Harvey entered the house through the foyer to the sounds of Blaire's and Cassandra's voices going back and forth. Cassandra saw Harvey before Blaire did and used it to her advantage. 

        "Daddy, tell her that I can go," Cassandra whined, coming over to tuck herself under his arm, knowing Harvey had her back. "Tell her that I'm going to South Africa," she told him. 

        "Cassie, go on up to your room, baby," he told her. 

        Cassandra gave her mother a dirty look and stalked off towards the marble staircase. Harvey waited until he heard the door slam and turned to his wife. 

        "We've had this discussion, Blaire." 

        "No, we are not letting her go to Africa," she hissed. "She can do the same thing in London or Bordeaux or—"

        "A European city," he finished for her, looking down at her while she tried to give him all sorts of places their daughter should go that weren't Africa. 

        Harvey looked down at his fair-skinned wife. She was so light that she looked more like a white woman with a slight tan. She had gotten more plastic surgery than any of the Jacksons, making her nose more pointy and thin; she got Botox, had liposuction on her ass — which at one point had been round and healthy and he loved it— and got infusion extensions down to her ass, her hair dyed chocolate brown. Most people thought Blaire's hair was her own because she didn't have tracks. They didn't know what money could buy her. 

        Harvey had seen Blaire without her extensions, and her hair was shoulder-length, which was fine with him. He didn't understand why she needed hair down to her ass. 

        When Harvey first met Blaire, she had a plump ass, her black hair at a normal length, and a face that was pretty and didn't resemble a cat. Now, he was married to a piece of plastic. 

        He had tried to talk her down from every surgery she'd gotten, but she wanted to look so much like her "friends". She didn't care about being pleasing to the eye to the man who slept with her. She was a Barbie. No way around it.  

        After the liposuction on her ass, Harvey could not stand to touch Blaire. Another woman would have killed for the ass she did not want.  

        Harvey hated that Blaire constantly tore down anything that had to do with being black. He refused to allow her to put that self-hating "wish I wasn't black" mentality on his children and especially his daughter.  

        "Yes, a European city," she confirmed. "I do not want my baby in Africa." 

        "Why? Her grandparents are South African. She's going to be staying with them." 

        "Oh, Harvey, please," she told him, rolling her eyes. "You haven't even managed to completely lose that accent. Besides, it will be a lot better for her to go to Europe. She'll have a better experience." 

        "First things first, Blaire, I don't have a problem with having an accent. I came from a damn beautiful country. There is nothing wrong with her experiencing her roots while she studies. And if you didn't notice, she doesn't have roots in those European countries." 

        "My father's great grandfather was Italian, and my mother's parents are French and Italian. She does have roots." 

        "First off, your mother is adopted and she is black. Second of all, your great, great grandfather? Really, Blaire, you're so proud to tell people about your European roots, but someone says something about Africa and oh Lord!" 

        "Well you came here," she reminded him. "So what's so great about South Africa?" 

        Blaire could be a condescending bitch. She never missed an opportunity to remind him of how he left his oh so precious country and came to the United States of America. She never failed to remind him that just by speaking he let people know he was foreign, but he was proud of where he came from. He was proud of his roots.

        Harvey thought at least he wasn't lost. At least he knew his lineage. At least he had come to America to take advantage of what it had to offer. Unlike her father who was a professional criminal, and the man spoke Italian. When was there ever a reason a person with control of two or more languages couldn't find professional work legally?

        "Blaire, I came here twenty-five years ago when my country was suffering segregation. Believe me; I would gladly follow my parents back. But I have a wife and children in this country." 

        "She's not going to South Africa. Where is she going to stay?" 

        "What do you mean, where? In the house with her grandparents. Blaire, I don't care how you feel. You will not deprive my baby of going to have an experience that she wants." 

        Blaire gave him a dirty look, her eyes narrow, but he didn't care. He was going to hold his ground. 

        "She is an American." 

        Harvey resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Suddenly when he didn't relent to her going to Europe, Cassandra was American.  

        "With South African roots," Harvey reminded her. "And she will be taking her American ass with South African roots to Africa this summer as long as that is what she wants. And if you try to stop her, we will have problems," he told her. 

        Irritated, Blaire left the front room, and she stormed into the kitchen. Harvey shook his head and went up to Cassandra's room, knocking before he entered. She was sitting on the bed with her ear buds in. When she saw her father, she took them out. 

        "I can go, right, Daddy?" she asked. She wanted to make sure the witch hadn’t talked him into keeping her in the States or visiting some city where she knew nothing and no one.

        He sat on the edge of the bed. "I said that you can go, and you can go, Cassie. But your mother is still your mother, and you already know what I'm going to say, daughter." 

        She frowned and resisted rolling her eyes. They had this conversation weekly that her mother was still her mother and she was still the child.

        Harvey had a very close relationship with his daughter. He supported her all the time and in every way; she appreciated that. She was glad to have at least one parent to turn to.

        Cassandra had skin midway between her parents. Her flawless brown skin was beautiful to all but her mother. Harvey had discovered Blaire buying bleach once and snapped on her before she ever got a chance to put it on their chocolate daughter. He was not ever going to allow Blaire to make Cassandra feel her complexion made her inferior.  

        Cassandra now was five-feet-seven inches tall with long black hair. Harvey had never allowed Blaire to perm or press Cassie's hair in her childhood, but he had no issues if she did so now. As a child, he felt she would grow to hate her hair.  

        Cassie still had never relaxed her hair and had pressed it very rarely. She usually wore her hair in twists or braids.  

        Cassandra was pretty and had the nose and lips her mother had had before deciding she didn't want them. She was becoming a shapely young woman with both ass and hips. Blaire had tried putting her fifteen-year old on a diet, telling her that her ass was getting too big. Harvey, sitting across the island counter, had to resist jumping across it. "That's a part of the packaging of a black woman, Blaire. Maybe you know something about that?" 

        Harvey thwarted every attempt by Blaire to make their daughter hate herself as much as her mother did. To him, Cassandra was perfect. She was his princess and he was grooming a queen to await her king.  

        "Daddy, she's so annoying. She keeps saying go to Paris, go to London, go to Milan. I don't want to. I don't know any people there. She does," she told him. "My grandparents want me to stay with them. Why can't I?"  

        "Cassandra, listen to me," he told her, holding her face. "I know that. She is your mother. Do not shout at her." 

        Cassandra just folded her arms across her chest. "She's the one who's always taking everything from zero to sixty." 

        "Again, I know that. I was married to her for five years before you decided to come into the picture, little girl." 

        "How have you managed to keep yourself from killing her?" 

        Harvey sighed and shook his head. He was never the one to try turning the children against their mother. They didn't like her on their own, but Harvey didn't tolerate any disrespect coming from either side between mother or children. 

        "Go and get the twins. We're going out to eat." 

        "Without Mom?”

        "Cassie," he warned. 

        Cassandra huffed, got up, and went to get her brothers. He went downstairs to where his wife was in the kitchen eating sunflower seeds. "We're going out to dinner," he told her. 

        "No, I have dinner right here," she told him, motioning to the bag. 

        "Blaire, you're eating fucking bird food. You mean to tell me that you want to call that dinner?" he asked, raising a brow at her. He knew she was simply being spiteful because of their fight. Any time they had an argument that he won, she didn’t want to be with the family.

        "I mean to tell you just that, Harvey." 

        "So you don't wanna come out with the family?" 

        "No." 

        "Alright."                        

        This would not be the first time she'd gotten angry with him and decided to act spiteful and not engage in family outings.

        Harvey met the kids at the garage door. "Your mother isn't coming," he told them. 

        "Good," Cassie muttered under her breath. 

        The four of them headed out, and Cassandra took the front seat. Harvey took the kids to their favorite restaurant, The Goal Bowl. 

        The theme of the restaurant was sports. The floors had been designed to look like a basketball court inside and a football field outside for the warmer months. The employees wore all types of sports jerseys and sneakers. The host and hostess wore referee jerseys. The tables were shaped like balls: footballs, basketballs, soccer balls. The chairs were shaped like hockey pucks. There was an area designated for arcade games and shooting around. 

        Cassandra smiled at their host as he led them to the table, a kid named Sean. They seemed to be sharing conversation about their shared biology class. When they got to their table, Cassandra was acting more girly than her father or her brothers had seen her. 

        "Who's the kid?" Harvey asked. 

        "Who, Sean? He's in my biology class. He's my lab partner," she said with a smile. 

        "Lab partner, eh?" 

        Cassandra nodded fervently. "Isn't he the cutest, Daddy?" 

        "He's a handsome kid, yeah," Harvey told her. "You like this boy?" 

        "Why would you think that?" 

        Harvey exchanged looks with the boys, and they were both snickering. Who did she think wouldn't notice that? Least of all people the father she lived with. 

        "Do you think I was born yesterday?" he asked, raising a brow. "I was fifteen before, Cassie." 

        She just shrugged it off as their waitress came over. She wouldn't admit a crush to her father although she knew that he knew and expected her to have them. 

        Harvey turned to Charles and Cortland, and the boys bust out laughing. "You two know him?" he asked. They shrugged, and Harvey shook his head. The boys were still in middle school, but their school was a block away from the high school. He knew they'd at least seen the kid before. "He's your lab partner?" 

        She nodded her head, her fluffy ponytail bobbing. She decided to wear her hair loose after washing it. "Yup,he knows his amoeba," she told him matter-of-factly. 

        "Ewww! That's nasty,” Cortland said.

        Cassandra rolled her eyes and Harvey shook his head. "What is amoeba, son?" 

        "I don't know. But it sounds nasty, Daddy. Pop her!" 

        "It's an organism, stupid," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes again. "Why couldn't it just be me and you, Daddy?" 

        "Because, you're not my only child." 

        "It's not too late," she told him with a mischievous grin. 

        "Cassie, be nice to your brother. Cort, don't ever think your sister is stupid enough to say something nasty with me within a mile of her. You insult her intelligence. She wants to live. Don't you, princess?" he asked, holding her chin, smiling. She nodded enthusiastically to add passion to her wanting to live. 

        "I want to live, Daddy," she assured him.  

        Their drinks came to the table, and they ordered dinner. 

        "What are you doing for Halloween, kids?" he asked. 

        "Louise invited me to her party," Cassandra told him. 

        "I thought you don't like Louise anymore." 

        "Ugh, Daddy, that was two days ago. Get with it," she told him. Harvey shook his head. He didn't understand little girls and their fickle friendships. 

        "Okay," he told her, turning to the boys. 

        "We're going to the rec center," they said together. 

        Harvey nodded. He tried to give the kids enough freedom to make their own decisions. As long as they told him honestly where they would be, he didn't put a leash on them. He would have let them host the party, but they didn't seem inclined to do so. 

        "You guys wanna stop by the office awhile?" he asked. 

        Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, and every Saturday, Harvey encouraged his employees to bring their children, if they had any, to work. Halloween was the Saturday after the one coming up. 

        "Okay," they all agreed together. 

        While they sat there talking, Harvey listened to his kids tease each other, mediating when needed. 

        "Daddy," Cassie whined. 

        "What?" he mocked. 

        "Kelly's parents let her buy a sexy—"

        "Well yours aren't letting you buy a sexy anything costume. Do not push me, Cassie. I will make you go to the party in a nun costume. Sorry, sweetheart, you have a father, not an ATM, and I will monitor your clothing decisions to make sure there's actually some clothing going on. No child of mine is going to use a perfectly innocent day for an excuse to dress like a slut. That means you." 

        "Daddy, it's not like a slut," she told him. "It's just not childish." 

        "Cassandra Anne, what do you think a little boy is going to think of you if you walk past him with your titties out?" he asked. 

        She was a little surprised by her father's language. When he spoke to her, he usually used proper anatomical names, and she sat there looking at him. 

        "That's a question, daughter." 

        "Well, I don't know." 

        "You do know, because that's what you want: attention; and that's the wrong kind of attention. That means that when you leave my house and come back you will be appropriately clothed. You will make me put you in a full nun get up and send you out. Do you want to be a nun, Cassie?" 

        "No sir." 

        "Good then, don't use the word sexy around me again until you are old enough to pay for sexy outside of my house. Are we understood, young lady?" 

        "Yes sir." 

        When their waitress came back, Harvey decided to order dessert. Cassandra quickly recovered from her father's stern talk when her cake and ice cream arrived. She just wouldn't bring it back up again. 

        When they left the restaurant, Harvey asked the kids whether they wanted to go home or by the costume shop. Either way, he was going to accompany Cassandra to make sure she understood the meaning of an appropriate costume. 

        They went to the shop, and the clerk let them know the shop was closing in thirty minutes. "We'll be ready in ten," Harvey assured her. 

        The boys just picked up masks and accessories, telling him they had their costumes at home already. Harvey followed Cassie around the shop, shaking his head when he disapproved. Finally, she found a fairy costume and Harvey approved. The skirt went to the knees and the top covered her breasts fully. "You're going to find a pair of flats to go with that costume." 

        "Why can't I just wear a pair of Mom's—”

        "Flats," Harvey repeated firmly, taking the costume to go and pay for it. 

        When they got their costumes, they headed back home. Blaire was already asleep. Harvey headed up to his room, showered, and climbed into the large king sized bed, facing away from his wife. He didn't spoon her or cuddle her unless she initiated it. 

        There was a time he'd done so most nights without her asking because he was her husband, but the more she tore herself down, the further away he wanted to run. It was as if she was resenting that she had married a black man and had black children.