Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
I was out of the building next.
Damn you, Dad.
Chapter four
The Mystery Man in Blue
Monique
I spent fifteen dollars taking a taxi across town.
Glory’s Chinatown was only four blocks long and located on the edge of the city. The arch had two massive lion statues, welcoming visitors to the section. There were two Chinese restaurants and a few businesses, but not much else.
At the end was Buddha Park and across the street was supposedly where Dad lived.
I’d already gone to the address on the birthday card and knocked several times.
No one answered.
After that, I rushed inside each restaurant and even checked out the businesses. He wasn’t anywhere. The few people who spoke English, knew who he was from my description, but hadn’t seen him today.
I can’t believe this.
I paced at the edge of Buddha Park, trying to figure out what to do.
Just when I thought you’d done your worst to us.
Dad had a woman he lived with in Chinatown. I never knew her name because he could never say her name around me. Anytime he tried, I put my hand up and stopped him.
Mom had been going through chemotherapy when he started messing with this Asian chick. I’d seen her once. She had this long black hair that fell past her ass. It was beautiful and shiny. It was all Mom talked about as she cried in bed and had her bald head covered with a scarf.
Sometimes I wondered if Mom would have survived cancer if she didn’t have all the devastation and heartbreak from him.
When Mom passed, I told him he was dead to me too. I said it right at the funeral—right as they lowered her casket into the ground. And then I took TT’s and Chloe’s hands and walked away.
Then, Jo punched him in the face. When he crashed to the ground, she walked off and followed us to the car.
We never saw him again.
After that, I started hating Asian people as a whole. I couldn’t look at a movie or show with an Asian person in it. It wasn’t right, but it brought me back to Mom’s tears and her constant depression over my father’s new woman with the long, beautiful hair.
Where the hell are you?
I pulled out the phone and dialed Dad again. It went to voice mail.
My voice cracked with desperation. “Pick up your phone! Goddamn it!”
An oncoming jogger crossed the street as if scared to run by me.
I looked around, hoping I didn’t freak anyone else out.
I bet everyone thinks I’m a crazy ass Black woman.
Several more people crossed the street and gestured my way.
An old man sat under a tree with his legs crossed under him. His palms faced up and rested on his knees. His chest slowly rose and fell. He was dressed in dark blue pants and a pale blue shirt. A gold cross dangled from his neck. It was four inches wide and long.
Although his tanned complexion was smooth with no wrinkles, gray strands highlighted his long mane and told me that he wasn’t as young as he looked. He had a slim frame, but it was all severely cut with muscle.
An opened Bible lay in his lap. He must’ve been meditating because he had his eyes closed the whole time.
What a privilege to just be able to sit by a tree and rest with no worries on your mind.
I looked up at the tree he sat under. Earlier I thought it was one of the few trees that still had leaves this fall. Closer inspection revealed that it was tons and tons of crows crowding the branches.
That’s so odd.
And for a second, I thought many of the crows were staring at the old man.
You’re going crazy now. Get back to saving everyone’s ass.
I returned my attention to my phone, dialed my father again and walked to the other side of the park. This time when the voice mail came on, I lowered my voice. “Dad, please do the right thing. You keep breaking my heart over and over. There’s still time to be my hero.”
No. That sounds stupid. It won’t get him.
“Dad, please.” I gripped the phone hard. “Dutch is going to put us out on the street to work for him. He wants us to sell our bodies for money that you stole. Do you not care?”
Two Asian women pointed at me, then whispered to each other, and shook their heads.
Fuck off. You don’t know my life.
The phone beeped, ending my recording.
No. I’m not done.
I dialed again.
Dad still didn’t pick up.
Then an automated voice sounded in my ear. “Sorry, but this voicemail box is full.”
“Fuck!”
A dog barked next to me.
The owner shushed the creature and hurried away.
“Sorry.” I walked to the end of the park, turned around, and headed to the other end. “Think. Think.”
I could go back to that address and break into the apartment. Maybe, he’s in there and hiding the money. I could give Dutch the address too. It would show him I have progress or—