Daddy liked to drink whiskey. On poker night, he'd always make Momma go along with him to drive him home.
One night, she dropped him off, peeled out of the driveway, and left.
When I turned eighteen, he told me that I was old enough to start coming along and driving him. He told me that he was proud of me that I was old enough to start being, "Just like Momma."
The games were held in someone's house. The dining room was smoky and smelled like must.
I had settled on the old, beat up couch in the next room. As the evening wore on, I could hear the men getting louder, and Daddy's voice rising as it always did when he'd had too much to drink.
"Sweetie, come on in here, " he called to me at about midnight. I walked into where the men sat around a table. There were piles of money in front of the other men. The only thing in front of my day was an old whiskey bottle.
"Honey, " he patted my arm, "your daddy lost again. I lost real bad this time. ..." The smell of whiskey punctuated each word. "Since your Momma ain't here no more. ... I'm gonna need your help this time, Sweetie. You're a good girl for Daddy, aren't you? "
One of the men at the table was smoking a cigar. I didn't like the way he was staring at me. "All three of us fronted your stake for you, Mike. And all three of us are gettin' paid."
The man next to my daddy had a stained cotton tank on. He stood up, and reached over to pet my hair. "We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight, Sugar. " He reached down to my blouse, and took the top button between his fingers, as I tried to back away.
"Mike. .." the man with the cigar warned.
"I'm so sorry, honey, " my daddy said, "but you've got to do what these men say. ... out they're gonna hurt me real, real bad. "
The man with the cigar nodded, as the one in the tank resumed working at my blouse. "She's got nice tits, Mike. Just like her mother. ..."
