janet glanced up at the sky. It looked like rain. She prayed silently that it wouldn't, because if it did, it would make her business bad. For the hundredth time, she remembered that today had been her birthday. How good it would have made her feel had Ronald given her a small gift.

It wouldn't have had to be anything expensive, just the idea that he remembered. She had just told him about it the night before, but he had probably forgotten. His mind was busy thinking about his trap money, and nothing else.

As she stopped on the corner to let the traffic clear, she bent down and glanced in the passing cars. One white man stared back at her, and she beckoned her head for him to turn the corner. She stepped back on the curb and watched the car turn and then stop. She moved back from the crosswalk, staring up and down the street to make sure no police saw her.

It was funny, she reasoned as she approached the car, that one month ago if someone had told her she would be out on the streets turning tricks, she would have laughed at them. It would have been unbelievable. Yet, here she was out on the street selling her wares just like the rest of the black women moving slowly up and down Woodward Avenue.

"Hi," she said to the aging white man behind the wheel.

The man, nearing fifty, with grayish hair and a large potbelly, stared back at the attractive young black girl. He considered himself lucky tonight: the girl was young and exceptionally good looking.

"Hi, yourself," he said happily.

"Would you like to have a little fun?" she inquired, her voice dropping into a husky whisper.

"I don't know," he stalled, staring at her hungrily. "It all depends on how much the fun might cost."

"I don't know," she countered. "About how much could you spend?"

For the next ten minutes they seesawed back and forth. Janet started at fifty dollars, but had to come down. "Well," she stated, with her hand on the door, "if you can't spend any more than that, I had better be going."

"Wait a second," the man stated, panic in his voice. "I just might be able to raise twenty dollars, but no more than that. Shit," he continued, "a girl back on the other corner was going to go with me for just fifteen dollars."

"Well then," Janet stated, her anger rising, "maybe you had better go back to that other corner and find that girl. Like I told you," she finished, opening the door slightly, "if you can't spend at least thirty dollars with me, you better find somebody else."

The price was high, and the man realized it. But on the other hand, the girl was damned attractive. "I'll tell you what, sweetie," he replied, "I'll give you twenty-five dollars, but not a penny more."