In the House of Spite Ch. 01

Author's Note: This slow burn of a story will have elements and characters similar to older stories of mine. Lots of politically incorrect characters too. This story will involve elements of Daddy Dom and other things from BDSM, roleplaying, mild foot related stuff, and probably some nonconsent. I might have to add other warnings to future chapters. Also, I hope this chapter isn't too long.

***

Rows of trailers, or mobile homes, or fabricated houses, whatever one called them, they were arranged near a lake, which was a tourist spot. What had been called "Summer Summer" instead of normal summer was early this year. The sun almost blinded most people and the air could bake you.

In one of the units, four people were cleaning up hours before it was time for the Sunday's batch of guests to check in. Three Lumbee women and one White girl, a young teenager. The White girl was vaguely related to one of the Lumbee's through a relative's marriage. One of the other Lumbees was a curvy woman in small denim shorts, a small T-Shirt, and flip flops. Her toenails were rather long, but she had three kids at home. She was often too tired to care about her toenails.

The unit's front door squeaked open. Then the storm door. And another White girl stepped in, carrying her plastic tray bursting with supplies. She was shorter than the teenager, and even paler. Long blue jeans that dragged on the floor, a long T-Shirt that was big on her, and a pair of slip on black shoes. She had always dressed like that, or that's what all the other cleaners had seen.

She smiled up at everyone. Then she looked at the woman with long toenails and said, "Hi, Suzy! Need any help?"

With a grin, Suzy looked up from the oven she'd been wiping out. "Hey there, Booty! Good to see you! Nancy's in the bathroom that way." She used a jerk of her head to indicate the direction.

"Yes, Ma'am," the pale girl said. "I'll start in the other bathroom."

The work went on. Eventually, Suzy saw that little White girl come out, go into the kitchen, and pick up a broom. It was probably to sweep out the bathroom floor, which made sense since she walked back to the direction of the bathroom she'd been in. Then, the White girl came back, put the broom in its place so anybody who needed it could find it, and said for anyone to hear that she was going to get a vacuum.

Grace, that was the White teenager. She said, "Hi Pearl!" as she was dusting in the living room.

"Hi there!" Pearl waved and smiled. Suzy remembered that she'd always been a gentle, timid sort of person, but she was especially gentle with Grace. Once, Grace had told Suzy that, "Pearl's cool. She won't talk down to nobody."

Suzy was relieved to know Pearl was working with them this year. It was a good sign.

Two houses later, and everyone could see that Grace was getting a bit tired, maybe even overheated. Nancy, a woman with many freckles on her face, especially on her nose, she was the one to tell Grace to sit down on the porch and take a quick break.

Not long after that, it happened.

The owner of the rental properties, an old woman with white hair, she stalked over to Grace and scolded her for a long time. "Don't ever let me catch you sitting down again! You shouldn't let them spoil you! There's always something to do! And you girls have been too slow!"

When Grace was finally set free and back inside the unit, everyone else listened, and they were all upset. Rachel, a tall and thin woman, she was the first one to say, "What the fuck?!"

Suzy ranted about how they were a hell of a lot faster than the other group, a couple of older women. Those women had worked as cleaners in this location for decades. They were the most experienced. And yes, having only two people with you made cleaning a single unit a lot slower, it still didn't make up for how slow they'd been in the past. Last time, those two took six hours to clean a single fucking trailer while Suzy and her group finished six and had started work on a seventh; they had to finish the rest too.

But the owner and her sons wouldn't say anything to the old women, oh no!

Something about that was just too fucking much! So let's bitch at the young women for being slow!!

It was on this day when Pearl surprised everyone. She reached back to take her hair band and run her fingers through her long, dark brown locks. It had some pretty reddish highlights when the light touched it a certain way, but it was overall brown.

Then, Pearl's big blue eyes turned ... as hot as the sun on this Summer Summer. Suzy had never seen it before.

"You took it a lot better than I would've," Pearl said to Grace, her tone growing every bit as furious as her eyes. "What I don't get is why she went after the minor? Why didn't she go after one of us? Like me? A grown ass woman."

That alone had everyone else's eyes bugging out. It was the first time anyone had heard Pearl curse. The Lumbees had always been liberal with fuck, shit, hell, damn, cunt, bitch, and every thing else. But Pearl, while never being judgmental, had apparently been so timid that she didn't dare use those words on the job. Hell, even Grace cursed, but not Pearl.

Suddenly, Grace asked Pearl, "Wait, how old are you?"

Turning sweet again, her tone like a mother's, Pearl said, "Twenty-nine."

A short pause.

All four, the Lumbees and the teenager, they were amazed.

Then Grace said, "Wait, I thought you were my age." She was thirteen.

Rachel folded her long arms and said, "I thought you were my age." She was nineteen.

Suzy and Nancy agreed. They'd assumed Pearl was a younger adult, only recently out of high school.

"Oh ... well," Pearl almost carelessly said as she tied her hair back into her almost signature low ponytail, "how old are you guys?"

They all told her. Suzy and Nancy were in their early twenties.

Pearl was older than all of them.

A little hand on her bosom, Pearl gasped and said with a hint of panic, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know! I've been called you guys ma'am all this time!"

Nobody was offended about that.

But Suzy realized something. She asked, "Wait, your boyfriend, how long had you been with him?"

Pearl's heart shaped face tensed. A little air was pushed out of her. Quietly, she told Suzy, "Almost five years. I've lived with him that long."

"Shit," Nancy hissed out, shaking her head and looking away.

"He ... he was basically your husband," Suzy said as the reality sunk into her.

Pearl's boyfriend had died. All this time, everyone had thought they'd only been living together a short while, although Pearl would've still had every right to be hurt over it.

But ...

No.

Pearl had lived with her boyfriend for a decently long time. It was a serious thing.

Suzy was now impressed that Pearl was still able to smile.

***

Not every church had a steeple. Some churches were rented spaces in a strip mall. This particular church was actually pretty huge. Located in a small city that was around one hundred and sixty years old, maybe more or maybe less, this church was much younger. It was a few decades old. The shape was tall with a gable roof, no steeple, and with large windows, some of them triangular and tucked under that gable roof's angles.

Even though summer was technically gone, and autumn was here, it was still hot. Pearl was glad she wasn't wearing panty hose. Actually, she wore something similar to what she'd wear when working at her summer job. Blue jeans that felt baggy and were always too long for her legs. A simple shirt. Plain, stretchy black shoes from Walmart that you just pushed your feet into. Her hair wasn't even in a fancy style. Loose but clean, falling a bit past her ribs, Pearl noticed her shampoo's sweet aroma whenever she brought a chunk over her shoulder.

In her big purse, there was a small novel, and she planned on reading it when she was in the church. The only reason she was there in the first place was to please her parents. They were walking in front of her, happily chatting. Their voices hushed away once they were inside the building. When they were sitting down, Pearl was already digging into her purse for that novel.

It was then that, on her left, she heard someone talking unusually loudly. Typically, speaking loudly wasn't approved of unless you were behind the podium up ahead, or at least that's how it went at this church. When Pearl looked to the source of the voice, she saw ...

A stereotype.

Clearly White, lightly pudgy, half shaved head with bright red dyed hair, wearing an unflattering pair of plaid slacks and a T-Shirt with text that read, "Feminist: A person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes."

Pearl, a person who was very much a female, painfully cringed.

Well, at least she knew she wasn't the worst dressed person in the church, not that she cared much about how she looked here. She wasn't trying to impress anyone.

The apparent Feminist was standing near a seated, very tanned man who looked big despite his position. Her hands were on her hips and she was scolding him. "You're taking up too much space! Close your legs!"

Pearl wasn't the only one staring at that woman. Plenty were even whispering about the situation. The second-hand embarrassment had Pearl wanting to die ... and yet she also wanted to take out her cell phone and record the nonsense.

Now this big man, he didn't seem to be taking up any more space than required, and there was plenty to spare for any other people. Church pews were very long. His fluffy, tightly curled hair shifted and even bounced a little as he turned his head to look up at the apparent Feminist, and then ...

He very obviously, purposely, spread his legs wider.

That Feminist's nostrils widened and she said, "I can't believe you!"

The man kicked off his dress shoes and literally put one calf up on the back of the pew in front of him. Thankfully, nobody was sitting in that spot ahead. Otherwise, they'd have been poked with a significant amount of masculine leg. This man had really, really long legs. Pearl heard the man say in a quiet, but very rough tone, "Keep it up. I can take up even more space."

All this happened in a damn church.

A jumping pain formed in Pearl's throat, and her stomach wiggled, as she tried to hold her laughter down. One of her palms stamped against her lips. On her right, she heard her mother's giggle.

With a groan, the Feminist finally left the space, shuffling down to get to a pew on the other aisle. An older couple gave her the most horrified, mortified looks, their faced nearly beet red. Pearl assumed that was the Feminist's family. She wondered if they were thinking something like, "Maybe taking her to church with us was a bad idea."

The big man put his leg back down and his feet back in his shoes. Then he seemed to sigh as if he appreciated being left alone. Pearl shrugged and went back to her book. She found difficulty in concentrating because she was still so well entertained. The ridiculous, unbelievable scene replayed in her head so many times.

Soon, the preacher was behind the podium and welcoming everyone. Out of innocent curiosity, Pearl looked to her left again. There was an elderly couple sitting near that tall man with curly hair. The husband was every bit as tall as the younger one was. He was paler, though, and his hair was white. The wife was a Black woman. She was very nicely dressed. A pale green, knee-length skirt with a matching blazer and a small but flamboyant hat. Her hair was even more flamboyant, long and thick, kinky and gray.

Shrugging again, Pearl flipped a page.

When the service was done, Pearl walked with her parents outside. Along the way, she happened to see the old interracial couple and the tall man with curly hair. They were listening to another old man talk about something. Pearl heard him say, "Cornrows are unprofessional. Only gangsters wear cornrows."

Knowing it wasn't any of her business, and she needed to keep up with her parents, Pearl kept walking.

In her parents' car, her Mama was the first one to say anything.

"Well," it was a very breathy well but the rest of her words were firmer and perky, "that big fellow sure didn't care what that girl thought of him."

Pearl couldn't help it. She burst into laughter, sliding down in the backseat. "Ha! Haaaaaaaaah ... Oh my god!! That man was already so tired of her mess!!"

Her Daddy laughed a bit too. "Didn't that biddy know that men can't sit like a woman? Let men be men."

They laughed about it some more. Then Mama reminded Daddy about the restaurant he'd promised to take them to.

***

Since Daddy once again promised lunch at a restaurant, and Pearl loved getting spoiled rotten, she once again agreed to go to church with them. This sort of thing didn't happen every week, but it was common enough. This time she decided to use her phone's mobile data to read stories off of a website. She had the battery power and the patience.

Inside the church, she saw the interracial elderly couple, and near them was that tall man. This time, his hair wasn't soft and fluffy looking. He had it in cornrows.

Pearl had a feeling that the man had gotten the hairstyle out of pure spite.

When everything was over and they were in the parking lot again, Pearl found that she had to, just had to stop in her tracks and observe a confrontation. Her parents took a few moments to realize she'd stopped. Daddy tugged on her sleeve and whispered to her to leave it alone, but Pearl was stubborn. "I want to be a witness if the police are called," she whispered back.

That red-headed Feminist was here again. This time she was wearing a dress with a gathered knot in the skirt, eye-bleeding pattern, frumpy as all hell. It might've been a garment purchased from a pyramid scheme company. Pearl assumed that Feminist wasn't involved in said company. She didn't seem to be the type. Her mother or another relative might've been the pitiable salesperson.

With all the brass and lack of awareness of a Chihuahua barking up at an American Pit Bull, this woman was bothering that tall man again, the one that had recently put his hair in cornrows. "How dare you wear your hair like that!!" She was throwing her index finger around and stomping her feet as her voice rose and rose.

To that big man's credit, and he had to be more than six feet tall, all he did was stare down at her and smirk, watching her forget how to be a decent human being.

"You can't just but your hair in braids like that!! It's cultural appropriation!! It's an insult to people of color everywhere!! Your White Privilege doesn't give you the right to make fun of people of color!!"

And then an old woman's voice rang out, "What the hell is this White bitch going on about?!"

All at once, Pearl gasped and smiled. She looked up to see Mama's brown eyes wide and full of mirth. Daddy's blue eyes were concerned but also prepared.

That elegantly bold Black woman, the one with the mass of thick curls, she was escorted by her tall White husband. She grabbed that Feminist by her shoulder and whirled her around. "Now you done it!" She was shaking her own finger before the shocked red-head. "You got me cussing at church!!" She pointed up at the smirking man's face. "That's my boy over there!! That's my child!! Ain't nobody, especially not a stupid White bitch, is going to tell my black boy he can't have cornrows!!"

The Feminist took a breath as if she wanted to say something, but that old Black woman stopped her.

"I don't want to hear shit from you!! I've been around for decades, and I've had Black and White people telling me my hair was unprofessional!! I've been told to straighten it, put in weaves!! I've even be told to wear a wig just to keep a job!! I've gotten through that, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let some stupid ass White girl tell my son what to do!! So take your LuLaRoe rags and get the hell away from my boy before I beat your racist ass!!"

The old husband bent over from laughing so hard. It was a clear but heavy sound. The other man was doing the same, gripping the edge of a truck's tailgate. It was a huge, four door, silvery truck. His voice was the same as the older man, except perhaps a bit smoother.

Her face now almost as red as her hair, head lowering, that Feminist hurried to get the fuck out of the situation. Where she went off to, Pearl didn't care, but she imagined she wouldn't be showing up at this church again for a long time.

The situation had been resolved, and the gossip would be liberally shared.

Mama patted Daddy's arm and walked towards the other family. "Well, that was a mess. Are you alright?"

Gripping her purse's worn and peeling strap, following her now much more relaxed father, Pearl mentally prepared herself. Mama was a Chatty Cathy, but Pearl thought that was charming.

Mama sparked up a conversation with the black woman.

Becky Lee, or Becky, was the Black woman. Diane was Pearl's Mama's name. The two women were very friendly and positive towards each other. They both had a background in hair-styling, it seemed. They both also loved steakhouses and certain old movies.

The other members of their families awkwardly stood around, quiet and patient. Pearl looked off at some of the cars. She wasn't the type of person to know very much about cars, but she didn't know what else to look at. Lots of trucks and little cars of varying age.

After the two women exchanged some information they gave friendly goodbyes. Then it was finally time to go.

The next week, Pearl didn't want to go anywhere. She just stayed home in her old bedroom and played on her game console. Actually, it used to be Jeffrey's. But he wasn't here anymore.

She wished he was.

Then she wouldn't be in her old room.

She'd be with him in his house, looking back from her laptop to see how he was doing in his armchair, playing an RPG or something.

She had to focus on fishing in Minecraft to stop herself from feeling any more hurt than she already was.

***

Daddy had really good insurance on his old blue truck. He didn't mind letting Pearl use it to get where she needed to go, especially since she didn't really get out much, mostly to go to the rare job interview. The next time she got home from one, she sat down at the kitchen table and said to Mama, who was cooking, "Another rejection."

"Well, at least you were able to get an interview this time," Mama said as she picked up a long spoon to stir something with.

"I guess that's something," Pearl said as she put an elbow on the table and her jaw on her palm. "But it's kind of embarrassing."

Mama was tilting up a lid on a pan and poking at the steaming, bubbling contents. "What are you talking about?"

"Coming back to live with you guys," Pearl said with a gloomy tone, "and not even paying rent."

"Oh Sweetie, how can we charge you rent? After everything that's happened?" Mama turned back and smiled. "Don't you worry about that. I think I've found a job for you anyway."

Straightening up, gripping the table's edge, Pearl risked the disappointment at that moment. She hoped. "Did you talk to someone?"

"You remember Becky Lee, right?"

Not really.

Pearl shrugged. "I don't remember most people."

A casual fist on one of her hips, Mama said, "That Black lady we saw at church. She chewed out that crazy girl over messing with her son."

It clicked then. Pearl's lips parted and she nodded, saying, "Ohhhhhhh. Okay. Does she know something?"

Mama's voice was in that upbeat tone that Pearl loved to hear. "You remember her son, right?"

"Nope." Pearl reached back to rub her shoulder.

"He's that big man with the pretty ice blue eyes."

Knowing she hadn't paid any attention to that man's eyes, Pearl only folded her arms on the table and sighed. "What kind of job is he offering?"