Daddy's House (7 page)

“
Oh, I’ll take it from here,” Dottie firmly stated, letting Tracey know she wasn’t welcomed.

I turned to let Tracey know it was okay, when I saw the buck expression on her face. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” she belted. “With that short, wack-ass hair-do.” She gritted her teeth, rolled her eyes, and carried on like she wanted me to be fired before I was officially hired. I got sidetracked when I saw Daddy over Tracey’s shoulder hand Luke some money. I wasn’t sure if it was a loan, or a finder’s fee.

“
It’s okay, Tracey. Really…I’ll be okay. I’ll call you,” I ended.

“
Shiiid…don’t lemme have to fuck nobody up out this mufucka!”

While Tracey was ranting and raving, Dottie pulled me completely inside and was shutting the door in her face. Suddenly, Tracey stuck her business card through the tiny slit.

“
Call me on my cell phone if you need me!” she yelled, through the door crack. “I know you don’t have the number.” Then, just that quick, a thumping sound ended our view of one another.

I stood in the foyer with Dottie alone, looking like an alien in new territory. I figured playing the shy role would convince her to cut me some slack and be more welcoming. Wrong. She looked downward, like I was beat up in the face and unbearable to look at. Not even worthy. I reacted by looking toward the sparkling chandelier above my head. I told myself this would be my last humiliation in life.

“
Follow me,” she ordered.

“
Okay,” I responded, noticing her huge round key ring that resembled a miniature hoola hoop. It reminded me of the one Bookman carried on
Good Times
. But Ms. Dottie was far from a jokester like him. She was tough, didn’t even crack a damn smile.

I held Tracey’s card close to my chest. She was my last hope. That was when I knew things had gone sour for me. Although I would temporarily reside in the fabulous house, which was decorated like something on MTV Cribs, I still felt homeless.

As I walked quickly behind Ms. Dottie, trying to keep up, a nicely decorated office to my left caught my attention. A young white chick, dressed in a stretchy rayon booty length dress, sat at a computer, with her legs spread wide open, and raised up on the desk. She laughed and played with her hair, like she was talking to someone special. Even Ms. Dottie looked at her strangely, but kept her focus on me.

“
I just realized you didn’t bring your bags,” she said, stopping abruptly.

“
I don’t have any.”

“
Oh…that’s a first,” she responded. “Moving right along,” she smirked, and started walking again.

The house was plush, and the hardwood floors looked like they’d been freshly waxed. Ms. Dottie led me to a set of double doors and opened them wide. “Candice, this is what we call the showroom. This room is where you’ll be showing the guys what you got, like these ladies here,” she said, pointing her index finger.

I realized at that moment what I’d gotten myself into. Turning three shades of purple, I held the lower part of my stomach. Roughly, six women were laid around the large room in nasty, freaky attire. Satin, lace, chenille, you name it, it was on their bodies. I stood there for a moment, not even realizing that Ms. Dottie was introducing me. My focus was on the Asian woman spread out on the zebra print rug with a dildo pressed against the side of her face. I coughed out loud like I was having some type of asthma attack. Inside, my breakdown was coming. This was it. I couldn’t take anymore. In between my coughs, I asked, “Which way to the bathroom?”

Ms. Dottie just pointed, and followed behind me like a small toddler.

I could hear the chuckles from behind, just as my stomach knotted up inside.
Why didn’t Tracey tell me
, I wondered.
Does she know the real deal
?
This shit is far beyond dates
. “Escort my ass!” I blurted out.

I ran inside the bathroom, slammed the door, and lifted the toilet seat so hard it almost came off the hinges. I felt so sick; a deep down sickness, deep in the pit of my stomach.

I felt guilty as I threw up all over the gold plated accessories. With vomit splattered all over the toilet, I figured this was the end.
Gross
, I thought.
No
,
Just plain
nasty
!

“
Come out of there,” I heard a voice say. “This is a community bathroom!”

Damn, I couldn’t even be sick in peace. Besides, I needed time to think. Loud knocks like the police banged on the door repeatedly. I needed to think about whether I’d make a run for it or just walk out and tell Ms. Dottie that there was a miscommunication. They didn’t tell me I’d be a slut.

“
What’s going on in there?” Ms. Dottie yelled.

“
I’m okay,” I mumbled. “Be out in a sec.”

I used what was left of the toilet tissue roll to wipe the remaining gook from my mouth. I looked in the mirror as the knocking got louder. “Come out of there!” Ms. Dottie shouted.

I snatched the door open, and breathed a heavy sigh. Still flush in the face, I asked if I could see where I’d be sleeping. I really didn’t want to do it, but I’d made my mind up. It was my final answer. I was staying. I would stay long enough to get myself on my feet. Then I’d be out. Where else would I go? Back to Tracey’s dump with Luke, waiting for his next scheme?

I wiped my wet hands on my sweatsuit, and tried to look like I had some dignity left as Ms. Dottie told me to follow her upstairs. The moment I got to the first step, a beautiful woman, dark like milk chocolate, strutted her way down the steps. The way she walked commanded attention. I wasn’t gay, but I knew an attractive woman when I saw one. I’d already given her a ten, until she bumped me purposely and her bad boob job was exposed.

“
Looks like Daddy hired a pregnant trick this time,” she joked, followed by a nasty stare.

I instantly looked down at my wash board stomach, to see if the sweatsuit was making me look pudgy. I’d always prided myself on my Janet Jackson abs.

“
I mean…she must be pregnant, throwing up and shit.”

“
Mind your business, Cat!” Ms. Dottie yelled. You know we don’t allow that type of shit in Daddy’s House. We’re here to make money. That’s it.”

“
Of course I know that,” she spat. “I make the most money, don’t I?”

She looked at me one last time, like the statement was really meant for me to know. I didn’t know whether I should’ve said something to prove I wasn’t a punk, or just tripped the tall bitch. Instead, Ms. Dottie handled it, probably because she thought I was weak.

“
Cat, take your jealous-ass on. Every time we get a little competition in here, you wanna run them away. Honey, follow me to your room.” She brought her focus back to me. “Moving right along,” she mumbled softly, like she was reminding herself to get focused again.

I followed, noticing how thick Ms. Dottie’s hair appeared to be. Her short pen curls were matted to her head, and looked like she’d used a jar of beeswax that morning. When we made it to the top of the staircase, I turned to see Cat still at the bottom of the stairs, with her arms folded and her mouth twitched like she had a beef to settle.
Damn, will my life ever have any peace? I even
gotta watch my back in a hoe house.

Chapter Six

The next day I got up early with a master plan. Four months was gonna seem like a lifetime, but depending on how much paper I could make per month, that’s how long I was willing to stick it out. I rushed into the small bathroom inside my bedroom and took a quick shower. I wanted to get downstairs to that computer I’d seen yesterday before the other girls got up. I needed to search the internet for my mother. Tracey told me to go to some Fed’s website and type in her name, to see if she was still locked up. She was a dangerous woman, and I didn’t trust her. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had planned the ambush on me, and who was helping her.
Damn, I hope
Rich is not involved.

Surprisingly, when I stepped out of the shower, a brand new red silk robe was laid neatly on the bed, with matching thongs. I hadn’t heard anyone come in, so I tiptoed, with my towel wrapped tightly, closer to the door. Still, no sign of anyone. I figured it must’ve been Ms. Dottie, ‘cause she was the only one with keys to everybody’s room.

I quickly moistened my body with a bottle of lotion that was on the nightstand. I guess it was in place for whoever stayed in the room. Smelling like a sweet orange, I dressed in my new red panties and the same sweatsuit from the day before, realizing I didn’t have any other clothes to wear downstairs.

“
I sure as hell ain’t gonna wear that robe downstairs,” I said to myself.

Anxiously I headed to the door, only to be met by Ms. Dottie and her infamous clipboard and oversized key ring. She rushed inside my room, and gave me a serious inspection. Dressed for a power meeting, she had on a pin stripped shirt, some fancy wide legged pants, and expensive Ferragamo shoes.

“
Just where do you think you’re going in that outfit?” she asked, her hand moving back and forth swiftly. “Take it all off,” she instructed, not even giving me a chance to respond. “You can’t walk around like that anymore. I have some things for you.”

She opened the bedroom door and reached for something outside. A big white bag filled with clothes was pulled inside; while she tossed a black low cut shirt my way and some matching Capri pants. My jaw hung low as I watched her pull out sets of provocative, sluttish outfits from the bag. I just stood there, wondering when the bottom was near. Unfortunately for me, none of it was my style of clothing.

“
Take it all off now,” she said again in a louder voice, and headed toward the small closet off to the side. She took a moment, rummaging through the different keys, in search of the right one. “Finally,” she said, with a heavy sigh.

“
Who’s clothes are these?” I asked with a frown.

She ignored the shit outta me. When Ms. Dottie unlocked the door, I thought I was in the Macy’s shoe department. Lines of shoes, ranging in all sizes, stared me in the face. “And wear these today for weekly meeting.”

The black three-inch stilletto’s she handed me was perfect for hitting the streets in search of a buck. I gritted my teeth and hesitantly slid them on. I stood in the middle of the floor with underwear, a push up bra that accented my young, perky breasts, and stilettos to add that extra height, listening to instruction after instruction.

“
Now, get dressed, someone is coming to your room in a few minutes.”

I formed a blank expression on my face. Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t think to ask who. I just listened.

“
The meeting is in the showroom and starts at noon,
sharp
. That’s not nigga noon. It’s 12:00 p.m., one minute after 11:59 a.m. You understand?” Ms. Dottie paced the floor like a militant soldier. “You looking at me like you’re a little slow.” She waited for a response, but I didn’t give one.

“
You have a hair appointment with Claude, the house hairstylist at one o’clock today, and a nail appointment at two. Remember, keep yourself looking good at all times…you never know when
Big Money
will show up. Always be prepared for an opportunity,” she added. “Oh…and most importantly, when you get downstairs today, leave your snobbish attitude right here.”

“
Me?” I pointed at myself in shock.

“
Moving right along.”

I was starting to realize that’s what she said when she was done with the conversation. “No problem,” I responded. “I may need some help with the computer when I get downstairs. Is there a password?”

“
Make friends. Ask one of the girls,” she smirked. “I’m not a computer tech, but they will determine whether you make it around here or not.”

Damn
, I thought.
She’s rougher than I expected
. My plan was to be cordial, but new friends I didn’t need. I’d already decided that I was gonna be sociable and make the best of my situation. I’d even practiced my fake smile in the mirror when I first got up.

“
That’s it,” Ms. Dottie said, placing a big check on the paper in front of her. “Now…” A double knock at the door interrupted her words. “I guess he’s here.” She looked at me kinda funny. “No need to get dressed now. On the bed and spread ‘em.” She grinned widely.

No…you…can’t be serious?
I thought
.
Not this soon. What if this guy asked for something I wasn’t willing to do? Would I be out on the streets my first full day here?

The door swung open and a tall, attractive, slender man in his late fifties walked inside. His salt and pepper beard stood out.
Distinguished
, I thought. Reminded me of one of my uncles. He pulled his leather briefcase that was on wheels, as he walked into the room, and adjusted the suit jacket hanging over his shoulder. Although he seemed a bit arrogant, he smiled a pleasant smile, like we’d met each other before. When he extended his hand, I didn’t even shake it. Nervously, I wondered what I’d have to do. Tracey had told me I’d have to entertain a few politicians…he surely looked like one.