“MALEEKA.”
“Yeah, Char.”
“If I told you something weird would you laugh at me?”
“No.”
I tell her about Anthony. How he wants me to call him Daddy. “Creep,” she says.
“He’s not like that!”
“Yes, he is. And you know it.”
I try to help her understand. “He just somebody who looks out for me. Lends me money when I need it. Makes sure my bills get paid.” It sounds wrong when I say it out loud. So, no wonder she say she don’t want to hear no more. That she got to go. Gymnastics tryouts are early tomorrow morning.
“Good luck.”
“You too,” she says. Then she’s gone. Only, not for long. Ten minutes later she calling me back.
It’s daylight and dark almost at the same time. I need to leave soon, do Anthony that favor I promised him. I see now I can’t tell Maleeka everything, even about me working for Anthony’s brother tonight. She’d say something negative about that too, ’cause she one of those girls now. The kind with a scholarship to a good school, a cute boyfriend that don’t believe in feeling her up, and a mother at home who loves her. All I got is me.
Stepping into my heels, I tell her I’ll need to go soon. Her voice turns soft, sweet. “Listen, Char. If he does something to you that you don’t want done, call me—call somebody.” Her mom don’t drive, but she think she’d come get me anyhow, she says.
That’s the nicest thing a girl ever said to me.
“You my big sister now, huh?” I ask.
She bring up them boys who followed her from my house one day. They put their hands on her, tried to kiss her, seem like they wanted to do more. Every once in a while, they turn up in her dreams, she say. “I always get away. Some girls ain’t so lucky.”
I walk up to the window. “You miss your father, Maleeka?”
“Every day.”
“Me too. And—” I almost tell her that Anthony remind me of my dad. And I need a father out here. Somebody to look out for me. What Anthony asked me to do is a little thing. So, I’m gonna do it. He won’t let nothing bad happen to me.
“It’s late. Time for you to go to bed.” Maleeka sound like my mom and JuJu.
We both laugh. “Okay, big sis.”
“Yeah, Char. Listen to your big sister. I’m the most responsible and mature.” It’s supposed to be a joke. Not funny, I wanna tell her. But I got other things to do. Like go to work.
I pull up the window and stick my head out, yelling for Solomon to bring my baby home. I wanna kiss her before I leave. He gonna babysit tonight. We made a deal. She can hang out with him, and he gets to keep anything extra she helps him make.
Never enter through the front door, Anthony told me. “Employees working under the table use the one in the rear.”
No one ever called me an employee before.
When I pass by the fountain at The Fount, the wind blows the water and my hair. Old men whistle. Tongues jump out. Anthony picked out my outfit—bloodred short shorts with super-high heels to match and a top with no sleeves or back. The temperature dropped, so I’m chilly, freezing. But I walk like its summertime, warm, with me crossing the sand on the beach, my shoes in my hand. The whole time, I’m thinking about a girl I seen earlier. She laughed at me, then took my picture. Girls like her want to be girls like me. They too scared, is all.
I’m late. In a hurry. Which is why I took my shoes off. Walking through the parking lot, I run by green bushes with red berries growing in between ’em, and a row of faded white flowers that make the air smell like candy. Men in their twenties or thirties, standing around drinking beer, eye me on my way by. One dude asks how much. By the time the floodlights come on, I’m at the back of the hotel, knocking on a dingy gray metal door, looking back.
He told me to ask for Carolina. “I don’t ask for your brother?” I said. “Give me his name anyway in case she make me mad or something.”
If I did that, it would be disrespectful, he said, and ruin his reputation. He rubbed the back of his hand against my cheek. “You wouldn’t want to do that to Daddy, would you?”
“No … Anthony. I mean, Daddy.”
He kissed my forehead. Said he know my father is up in heaven happy that another man is looking out for me. I been wanting a father for a long time. Only, you can’t tell nobody that. Your dad or mom dies, and people forget about them quick. I know Anthony ain’t perfect. But he’s here—making sure me and Cricket’s stomach is full. That we ain’t living in no alley or on the street. Ain’t that what fathers do?
While I’m waiting, I go in my purse—redo my lip gloss and chew on a mint. My finger gets poked by the Phillips screwdriver I brought with me just in case. Men at the party can look, even say more than I want ’cause I’m being paid. But if they touch me, I don’t care what Anthony think, I will stab somebody.
Someone buzzes me in. I need both hands to pull open the door. It’s dark inside. I stand in front the door, giving my eyes time to adjust. Walking slow, I see trash dumpsters lined up against one side of the hall. Boxes up to the ceiling on the other side. The stink make me hold my nose. “Miss Carolina. Miss Carolina. It’s me. Char … I mean Charlie.” Looking in front of me and behind, I call her again, then start walking up another hall like I know where I’m going.
She come out of nowhere—like a bat. Sneaking up behind me, mad, she says, “What the fuck are you yelling about?”