Daddy Frank

Valerie had long brown hair that flowed down her back and landed just above the plump of her bubble butt. A butt that in middle school got her made fun of by the boys in gym only for the same boys that are now scruffy, dirty red neck men to cat call her when she leaves the bar. Her lips are plump and juicy and the shade of an October Georgia peach and just as sweet. She has thunder in her thighs and lightening in her eyes and all the men watch her closely with anything she does, even taking a deposit to the bank. Which is her favorite thing to do.

Valerie got her hustle from her best friend Ben Frank. That of course wasn’t his real name. His street name because he loved MONEY. And Valerie loved Frank. She loved his smooth deep south dark skin and his accent. She loved how the gold he draped himself with would gleam and the contrast of the gold on his dark skin turned her on. She knew that he set a standard for any man she would ever chose to be with. Not because she loved money, because no, Valerie was a strong praying woman and believed the love of money was the root of all evil. But Valerie knew what it meant to have gold and jewelry and nice clothes. She knew it meant a man worked HARD. And nobody worked as hard as B Frank. And that was her BABY. She loved him like a mother loves a son. Like a lover loves her beau. Like the sun loves the moon and knows she can rest while he’s around. B Frank was the kind of man that would take care of business and he reminded her so much of her own father. But they were on different sides of the law. Her daddy was Captain of the Police department in Melbourne County, Alabama. Everyone in the county obeyed him, everybody except for Valerie. You could always find her in a bar, three sheets to the wind, rolled blunt in her ear, with all the men in the place just bowing to her every whim. She loved the outlaws. She loved the rebels. It was in her blood. See her daddy transferred from Chicago on a drug unit before he was a career boss to Huntsville Alabama where there was a serious heroine issue. He was a fresh 22 and he ran into Valerie’s mother Jonnie Faye at Alabama A & M football game. Jonnie was the head cheerleader for the Bulldogs. She had long blonde hair, straight as a bone just like Valerie and she was a southern bell if there every was one. They fell in love instantly and Captain decided to make his home in the south with his trophy wife and their suppose to be perfect, G fearing children.

All six of the kids turned out to be degenerates. All of the pressure put on them while growing made their egos to be deformed like hunch backs, elephant men, bearded ladies. Freaks of nature. Only to be accepted by the dregs of society. The kings and queens of the outcasts. Because they associate more with the losers and no the winners. Because they only got to see themselves from the eyes of their perfectionist and overbearing father and selfish and self absorbed mother. So they never realized they were actual kings and queens. Too smart for most of society so they were ostracized because of course the ignorant expel what they cannot understand. Try to exterminate what they cannot comprehend. So they all enjoyed putting on a show. Brilliant minds often left unstimulated turn to lives of crime. The excitement is most of the time what gets them. And that’s what it was for Valerie. She did not care about the money. But she loved the thrill.

She breathes in the fall air. She can hear the beating trap music in the distance and the purr of Frank’s hemi engine turning down her block. Here comes the thrill blossoming in a place below her stomach making her feel a warm rush south. It’s the excitement of a run, a hit, a lick. Doing what she’s not suppose to do. It use to be to get back at her father for not giving her enough attention. Now she was just addicted to the thrill of it. Nothing could compare. Not even sex.

Frank pulls up and reaches across the passenger seat of his black Bentley with peanut butter leather seats and pops the door open for her. She gets in the seat, clicks her seatbelt and looks at him. He’s wearing a coke white T, his huge muscles bulging, some black dress shorts, gold watch, three gold chains, gold grill, and gold pinky ring and black Salvatore Ferragamo’s on his feet. “You ready?” He asks Valerie as cigar smoke billows out of the open door. She she grabs the door and pulls it close, grabs the cigar from his lips and takes a slow pull. “yeah.”

They zoom off to the west side. She knows it could be one hour or a week before she will return home. She doesn’t mind. Nothing is waiting for her in that tiny apartment. But the world is waiting for her on the passenger side of his car.

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