Read Online Up to No Good by Carl Weber - Free Book Online Page B

with the senior citizens? The man just turned forty-eight years old, not ninety-eight. Damn, why can’t you give him a break?”
    “He ain’t gotta play bingo. He just needs to slow down. You don’t understand, Louis. These women ain’t got nothing good for my daddy.”
    This time, Louis rolled his eyes. “No woman has anything good for your father as far as you’re concerned.”
    “You got that right.”
    He shook his head. “You know, baby, your obsession with your father’s life is not healthy.”
    I pulled away from him and sat up in the bed. “Obsession? What the hell do you mean by that? Are you trying to say me and my daddy are doing something?” I pointed my finger in his face, daring him to accuse me of something sick like that. I would knock his ass out if he did.
    “No!” he said, sounding just as offended as I was. “Damn, baby. You’re touchy tonight. I’m just saying you’re a daddy’s girl, that’s all.”
    I didn’t answer, because he was right. I was a daddy’s girl. But don’t pass judgment until you hear my story.
    You see, I didn’t even find out that James Black was my daddy until I was ten. Apparently, my mother had been tipping around with him while she was married to Chester, the man who had raised me as his daughter. Chester was an ex-military man, and he raised me and my three older brothers—or rather the boys who turned out to be my half brothers—with plenty of rules and regulations. I always respected him, but I can’t say I was ever one of those little girls who worshipped her father.
    Anyhow, when I was ten, my mother confided in me that James Black was my biological father, and she took me to see him on the sly. To this day, I wonder why she opened up that can of worms by introducing me to Daddy. Maybe she was feeling guilty about keeping the truth from me. I guess she figured that at ten, I was old enough to understand and smart enough to keep her secret. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she and Daddy had started screwingagain behind Chester’s back. Now, I can’t prove that, but they sure went in his room for a lot of so-called talks when I visited.
    That withstanding, she couldn’t have predicted in a million years the bond that would form between me and Daddy. He was so nice to me, and I thought he was so handsome. We hit it off from the start. Even though I had just met him, it was obvious that we were cut from the same cloth. We shared the same sense of humor and loved the same foods. We even liked the same cartoons. Where Chester was strict and distant with us kids, Daddy would get right down on the floor and play with my dolls with me. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing his face. I
loved
my real daddy. I loved Chester, too, but there was no denying that Daddy was a much warmer man, and the connection between us was deep.
    My mother saw how happy it made me to visit my father, so she brought me to see him as often as she could sneak away from Chester. Little did she know that this would eventually spell disaster for her.
    One day, when I was about twelve, I was playing with my brothers when Chester came into the room and snatched the toy right out of my hand. My brothers and I had left the kitchen a mess after we fixed ourselves a snack, but apparently he thought I was the only one who should be responsible for cleaning up. Chester ordered me to wash the dishes but said nothing to the boys. He always treated me like I was Cinder-fuckin’-ella or something, and I was fed up.
    “I don’t have to do what you tell me to do,” I said, standing in the middle of the living room as my brothers watched in confused silence. “You ain’t my real daddy. James Black’s my daddy,” I informed him.
    From the look of shock on his face, I may as wellhave hit him with a baseball bat. His expression gradually transformed from shock to pain. When I think back on it, I realize that was the moment when he wrapped his head around the facts and