Big Daddy Sinatra: Carly's Cry

by Mallory Monroe

  “What do you want?” she asked him.

  “I just want to thank you,” he said, that same fake smile she coached him to display on full display tonight, as he stepped into her home.

  “There’s no need to thank me,” Carly said, folding her arms. “Step back out please.”

  But he closed the door instead. “Come on, now, Carly. You had a great strategy. And it worked! The least I can do is thank you. You came through for me. And you know why, right? Because you saw it too. That girl was no kid! You saw how quickly the DA dropped those charges. You saw how quickly he threw it all out. That’s because of you. He saw right through that girl and her lies just like you did.”

  “I was only doing my job,” Carly made clear. “I didn’t see through anybody.”

  “Yes, you did,” Ethan said with a grin. “You know you did. Because you know what it’s like to have men wanting you, and lusting after you.” He looked down her body. “Don’t you?”

  Carly’s heart began to pound.

  “I was driving by this area,” Ethan continued, “and decided to drop by and see you. On the spur of the moment like. You know why? To thank you, yes. But you know my real reason?”

  “I need you to leave. I’m not interested in knowing your real reason.”

  “My real reason for dropping by like this is because I know you,” Ethan said, disregarding her request. “I know a hoe when I see one. And you’re one. You may fool Trevor and all of those other people in his office, but you don’t fool me. It takes a hoe to know a hoe. I know you.”

  Carly’s discomfort level shot through the roof. She unfolded her arms. “Leave my house at once,” she said. “I’m not playing with you, Mr. Campbell!”

  “Mr. Campbell,” Ethan said with another grin. “I like that. You love to play the role of Miss Prim and Proper, don’t you? But I know better.” He placed his hand on her chin. “You like to fuck, don’t you?”

  She slapped his hand away. “Okay, that’s it,” she said, reopening the door. “Get out and get out now!”

  But Ethan slammed the door back shut just as forcefully as she had opened it. “I’m not ready to leave. I’m not ready to get out now. How about that, Miss Proper?”

  “Then fine,” Carly said, heading for her cell phone on her coffee table. “We’ll let the police handle it.”

  But before Carly could turn again, Ethan was upon her and violently knocked the phone out of her hand. Then he knocked her down with even more force. “The police ain’t handling shit, bitch!” he said. And he said it with the kind of anger and bitterness that the public never saw. He said it with clenched teeth. And all of the smiling and charm he had laid on thick at that press conference, every ounce of it, was gone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They were in bed, and Jenay was on top. Charles still hadn’t told her how she added to his stress because he was too busy sucking her breasts. And it was never a quick-off with Charles. He feasted on her breasts. His mouth did the sucking, his hand did the squeezing and rubbing, and all Jenay could do was feed them to him as if they were as good as food. They were going to be sore when he finished, she knew, but right now they could not possibly feel any better.

  Charles loved sucking her nipples. He loved squeezing and fondling her big, brown mounds. He loved moving from breast to breast until they were red from his abuse. He didn’t want to stop. He could suck her all night. But when she began turning red, which meant he was overdoing it, he knew he had to stop.

  But Jenay knew his idea of stopping meant that he was stopping in that area of her body, and moving another area. That was why, when he moved her onto her back, and slid down between her legs, she knew more mouth action was coming. And it came. Charles began licking between her legs vigorously. He was craving her taste, and her breasts only gave him a sample. It was her pussy, it was the taste of her vaginal juices that wet her as quickly as his mouth dried her, that he was after. And he stayed after it for a long time. Jenay was squeezing the sheets, and he was lifting her thighs for greater access, until she was on the verge of an orgasm.

  Charles wanted more. Her taste intoxicated him and he wanted to eat her as long as his mouth could chew. But he knew his wife. If she came now, it would be nice and she would enjoy it. But nothing like the orgasms she displayed whenever his cock took her over.

  “Turn over,” he said when he stopped giving her head, and she quickly turned onto her stomach. He leaned down, kissed her cheeks, licked her, and then put it in her. From the back. He pushed in and almost out, going further in with every push-in, until he was in his rhythm.

  And he found his stroke as he kept hitting her special spot. He laid down on top of her bare ass, squeezed her tight beneath him, and fucked her like she’d never been fucked before. That was the way Charles always made her feel. As if this was their very first time. As if he was so in awe of her super-wet pussy that he was determined to dry it out. Only to wet it even more. Only to fuck her so hard that the sound of his pre-cum and her vaginal juices mixed together and created a harmony. They were in sync. And both of them were on the verge.

  They rarely came together, but they came together this time. Charles was just feeling the squeeze against his rod, and Jenay was just feeling the pulsations within her folds, when they went over. He continued to fuck her, without letting up, as their harmony created rolls of white cream that saturated his penis, and her vagina, until there was nowhere for it to go but out. An overflow of cream slid down Jenay’s thighs, as Charles still continued to fuck her. He was pounding, not only her pussy, but her ass too, as they fucked.

  Jenay was holding onto the headboard, her upper body lifted slightly, as Charles put on her the kind of sex her fondest dreams were made of. She came again. And again. Until he was out of gas. Until he couldn’t make another move. Until there were no more strokes left in him. He collapsed on top of her, their bodies filled with sweat and drain, and she collapsed too.

  After several moments of heavy breathing and relaxation, Jenay was the first to speak. “And you had the nerve to say I stress you out,” she said, in a voice barely discernible. She was still out of breath.

  “Your pussy notwithstanding,” Charles said, virtually out of breath too, “you do.”

  Jenay smiled.

  “But it was great, my darling,” Charles said, kissing her sweaty back.

  “Yeah, it was,” Jenay agreed. “But I’ll pay the price. I’m going to be a sore motherfucker in the morning.”

  Charles laughed. “But don’t you worry,” he said, holding her even tighter. “I’ll be thinking about you, and how you gave it to me in that magical way once again, every step of the way.”

  Jenay snorted. “I’ll be sore, but you’ll be thinking about me?” She smiled. “Some comfort you are!”

  She fought like hell, but it felt like she was beating steel. She tried to scream, but he covered her mouth. When he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, it felt as if she was floating in space. When he threw her onto the bed, he got on top of her and covered her mouth again. The feeling of his weight on her small body took her breath away.

  “Scream, bitch,” he said to her, again with clenched teeth, “and I’ll kill you.”

  The murderous look in his small, blue eyes made her know this was nothing new to him. And the way he was doing her, the way he was stripping off her blouse and tearing off her bra, was just like the way that thirteen year old said he did her. The girl said, when he threatened her and ripped off her shirt, that she knew she had to give him what he wanted or he would kill her. And as he sucked Carly’s bare breasts, she, too, felt like giving up. She felt like giving him what he wanted too. He was too big. She couldn’t even breathe beneath his big, sweaty body.

  But his hand wouldn’t let her give up. Because his hand was covering her mouth. And it did something to Carly. That hand over her mouth felt like the same old thing coming back again. It felt like her father’s hand. It felt like the same thing! She couldn’t fight back then. She d
idn’t know what fighting off a man meant back then. But she knew now.

  She stopped hitting his back with her fists. That was a waste of energy. But she began looking for whatever advantage she could find. Because she didn’t know how the evening was going to end, but she knew he wasn’t raping her. She wasn’t going to let him do to her what all those hundreds of men did to her and got away with it. She couldn’t let him get away too.

  All she had was her laptop on her bed, and as he attempted to suck her breasts dry, as he pulled down and completely removed her pants and panties while he sucked, rendering him sufficiently distracted, she grabbed it. She grabbed that laptop and slammed the sharp edge into the side of his head with such force that it knocked him off of her and caused him to start bleeding immediately.

  But she didn’t stop there. As soon as he got off of her, she jumped out of that bed and ran. When Ethan felt the side of his head and saw that there was blood on his hands, his anger heightened, and he got up and ran after her.

  She ran down the hall, through the living room and into her kitchen. He ran down the hall, through the living room, and into her kitchen too. Only when he came in, ready to kill that bitch, he didn’t see her at all. Was she already gone? Did she run through the backdoor in the kitchen? Had she gotten away from him?

  He began to hurry toward the kitchen door in panic, to stop her if she got that far, knowing his freedom was on the line if she got away. It was one thing when a kid with no power accused him of rape. It was another thing when a sophisticate like Carly Sinatra did the same. No amount of PR was going to beat that rap for him!

  But as he began moving toward the back of the kitchen, Carly, hiding behind the center island in the middle of the room, stood up with knife in hand and ran up behind him. Just as he was about to turn around, just as he was about to grab what his instinct told him was just behind him, she stabbed him in the back.

  She was amazed that she had done such a thing. She was amazed at the force of her stab. And when he turned and looked at her, stunned that she would go that far, fear took her shock away. Because he didn’t fall. Because he was about to take that knife from her and use it far more effectively than she had.

  And that was why she knew she couldn’t let up. She saw too much. She saw life going backwards to all those nights in that bedroom, and all of that helplessness. She stabbed him in the front. Straight through the heart. And she stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. He was down, as lifeless as an ornament, and she kept stabbing. She stabbed for her innocence lost. She stabbed for her inability to trust. She stabbed for her inability to be anything but a bitch because her father and those men treated her as if that was all she’d ever be. And she stabbed.

  When she finally came to herself, and saw the blood in her kitchen, and realized what she was doing, she stood up, and backed away from him. What had she done? What had she done?

  She looked around, on the verge of sheer panic. She looked at the knife still dripping with Ethan Campbell’s blood. And she ran. She ran to the living room to retrieve her cellphone. But it was busted. When Ethan knocked it from her hand so violently, it broke apart. Then she remembered her landline, the only one she had in the house, and ran back into her kitchen. Ethan was still there. Still lifeless. Still, she thought with horror deep within her soul, dead.

  She grabbed the phone from its cradle on the wall and dialed direct. Not to the police, but to the only man she ever trusted in her life. She slid down the wall until her bare butt was touching the cold floor. And she put in a call to Big Daddy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Brent Sinatra drove his father’s Jaguar, with Charles on the passenger seat and Jenay in back, as they left Maine in a blaze of speed. They left as soon as the call came in. They drove nonstop to Boston, some two hours from Jericho, and pulled into the driveway of Carly’s beautiful home on the lake in even less time. Charles’s heart was pounding. He had a close relationship with all of his children, but his relationship with Carly, his adopted daughter, was what even he would describe as special. She was his golden child, and all of his children knew it. She was the only one of his grown children who never disappointed him. She made it with her brains and talent and she made it big. And for her to have this happen to her just broke his heart. He couldn’t wait to get to her!

  He was the first to jump out of the car and hurry to her front door. Jenay wasn’t far behind him, and Brent wasn’t far behind them. All three were worried sick. All three still couldn’t believe the words Carly had spoken.

  “I’m in trouble, Daddy,” she’d said when she phoned him. “I killed Ethan.”

  Charles didn’t know who Ethan was, and he didn’t care. He told her he was on his way. He and Jenay took Bonita to Brent’s house for Brent’s wife Makayla to take care of, and they, with Brent, took off. It was a two-hour drive, but they reached her home in almost half that time.

  Charles, who visited her in Boston more than anybody else in the family, had a key to her home and did not bother to knock. He unlocked her door and hurried inside, with Jenay and Brent behind him.

  “Car?” he yelled. “Carly?”

  He ran through her house until he ran into the kitchen. And that was when he saw her. Her bare butt still sitting on that cold floor. Her torn blouse and bra. That blood-stained knife still in her hand. She didn’t even bother to look at her father. She was still staring at Ethan.

  Jenay’s heart dropped through her shoe when she saw the dead man on that kitchen floor. And when she saw her baby, when she saw the child who was once her stepdaughter when she was married to Carly’s father Quince, sitting in an almost catatonic state with that bloody knife in her hand, she pushed past Charles and made her way to Carly. She got on the floor beside her, and pulled her into her arms. But Carly continued to stare at Ethan.

  Charles and Brent went over to the body and knelt down. Brent, the chief of police in Jericho County, checked to see if the man still had a pulse. The blood made it obvious that he did not, but in his line of work he never took anything for granted. He checked. Ethan Campbell’s death was confirmed.

  “I’ll be damned,” Brent said when he finally took a good look at the dead man. “I know him.”

  Charles, still knelt down with his expensive shoes within mere inches of the pool of blood, looked at his oldest child. “You know him?”

  “Not personally. I know of him. That’s Ethan Campbell, Dad.”

  Charles frowned. “Who’s Ethan Campbell?”

  “He used to be the quarterback for the Patriots.”

  “A starter?”

  “He was the starter a couple of seasons. He once even made it to the Pro Bowl. He’s a big deal.”

  Charles didn’t want to hear that. Because the bigger the decedent, the worst it would be for Carly. He stood up. And then went over to Carly and knelt beside her and Jenay. He removed the knife from Carly’s hand.

  Jenay still held their daughter in her arms, but Carly continued to stare at the dead body. “Carly,” Charles said, but she didn’t even blink.

  Charles and Jenay exchanged a glance. Jenay shook her head in agony.

  Charles, his face frowned with anguish too, took Carly by the chin and turned her small, beautiful face toward his. “Carly,” he said again. “This is your father talking. I need you to hear me.”

  And she blinked. When she realized it was Charles, when she realized it was Jenay, she blinked. And the tears began to flow.

  As Jenay pulled her closer, to comfort her, Charles knew he had to hear the story. He had to know what he was going to do about this. “What happened, sweetheart?” he asked her.

  It took her several moments, but then she was able to speak. “He tried to rape me,” she said in that clear way she always spoke. She looked at Ethan again. “I wouldn’t let him.”

  Charles nodded. “Good. You did the right thing.”

  Her voice sounded confident, but her face told a different story. “I killed him, Daddy. I stabbed him over and over and over aga
in. I killed him.” Then she looked at her father again. “Will they believe me?”

  She asked a direct question because she knew, with Charles, she would get a direct answer. He never bullshitted any of his children. That was why every one of his children respected him above any human being alive. “No,” he said to her. “They will not believe you.”

  The tears streamed harder when he said those words, Carly’s already distressed face turned even more anguished, and she placed her face in her hands. She began to sob. Jenay held her, and looked at Charles.

  Charles fought back tears as he saw his daughter in anguish. And he knew he couldn’t let it be. He touched her on the arm. She looked at him. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said to her. “They don’t have to believe you. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you that.”

  Then Charles took the landline phone that was still off the hook, the landline phone that was beside Carly on the floor, and stood up.

  But Brent hurried over, and placed his hand on the phone. “What are you going to do, Dad?” he asked. He knew his father.

  Charles looked at Brent. “The only thing I can do.”

  But Jenay wasn’t onboard. “Charles, you can’t,” she said. She feared for Carly, but she feared for her husband too.

  “What do you mean I can’t?” Charles asked. “I have to, Jenay. Somebody’s got to pay for this. You can’t kill a man and there be no retribution. I have to handle this.”

  “But this is Boston, Charles.” Jenay once lived in Boston for many years. “This isn’t Jericho. Brent isn’t the police chief here, and Makayla isn’t the DA.”

  “She’s right,” Brent echoed. “You’ll never see the light of day again if you take the fall for this.”

  “And what do you think Carly will see?” Charles asked him. “You think they’ll go easier on my child? A young, black woman who killed their white hero? This superstar quarterback even you’ve heard of? They’ll crucify her! She’ll never see the light of day and she’s still a baby!”