Streets of New York. Mark AnthonyЧитать онлайн книгу.
c’mon, we gotta get you ready for school.”
Promise threw the covers off his daughter and smiled when he saw her in her Dora the Explorer pajamas looking so cute with her hair nicely braided up and nestled against her pillow.
He picked his daughter up in his arms still trying to wake her gentle, “C’mon, baby-girl, you wanna stay up wit’ daddy all night and now you can’t get up in the morning. I’m gonna have to start putting you to bed earlier.”
Ashley slowly opened her eyes. “Daddy, I don’t wanna go to school,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m tired.”
Promise chuckled to himself. “You still going to school. You can take a nap later.”
“Daddy, daddy I wanna sleep.”
“Ahight, when you get home tonight you’re going to bed early. Okay, baby girl?”
“Daddy…”
Promise picked his daughter up in his arms and carried her off to the bathroom to get her washed. He bathed his daughter at night so it was easier to get her ready in the mornings. All he had to do was use a washcloth and have her brush her teeth in the mornings.
“Ashley, brush your teeth properly now. We can’t have you going to daycare with your breath stinking, okay.”
Ashley stared at her father holding the toothbrush in his hand. The water was rapidly coming from the sink. This was part of their morning routine. His daughter knew what was up by now. First brush your teeth then wash your face. Then Ashley had breakfast.
Promise left her in the bathroom trusting that his daughter wouldn’t give him any problems this morning. Yesterday, he went into the kitchen for ten minutes to start up breakfast. When he came back into the bathroom to check on his daughter, he found her fast asleep again on the bathroom floor. He laughed at first but had to get serious, telling her to get up and get ready for daycare.
He went into the kitchen to prepare oatmeal for his baby girl. She loved it along with Fruit Loops and candy. Promise also knew that his daughter needed to eat healthy too. He didn’t want his baby girl growing up with weak bones. She was spoiled but not completely rotten.
After starting the oatmeal, he made a fresh kettle for his tea and then returned back to the bathroom to see his daughter still brushing her teeth and playing with the water. It was almost overflowing onto the floor.
“Ashley, what the hell you doing?”
“Brushin’ my teeth, Daddy.”
“You getting water all over the floor and look at your shirt! Damn girl! Why you always gotta make a mess?” He barked, stepping into the bathroom, shutting off the water and removing the toothbrush from her hand. “C’mon, you gotta get dressed.”
He carried his daughter back into her bedroom and removed her damp pajamas tossing them to the floor. Promise shook his head peering down at her as she looked up at him, smiling. She was a mess.
“I wanna watch cartoons, Daddy. I wanna watch Wiggles,” she said.
Wiggles was one of Ashley’s favorite morning cartoons. Watching it would certainly distract her and he didn’t need that.
“Later, we gotta get you dressed for school now.”
“But I wanna watch Wiggles, Daddy.”
“Ashley, don’t start today, okay?”
She started pouting, folding her arms across her chest and displaying her disagreement with her father’s decision. Promise put lotion on his daughter.
“Daddy, can I please watch Wiggles? Please, daddy.”
Promise sighed, giving into his daughter’s demand. He searched for the remote to her TV, and turned to Wiggles. Ashley smiled, “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Promise glanced at the time. It was 7:15 a.m. He needed to be out the door by 7:45, so he’d able to reach his 8:30 appointment across town in Brooklyn. He hurried his daughter to get dressed, throwing her into her uniform, a yellow buttoned down shirt, checkered green and yellow skirt, and her cute little shoes. Then he carried his daughter into the kitchen, sat her at the table and placed a small bowl of oatmeal in front of her, telling her to eat.
“Daddy, I want honey and my juice,” Ashley requested.
Rushing to the fridge and pouring his daughter a cup of red Kool Aid, Promise let out a loud sigh. He then turned on the TV in the kitchen and set the channel to Wiggles keeping his daughter preoccupied with her breakfast and her favorite show.
He rushed into the bedroom to get dressed. There was not enough time to shower so he washed, quickly brushing his teeth, threw on cologne and quickly put on his gray Sean John jeans, a blue Rocawear T-shirt, and beige Timberlands. Promise scurried back into kitchen to tend to his daughter.
“You finish?” he asked.
“Look daddy, I spilled my juice.”
“Damn it, Ashley,” Promise shouted when he saw the red Kool Aid all across the table and some on her uniform. Now he had to clean the mess and probably change her uniform.
“I’m sorry, daddy.”
“Forget it. We gotta go.”
Promise hurried out his fifth floor apartment in Far Rockaway, Queens. He didn’t have time for the elevator. He dashed down the grungy staircase carrying his daughter in one arm and her book bag in the other. Luckily, he’d parked his X5 close by. He put Ashley in her car seat, dashed around to the driver’s side, and quickly peeled away.
“Damn, I’m gonna be late,” he hissed.
Promise reached the daycare at 8:15 a.m. He didn’t even shut his engine off, unlocked his doors and ran around to where Ashley sat. He unbuckled her, hastily took her out of her seatbelt and rang the bell to the daycare.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter,” one of the teachers at the center greeted.
“Hey, what’s up? I’m in kind of a rush. Bye, Ashley. Here, give me hugs and kisses.”
Ashley went to her father, giving him quick hug and kiss then turned to her daycare teacher. Promise rushed back to his jeep and sped off to Brooklyn.
It had been six months since Ashley came to live with her father. Ashley had been staying with her mother, Denise Jenkins until she was murdered. Then Ashley moved in with her father. Promise didn’t mind taking on this new responsibility.
He loved his daughter to death and would do anything for her. He wasn’t trying to hear about his only beloved daughter being turned over to the state, an orphan living from group home to group home, trying to be adopted like he was once. At first, it was hard for him doing what he did but they had adjusted and now he couldn’t live a day without her.
Hearing about his baby mother’s murder fucked him up bad. Promise couldn’t sleep, eat, or do anything for two weeks. Even though they hadn’t been together as a couple, they were cool. They both took good care of their daughter.
Denise was murdered by a punk-stick-up-kid, in front of her building one night in Bushwick. She had been coming home from work, getting ready to pick up her daughter from a neighbor when a young thug in a black hoodie, dark jeans and dirty black Timberlands emerged from out of nowhere startled her, demanding that she give up her purse and jewelry. He was looking jittery coming at her armed with a .357. She gave him her purse easy but was adamant about not giving up her jewelry, especially since her necklace had been a gift from her father and had been around her neck since she was six.
The young robber struggled with her for her jewelry snatching off her bracelet and when he went for her necklace, she slapped him. Denise was a tough girl from the block and seeing a gun