The implications were obvious; Poppa blamed himself for Momma’s death. Teela knew this, but why hadn’t ever been cleared up, until now. "It was an accident, Poppa."
"Maybe. Maybe she was so mad she couldn’t see straight. Maybe she was so depressed at the idea of backing off that…" Frank covered his face.
"It was STILL not your fault!" Teela insisted.
Frank shrugged. "I wasn’t … pure, in all this. Your momma encouraged me to get a piece on the side, here and there, to keep from feeling too bad about what she was up to and to keep me from gettin' high and mighty about it, mostly. Seemed like she picked babysitters based on whether they would come on to me or not. But she brought in this woman who had a lot of rough male friends; I came in and they was slapping your momma around and wouldn’t leave, basically. I saw some shit I just couldn’t handle, and laid down the law — put the woman out and called the cops — that’s what it took to get the men out of the house. After that, we fought for three-four hours before she stormed off — you missed it, 'cause you were elsewhere with another auntie. Next thing I know, the phone rings…" He rubbed his face. "Given what happened just before, the cops was all over me like a coat of paint for a while — and I guess they hounded the shit out of the other men, too, but whatever happened, your momma was alone when it went down…"
After a pause, he went on, "You took it hard, I know. I’m not much more of a parent than your momma was, so I sent you to shrinks. They tell me you felt guilty 'cause you weren’t around — but you were better off not being there. Besides, that was her decision — and mine, maybe — but not yours. I know things been tough for you, and I worried that you might just get the down-side of your momma’s temperament and need to be on Prozac and shit — but the shrinks said to let you ride it out and look the other way at some things, and you’d find friends and such…"
Teela grunted. "You hired the wrong shrinks, Poppa." But she smirked a bit.
"Maybe," Frank agreed. "Thing is, nothin' is ever perfect. But you seemed kinda busted — and I didn’t know how to fix you. Some things you got to do yourself…" He mused a moment. "About this boy … You usin' him for sex, or what?"
"Or what, I think," Teela replied. "It’s all new, but it’s real good … Nothing I do fazes him; the very first thing I ever did was cuss him out and try to knee him in the balls. Somehow, he ducked both and left me sitting on the mall floor looking stupid — and it went downhill from there!"
"Okay, so, he’s slick, and he got in your panties. Got anything GOOD to say about him?" Frank rasped.
"I guess I missed a couple of things," Teela replied, smiling. "We were like gasoline and a match the first couple of times, but then…"
"I’m waitin'. Maybe I’m asking the wrong questions. Is he serious about YOU or about fucking?" Frank rasped.
"Me, Poppa," Teela announced positively. "He was already getting sex elsewhere when we met. No, I think we just click."
"Well, it sounds okay, I guess," Frank grunted, "but I don’t want ya hurt. Cover your ass, willya? The first one seldom makes it in the long run, ya know?"
"I’ll try," Teela offered, "But…"
Frank wrinkled his nose. "Getting your heart broke is part of growin' up for most folk — I can’t tell ya how to avoid it, because I don’t think you’re supposed to — it kinda helps teach ya not to set your sights too high and how to recognize what might be the real deal. But I don’t want to have to wipe up a mess if you fall hard. Lemme know if I can help…"
"I’ll try not to fall apart completely, if it happens," Teela promised.
"Good, I got a lot of time and effort invested in ya." Frank ruffled his daughter’s hair. "What’s for supper?"
Chapter 39
Posted: March 20, 2009 - 08:00:58 pm
Candace lay in her bed trying to figure out what in the Hell she was going to do about Damian. He’d sauntered out about thirty minutes before, happy as a clam — but leaving Candace trying to figure out how and why she had allowed him such liberties — AGAIN.
Obviously, she wasn’t going to be able to duck him; just as obviously, if she didn’t play ball, he would follow through on his threats to humiliate her publicly. Either way, she was screwed; all she could do, apparently, was follow instructions — which somehow rankled a lot more when he was out of sight than it did when he was standing there, telling her what she was going to do … In fact, when the little bastard would wrap his arms around her and murmur in her ear the details of some torment he planned for her, she generally felt pretty comfortable, really — almost protected, instead of tormented; possessed, rather than abused. Weird…
In any case it was getting late and Lon hadn’t brought Sally upstairs that she’d noticed. Throwing on a light robe, she pattered down the stairs for the rec room — but stopped short on the stairway. "Lon, Honey, it’s about five — when is Sally supposed to go home? You don’t want to get her grounded…"
"Oh! Shit! Thanks, Mama!" Lon scrambled up from atop Sally. Both were nude and they had just missed sex three times, largely due to Lon’s willpower; Sally wasn’t fighting him at all — Hell, she had a hand on his cock, jacking it while they kissed and fondled one another! "When do you have to be home, Babe?"
"Ummm," Sally switched modes. "We didn’t set a time, but…"
"Better safe than sorry," Lon finished for her. "Okay, let’s get some clothes on. It’s a shame, but…" Lon let his eyes linger on Sally’s well-upholstered body, "probably the smart thing."
"I might scare people," Sally grinned ruefully.
"I don’t THINK so!" Lon argued. "And Damian agrees with me, obviously!"
"Yeah, well…" Sally wasn’t convinced — but it sure SOUNDED nice! She toed into her flip-flops and reminded Lon, "My shirt and shorts are upstairs."
"Right." Lon snatched up his trunks and her bikini and led her upstairs, nude — right past Candace, which embarrassed both women. Ten minutes later, they were gone.
Fred Carter came home to find his wife sitting in the kitchen talking to some skinny white broad and Terence kicked back in the living room with some wimpy-looking kid. Ten minutes later, Damian breezed through the door, looking mighty pleased with himself — and HE was civil to the runt, too! Fred suffered through introductions, but they hit the street soon after. When they were gone, Fred asked Louise, "So, what the fuck was that?"
"Jean? She’s a friend of a friend…" Louise passed it off.
"And the boy?"
"Toby? He’s smart. Helping Terence get ready for next year’s classes, no doubt. We don’t want him flunking anything and having to give up football…" Terence overheard his mother’s offering and nodded confirmation.
"Huh. Thought everybody’d gone white while I wasn’t lookin'," Fred grunted.
"This isn’t the projects, Fred," Louise speared her husband with a glance. "Occasionally, we have to interact with white folk — most of 'em somewhere up the ladder from trailer trash sluts…"
Fred’s eyes narrowed. "Shut it." Louise shrugged and turned away.
But the whole conversation put Fred in a sour mood. He and Shannon had gotten into it two weeks before and he’d given her one upside the head — and now she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Stupid twat — acting like a princess, or something. A ho' was a ho' — and every once in a while, you had to show one who was boss — but Shannon acted like giving her a lick upside the head busted her cunt, or something … Fred was getting blue balls; if he didn’t get some pussy soon, he might have to sneak out for the other thing … His mind shied away from that, but his cock twitched — a bad sign. Well, Monday was never a good night for ANY fucking thing — Fred hunkered down in front of the TV for the evening.