Stepdaddy Season

STEPDADDY SEASON NATISHA RAYNOR Copyright © 2023 by Natisha Raynor Published By: K. Renee Publications All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS 1. Cypher 2. Houston 3. Cypher 4. Houston 5. Cypher 6. Houston 7. Cypher 8. Houston 9. Cypher 10. Houston 11. Cypher 12. Houston 13. Cypher 14. Houston 15. Cypher 16. Houston 17. Cypher 18. Houston Epilogue Chapter One CYPHER I heard a dish shatter in the distance as it hit the floor in the kitchen. The plate hitting the tiled floor was the perfect depiction of my mood because my heart shattered the moment my bitch of a boss told me that we were short-staffed, and I couldn’t leave to go to my kids’ football game. It was the second game of the season and the second one that I’d missed. And when I miss their games, there’s way more that comes with that than just being sad and disappointed. It causes me to remember that their father isn’t shit. It makes me recall how I hate him, and most days, I wished I had never met him. But then I wouldn’t have my boys. The almost constant guilt that comes with being a single mother is enough to stifle my breathing and make me dizzy with regret some days. I hated not being there for my boys because they already didn’t have him. Knowing that when they were adults, their childhood memories would consist of both parents missing pivotal moments in their lives made tears fill my eyes. I didn’t think I was being dramatic. I felt my feelings were valid, and as I snatched up the tray with my table’s orders on it, the thought of walking out of the door crossed my mind. I wanted so badly to say fuck this job and go cheer my twins on as they dominated the field, but I had paid rent earlier, and doing so, left me with $175 in my checking account. We needed food, and I needed gas. The light bill was also coming up due, and I didn’t get paid from my full-time job for another two weeks. I could walk out the door and go be there for my sons, but the gratification would be short-lived once I was scraping pennies together trying to survive. The only thing I liked about being a waitress was that I left the job with money every day. The $193 worth of tips in my pocket was going to be used for grocery shopping the following day, so I needed to stay put. If I used coupons and was very selective with the items that I chose, I could use whatever I made at work tonight to buy groceries for the next three weeks at least, and that would be one less worry swimming around in my head. Murmurs filled the room and the mixture of food, cologne, and perfume invaded my nostrils. The restaurant that I waitressed in part-time was always busy and that meant that tips were usually pretty good. If I went to work broke and left with a few hundred dollars in my pockets, that was always a win. My full-time job is at a call center and truth be told, I hate that job too. I hate customer service period because I get yelled at frequently for things that aren’t even my fault. Most days, I can grin and talk shit in my head while ignoring it, but some days, I want to rip people a new asshole. I refrain, however. My full-time job only covers rent and my car payment, so it’s waitressing that keeps me afloat. I usually work a little overtime at the call center job when I have extra expenses approaching. Like the taxes on my car, school shopping for the boys, football expenses, etc. To sum things up, I feel like all I do is work and with raising eight-year-old twins, I be muhfuckin’ tied. Yes, tied. But my boys are all I have, and I’m all I have. No one goes to bat for me like I go to bat for myself. I can get tired, and I can get frustrated, but I simply can’t afford to quit. If I do, those children that didn’t ask to be here suffer in the end. My parents have suggested more than once that I come live with them for a year and save the money to buy a home. As tempting as that sounded, nothing would make me feel more pathetic than moving back home at thirty-two years old. I knew if I put my pride to the side it would help me in the long run, but I just wasn’t feeling that. Plus, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a homeowner because as with everything in life, expenses came with that too. Being a single mother was some bullshit in every aspect. I used to pray for a man to come save me, but after a few years of that, it dawned on me that no one was coming, and I had to save my damn self. I took my table their food, dropped the tray back off to the kitchen, and went to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and I had a few moments to myself. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and wondered if this would always be life. Would I always work just enough to get by and maybe have some extra money left over for things that I liked like getting my nails done and buying new shoes? Would there always be something for me to sacrifice? Would I ever be truly and genuinely happy? I pushed out a deep sigh as I used my fingers to sweep up the