Daddy's House Read Free Page B

once. What do you want me to do, dear?” she asked, opening the door just a little bit more.
    “ Can I come in just for a while?” I asked, with more crocodile tears flowing down my face. “He may be looking for me.”
    The woman hesitated. She looked over her shoulder, and answered with regret, “Oh honey, I can’t do that. My husband would kill me. You would be putting us in danger,” she said, like she was dividing every syllable. “I really want to help, believe me. I had a black girl working for me once.”
    I nodded my head, as if to say sure, then just smiled at her racist-ass.
    “ Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that,” she said, as her face turned a deeper red. “Wait at the end of the driveway, down there at the bottom of the hill,” she pointed. “I’ll give you a few dollars.”
    The lady started to close the door, when I stuck my foot in the opening of the door, and prayed she wouldn’t slam it.
    “ What in God’s name are you doing?” she shouted, pushing the door almost completely shut. Her eyes grew to the size of watermelons, and it became obvious she thought she was being robbed.
    I just shook my head, “Can you at least call me a cab?” I asked with begging eyes, through the tiny slit left in the door.
    She looked hesitant again, but agreed. “Wait at the bottom of the hill,” she instructed again skeptically, and watched my every move. The moment she shut the door, I heard about four deadbolts being locked one after another.
    I turned and walked away pitifully. All my life I’d been let down, so this was no different. I don’t know why I thought a complete stranger would go out of her way for me, when not one person in my family cared at all, other than my cousin, Tracey. As a matter of fact, they all probably wanted me dead; my mother, uncles, aunts and cousins. I was starting to think that I deserved it. I slowly walked down to the bottom of the driveway, wondering if she would keep her promise. Then I thought about my other option, call Agent Barnes. He would surely have me picked up in no time, and placed in another situation with a new identity. For the last few months I’d been Ms. Danielle Crouch instead of my real name, Candice Holmes. What a name , I thought. For me, Danielle Crouch was getting old. I needed to make a way on my own, without the help of the system. I was starting to feel like my family was right. Testifying against them probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do.
    I finally found a secluded area near a bush at the bottom of the hill, knelt down and waited for my cab. I wondered if the woman had even called She may have called the police instead , I thought. No one could be trusted.
    For the next twenty minutes, I contemplated my next move. When Tracey came to mind, I knew it was a bad decision, but the most comfortable one. After all, she was my first cousin, born to my aunt, Vicki, my mother’s sister. Tracey lived in Harlem, and was one of the rebels of the family, who departed ways from our relatives years ago. She was five years older than me, but we’d always been close. Tracey felt like what I did was right. She said she would’ve done the same damn thing. “Fuck’em all,” she said.
    I remember using her as my one phone call the night I got locked up. She said I didn’t deserve to be in jail, and to do what I had to do. Taking her advice, I did just that. But here I was, twelve months later, all fucked up. I hadn’t talked to Tracey since that night, but had somehow convinced myself in a matter of minutes that I was gonna call to see if I could stay with her for a while.
    As my cab approached, the white woman emerged from her house. She pranced down the hill like a letter carrier waving a telegram. I turned my back and waved down the speeding cab. I didn’t have anymore time to waste.
    “ Hey!” she yelled. “Wait!”
    I kept walking and hopped into the cab. I didn’t wanna face her again. I’d embarrassed myself enough. The cab driver