grabbed her wrist. He quickly released her when her eyes flashing with anger dropped to his hand touching her and then back up to his face. “Come on now, don’t go. I need to talk to you,” he pleaded, turning serious.
He had thought long and hard about contacting Reba. When his plan of getting his wife back didn’t work, he tried reaching out to his daughters. He was certain they would want him involved in the lives of his grandchildren.
He had messed up at being in the running for Father of the Year, but he certainly could make a go out of being a splendid grandfather. Unfortunately for him, his daughters didn’t see it that way. They had pretty much told him the damage he’d done was beyond repair. And although they forgave him for abandoning them over and over again, there was no room for him in their lives. They’d even gone so far as to forbid a relationship with the grandchildren.
It was that stuck up Starr, who was just like her damn mother, who denied him first. “You will not run in and out of my children’s lives hurting them the way you did me and my sister. When they get older and if they want a relationship with you, I’ll contact you.” And wouldn’t you know it, that weak, no backbone of a sister of hers agreed with her and had given him the same speech.
An anger that he had never known welled up inside of him from their rejection. How dare they not want any parts of him! After all, he was their blood and not that man masquerading as father and grandfather. To hell with them all! He had another daughter that was just probably dying to know him.
When Reba didn’t make a move to sit down or ask what he wanted to talk about, he boldly demanded, “I want to see my daughter.”
Reba’s knees buckled, forcing her to flop back down in the wooden chair. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. A host of emotions began to assault her all at once. She wanted to jump up and down, and scream until her throat was raw for all of Jenkintown to know what a rotten bastard he was. Hell, picking up the chair with him in it, and hurling it through the glass window would do, too, if she had the strength.
If she didn’t think she would go to jail, she’d stab him in the eye with every key on her key ring. Leaning forward, she rested her elbow on the table. “Come here,” she whispered as she motioned for him lean across the table.
She wanted, no needed, him to know she was not playing with him when it came to her child. She’d given him two different occasions to be part of Roxy’s life. The first when she told him about her pregnancy. The second was when Roxy was eight years old and began to ask questions about her father. Both times he denied her. And now he had a nerve to want to get to know his twenty-six year old daughter. Niggah, please!
Through clenched teeth she gritted out, “You dirty son-of-a-bitch. You don’t get to call her your daughter. You gave up that right a long time ago.” Leaning back in her chair, she shot daggers at him. “Remember?”
All traces of charm evaporated. Harold’s grinning face twisted into a mask of contempt. Oh yeah, he remembered alright. He remembered her trying to tie him down with another child. He remembered being boxed into a corner by another woman. Why couldn’t they understand that all he wanted was a good time? But then the years began to fly by and before he knew it, he was a lonely middle-aged man. He deserved to have one of his children show him some sort of love and affection.
“She is my daughter whether you like it or not,” he spat out just as heatedly.
Leaning in his face again, Reba issued a challenge. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone. “I tell you what. If you can tell me what your daughter’s name is, I’ll call her right now and tell her to come down here to meet you.”
Harold’s mind raced. Her name… her name… I don’t even know my own daughter’s name!
The mask he wore crumbled.
Chris D'Lacey
Sloane Meyers
L.L Hunter
Bec Adams
C. J. Cherryh
Ari Thatcher
Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
Bonnie Bryant
Suzanne Young
Jesse Ventura, Dick Russell