Don't Tell Daddy (14 page)

“Why you wanna continue to be a dick? Just get out, man. I’ll see you at work. Bye.”

Bryan decided to go. He wasn’t about to sit here and argue with this girl over nothing. He called his daughter. “Hello?” she asked. In her background, he could hear metal against metal. She was busy.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to see a movie with your old man, but you’re busy with your friends.”

“Oh, no. Come and get me,” she said quickly. “We can go to the movies, Daddy.”

“Okay.”

Jada hung up. Bryan was glad to know that he still took precedence over her friends. Not many teenage girls were like that with their fathers. No matter how old their old man was.

“Bye, Pamela.”

“Lock my door when you leave,” she said, turning on her side.

Pamela heard the door close as she curled into the fetal position. She didn’t know how to feel about Bryan anymore. Didn’t know whether she loved him. He himself told her that she was just eighteen and didn’t know what love was. Maybe he was right.

She laid there in bed, sneezing off rounds occasionally. She made a mental note to visit the clinic soon and an allergist.

Her stomach growled, and she headed into the kitchen. Although the fridge was full, like a typical teenager, she told herself there was nothing to eat and she called Lila over. “Bring some Chinese,” she told her. “And movies.”

“Aww, Mela, are you sick, girl?”

“Nah. My body just decided that after eighteen years it needed some allergies.”

“Alright. I’m on my way. Hey, have you talked to Jae lately?”

“No. But her father came over. They’re going to the movies.”

“Aw, he came to check on his sick wittle employee?”

“You ‘bout to get the end button.”

Lila laughed. “I’m going to the Chinese place now. I’ll see you in fifteen. Bye trick.”

The girls hung up, and Pamela went to take a quick shower. She pulled on some cotton pajamas and tied her hair in a ponytail. She made sure everything was clean and got her DVD player ready.

Lila showed up with orange chicken, shrimp fried rice, and eggrolls. Mela’s stomach growled. “Girl, you hungry. Here.” Lila shoved the food bag at her friend and made her way to the DVD player.

She went to plop on the couch as Lila put in
Lady and the Tramp
, Pamela’s ultimate favorite movie. Then they sat there on the couch, Pamela, eating with a plastic fork, and Lila eating with her chopsticks.

Lila’s phone rang right at the end, and she smiled goofily as she went to answer in the kitchen. When she came back, Pamela was waiting for an answer. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Juan. He’s Mexican.”

“Girl, what did I tell you about them Mexicans? What you need to do is find you some Boricua dick.” Pamela grinded against the air and Lila laughed at her.

“I thought you were Dominican.”

“My daddy is Dominican. I am what my mother is: Boricua. I claim both when I am asked.”

Lila shook her head at this girl. “I wonder about you sometimes. I used to think you and Jae had black daddies.”

Pamela laughed, making her way to her room. “They are black. Afro-Latino. I got some black up in me!”

“Girl, bye. What you doin’?”

“Let’s get tattoos,” Pamela called, pulling on a white tee.

Lila looked down at her skin. She already had about six tattoos. She pulled out her wallet. She had a few hundred on her. “Let’s go for it, ma,” she agreed. “Whose car?”

“Yours.”

“Cool.”

The girls hopped into Lila’s truck, and Lila turned her radio all the way up as Wifey by Next played. Pamela danced in her seat, singing along. Lila took Pamela to the shop where she went to get every one of her tattoos.

When Peaches and Cream by 112 came on, Pamela wished she was at home. She wanted to dance for real. She turned up the volume on Lila’s iPod. The music was so loud, it was uncomfortable. Just the way they liked it.

Lila turned the music down as she got ready to park. If she left it up, it would hurt when she started her car. Volume had to be increased gradually.

The girls walked into the tattoo shop, and Pamela noticed that the woman manning the counter was tatted up and pierced out. She had fang bites, a bull ring, a tongue ring, a belly ring in her exposed stomach; and she had tattoo sleeves, a few tattoos on her stomach, a few more on her titties, and the shoulder piercings. But she was cute with her black hair up in a sloppy pony.

“Back for more?” she asked Lila, a little smirk on her full pink lips.

“I brought you a new victim. No tats, two piercings.”

“Hi,” Pamela said, sounding like the perky cheerleader she was. The tattooist stepped back a bit.

“Please tone that down. How can I help you today, little lady?”

Pamela shrugged, looking in the little catalogue. She saw something that interested her, but she didn’t want it exactly. “Can I get a melting heart on my boob?” she wondered. “This one.” She cupped her left breast. “I want it to say Mela-Chula inside. Mela has only one L and Chula is spelled C-H-U-L-A.”

“Chula? What is that?”

“It’s like… Hot. Basically.”

The tattooist just raised her brows. “Sit down. Take your shirt off.”

Pamela checked to make sure she was at least wearing a bra first. She’d been going without a few days, but she did manage to put one on; so she took her shirt off and sat on the stool. The tattoo took about an hour, and she came out of pocket only thirty dollars. She already wanted another, so got it on her wrist. It was a charm bracelet design. Her “charms” were a little heart, a pair of lips, and a POT for Pamela Olivia Torres.

Lila got a tattoo on her foot of a lily. She hated that it was her name, but she was sure her mom would like it. She told everyone to call her Lila. Even the parents who named her. Her parents continued with the Lily, though. It was her name.

The girls left, and Lila’s mother called. She rolled her eyes. “Damn this chick won’t leave me alone.”

“If you moved out, she wouldn’t control your every move.”

“Need a roommate?” Lila joked.

“Hey, if you put half on the rent, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll think it over.” Lila pressed
TALK
. “Hello Mother-Dear.”

Her mother started yelling, and Lila took the phone away from her face and set it down. Pamela was shocked. Lila was the first one to say black mothers would beat the shit out their children. She sure didn’t seem to care now. In fact, this was the first time Pamela could remember ever seeing her girl act like this. “Lily! Got dammit, I know you hear me, say something!”

“Ma, stop trippin’! I said I would replace it.”

“How about—”

“I’m driving, Ma.”

“Good. Drive your ass right home.”

Her mother hung up, and Lila rolled her eyes. “When can I move in?” she asked.

Pamela just shook her head. Lila dropped her off at home and headed back to her own place.

Pamela’s phone began to ring Toni Braxton’s Breathe Again. It was Bryan, and she didn’t care.

If I never feel you in my arms again, if I never feel your tender kiss again

She silenced it. Fuck him. She was sure Bryan called a few more times, but she didn’t touch her phone the rest of the day.

She left the house, because in it, she continued to sneeze. She really needed to see an allergist and then do something about the flat and get rid of whatever the hell she was allergic to.
 

Pamela was asleep on her couch when there was a banging at her door. Without checking the peephole, she opened up, and there was Bryan. He didn’t look very pleased as he grabbed her. “I have been calling you all day.”

“Okay? You don’t pay my bill. I don’t have to be there every single time you call.”

“Pamela, I’m not playing.”

“I’m not either. What do you want? I said I would see you at work.”

“If you had answered the fucking phone you’d know that we don’t have to go in tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well cool. Get out.”

Bryan stared blankly at Pamela, and she waited for him to leave. But he didn’t. He put his arm around her waist and he looked down at her. “I’m sorry I left you, Pamela.”

“I’m not. I just want you to go home, so I can go back to sleep.”

Her stomach didn’t agree with that idea. She hadn’t eaten since that morning when Lila brought the Chinese food. “Let’s go out for dinner,” Bryan suggested. She snorted.

“That’s okay. I have food here.”

“Come on, Mela—”

“Get out, Bryan. I feel like a broken record.”

He still said nothing, just studying her features as she waited for him to leave. He did no such thing. He walked further into the flat and walked into her bedroom. She rolled her eyes and decided to just start dinner. Bryan would leave eventually. He didn’t want to worry Jada, and she could rest assured on that.

She made pork chops and some instant mashed potatoes. She made Bryan a plate but ignored him when he tried making conversation as they sat at the table. He caressed her leg, and she roughly pushed his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Bryan.”

“Damn, what did I do to you?”

She didn’t answer the question again because she’d already answered too many times. After dinner, she went into her room and locked the door, letting Bryan stay on the other side of the door, knocking in vain as she showered. By ten, he’d finally left.

She went out to watch television on her sofa, and her door opened. She hadn’t checked that it was locked. Shit.  

Don’t Do That Shit

Pamela sat up on her sofa to see who the hell was just waltzing in, and she was relieved to just see Bryan. “Don’t do that shit, man!” she complained. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I believe you’re quite alright, Pamela,” he told her, closing and locking the door.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the television set. A commercial was on.

She hadn’t put him out again, although she had half the mind to. But she didn’t let him have sex with her, hold her, or kiss her. She didn’t even let him sleep in her bed with her. So he slept on the couch, and he was there when she woke up, making breakfast.

They sat together, having breakfast, and she finally accepted his apology. They kissed and made up and Bryan told her he wanted to take her to Paris. She wondered if they had to work, and they didn’t. He just wanted to do something nice and romantic for her.

Heather called, and he stepped out of the room. Pamela was too giddy to care that his wife was on the phone. She was going to Paris! Paris, of all places. She went into her room and started to pack up.

Bryan came in and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close to him. “What are you doing?” he questioned. “Don’t pack. I’ll take you shopping.”

Bryan was quickly going from lover to suga daddy, but Pamela was not complaining. She was receiving incredible sex and getting gifts for it. Oh yeah, life was good.

“Okay,” she said, plopping down on her bed.

Bryan sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. She closed her eyes and breathed in his warm masculine scent although she had been snapping at him only hours ago.

Lila called, and Pamela picked up. “Hello?”

“I’m on my way. I got Jae.”

“Okay.” She hung up. “You gotta go. Lila and Jada are on their way. Go.”

She walked him to the door, and they shared a kiss before he left the condo. Lila and Jada showed up fifteen minutes later after Pamela cleaned up all evidence of a male visitor.

Jada went to turn on the radio, and immediately Tone Tone began to blare out her speakers. The walls were all soundproofed, so Pamela didn’t care how loud the music was.

 Got them haters mad ‘cause my trunk beatin’ like it’s masturbatin’

Pamela could never get over that part. She always had to stop dancing and laugh. Her girls ignored her and kept up their hip rolling.

She continued her dancing, and Lila was really getting it.
 

She shakin’ like she need a coat 
Pamela sang along, motioning to Lila shaking her ass, and it was sure ample. It made up for her lack of titties. Jada, on the other hand, had sprouted a B overnight and still had no ass.

The next song to play was some shit Lila heard on a visit to her hometown Tampa awhile back called Run It Back by Young AJ.

Lila sang, dancing on Pamela.

“Girl, you gay.”

“Only for you, ma; and Jae.”

Jada ignored both of her friends, still dancing her skinny ass to the music.
 You’ont wanna drink? Well fuck you den! You’ont wanna smoke? Well fuck you den!