Big Daddy Sinatra: Carly's Cry Read Online Free

back.   “You’re coming with me,” he said.
    And as Ashley cranked up and drove
away, to go straight home as he had ordered, rubbing her hair down as she
drove, she was fuming at that woman.   She
was fuming at Donald for forcing her to have to look for his ass.   She hit the steering wheel as she drove.
    Charles pressed his hand hard against
the small of his wife’s back and walked her across the street, three doors
down, to his truck in Kasper’s driveway.
    Kasper was still standing at his
front door as Charles placed Jenay on the passenger seat of his truck, walked
around, and got in too.   Kasper had heard
how Big Daddy married himself a black woman, but he had no idea she would be
the one.   Not such a sweet, kind-looking
woman like that.   She didn’t look mean
and hateful at all.   Kasper always
assumed the woman who would become Charles’s second wife had to be a little like
his first one: mean and hateful too.   But
he didn’t see that in this one at all.
    What he also didn’t see was Charles
again.   Charles left Kasper, and his
sunglasses on Kasper’s porch, backed out of the driveway and, without giving
his tenant a second glance, sped away.
    Charles kept glancing at Jenay as he
drove, as if he was trying to decide if he even wanted to address what had just
transpired.   Jenay certainly didn’t want
to.   She reached into his glove
compartment, grabbed the comb she knew he kept inside, and combed her messy
hair.   Her hair was medium length, brown,
and bouncy, and with the kind of layered cut that allowed her to comb it back,
and then push it into a fluff-up that automatically settled into a reasonable
style. Charles couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked when she
fluffed it back up.   He also noticed
debris on the pants of her pantsuit, apparently acquired when she fell on that
porch.   When he stopped at a red light,
he brushed it off of her.   Then looked at
her.   “What the hell was that about,
Jenay?” he asked.
    “I was looking for Donald,” she
responded.
    “You don’t come down in this hellhole
looking for anybody!   If you need to find
Donald you contact me, or Brent, or even Anthony or Robert.   But what you don’t do, and you’d better not
do again, is get in a car with Ashley of all people and drive to this side of
town.   I nearly died when I saw that
woman knock you down!”
    Jenay looked at him.   The tenor of his voice had changed.
    “What if I hadn’t been on that
street, Jenay?   What if I didn’t hear
your cry?”
    “Stop worrying about me like that,”
Jenay said with a frown.   “I would have
been alright.”
    “Yeah, sure.   That big-ass woman would have beat the shit
out of you and Ashley both!”
    “That’s what you say,” Jenay
said.   “But I would have handled my
business.”
    The light turned green.   Charles looked at her.   “When we get home,” he said, as he drove
under the light, “I’m going to handle mine.”
    Jenay looked at him as he continued
to drive.   She knew what he was capable
of.   “What do you mean, Charlie?” she
asked a husband who now seemed bound and determined to let his actions speak
for him.   And that determination was what
was worrying her.   “Charlie,” she asked
again, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER THREE

 
    “But things have changed,” Donald Sinatra
said to Tony and Robert, his two brothers, as they sat around the center island
of their parents’ kitchen, and he stood on the opposite side.   The television on the kitchen wall was still
on, showing a Judge Judy repeat,
forcing him to speak a little louder than his usual voice.   “We are a far cry from the way things used to
be.   I mean come on, man.   We twice-elected the first black president of
the United States.   If that isn’t
progress, what is?”
    “There’s progress,” Tony said, “but
there’s still racism too.   Both can be
true.