Daddy's Little Girl

c h a p t e r 8

(Marten:) 

“#5026.” I got off my cold, hard bed and slipped on my jail slippers. I walked out of the open cell and the officer put the handcuffs on me.

“Your lady in the visiting room for ya.” He told me, and I nodded my head as we walked. “You still hittin’ that? ‘Cause she a badass female.” He continued which caused me to turn around and glare at him. If I wasn’t handcuffed right now, I would be serving 5 more years in this bitch.  I was in a good mood and I was not finna let this pig bring my ass down.

“Well, I been locked up for 7 years, so.” I mumbled, trying to hide my anger. He chuckled, “I see, but damn. I couldn’t leave that back.” He finished. I winced and started walking faster. I know this nigga don’t know I’m a fucking kingpin; I kill people, but he needa chill out with these words.

I just nodded my head so he could stop talking. I walked in the visitation room, seeing the same visitors who come to visit their loved ones who's serving time behind the bars. My wife sat at the same table we meet at every two weeks. She looked beautiful as ever. She wore a brown, woolen sweater, tight jeans, and brown sandals on her feet. She makes me wish I was never even part of the thug life.

The officer released his hands off of mines and slipped the handcuffs off of me. I smiled as he walked away and I took the seat in front of Cleo.

“Hey, baby.” I greeted her as I took her hand and began caressing it. She began blushing before she smiled, “Hi, Marten.”

“How you been?” I asked, as I pulled her hand, which caused her to rise up. She made her way to my lap and sat down. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, leaving no space for her to get out of my grasp. 

“Impatient.” She simply said, looking down as she fondled with her fingers. I smirked, “Baby, guess what?”

“Mm?” She mumbled against her lips. I gently brushed my lips against her neck, “One year left.” She quickly turned her head to face my eyes. Her eyes were widened, but not as big as her smile. “Marten..” She said, in a low, questionable tone.

“They cut another year because of my behavior.” I admitted. She perched her lips and turned away from me, “Marten, I know they can’t just keep cutting your years for some damn ‘good behavior’, so, what you doing fa’real?”

I chuckled, “Cleo, you have never been to jail, so you don’t know the reasons why you get years cut shorter.” She looked at me with a serious face, “So, a nigga can kill 18 women, come to jail, act ‘good’ and get 25 years cut off ‘cause of some ‘good behavior’?” I shook my head ‘no’, “But, if you’re in my predicament, which is only two baggies of weed with my fingerprints on them, and then I’m actin’ A1 in jail, then why not cut my years shorter? You actin’ like you’n want me to come home.”

A small smile began to creep onto her face, then she rolled her eyes and hugged me tightly, “I’m so proud of you, baby.” She exclaimed, as she squeezed my neck tighter.

She let go and turned her body back around. “Cleo, what the fuck was that? You betta kiss my damn lips.” I joked, which made her try to frown, but it wouldn’t come. She turned back around and wrapped her arms around my neck as she passionately kissed my lips.

She finally pulled off my lips after a couple of minutes and collapsed her face in my neck. “I miss you.” She mumbled. I lifted off my hand from her waist and rubbed her back, “I miss you, too.”

“I want you to come home.” She said as her voice cracked. I felt her hot tears on my skin which caused a nigga’s heart to beat. I was angry, but I was only angry at myself. I hate seeing my wife cry, but it's my fault. Marten Hendrix is never supposed to get caught slipping, but I did. Now, look at where I am. Look at my children. Look at my wife.

“I will, baby. Sooner than you think.” Was all I could say, as I ran my hand thru her neatly did braids. We sat in silence, only to hear her sniffles.

I tightly kept her in my arms until she decided to speak again, “Rios left last week.” She mumbled into my neck, to where I didn’t even hear what she said. “What’d you say, baby?”

She lifted her head off me and wiped her tears away. With her eyes burning red, she looked at me and spoke again, “I said Rios left last week.”

I stared at her as I tried to function my brain to figure out who Rios was. The name sounded so familiar, and I know Cleo’s told me about him plenty of times, but I just couldn't remember who he was.

“You don’t know who he is, do you?” She asked me. I sighed and shook my head, looking down. I heard her giggle which made me snap my head back up. Her smile made me smile. “Rios is Paris’s boyfriend.” She said. My sudden smile quickly dissolved to a frown.

I hated that my baby girl was in the stage of dating niggas. I wasn’t there to witness her first break up, but Cleo told me about it. I didn’t eat for weeks, stayed in my cell, lifted weights, and didn’t socialize. Cleo even visited me once, and I didn’t come out to see her. I was so devastated. I wanted to kill the nigga, slice his fucking throat and watch him die slow. I couldn’t forgive myself for not being there, even though Paris did. I promised myself I would be there for the second one, but I doubt it. I doubt she’s gone be with this perfect ass nigga Cleo be describing him as, cause all these niggas the same. This nigga was slanging, and just up and left. You can take a nigga out the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of a nigga.

“That’s a good thing.” I said with a shrug that made her frown.

“Paris really likes this man, Marten. I even met him and he was such a gentleman, I swear.” She told me with cheer in her voice that just disgusted me.

“Cleo, all these niggas the same. They act like they love you, then when they get what they want, they leave. By me hearing that she still with the nigga, I can tell she ain’t giving him her pussy.” I said nonchalantly, which earned me a smack to the back of my head. 

“Ow, baby.” I said, rubbing my sensitive spot that she hit. I swear she knows everything about me. “Don’t say that shit no more, Marten. You know we raised her to keep her legs closed, and that's exactly what she’s doing. And, all these niggas are not the same so don’t even start that.” She snapped.

I smacked my teeth and rolled my eyes, “Yes, they are. Especially these ones in NYC. Can’t trust these niggas, and I damn sure ain’t trusting them with my baby girl.”

“Marten, if all these niggas in NYC are the same, then how come I found you? Are you like the rest of these niggas? Marten, if all of these niggas are the same, then how come Jazmine found Pookie? Did we raise him to be like the rest of these niggas?” She strained her voice trying to get all the words out. I just looked at her because she was right. I know ALL the niggas ain’t the same, but all the ones that attract my Paris are.

She smirked at me when I didn’t reply, “Yeah. That's what I thought.” I smiled and pinched her cheek, causing her to giggle.

“How good the money coming in for you?” I asked her as she was coming off of her laughing high. “Well, it’s alright. All the bills that started piling up decreased, mainly because of Kayden and Paris. Before Paris got her job, Pookie was tryna supply for me and Jazmine and their unborn, so I was about to go out looking for a job, but a miracle happened when our daughter got her job, and paid all my bills. Couldn’t make a mama more proud.” She said, smiling and rubbing my ear.

“Oh, my baby got a job?” I asked, dryly. She wouldn’t have to be working if I made sure I was secured at the wrong place at the right time.

Cleo looked at me with a duh expression and said, “You know she had to.”

“Where does she work, or what does she work as?”

“She works at Club Money, as a bartender.”

I looked at her as if she grown a second head, before I burst out laughing. “Cleo, you ain't serious.”

“What?” She asked, hella confused.

“You really think I’m finna let my daughter sit up at a club, passing drinks out to strangers? What do she be wearing? I hope she keep her damn clothes on. Nah, Cleo, call up them niggas. Tell ‘em I want out. Fuck slanging and shit, nah man. Make sure Kayden and Paris quit they jobs. I ain’t finna-”

“Marten, shut up.” She said, cutting me off, “Paris is doing fine with her job, and she’s extremely happy with it. She comes home with close to 5 thousand dollars a night. I know that ain’t nowhere near what you make, but she’s doing this for herself. Do you know how mad she’ll be if I tell her that you said she had to quit her job.” She looked at me for a while before saying, "Nah, I ain’t thank so. She keeps her slacks, and button down shirt on all night, as well as Camilla.”

I looked at her eyes searching for the answers to my upcoming question, “Camilla is her bestfriend, Marten.” She said, sighing. I smiled and laughed, “Oh, yeah. What happened to the other girl? I think her name was Chip, or Brownie?”

Cleo looked at me intently before laughing, “Baby, her name was Cookie and she disrespected my baby, so she cut her off.”

“My girl.” I said, looking up and smiling. I hated a disrespectful person more than anything, but I really did like that Cookie girl. “Wait, wait, wait a minute! How much money did you say Paris makes?” I asked, at my sudden realization.

“Thousands.” Cleo simply said. I looked at her confused, “Fuck you mean ‘thousands’? How the fuck you make thousands of dollars by just bartendering?”

“I said she works at Club Money. That’s one of the biggest clubs here in NYC. It ain’t as big as that strip club Magic Diamonds, but it comes to a close second.”

“Ion bee’lee that.” I said, because something wasn’t right. You can’t even make a thousand dollars by bartendering, so ain’t no way in hell Paris can come home from bartendering with over a thousand dollars.

“It don’t matter what you believe in. As long as I believe in my daughter and she doing her best to provide for me, then I’ll be fine.” Cleo said, pinching my nose.

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever.” I still had a bad feeling about what Paris was telling Cleo. She had to be lying.

“TIME!” I heard the officer yell.

“Damn, I swear our time be getting cut shorter and shorter.” I said, irritated. Cleo laughed and tried to get out of my tight lock on her, “Where you tryna go?” I whispered in her ear with deep base to my voice. I felt her shiver, and that made me know I had her right where I wanted her.

“Marten, let me go. I don't wanna get you in trouble.” She said, tilting her head back just a little.

“The only trouble I’ma get in is fighting your ass.” I said, licking her earlobe which caused her to jerk away from me. She looked me in my eyes before pressing her lips against mines. I slid my hands off of her waist and moving them up to capture her face in my palms.

As soon as my arms left her waist, she pulled back from kissing me and stood up and giggled. “You tricked me.” I said, slightly offended.

She wrapped her small arms around my waist and said, “I wasn’t tryna give you something that you can't handle behind them bars.” I smirked at her before I tilted down and kissed her forehead. I put my arms behind my back as soon as I saw an officer walking towards me. He clamped the handcuffs on my wrists and Cleo unwrapped her arms around from me.

“Bye, Marten.” She said, standing on her tip toes and kissing my lips.

“Bye, baby. Come back on the regular, and watch your back while you leave. I don't trust nobody here.” I told her as she stood on her flat feet. “Aight, baby.”

“I love you and I miss you.” I admitted to her as she turned to walk away. She winked her eye at me as she swayed her body away.