Page 2 of 10,000 Hours With A Rich Menace

The creak of the old wooden church doors caused us both to turn, and I landed eyes on my father. Steve Raye. My mother was so in love with my father that she decided to make me his namesake, with a little extra flare.

Everyone called him Raye, and it been like that for as long as I could remember. He came in dressed in a black suit, with his hands tucked in his pockets and his head down. Too ashamed to look me in the eyes because he showed up late to his own ex-wife’s funeral.

Not only that, but he also refused to help me with her funeral arrangements. Mama had health insurance so that paid for everything and left me behind a decent chunk of change. She worried, so I knew she wanted me to be taken care of well after she was gone.

My mother was an only child, and her parents had both passed on. Aside from a cousin or great-aunt here and there on her side, she didn’t have much family. My uncle, cousin, and aunt were all from my father’s side. It had always been just the two of us, and with as much love as my mother had given me, I never needed anything else.

Tessa Raye was the most overbearing loving mother that I could have asked for. At times we would butt heads because she wanted to control my life. While I lived my life day by day, my mother planned her entire day and life down to the second.

Despite our differences, she was my best friend, and she always meant well. I feared what would become of me now that she was gone. I didn’t have any one to wake me up when Ioverslept in the morning or reminding me of important things that I would always push off until the last minute.

“Hey Baby Girl.” My father made it to the front and peered over at the casket, at his ex-wife. I was old enough to know that Steve Raye was the love of my mother’s life, but she wasn’t the love of his.

Gambling was.

Even at fifty-five, he was sharp as ever with his low-cut fade, thick beard, and freshly lined hairline. His coca skin glistened and he smelled like coconut butter and shea butter combined, the only vivid thing that I remember about him.

“Hey.”

Mario kissed my temple and left me alone with my father, standing in front of my mother’s casket. I thought he would have been first to go, not her. Honestly, I would have been happier if he went instead of her.

I needed my mother.

“She looks beautiful,” he broke our silence.

Skyler’s mother sucked her teeth, clearly disgusted that my father had bothered to show his face.

“I did her nails.”

“Hmm.”

I move closer and stared at her once more before kissing her forehead. “I love you, Mommy. I promise I will make sure I keep it together… whateveritis,” I sniffled.

My father stood there unsure of what to do or what to say. He should have said sorry. Sorry for not being there as a husband or a father. Sorry for stringing a woman as great as my mother along for years, knowing that he had no intentions of being a good person, husband, or father.

All Steve Raye cared about was himself and gambling. Give this man ten dollars and he would bust a blood vessel trying to turn it into a hundred. For as long as I could remember, I had satwith my father in underground casinos while he tried to double his money.

A few times he had people knocking on our door looking for him because he owed them money. Steve Raye’s favorite words were, “You know I’m good for it.” He was in fact never good for the money.

“Stevie, I know I haven’t been there for you. I’m in a good place right now… got this gig lined up and the money is good.”

He was too stupid to realize how much of a slap to the face it was to hear that he had a good thing going and couldn’t contribute to helping me bury my mother? I wasn’t even concerned about the financial aspect of it. He could have made a call, arranged the church, something would have been anything while I mourned my mother.

I was her only child so everything was left up to me handle – alone.

“You always in a good place, but it’s never mentally.”

He screwed his face up. “You sound just like that damn woman.” Skyler gasped when the words left his mouth.

I had heard my mother tell him that more times than a few and he always brushed her off. Never wanting to change for his family. “That damn woman was my mother… your ex-wife. She deserves to be addressed as more than thatdamnwoman, Raye.”

He choked. “I am still your father, Stevie Raye.”

“When? When have you ever been a damn father to me, Steve? What doctor appointments have you ever attended or school conferences you sat in on? When mama was tired and doing it all alone, where were you? So, please spare me with the bullshit of being my father only when it’s convenient to use. Where have you been since I called you to say she passed? Your fucking daughter called you distraught and you took four days to get back to me… so Steve, move the fuck around and leave mealone.” I shoved past him, walking down the aisle and out of the church.

What the fuck has Steve Raye ever done for me?The only person I ever had was about to be buried six feet into the ground. It was Stevie Raye up against the world – alone.

Somefamily.

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