Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Weekend Bully: Part 5
Chapter One:
The diner was quiet, a handful of people sitting around small tables. One and all had a hot beverage of some description in front of them, sipping at the biting hot drinks while casting glances out the diners' big windows as the wind carried flurries of snow past them. Hot summers and freezing winters, that was the benefit and cost of living in this part of the country. The door opened, a small bell above it jingling, and a figured swathed in clothing as befitted the weather entered. A nose made red by the temperature poked over the scarf that covered their lower face, a woolen hat pulled down to their eyebrows leaving just the smallest amount of flesh open to the elements.
Cadey unwrapped the scarf so that it hung about her shoulders and then tugged her hat free, slapping it against her leg to dislodge the snowflakes clinging to it.
"Hey Hon, coffee?"
"Perfect, thanks Abigail," Cadey replied to the smiling waitress. The diner was midway between the modest apartment she was renting and her college so she'd become a familiar face in here in the six months she'd been living in the city.
"Take a seat, I'll bring it over. You want anything to eat?"
"Not right now, think I need to warm up first," Cadey said, moving to the table at the back, her usual spot when it was free.
"Take your time Hon, take your time," Abigail said, already lifting the pot of coffee and carrying it and a mug to where Cadey sat. Abigail set the mug on the table, careful not to begin pouring immediately as Cadey's arms moved about as she shrugged loose of her heavy winter coat. Setting the coat on the back of the chair to dry out, Cadey gave the older woman a grateful smile as the stream of hot liquid arched perfectly from the pot into the mug beneath it.
"No books today?"
"No, taking a break from study, meeting someone instead," Cadey said, a little distracted as she glanced towards the door, examining the new arrival for a moment before focusing back on Abigail.
"Oh... someone nice I hope," Abigail said with a smile and a knowing wink. Cadey colored immediately in embarrassment, her flush all the more noticeable with her skin pale from the cold outside.
"God no. No, I'm meeting my dad," she said quickly.
"Well, that's nice. Wish my kids would take the time to sit with me. Well, you enjoy, let me know if you want anything." Abigail moved off, smoothly settling the new arrival into a seat and pouring them a mug of coffee as well. Cadey lifted a spoon to add some sugar to her coffee, her mind now filled with trepidation about the meeting to come.
She worried if meeting her father here was the best idea, maybe somewhere private would have been a better idea. But she'd been too much of a coward for that. They hadn't spoken since the night the rumors about her carrying on with a married black man had reached his ears. They'd fought, he'd called her a whore and she'd ended up leaving that night while he'd slept. The pain she had felt when she'd seen the disappointment and disgust in his eyes had been overwhelming, something she hadn't been able to face again the next day.
College in the city had been her escape. Surrounding herself with new people, new challenges, bombarding her mind with a thousand and one pieces of information, all so that she wouldn't think about that look on his face. And it worked after a fashion. Her days had been filled with lectures and study. Many of her nights had been filled with a different type of work, Jermaine making sure of that. Her pimp had his main business in the city, Cadey's small town and the work she'd done for him there had been only a tiny fraction of his sordid empire. He'd kept a steady stream of clients seeking her out and Cadey had found herself glad for the distraction.
For all of that, in the small hours of a quiet night, she would wake, her father's name on her lips as she'd called out for him in her sleep. Each time it happened, Cadey would brush the fresh tears from her face, then hug her pillow tight against her slender body. Sleep was never in the cards after those dreams and she'd spend the remainder of the night staring at the framed picture of herself and her Dad that she'd set on her bedside table.
Finally, just needing to know he was alright, she'd texted him. The thirty seconds that elapsed before his answering text arrived frayed her nerves to the bone. She'd simply sent
'How are you, Dad?'
to which he'd replied,
'Broken until we're friends again.'
She'd sobbed for a good ten minutes after reading that, the kind of weeping that makes you feel your body has aged twenty years, your chest hurting, your emotions raw. She'd always known he still loved her; he wasn't the sort of man to turn his back on her, not for what he suspected had happened. But if he knew the truth, if he knew about Jermaine and her, the man who bullied him and made his weekends hell. Would he still love her with the knowledge she was a whore?
Selfishness had won out, Cadey needing to see him. She was as broken as he said he was, most of her life had been built on the solid foundation of their relationship as father and daughter and she needed to feel that again, even if it meant she had to return to lying to him to get it. So, she'd texted him an invitation to meet and he'd agreed.
Cadey lifted her coffee and winced at the sickeningly sweet concoction. She'd been so lost in her thoughts; she must have dumped ten spoons of sugar into it. She gagged, spitting what remained in her mouth back into the mug. She raised a hand to get Abigail's attention, her need for a caffeine boost a secondary concern to getting a glass of water to wash the cloying sweetness from her mouth. Raising her head, she found herself locking eyes with Mark, her father, his own hand raised in greeting, mirroring her own.
