nothing's stronger than a father/son bond
The days between when my Dad came and picked me up were far and in between. I lived with my Mother and her lifestyle was enough to make the hardest junkie cringe. She was a hard drunk; hard for her to stop and even harder for her to not whip our ass when she was past drunk. This woman would grab anything that looked like it would tear through my dark skin. She was mean. I loved her, but she was mean.
I was one of eight children. My mother had eight baby father's to bat. She was very loose, maybe due to her drinking or maybe because of her past. Either way she was a strong black woman who spent her time raising six boys, two daughters and drinking. Looking back who could blame her, that type of pressure is toxic. I know that now.
On the days my Dad would drive up and take my bother and I with him to his place would be the best days ever. The night before I would stay up for hours just picturing where he would take us, how much money he would give us, or if he would let us watch his friends beat people up again. One thing about my Daddy, he was a gangsta.He carried a gun. He rolled dice. He had a gang of bitches on his side or in his car ALL THE TIME! He was a legend.
That afternoon came. My brother and I were dressed and ready. When my Dad pulled up in his clean shiny ass whip I knew i was OUT! I raced down the porch steps and jumped in the passenger seat. My Mom knew she didn't have to ask us twice. She waved us goodbye from the font door. Just like that we was with our Dad. He was only biologically my Dad but he treated all us boys like men. He would show us bad movies, he gave us money, he let us hold an empty gun, shit he even showed us porn. He never sugar coated ANYTHING. He constantly told us boys how things really were in the street and in our neighborhood. Looking back I was grateful for that wisdom.
The only thing I didn't like about my Dad's place was his girlfriend Monica. Now my Dad had hoes but I guess Monica was his favorite I guess. Monica smoked too many cigarettes and always rolled her eyes anytime my Dad did anything nice for us. Monica would also bad mouth my Mother in our face. She would say all types of nasty, mean, untrue shit about my Mom. My brother and I would just look at her when she would run off at the mouth like she was crazy, because she never said these things in our Mother's face. My Mother would have washed Monica up without a doubt. My Dad loved her though. He put up with a lot f her bullshit. Monica wasn't a housewife, that was clear.
My Dad pulled up to his house.
"ight go inside, Imma be back in a few," My dad told us.
"ok" we both agreed.
My Dad was a hustler. For all we knew he was handling "business'' and would be back soon. Once we got inside Monica made sure my Dad had left and then began yelling at us.
"Go in that room he keep for ya'll. I'm enjoying my drink so don't bother me until yo daddy come back little black ass" Monica said at us, not to us.
We knew the drill already though. We get in, she wants us to only be seen when my Dad is around. My Dad returned within the hour. He goes into their bedroom. I hear yelling and arguing, nothing new for those two. The door flies open. My Dad approaches us.
"You boys giving Monica a hard time?" My Dad yells this time.
My brother and I look at each other quizzically. What the fuck was this woman telling my Dad?We had been chilling in our room this whole time! No contact with Monica at all. While My Dad was questioning us, Monica looked on in the background watching her sneaky little plan came together.
"Yea baby and that one called me a bitch! that's too much to take baby." Monica stated while being completely dramatic and deceitful.
My bother and I looked at each other again. Shocked.
" What?!" my Dad exclaimed as if in a roar.
My Dad slapped the shit out of me! My Dad never ever hit me until that day. Never had he put a hand on me or any of my brother's. I was shocked and hurt. Monica smirked while smoking her cigarette.My brother consoled me but I was embarrassed so I pushed him away. I could still hear the two of them arguing, then the noise stopped. Monica was heard laughing. She had told my dad she lied on us.
"I just wanted to see if you would hit him" She admitted.
She laughed methodically while pulling on her cigarette. Smoke clouds filled around the top of her head. She sat smug in her chair. My Dad looked at me, I was still holding my face, then back at her. My Dad made a decision that would later chase him down, he pulled a .38 revolver from his waistband, cocked it back, then aimed at Monica. My Dad shouted...
"Get in your room"
ALL WE HEARD WERE 2 GUNSHOTS. THEN SILENCE.
My brother and I looked at each other. We slowly walked toward the door. Before we could turn the doorknob my Dad bolted through the door and grabbed us both up. We ran out the house. We drove to his friend's house. Once there we ate and my Dad filled us all in on what happened. Turns out Monica was fine. My Dad shot at her and missed, Monica ran towards the bedroom and the second bullet caught her in the ass. We all started hysterically laughing. I guess nobody liked Monica after all.
We later found out, that Monica made it to the hospital and her evil ass was just fine. She managed to tell the police who shot her too. My Dad was never caught on that charge. He later apologized to me in the way of giving me $100 as "G tax" as he called it. We never saw Monica again. Crazy bitch.