Daddy Daycare

15

I’d been on the road for ’bout twenty minutes before my phone was charged enough to turn on. I was calculatin’ in my head how much money I’d pro’ly missed by not bein’ available. When I could finally get into my inbox there were three 911 texts from Big Baby, one from Derrick askin’ if I was at the crib yet or with Honey, and one from Honey that read, ok well gudnite. Guess she finally figured out I wasn’t comin’ back. I pulled up to the club and saw D’s obvious-ass Mello Yello mobile but no one else. I suddenly remembered Danita’s deal and wondered what the hell she wanted in return for her silence, and what made her think I would compromise when it would pro’ly be cheaper to jus’ have her taken out.

I walked into the club and went about my usual routine. I’d cleared the first three safes before I noticed a pile of coats on the floor on the side of the stage. Somebody musta been in here gettin’ some ass after hours las’ night.

Derrick walked out of the kitchen with a plate of leftova wings from last night.

“You know, Big Shirley was pro’ly savin’ those for her warm-up tonight.” I was referrin’ to Shiree, one of our top earners. This bitch had the phattest ass, the thickest Coke-bottle shape, and she ate like her ass had its own mufuckin’ stomach! Playfully, I named that monster ass “Big Shirley.” She would walk by and ya boy would be like, “Hi, Shiree, how ya doin’, Big Shirley?” I done seen Shiree stab a hole in anotha bitch back wit’ a stiletto ova some damn onion rings.

“They ain’t fa me, an’ she told me I could have ’em. We been waitin’ for the last two hours, nigga. What happened to thirty minutes?”

I was ’bout to remind Derrick who the fuckin’ “captain” of this ship was, but I was still stuck on the “we” part of his sentence. “What the fuck you mean, ‘we’ been waitin’?” I saw movement out of the corner of my eye by the stage and was ’bout to make my way to the office for my burner.

Derrick walked toward the stage. “Big Baby said he wandered in las’ night right after we left.”

It wasn’t until then that I saw the li’l scrawny kid who had apparently been sleepin’ on a pallet made from old, unclaimed coats. He cautiously approached us, crusty-eyed and still groggy. He was wearin’ Rocawear blue jeans and a Coogi polo shirt. They were a little big on him, but people who neglect their kids don’t dress ’em from head to toe in name-brand labels.

“What the fuck, D? Why ain’ somebody take him to a shelter or the police station? What, this look like Daddy Day Care to y’all niggas? That ain’t a fuckin’ puppy, it’s a kid, now get him outta here!”

I started to walk toward my office. I wasn’t expectin’ to hear any objections. I was shocked when Derrick walked over and blocked my path. His tone was angry and he had the nerve to grit his teeth as he spoke. Like he ain’ know a mufucka would snatch him up and straighten him the fuck out quicker than hummingbirds fuck.

“Nigga, his momma sent him here. Danita. Nigga, she locked up an’ ain’t got no one else to watch out for him. She promisin’ she won’t talk if you’ll look out for her only son. Given y’all’s history an’ the shit she know ’bout our operation, at this point I think it’s fair to say we can’t shut her up. If she decide to talk, too many of the blues we pay off scared to do any favors an’ we got no way of gettin’ to her, so let’s jus’ make her happy and find the li’l nigga a spot.”

Somethin’ told me I shoulda killed that bitch. Now she was makin’ demands? I ain’t even know she had a son. I didn’t like ultimatums and I damn sure didn’t negotiate. But I was a calculatin’ mufucka. If Dee’s son was under my care, it was pretty obvious she wouldn’t dare breathe a word ’bout anything to anyone.

“Li’l nigga.” I walked toward the boy who was watchin’ us intently. I was sure he’d heard our convo. He knew what was up. As I approached him, I felt some of my edge soften. He had to be ’bout eight, scrawny as hell, with curly black hair. Hell, I had a son too, and he reminded me of Trey.

“Li’l nigga, what’s ya name an’ how old are ya?” He looked up at me and my breath caught. He had her light brown, slanted eyes, thick, dark lashes, square chin—he was his momma’s son. I almost felt ashamed of what I did to her face after seein’ it reincarnated on him. But what’s done was done.

“So you ain’t gonna ans’a me?” He was still silent, starin’ at me blankly. I was on the verge of gettin’ pissed. . . .

“Five. Sir.”

I could barely hear his shaky reply.

I was six four and he stood almost to my waist. I woulda sworn he was older. I felt myself calmin’ down. It was bad enough he had a ho for a momma, some trick he pro’ly ain’t even knew for a daddy, and now this.

“D, he stays wit’ you until we figure somethin’ out, so go ahead and send word to his momma.”