it smells good."
"Old Spice," he'd said, caressing her in all the right places. She knew it smelled familiar because Crook had always worn it, and so did Percy. It smelled different on Sonny. Tantalizing.
After a few weeks of making excuses to the kids as to why she'd been staying out so late or not coming home until daylight, Mildred decided to tell them. Hell, she was a grown woman with needs just like any other female. What was wrong with her feeling a little pleasure?
She made Sonny whisper when she let him in. "This is a nice house," he said softly.
"Shhh," she said, and guided him to her bedroom, where she hung his clothes over the door and left it cracked. She didn't want the kids to barge in unannounced and find her in bed with a man who wasn't their father. Sonny was a much better lover than either Crook or Percy had been. He was so warm and big that Mildred woke up whistling the next morning, anxious to fix him a hot breakfast. She wanted to make him as comfortable as possible because she wanted him to come back. And keep coming back. It had been so long since she'd been kissed, especially the way Sonny did. She'd almost forgotten what else lips were good for. And what he had rekindled between her legs was another story altogether.
Sonny put on everything except his shirt and walked out into the living room when he heard the kids laughing at cartoons. When Freda first saw his hairy chest, her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost.
"Who are you?" she asked, turning up her nose at him.
"I'm Sonny," he said smiling, all friendly-like. "I'm a friend of your mother's."
"Since when? And how come you don't have all your clothes on? You coming or going? Did you spend the night over here? With my mama, in her bed?"
"Yes, your mother is a very nice lady, and I like her a lot. I hope to get to know you and the other kids better, too."
"Hmph. I hope you ain't staying long," she said, and huffed away.
Mildred walked back into the living room, not having heard this, and slid her arms around his waist like a high schooler satisfying a crush. She called the kids to introduce him. Each of them sat down on the couch, lined up like dominoes, and when Freda crossed her arms and grunted, the rest of them imitated her. They watched her for the next move, hardly even noticing Sonny.
"Sonny is a friend of your mama's, and he's nice. I like him, and I want y'all to treat him nice. He's in the air force and he's going to be visiting us quite regularly, so y'all might as well get used to him."
"Why we gotta get used to him? He ain't coming to see us." Freda said.
"You got a quarter?" asked Money, holding out his hand.
"Boy, stop begging, what I tell you about that. And Freda, you better watch the tone of your voice, you ain't grown. I'm still the mama in this house."
"How'd you get a name like Money?" Sonny asked.
Money hunched his shoulders. He didn't know.
It was Freda who had started calling him that. It seemed that Money always begged, and nobody knew where he got the habit from. He was barely old enough to tell you his address, but he'd beg coins from anyone who came to the house or wherever Freda had dragged him. "You got a dime?" he'd ask, and if they said no, he'd say, "You got a nickel?" And if they still said no, he'd press the point. "Well, you got any money?" Freda would smack his hand and tell him he shouldn't be begging and if Mildred ever found out he was doing it, she would beat the stew out of him. He ignored her threats. "Money! Money! Money! Those the only words you know, ain't it?" Freda would say. After that, to embarrass him she started calling him Money all the time. So did everybody else.
It was commonplace in black neighborhoods to have a nickname. By the time a child was sucking his bottle or thumb, people were already staring at him like a specimen, asking, "What you gon' call him?" Then they would give the child a name that showed no consideration for his own. Baby boys got names like Lucky,
"Old Spice," he'd said, caressing her in all the right places. She knew it smelled familiar because Crook had always worn it, and so did Percy. It smelled different on Sonny. Tantalizing.
After a few weeks of making excuses to the kids as to why she'd been staying out so late or not coming home until daylight, Mildred decided to tell them. Hell, she was a grown woman with needs just like any other female. What was wrong with her feeling a little pleasure?
She made Sonny whisper when she let him in. "This is a nice house," he said softly.
"Shhh," she said, and guided him to her bedroom, where she hung his clothes over the door and left it cracked. She didn't want the kids to barge in unannounced and find her in bed with a man who wasn't their father. Sonny was a much better lover than either Crook or Percy had been. He was so warm and big that Mildred woke up whistling the next morning, anxious to fix him a hot breakfast. She wanted to make him as comfortable as possible because she wanted him to come back. And keep coming back. It had been so long since she'd been kissed, especially the way Sonny did. She'd almost forgotten what else lips were good for. And what he had rekindled between her legs was another story altogether.
Sonny put on everything except his shirt and walked out into the living room when he heard the kids laughing at cartoons. When Freda first saw his hairy chest, her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost.
"Who are you?" she asked, turning up her nose at him.
"I'm Sonny," he said smiling, all friendly-like. "I'm a friend of your mother's."
"Since when? And how come you don't have all your clothes on? You coming or going? Did you spend the night over here? With my mama, in her bed?"
"Yes, your mother is a very nice lady, and I like her a lot. I hope to get to know you and the other kids better, too."
"Hmph. I hope you ain't staying long," she said, and huffed away.
Mildred walked back into the living room, not having heard this, and slid her arms around his waist like a high schooler satisfying a crush. She called the kids to introduce him. Each of them sat down on the couch, lined up like dominoes, and when Freda crossed her arms and grunted, the rest of them imitated her. They watched her for the next move, hardly even noticing Sonny.
"Sonny is a friend of your mama's, and he's nice. I like him, and I want y'all to treat him nice. He's in the air force and he's going to be visiting us quite regularly, so y'all might as well get used to him."
"Why we gotta get used to him? He ain't coming to see us." Freda said.
"You got a quarter?" asked Money, holding out his hand.
"Boy, stop begging, what I tell you about that. And Freda, you better watch the tone of your voice, you ain't grown. I'm still the mama in this house."
"How'd you get a name like Money?" Sonny asked.
Money hunched his shoulders. He didn't know.
It was Freda who had started calling him that. It seemed that Money always begged, and nobody knew where he got the habit from. He was barely old enough to tell you his address, but he'd beg coins from anyone who came to the house or wherever Freda had dragged him. "You got a dime?" he'd ask, and if they said no, he'd say, "You got a nickel?" And if they still said no, he'd press the point. "Well, you got any money?" Freda would smack his hand and tell him he shouldn't be begging and if Mildred ever found out he was doing it, she would beat the stew out of him. He ignored her threats. "Money! Money! Money! Those the only words you know, ain't it?" Freda would say. After that, to embarrass him she started calling him Money all the time. So did everybody else.
It was commonplace in black neighborhoods to have a nickname. By the time a child was sucking his bottle or thumb, people were already staring at him like a specimen, asking, "What you gon' call him?" Then they would give the child a name that showed no consideration for his own. Baby boys got names like Lucky,
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