THE GHETTO HOOCHIE (Life & Times Of Princess Webster)

👸🏾 Fifteen: Recipe

She’d sniffed the air, smelling what…seemed…like Dove. Dove soap, yea. Dove. Had to be Dove. Dove was her favorite soap. She used it everyday for nine years plus.

Ed hated Dove with a passion. She tried to get him to use Dove for years instead of that god-awful Zest soap but he was stubborn.

So she didn’t sweat it, fuck it. But when she opened her counter to take out the salt, she looked in the small mirror hanging under the counter and froze when she saw Georgia crawling out of the kitchen.

She didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right.

And she intended to find out...

Humming the tune “Secret Lovers” in her head, she picked up the phone and called John back, her friend.

Stirring the beans, she realized she
didn’t like the feeling in her gut. She tried to ignore it.

“I’m back. What were we saying now?” She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

“Oh, yea you wanted the recipe for my mama’s ribs. What? I’m cranky? I need a massage? Nah, my husband will do that. What does that got to do
with ribs? His job is to make sure I’m ok not yours. Ok?”

And she said more sternly, “I don’t cheat on my husband and he would never cheat on me…”

And she believed that with everything in her. Ed would never deceive her. Never

She could almost guarantee that.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

A few days later Daddy and I nabbed a table at Applebee’s restaurant by the super Wal-Mart in Florida City. I sat down and started flipping through the menu, on the verge of taking
advantage of the two for one drink special.

I wanted the strawberry daiquiri.

“Are you ok, baby?” Daddy asked, handsome in a black suit.

Earlier today he had attended a real estate seminar hosted by a city slicker by the name of Bobby Taylor.

I personally thought it was a get rich quick scheme Daddy fell for because he bought two books from the man.

How to milk Home buying and Investing in Real Estate. Price tag? Fifty dollars per book!

Could you say “Daddy you’re a
dumb ass?”

A hundred dollars for some bullshit he could have downloaded or looked up, for the price of running America Online once a month, without spending a penny. But Daddy always dreamed big.

“I’m ok, Daddy. What about you?”

His Fossil watch was nice. It had a black face and three little diamonds. I paid $150 for it from Macy’s at the Dadeland Mall, with an extra 20 percent off.

In fact Daddy was dripping in diamonds, with his wrists and ear lobes getting the pleasurable frostbite it deserved from his only daughter.

I gazed at him. “I’m ok.” I had so much on my mind. He opened the menu, carefully looking it over.

I watched him. He was a very handsome man. If I was true and real with myself I’d admit that Daddy was fine as hell.

But I didn’t look at my Daddy in such a whorishly incestuous way. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I betrayed
Georgia. Shit burned me up day and night.

“I wonder what I’m going to drink tonight,” I mumbled.

Before I could say anything Daddy told me with a smile, “Strawberry daiquiri is your thing. Real men don’t drink…fruity drinks, I want something with punch, some Batman shit. Pow! Bang! Boom!”

We laughed easily.