“You ready to have some fun, Baby Girl?”
“Yes, I haven’t been out to eat in a long time.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’ll change soon. I got me a new job, so I’ll be making more money. We’re gonna start going out as a family more often. How does that sound?”
“I can’t wait.” She grinned.
“Before we go out to eat, I need to make a stop. Is that cool with you?”
“Sure.”
Irish watched the buildings pass by as Emanuel drove to the other side of town. He pulled down what looked to be a deserted street and parked in front of a dilapidated building. Bums hung out on the corner, looking for someone they could beg from. It looked like a different town as Irish looked toEmanuel for the reason why they’d come. Once he shut the engine off, he turned to her.
“I need you to be my wingman for a minute.”
“Wingman?” she repeated. “What’s that?”
“You know how Batman has Robin or Shrek has Donkey?”
She bobbed her head.
“Well, I need you to be that for me. Just follow my lead and smile really big for me. Can you do that, Irish?”
She agreed with a nod but was extremely confused by his request.
“If you do good, I’m going to buy you a new outfit.”
Irish would’ve been excited if she wasn’t so uneasy. They both got out the car, and Emanuel grabbed her hand. That was an act he never did, and it made Irish feel like something bad was on the horizon. Her fourteen years of life had been filled with poverty, unexpected changes, and struggle. Enduring all of that caused her to have severe anxiety at times. At this time, she was filled with angst not knowingwhat to expect. Emanuel walked inside the building. Right away, clouds of smoke billowed in the air. Deep chatter filled the atmosphere as men hovered over tables with either chips or cards in their hands.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking around at all the chaos.
“It’s an underground casino. I’m trying to win us some money.” He turned and looked at her. “Don't you want a new outfit and to go out to eat more?”
“…Yeah,” she mumbled.
“A’ight, just follow my lead and be my pretty girl.”
What the hell?
Emanuel never referred to her as his pretty girl. To her, he had been her mother’s husband and Ivory’s father. Their relationship was decent. He’d ask her questions about surface topics but never did he dote on her.
Emanuel led her to a table that was green with writing on it. Irish had no clue what kind of game it was but most of the men surrounding it held chips in their hands. A woman dressed in all black approached Emanuel with a row of chips.
“You playing?” she asked him.
“Yeah, let me get ten.”
She passed him the chips then sashayed away. Irish stood like a fish out of water, not sure of what to do. Her gaze scanned the place and locked eyes with an older man. His hair was jet black, but his mustache was filled with salt and pepper strands.
“What you got over there, E?” He licked his lips.
“Oh, this is just my lil’ lady.” Emanuel grinned at Irish.
“Lil’ lady, huh? You sharing, nigga?”
Emanuel chuckled. “You ain't got enough for her.”
What the hell was he talking about?
