Rode' Parker

By Michael Arnold

Ellen Parker gives birth to her son, Rode’ (pronounced Rodee) at a time when she and her boyfriend have moved to Charlotte, NC. An alcoholic and drug addict, Olsen Parker beats his common-law wife into submission at every opportunity. However, when he begins beating their son, Rode’, Ellen decides she has enough.
She and Rode’ move away and after living from the proceeds of prostitution for a while, Ellen finally finds a stable job and a home where she raises Rode’ as best she can since the child was born with cerebral disorder. In their new-found lives Ellen meets Josh Balton, who soon plays an important role in her life.
Growing up was far from easy for Rode’ but his determination paved the way for him to develop a mind for his school studies as well as a love for baseball.
He then meets an old man in the park where he throws his baseball occasionally. This man, Cecil McNeal soon becomes a mentor and a friend for Rode’. Yet, the teenager has a long road ahead of him before he could conquer his erratic behavior or attain his goal in life. Whether he makes his dream come true remains to be seen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Arnold
• Release date: Mar 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301564989

Michael Arnold

Hi! My name is Michael Arnold. I live in the small, boring town of Gastonia, North Carolina, located fifteen minutes from Charlotte, North Carolina. There is more excitement in Charlotte, so I cannot complain about my boring town of Gastonia, right? I assist my mother, who is blind and has been blind all of her life. However, for some odd reason, she helps me just as much as I help her. My mother would often say: "Hi Michael! I cooked chicken and I made sure I cooked enough for you!" "Thanks mom!" I would reply.I love writing. I have been writing since 2004. I'm still learning how to become a better writer daily. Stephen King is my favorite author, although I have never written any horror short stories. I enjoy reading his work because he knows how to tell a story.I chose “Smashwords” because I believe Mark Coker has provided an opportunity for unknown authors to post books online. This is absolutely splendid! I have posted a few books online. Please read them when you have the time. My promise is that you would not regret that decision.I love to read and write. Fortunately, I have a few books to share. I do it because of the love I have for writing. “Smashwords” has provided the opportunity to share what began as “sketchy” thoughts, to the development of a complete short story or novel for your enjoyment. Thanks to all who have taken the time to view this page, download my samples, books, and short stories .

Book preview

Rode’ Parker

By Michael Arnold

Copyright 2013 Michael Arnold

Smashwords Edition

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Acknowledgment

This is a book I wrote two years ago. It meant a lot to me mainly because I went through many changes to get it out. I am very thankful today as I sit here, writing this, reminiscing on 2008 when my attempts at writing and self publishing didn’t go the way I thought it would. I felt sad, hurt, and most of all a failure.

You were wrong about this, it is going to happen but not for you, I told myself. But then two years ago a story came to me; a different story – one of love, hopes, and dreams. I felt like I had something so I wrote it. My editor at the time gave me a one page summary of how bad it was. It won’t work. Not a good concept. In so many words she said to trash it.

Then in the middle of 2011 the second editor said: I agree with the first editor.

I felt myself wanting to do away with this book yet again, but I told myself, I believe in the story, I believe in the concept and I believe there is at least one person that would like to read it. I can’t give up on it. But for some reason, I still had some doubts of the story being at least okay.

Third editor: this is a very real story and a compelling one. The drama unfolds very well and I like the way we can follow everyone’s thoughts and movements almost simultaneously. She believed in my story and she respected where I wanted to go with it.

I didn’t have to ask her what she thought after editing the first 10 chapters, those were her words.

So, readers, here is the story of Rode’ Parker.

Special thanks to the editor of this book, Roxane Christ, who made it ready for the readers. Thank you for your great gift and amazing work; editors like you only come once in a life time.

Annie Zimanski who did an excellent job on this cover, your gift is far beyond your young years.

Annette Arnold, my mom, who is blind and has never seen me, but saw my gift and told me never give up; hang in there, she said.

Jimmy Floyd, my writing friend; thanks for all your encouragement over the phone and in person.

Yemi, your words were the anointed hands of God that touched me, giving me hope, love, and a dream when I didn’t have one.

And to God, who systematically planned this out for me and gave all of these people a part of my dream to carry it to all of you, the readers, thank you.

To all those who believe in their dreams and believe they will come to pass no matter what, this book is for you.

Prologue

Ellen Parker woke to the buzzing of an alarm clock that sat on an old, beat up, burgundy night stand. The alarm clock read 12:00 a.m. Without shutting the aggravating buzzing sound off, Ellen rolled over on her right side and closed her eyes, hoping she could go back to sleep, but sleep was not something she could or would afford tonight.

You have to do this; it’s not about you, it’s about your son, Ellen thought.

Her eyes opened, a half smiled appearing on her lips. She pulled back the bed covers, revealing a boy with a freckled, milky complexion, curly red hair, and an open mouth from which escaped a line of drool as he slept.

Ellen held her smile as long as she could before her lips started to tremble uncontrollably.

I love you so much, Rode’. Her whispered words came before she kissed him on his cold right cheek.

Mommy, I’m cold and you moved my wrestling men out of order, you have to put them back how I had them – now, Mommy, the boy muttered harshly as he shoved his mother on her arm.

I’m sorry, baby. Ellen fixed Rode’s toys to his liking then placed the covers back over him. She sat up on the bed, pushed her long red hair back in a ponytail, and breathed hard. Feeling the cold draft of the one bedroom house, Ellen made sure the covers were wrapped tightly around her son, gave him a loving look, and then walked into the living room.

Torn envelopes, a calculator, and papers demanding payment covered in scribbled numbers reflected in Ellen’s light blue eyes when she turned on the light. She flopped down on the couch and put her head in her hands in frustration. Her mind drifted.

Ms. Parker, we have gone through this time and time again. If you can’t pay your rent on time you are going to have to find another place to live, no ifs and or buts about it!

Ms. Parker, we have to have the money in within ten days or your lights will be turned off. It’s just as simple as that, we have been working with you as much as we can, but we can’t continue, if you can’t come in with the payment.

How did my life end up like this? I might as well be dead . . . but my son, he needs me. He’s all I have. I have to do what it takes for him, so I… Her voice choked. She snatched off her pink nightgown and stepped in the shower. Ellen held in her sobs in fear of what she had planned to do – what she had been doing for the last six months.

Once her tall, slender body was washed and dressed, Ellen picked up her purse and closed her eyes. Shaking her head in shame as those thoughts of what would happen soon sat at the front of her mind, she grabbed her car keys and kissed the sleeping Rode’ on his cheek.

Mommy!

Go back to sleep, Rode’, I’ll be right back. Mommy has to step out for a second but if you go back to sleep I promise I will have something for you when I get back.

Okay, Mom.

Wearing skin-tight jeans, a short sleeve shirt, heels, and a long overcoat, Ellen Parker knew what she had to do. Driven by the need to keep a roof over her son’s head, she sat behind the wheel of her rusted Chevy Cavalier. Tears streaked her cheeks as she drove. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Get it together this will only be temporary, she said out loud. Highway 85 was deserted this time of night. In the darkness she pointed the car toward Charlotte, North Carolina. The beat-up sedan’s twin headlights shined a path to where she felt she could take care of her business without being discovered.

Chapter 1

Every Saturday Rode’ woke to the aroma of his favorite breakfast: eggs, grits, and bacon – the bacon lying on a separate plate close to the eggs and grits; the only way he would eat it. Still in his Batman pajamas, Rode’ ran into the kitchen excitedly, and pulled out the same half-broken chair he came to every morning from under the cracked kitchen table, where he would sit to eat his breakfast.

This Saturday morning was different for him however. Not only because Rode’ woke up hours later than usual, but because his mother was nowhere to be seen. The apartment was flooded with bright sunlight that streamed through flimsy curtains, streaked with dirt, but it was empty to Rode’ – his mother wasn’t there.

Mommy, I’m hungry! Where are you? Rode’ yelled.

Since he often tossed and turned throughout the night, his mother would move to the living room in order to get a good night’s sleep. He thought he would find her in her usual place, sprawled awkwardly on the shabby sofa. But she wasn’t there either.

Mommy, where are you? he called again. His young mind thought that his mother must be playing the hide-and-seek game they played from time to time. He walked around the house, his seven-year old feet lightly padding across the floor, and searched in all of the hiding places that she could have used – the hall closet, the bathroom, the laundry closet – but he did not find her in any of those places.

Rode’ walked in the kitchen, the kitchen smelled of old hamburger, which had been thrown away the night before. Frustrated and not able to understand what was happening, the small boy held his hands against his face, moving his head back and forth, making sounds of hun, hun, hun while holding back tears. He continued his search.

Mommy, come out! Stop hiding, I’m hungry and want something to eat!

Silence.

Mommy, this isn’t funny!

Rode’ collapsed on the couch, his eyes staring aimlessly in the air. The room was cool, thanks to the un-insulated house and the paper-thin walls. The growling in the pit of Rode’s stomach became so intense that the little boy felt nauseous.

Unable to continue staring into nothing, Rode’ ran to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, hoping to find something – anything – that he could eat. Finding no food, only a jug of water and a half a jar of jelly, Rode’ slammed the refrigerator door violently and screamed in frustration, his voice thin yet powerfully resonant in the nearly empty apartment. Only dirty dishes and cockroaches, both dead and alive, filled the tiny space.

The boy’s eyes surveyed the rest of the kitchen, but all there was to see were dirty dishes, a stained counter, and of course roaches. His eyes filled with tears as his hunger increased, exponentially worsened by the frightening situation.

Having nowhere else to go, Rode’ went back into the living room, where he stood staring at the front door making hun noises and rocking his head back and forth in the palms of his hand before thoughts of his mother’s words resonated in his head.

If something happens and Mommy isn’t here I don’t want you to leave this house, do you hear me, Rode’?

Yes, Mom.

Mommy has to take care of some business, but I will be back.

How long will you be gone?

Not long at all, sweetheart, just keep the door locked. Promise me, Rode’.

I promise.

Rode’ inched closer and closer to the front door, his promise to his mother growing more and more distant with each second that his hunger and insecurity ate away at him. He could only tell time by a digital clock, so when he glanced up at the round timepiece hanging on the living room wall with the smaller hand pointed on the eleven and the larger hand pointed on the twelve, he knew something was dreadfully wrong, that she had been gone too long, but he did not know how late she actually was.

Finally reaching the front door, after slowly approaching it, while obsessing over the absence of his mother; his young mind trying to grasp the reason for her absence – she’d never left him like this before – Rode’ placed his right hand on the brass doorknob and pulled it lightly. It was locked. He then moved his hand to the deadbolt. He turned his wrist and the lock gave way.

He didn’t know what he was going to do next; he had no plan. He only knew that he had to do something, go to where he thought she might be. He had to find his mother. His heart beat quickly like a tiny trip hammer. He turned the knob on the door. A draft of crisp November air slid into the house. Rode’ took in the view of his street, a long line of abandoned buildings in the process of renovation, and contemplated his next move. He stood in the open doorway and for a moment he actually enjoyed the cold on his face. The breeze dried his tears, and he reached up and felt his cheeks as if he might feel a stain where the wetness had been. His eyes caught sight of a small, white object in the street. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he wanted to know. Curiosity began to subdue his fear and he turned and ran inside. He closed the door and hurried into the bedroom, where he pulled on his old dingy Converse sneakers, second or third hand from Goodwill. Braver now, his fear receding slowly like an outgoing tide, he passed through the front door and made his way down the long stairway.

Rode’ paused on the sidewalk and looked around. Cars cruised by; not many, but a few. A woman with a shopping cart mumbled to herself as she dragged and banged the rusty four-wheeled vehicle over cracked concrete.

Standing in the street, he picked up the white object, which was in a plastic wrapper that was open at one end and covered in dirt.

Doughnuts! My favorite. Powdered!

A large pickup truck appeared on the street, speeding through the neighborhood. The driver put his head out the window and yelled at Rode’, Hey kid, get out of the middle of the road before you get hit!

Rode’ dashed out of the street, up the gravel driveway, and back into the house with the doughnuts. Huffing and puffing he locked the door. Quickly, he wiped the dirt off the doughnut wrapper and, one by one, popped the damp doughnuts into his mouth.

Mommy always says not to waste anything – it’s good not to waste anything because there are a whole lot of people that don’t have food!

With powdered sugar all over his face, Rode’ got up, went to the fridge, got the jug of water out of it and drank it empty. His hunger subsiding, he still wondered where his mother could possibly be.

Thirty miles north of the Parkers’ house on interstate I-85, lay the bright city of Charlotte, North Carolina. In a place spread out such as Charlotte was, and the home of well over seven hundred thousand people, the chances of seeing the same person twice were slim to none, making it an acceptable location for a walk on the dark side; actions people are less than proud of could be committed and concealed. The shame of men and women could be left in shadowed streets and poorly-lighted hallways. In seedy hotels their faces were quickly forgotten. No eye contact interfered with anonymity. Dirty deeds blended into sketchy tapestry of other dirty deeds. Ellen Parker arrived here, in this place that was dark both physically and spiritually.

At 11:30 in the morning, more than eight hours after she had begun her night of turning tricks, Ellen Parker stood on the fifth floor of a bleak hotel room polluted with atmosphere of a multitude of unwashed others who had come before her. Poor families walked the sidewalks below. They reminded her of Rode’, her sweet boy she had left at home alone, hungry and waiting for her. Vowing that she would do anything to take care of him, Ellen turned back to the overweight fifty-something old man that had been yelling at her since she first walked in.

Come on, baby, get over here and take your damn clothes off – now! I need to finish my business which means you need to hurry the hell up.

No need to be rude, I was just taking a second to get ready for you, that’s all. You are not the only client I had today, Ellen said. She turned from the window and looked at the disgusting site stretched out on the foul sheets. His hair and beard were short, black and gray, and his round glasses kept sliding down his oily nose.

Looks like your damn seconds have turned into several minutes; I don’t have all day to be wasting in this room with you. Get on with it!

In the five seconds it took to walk from the window to the door Ellen’s mind raced. Her thoughts collided into one another. What was she doing here? Was she making the right decision? Was this really the only way to make a life for her son? She could barely comprehend her situation. Finally, clarity came. Come on, Ellen. Just do it. Get it over with. You’ll get home to Rode’, give him food; hold him in your arms. All this will be a nasty memory. It’ll fade. Just close your eyes and do it.

Ellen slid her tight pants down her thighs. She pulled off her shirt and reached around to unhook her bra strap, which fell to the floor with the rest of her clothes. As she got closer to the bed, mesmerizing her client with the movements of her body, she wondered how her life had so horrifically fallen apart.

Then she remembered. When she was younger she had lived with her father, who supported her in Chicago until seven years ago when Ellen ran off with Rode’s father—Olsen Berkley. Berkley’s casual drinking grew into heavy drinking. He became a full-blown alcoholic. When he drank, his shortcomings turned dangerous and he used his words and his fists to exorcise his inner demons on Ellen. Her father had sworn that he would never support her again if she ran off with Olsen, but she didn’t listen and now was left to fend for herself. Her mother, who had died years earlier, would have been horrified to see her daughter turning tricks for the pleasure of such dirty men as they lay before her. Ellen, desperate in body and soul, decided she must make money any way she could if she was to feed her son. And her body was her ticket, even if it cost her soul. She pictured her precious son swatting at roaches, asking plaintively for food, shivering at night when the heat had been turned off. She’d brought this boy into the world and she was responsible for raising him—at any cost to herself. I will only sell my body for a short time, just to catch up on the bills, and then I will get out and do something legal. Yeah, I’ll find something legal – not this. This isn’t right, she persuaded herself from time to time when she was alone in those hotel rooms and her clients were long gone

Ellen’s work kept her locked up in hotel rooms around Charlotte into the early hours of the morning, but recently she had been forced to extend her hours to accommodate a few well-paying clients, fairly nice men who spoke softly and did not abuse her verbally. The man on the bed now, though, this overweight, greasy lecher, had her undivided attention until noon. Ellen had never left Rode’ longer than two hours, but with bill collectors constantly calling and the landlord quickly losing patience, the arrangement came at the perfect time.

Ellen had met the man at a diner a week before, where he had told her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She knew she was being played, that he was trying to persuade her to give him what he wanted, to treat him like no other woman ever had. Even though she saw through his act, his scheming and conniving act, Ellen thought she could turn the tables and play him instead. She agreed to meet him. The pig hated women. He took pleasure in debasing her. The more Ellen tried to please him the more vulgar and foul he became. She prayed his stamina wouldn’t last long. But he seemed to gain energy with every new obscenity that came from his twisted mouth.

Just half an hour more and it will be all over, then I can go back home to Rode’. He has to be scared, not knowing where I am. I should have told him I would be later than usual but I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.

By the time she got to the bed, the client had lit a cigar and poured a glass of wine. He sprawled out carelessly, staring at her. Ellen tried not to focus on him or what she was about to do, but his vulgar remarks about her curves made it difficult to imagine that she was actually going to lie with him. Ellen hesitated by the bed, not wanting to perform. Though her mind willed her legs to move, the thought of touching the man was sickening.

The pig placed his cigar in an ashtray on the nightstand and quickly lost his patience. Ellen’s hesitation didn’t play into his fantasy, and as a paying customer he believed that he damn well better get everything he wanted.

Don’t just stand there, do what you are suppose to do. Do what whores like you do, he ordered.

As soon as I can find a job, this life is over, she thought as she crawled onto the bed. The second she made contact with the bedspread, a fat hand pulled her toward him. Ellen reacted and pushed his face away, but the man’s tight grip was entwined in her hair and pulled her face firmly to his.

That’s it, woman, he said, breathing heavily. You do a good job and I may throw in a couple dollars as a tip! His laugh made Ellen angry and she had to remind herself that the maid would soon be knocking on the door."

After the man had groped her, had rubbed his fat hands over her breasts and inner thighs, he forced Ellen out of the bed and all but dragged her to the window, where she peered out.

What are you doing? Ellen asked, but of course she already knew. His eyes half closed, his breath heavy on the back of her neck, he pressed against her, preventing her from moving. She had hoped that he had changed his mind, like she hoped all of them might when the time came to complete the act. Ellen dreaded his hands on her; his pleasure derived from her pain, but she knew she had to endure it, the humiliation and the disgust, in order to collect her fee and go home finally.

She wanted to yell at him, demand that he stop and go back to his life of disrespecting women and whatever else he did, and she would go back to hers; a small house filled with roaches and a boy who needed her attention more than the average kid. She wanted to scream out, this isn’t worth it! But her revulsion was mixed with fear. If she demanded that he stop, he might well turn violent and beat her. She told herself she could endure his painful self-pleasuring. She looked out the window, and tried to focus on the passersby that were living their lives below.

One day Rode’ and I will have wonderful lives. We will be happy and I will never have to sleep with a man for money again. One day.

The clock’s small hand rested on the twelve and its large hand on the ten when Rode’ took a look over his shoulder, but he didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that his mom still wasn’t home. Rode’ walked into the bedroom to watch television. He pulled the knob on the 13" television. The small screen began to flicker.

Finding a station without static was difficult, but the old screen finally locked onto a station. On the program, a woman stood behind a kitchen island stovetop, stirring a pot of who knows what. Rode’ realized the woman was a cook The woman smiled and spoke into the camera so that Rode’ had the feeling she was speaking directly to him, he were sitting right across from her in person.

Hello again, my ravenous friends! I’m your host, Savannah Harrison. Welcome to Savannah’s Kitchen! Savannah smiled so widely that almost every tooth in her mouth shone on the screen. Today I’m going to show you how to make the best homemade pizza you’ve ever had—and on a budget. Savannah grinned at her audience. This is my husband’s favorite meal and, in just a few easy steps, this could be your favorite meal, too!

Rode’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly at the thought of one of his favorite foods, one he had long forgotten. Pizza! I can’t remember the last time we had pizza. I bet the pizza she makes is going to be good! he said.

Okay, folks, my job today is to show you how to create your own masterpiece out of dough, pizza sauce, pepperoni, cheese, and a little ground beef. Savannah glided effortlessly around her kitchen-television set.

While she continued to chatter, Rode’ stared at the screen. The wheels in his boy’s mind turned and a plan began to form, a pizza-inspired epiphany. He changed out of his pajamas and put on a ski hat from a chair in the bedroom. He grabbed a large black jacket and ran out of the house.

I don’t know when Mom is coming back, but I will get home before her if I turn on my roadrunner speed. The fact of his movement, his concrete action, caused hope to rise in Rode’s chest. He could do something.

Chapter 2

Ellen Parker sat on the end of the bed wrapped in a white sheet. The client stepped out of the bathroom transformed from a dirty and depraved monster into an almost impressive business man dressed in a clean suit and a crisp white button down. He had shaved, showered, and was reaching into his pocket for her pay. Once he opened his mouth, though, it was clear that his nasty personality ran deep and that a change of clothes couldn’t mask who he was, a depraved user of women. I hope he’s not married, thought Ellen. I pity the woman if he is.

Come get your money, you deserve it, whores like you really don’t come around too often. You’re one hell of a bitch let me tell you. You know how to please a man. Where did you learn all that from? He leered at her, a cruel grin frozen on his face.

Ellen pushed her sweaty red hair out of her face and moved cautiously toward him without giving him an answer. She tried to hide her disgust.

Hurry it up! I don’t have all day. I’m supposed to meet my wife and I can’t keep her waiting for a slow-moving slut like you.

Oh God, he is married, she thought. Ellen felt dryness spread from the tip of her tongue to the back of her throat. She reached her hand out and took the wad of cash.

I’ll call you, the man said as he sidled out of the room. Ellen moved quickly and double locked the door. Now that he was gone, she could breathe again. Ellen sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to feel the dank sheets