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By Root 823 0

agreed that Rhonda’s father was really good-looking. Rhonda was always proud to walk down the street with him and watch them watch him out of the corners of their eyes. Like Grandma, he had finely chiseled features. A thick, bushy mustache covered his large lips. He had a deep, rumbling voice, and it was that voice that gave Daddy his way with the ladies. Daddy didn’t sleep at Grandma’s house. Rhonda didn’t know where he slept, but he always came at lunchtime to have a sandwich and to calculate his numbers. The minute he hit the door, Grandma would start complaining about her lack of money, about Rhonda, and about Daddy in general. On a good day, Daddy would shove some money in her hand as soon as he walked in. That would shut her up. On a bad day, if Daddy hadn’t hit a number or didn’t have any money, Grandma would go on and on, cursing and screaming. But Daddy would never curse her back. He’d just look at her and say, “Ma, please. I’ve got to get this done.”

Rhonda wasn’t sure if she should interrupt Daddy to tell him about the dream.

“Daddy, the lady in my dream told me to tell you a number.”

“That’s nice, baby,” Daddy said, as he continued his calculations.

“Do you want to know what the number is, Daddy?”

“Sure, baby. But not right now, though.” And he took a bite of his sandwich.

Rhonda waited quietly by the kitchen door. She watched him work and eat. When he was done, he gathered his slips, shoving them in his pocket, grabbed his hat, and headed for the door. Rhonda knew he was trying to make it to the door before Grandma had a chance to open her mouth again. He almost made it.

“What time will you be back?” Grandma hollered from her room when she heard his keys jingling.

“’Bout six.” He answered without slowing his pace. Just as he was about to open the apartment door, Rhonda ran over to him.

“Daddy, the lady told me to tell you the number. She made me promise not to forget.”

“Baby, Daddy’s got to go now,” he said as he tried to shoo her away.

“But she made me promise.” Daddy wasn’t smiling. He was trying to get away.

“She told me to tell you 6-2-3.” Rhonda was proud of herself. She had remembered.

“Okay. That’s nice, baby. Thank you.” And he slammed the door.

When 623 hit that evening, Daddy didn’t make a dime. But from that day on, he would walk in and make it a point to ask Rhonda, even before he took off his hat or spoke to Grandma, “Did you have a dream last night?” Whenever she had a dream, Rhonda couldn’t wait to tell Daddy. She would whisper the number in his ear so that Grandma couldn’t hear it. It was their little secret. Daddy would smile, give her a big hug, and pat her on the head. Daddy never kissed Rhonda, not ever.

It never failed. If Rhonda gave Daddy a number, it played that day or, at the latest, the next evening. Daddy would be so happy that he’d stay a little longer at lunchtime. He’d call Rhonda baby and tickle her stomach. Before he left, he would give Grandma some money, and that night Rhonda wouldn’t get a bath.

Daddy could always tell when Rhonda had gotten a bath. Maybe he could see the bruises on her arms and legs. Maybe he could see the sadness and the fear in her eyes. Maybe he became suspicious when Grandma would pray or sing just a tad bit louder and a little more off-key than usual. On those days, Daddy would quietly whisper to her, “You got another bath, yesterday, huh? Don’t worry. You’re tough like me. You can take it.” It was another secret that Rhonda shared only with her daddy.

Sometimes, when Grandma had to go out to work at a particular “Madam’s” house where she couldn’t bring Rhonda, Daddy would take Rhonda with him to bars and pretty-women’s houses, and to a variety of smoky haunts filled with loud and funny-acting people. There was Mr. Rootman. He was always nice and never failed to give Rhonda a stick of gum or some candy. There was Bubba John, who stuttered and spit when he talked. Then there were the ladies. They all wanted something from Daddy and didn’t mind using Rhonda to get it. Rhonda didn’t mind being used, because she always got a Popsicle or a