Daddy Cool (10 page)

He tried to stand without the help of the woman. There was a sharp pain in his ribs, but other than that he felt as if he was all right. First he tried to take two short steps. The pain was sharp, yet he believed it was possible for him to walk. If only he didn't have to walk all the way back to his hotel.

"Miss," he began, "if you would be kind enough to drop me off at my home, I'd gladly pay you for your troubles."

The heavyset black woman glanced at him curiously. She seemed as though she would say no, so he spoke up hurriedly. "It's only a couple of blocks away, miss, and I'd gladly pay you for any trouble it would cause you."

Before she could answer, her friend spoke up. "We might as well, girl; he can't hardly give us any trouble when he can't even walk."

The woman helping Daddy Cool glanced over at her friend. "Okay," she finally said. "I guess we can do that much for you." Between the two women, they helped him to the car.

When he bent down to get into the car, pain exploded inside of him. For one brief moment, Daddy Cool thought he would pass out. Gradually the pain became bearable. He gritted his teeth and fought back the tendency to faint. He was glad to see the hotel, after directing the women to it. At first, he had wanted to give them the wrong address and get out near the hotel, but the pain was too harsh. He didn't believe he had the strength to make it without their help.

"You should go to the hospital," the woman called Sally stated sharply.

Daddy Cool tried to smile. "I would go, but I don't even know where a hospital is at, and," he continued, not giving the woman time to speak, "I don't even have enough money left on me to catch a cab back. After I go up to my room and get some money, I'll take your advice and seek out a hospital."

After the woman driving parked in front of the hotel, Sally, sitting on the driver's side, climbed out and held the door open for him.

"You see," she said as he tried to get out without her help, "you can't even stand up by yourself."

This time Daddy Cool didn't attempt to smile. The pain was too great.

"I must go up to my room and get some money," he finally managed to say. "If you ladies would be kind enough to wait and take me to the hospital, I'd be willing to pay you for your troubles. But I must get some money," he stated. "It wouldn't make sense coming out of the hospital and havin' to catch a bus."

The driver began to shake her head.

"I don't know if we'll have that much time," she stated, staring past Daddy Cool and catching her friend's eye.

"Aw shit, Doris," Sally said, "it won't take that much time to just drop him off at General Hospital. You can see he ain't in no shape to help himself."

Before Doris could answer, Daddy Cool added, "I'll give you ten dollars for your trouble, miss."

The driver hesitated, then said quickly, "Okay, if you don't spend too long up in your room, 'cause I've got to be gettin' on."

"You want me to help you?" Sally inquired, when she saw the trouble he was having trying to stay on his feet. Daddy Cool could only nod his head. The woman put her arm around him and started for the door. Before they reached the entrance, Doris joined them. Between the two women, they managed to get him up the steps of the hotel.

The desk clerk glanced sharply at the threesome as they came into the hotel. Daddy Cool didn't have to go to the desk for his key since he made it a habit to carry it on him at all times. They took the elevator upstairs, while the few people still up stared after them curiously.

Once upstairs, Daddy Cool managed to open his door. Again, the women stayed right with him as he went into the small bedroom.

The only way he could get some privacy was to excuse himself and stumble into the tiny bathroom. Once inside with the door closed, Daddy Cool had to fight back the weakness that constantly tried to overcome him. He finally was able to take off his coat, then remove his shirt. For a second, he thought he might have to ask one of the women to come in and help him take off the harness that held his knives.

But with the strength of desperation, he struggled with the catch until he was able to take it off himself. Sweat rolled off his forehead from the incredible pain that racked his body from the struggle to remove the weapons. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you all right?" Sally called out.

"Yes," he managed to reply. Picking up his shirt he carried it over his arm as he opened the door. One backward glance assured him that the knives hidden under the bathtub couldn't be seen from the doorway.

Both women stared at him closely as he came out. He walked over to the closet to remove one of the suitcases, but it hurt too bad for him to bend over.

"Please," he pleaded, as he kicked at the suitcase that he wanted.

Sally saw what he wanted, picked up the suitcase for him, and carried it over to the bed.

"Open it, please," he asked, standing beside the bed between the women.

With a shake of her head, Sally quickly obeyed his request. For a second, Daddy Cool hesitated to reveal so much money to the women, but he knew he didn't have any other choice. As soon as she opened the buckles, he flipped back the lid. Most of his money was hidden under some white shirts, so all he had to do was slip his hand under the clothes and remove one of the bundles.

The small bundle of money he pulled out still was wrapped in the white money wrapper. The sum on the wrapper read five hundred dollars. The top bills were brand new one-hundred-dollar bills. He flipped the top bills back and extracted a twenty-dollar bill.

Taking it loose from the rest, he held it out to Doris, then removed another twenty-dollar bill and gave it to Sally. Both women tried not to accept the money, but Daddy Cool could tell they wanted it. He wouldn't listen to their denials; he just pushed the money into their hands.

"Listen," he stated, "I need help, and the best way to get it is to pay for it. I know both of you have something else to do, but if I pay you for your trouble, maybe it won't be too difficult for you to put off whatever you were going to do."

Before they could say anything, he added, "Once we get to the hospital, you can go your own way, but if ya should stay with me, I'll give both of you another twenty when we leave. How does that sound?" He saw the greed in their eyes as he mentioned money.

"Well," Doris began, "whatever I had to do, I sure as hell wasn't going to make forty dollars at it, so I got the time now."

Sally seemed to be ashamed. She stared down at the floor. "It seems funny to accept money for helping somebody, but my kids can sure use the cash."

"Well then, it's settled, huh?" Daddy Cool managed a slight smile as each of the women moved to one side of him to help.

Daddy Cool reflected on the merits of money as Doris drove swiftly to the nearest hospital. Since giving the women the money, he couldn't help but notice the change in them. Money made people function better, or so it seemed. Though he had their help without paying them, they seemed even more helpful after he gave them money.

He knew he had taken a chance letting them see his money, but since one of them had on a nurse's uniform, he didn't think he had too much to fear from them. They were just hardworking black women. Even if the thought of robbing him had passed through their minds, they were not of the caliber of robbers. It was something he could sense.

At the hospital, the two women waited patiently while doctors bandaged up Daddy Cool's ribs. He walked out slowly and informed the women that he had two broken ribs. On the ride back to his hotel, he had them stop so he could buy them both a dinner, ordering his to be taken out.

With the hot food in his lap and his ribs wrapped up, he realized that the situation he had fallen into could have turned out a whole lot worse if it hadn't been for the help of the two black women.

He felt a deep gratitude for their help and a slow anger at himself for allowing his mind to linger on his silly daughter to such a degree that he walked into a trap that any child in the ghetto would have avoided.

At the hotel he thanked the women, then removed a hundreddollar bill from his bankroll. They tried to turn it down, but he knew they wanted it. After giving them the money, he said, "Well, sisters, I've seen enough of California. I think I'll catch the morning plane back to New York."

Daddy Cool removed a pencil from his pocket and wrote out a fake address. "If either of you are ever in New York, just call me at this address and I'll show you the town. Take care now, and be sure you don't walk into any muggers." He flashed his smile at the women before turning on his heel and limping slowly toward the hotel door.

4T THE SAME MOMENT that Daddy Coot walked back into his hotel room, his daughter, Janet, was just awakening back in the Motor City. She stared around the small, dirty apartment her boyfriend had found for her. It was cheaper than the motel and had roaches.

After finishing her morning toilet, she made her daily telephone call to her mother. Since her father had left on another one of his unexplainable trips, she had gotten into the habit of talking with her mother on the phone every morning. It allowed her mind to relax. She could think back on how nice it used to be.

At times like this, she wished with all her heart she was back home with no problems. Whenever something came up she couldn't handle, all she had to do was wait for her father and explain it to him. He could handle anything.

Janet bit her lip. For a second she thought she was going to start crying again. That wouldn't do at all. Lately, she had found herself bursting into tears for no reason. Ronald had called her a "spoiled crybaby" and walked out on her two days ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. Now she wondered if he was ever going to come back. She knew she had acted like a child, getting mad over the other women he had.

Ronald had come out and told her point-blank that he wasn't about to fire his whores and get a job just to take care of her. Remembering the argument started the tears to flowing again. She sat in front of her tiny cracked mirror and watched the tears running down her cheeks. She wished with all her heart she had known that was the way he had felt before she had gone to bed with him.

Now she felt like something dirty. The sex had been all right, but she could have done without it. Now, no longer a virgin, she was beginning to grow up, and she didn't like the way it felt. Making up her mind on different problems was almost too much for her. She wasn't used to it and wished with all her heart she had a man like her father to take care of everything.

After about ten minutes of self-pity, Janet got control of herself and held back the rest of the tears. Crying didn't do any good. The same problems were still there after crying her heart out. The only thing she ever accomplished was to smear her makeup.

Finally Janet managed to pull herself together. After taking a shower, she dressed carefully, wanting to look her best when Ronald arrived. She pulled on a short black slip, then slipped into a tightfitting dark-green skirt with matching jacket.

The miniskirt was exceedingly short, revealing her beautiful legs, while the white sweater she wore under the green jacket revealed nicely her well-developed chest. By the time she was fully dressed, it was past the time Ronald had said he would arrive.

Again she was disturbed by doubts and fears. If Ronald didn't show up, she believed she would go out of her mind. Since she was so disturbed, she began pulling out the dresser drawers, searching for the pint of whiskey Ronald had left there the night he stayed.

She had just found the strong drink and poured herself a stiff one when she heard him knock on the door. At once she knew who it was because nobody else knocked with their car keys except him.

Hurriedly she turned the glass up and downed the fierce burning alcohol in one swallow. The whiskey almost took her breath away. She had never taken over three drinks in her life. Now, before she could go to the door, she had to fight back the tears that the drink brought to her eyes. Once again, the sound of knocking came to her and she staggered over to the door, gaining control with each second.

"Hi, honey," she managed to say as she greeted him at the door.

Ronald, rather short in size, was a dark-complexioned man who wore the new-style high-heel shoes. The black-and-white shoes he wore matched an expensive checkered sport coat with black pants that had huge flaring cuffs.

When she tried to kiss him, Ronald turned his cheek so that she could only peck him on the side of the face. His sharp, piercing black eyes took in the whiskey bottle sitting on top of the dresser. His eyebrows went up as he held her at arms length.

"Well, when the hell did this shit begin," he inquired, nodding at the bottle.

"Oh," she said, blushing, "I just felt like taking a taste, Ron, that's all."

Before he could answer, she continued. "You know I don't really drink, so why are you concerned?"

He shrugged his shoulders, then stated, "From the way your breath smells, you sure in the hell would have trouble trying to explain you didn't drink to a policeman, if one should stop us and smelled your breath. Now get your ass in the bathroom and wash your mouth out. I want you to kill that fuckin' odor. Where I'm gettin' ready to take you, I don't want the people to think I brought a juice-head along with me."