Read Cornbread & Caviar Online
Authors: Empress Lablaque
Thinking of the past had shortened my trip home. As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I pushed those long gone days out of my mind. Placing my key in the lock, I have to admit, making a child with substandard sperm equals one sickly little boy.
When I open the door, Tory is sleeping in Mama's arms. I stroke his head, realizing he's the spitting image of Boogie Washington. A big-eyed little boy with an infectious smile, he's brought me unspeakable joy. His sympathetic demeanor makes him special, almost angelic. Doctors said his lungs were severely deteriorated. He wouldn't live long enough to see five. Thank God, Tory is still here.
Mama's health is not good either. Drugs have eaten away at her statuesque frame, and her teeth are almost gone. When using drugs, she tends to be selfish, but most times, she helps out with Tory—for a small fee, of course.
My major worry is paying bills, Mama's bond, and keeping Spider off her back. It's hard to keep my job when Casey is trying desperately to get under my skirt.
After hearing gunfire, I pull back the curtains and survey the street beneath my window. The project is no place to raise a child; Tory deserves better.
Being my mother's only child is rough. Because I was also a mistake, Mama vowed she'd never pull her drawers down again. That statement is also a lie. I had no other siblings due to a venereal disease. Mama is sterile.
After my encounter with Natasha, I've kept my distance from women and men. However, my mind flashes on thoughts of Lenisha. She's not my best friend, but we do have a working relationship.
Good old Lenisha. One night at work, she overheard me crying in the restroom and burst through the door. "Girl, the customers can hear you squalling all the way out that door." Her face was frayed with anger as she pointed toward the door still swinging beneath her hearty blow. Flailing her arms in the air she yells, "What's up wit you?"
I didn't expect anyone to see me like that. Taking a tear-soaked tissue, I wiped my eyes then looked into Lenisha's round face. "Keeping Mama out of jail is hard, Lenisha. Her bail is taking every penny I've got. Tory's doctor says he's getting worse. Now, Mama owes Spider so much, that every day, I fear for her life. To top it all off, I'm being evicted from my apartment. I don't know what to do, Lenisha."
My sobs grew louder after my confession. "I've already borrowed money against my car. It just isn't enough," I admit, tearfully. "Mama needs rehab. If she keeps messing over Spider's money, she won't live another month."
Walking toward the mirror, Lenisha fixes her collar. "Girl, I feel you. But you've gotta let your Mama go. You've gotta think about your son."
Lenisha put her large, brown arms around me, and I sniffled against her broad shoulder.
"Randi, you need some quick money, girl."
I raised my head, giving her my full interest.
"I know where you can make a few thousand in one night."
Immediately, I shuddered and shoved Lenisha away. She had been trying to push me in the wrong direction for months. With reddened eyes, I stated my true beliefs. "I'm not selling myself at that auction you keep telling me about, Lenisha."
The thought of prostitution made me want to wretch, and I lashed out at my chubby friend. "Sell your own stupid butt!"
I tore from Lenisha's grip and walked into the busy dining area. Though my chest was proudly inflated, it seemed the customers turned and gawked. Undaunted, I walked toward the kitchen with a smug expression. "I'm not for sale," I mumbled.
The next night, Mama calls my job. She says Tory isn't doing well. He's wheezing and beginning to cough. When I get home, I give Tory a homemade concoction Mama had left on the stove. "Here, drink this, it'll make you feel better, sweetheart."
Squatting down in front of my son, I admit, "Yes it is, son. But, Granny promises it will make you better. After she made it, she said a special prayer and blessed it."
Tory smiles, stifling a stubborn cough. He covers his mouth with his sleeve. "But why can't I have my real medicine, Mama?"
Knowing my son the way I did, I would rather have taken a whipping than be honest. Tory's condition is rare. His medication is costly and mostly experimental. The government's reach doesn't entirely cover my baby's comforts. "Son, Mama doesn't have the money right now. But I'm doing all I can to get your special medicine."
Looking into Tory's sweet, brown eyes gives me chills. How do you tell your son your last dollars bought gas for the car? He's such a good boy. I want to tell Tory pretty lies about having enough, but instead I smile and stroke his head.
"Drink up, sweetheart. Tomorrow will be a brighter day."
Tory finishes his cup, crawls into my lap, and places his head on my breasts. As soon as Tory's head is still, he whispers, "Don't worry, Mama. I feel better." Even as he speaks a cough rumbles in his chest and seizes his throat.
He has a heart of gold and a self-sacrificing nature. If he lives, he will make someone a wonderful husband.
Another job is necessary to take care of my child and other expenses. There is no help from Boogie; he's strung out almost as bad as Mama. To pay Spider, Mama is selling everything that isn't nailed down. I learned to keep my money in my bra, long ago. A crack-head can smell money, so why tempt her.
Sitting on the bed, I check the newspaper and the Internet for unskilled labor. Having a GED is okay. How smart could I have been to drop out of school short of graduation? Other than being a server, I had no other skills and driving to a nearby city to work is not the answer, not in my car anyway.
Meanwhile, at work, Casey is constantly yanking at my skirt. I know he has the money, but Casey is such a whore. I don't want to encourage his bad habits. It's common knowledge that Casey has multiple sex partners, male and female. He's married and takes Viagra as a daily supplement. Although I'm not a baby myself, Casey is just nasty. I couldn't picture myself with his old horny tail.
My daily dread is facing Lenisha. She's still hounding me about the auction. "For serious, Randi, if a man looks at your body, he'd swear you're parts weren't real. No one has a body like that." Lenisha walked briskly past, dishing out compliments like candy.
When she returns, she's holding a plastic serving tray. Poking me in the chest with a sharp finger, she warns, "You need that money, girl."
I toss her a stare as she moves past. Within seconds, she returns, still flapping her trap.
"You'd better be glad Spider left your Mama alive. Everybody in Dutton knows he don't play. Your pride ain't gonna pay her bail, and I ain't got no money for no black dress, hear. And, I'm for
real
serious."
I picked up my order, thinking about Lenisha's statement. After I place the order on the table, I go directly to the restroom. As soon as I walk in the door, a full-length mirror reflects my substandard appearance. I suck in my gut and turn to get a side view. In a way, Lenisha is right; even after having Tory, I still have a nice body.
As a teen, I fought off older men who knew better, but didn't care. I hate a pedophile; they're as sick as a drug addict. Reaching up, I then lower my pony. My thick, dark hair falls around my shoulders.
If I pulled my hair up like this, and put on a little makeup, and heels, I could probably sell my body,
to the highest bidder
. Reality hits hard, and I slump forward. I just can't imagine being someone's sex toy.
On Sundays, I go to church and even sing in the choir. I pray for God to fix my Mama and my son, but each day, they both seem worse. Although I finally got Tory's medication, he's still feverish and weak. No doubt, he needs to go to the hospital.
Is my son suffering because of me? He lies in my bed, fever and chills ravaging his body. The lamp on my nightstand casts my shadow against the wall. Staring at the ceiling, I feel helpless, lonely, and cold.
After I put Tory's oxygen mask on his face, he finally falls asleep. I roll over on my side, cradle his body and stroke his head. Alarm runs through my soul when I realize he's ablaze with fever. Tory is prone to seizures, and a high fever is bad news.
Rolling out of bed, I then pad quickly toward the kitchen cabinet. I have to break his temperature, I just have to! When I return to my bed, I feel uneasy as I lift his head. With trembling hands, I remove his mask, suction medication for his fever, stick the dropper between his lips and release the meds into his dry mouth. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I then rocked him in my arms.
While Tory sleeps, I walk up to the mirror, turn to the side, and thrust out my chest. "I've got to do this. And, I'll only do it once—no more!"
My cell is on the bed, I reach for it with nervous fingers. I call Lenisha, hoping she won't answer, but she does. Hanging my head in shame, I ask, "Lenisha. What is the name of that woman again?"
Lenisha understands my feelings. "Her name is Satin. She owns Satin Dolls Talent Agency. Handle your business, girl. I won't breathe a word." Lenisha's voice cloaks a serious tone. "Now this is how it works."
I pick up a pencil and write down Lenisha's instructions. She whispers softly and speaks swiftly.
"Every month, Satin selects girls to be auctioned to rich old guys. But, there are a few requirements." She pauses. "You can't be a druggie, and your body has to be free from disease. And, believe me, she will check to make sure. She doesn't want to lose creditability with her rich clients."
Lenisha's voice fades on the cell then becomes clear again. "You've got to be really pretty. That's easy for you. And number four, you've got to be fine. The most important thing is you're not allowed to talk to the men before the auction. She'll dress you the way
she
wants you to look, show you how to walk and tell you what to do.
"After that, you'll walk out on a runway, and stand on a revolving platform. This is how she shows you off to the customers. Satin's boss sets the starting price for each girl. After the highest bidder, you go off with him, do your thing, then come back to get paid. If he likes you, he'll throw in an extra tip.
"The bad part is, Satin takes half your money, and her boss takes half of hers, that's because he hosts these affairs. Her boss is Hilton Maxwell. He provides the men, the drinks, and the security. Now, one thing about Maxwell, he doesn't allow drugs on his property. He hates prostitutes, drugs, and alcohol, in that order."
Holding the phone at a distance, I check to see if I was hearing her correctly. "So, why does he do this if he hates prostitutes?"
"My friend said Maxwell's great grand daddy ran a speakeasy during prohibition. He passed the business on to his son and his grandson. But Maxwell's father passed away. This left the business to him, as the only heir. Hilton is about twenty-nine or thirty. Girl, I hear he's fine as hell. My friend said she made three thousand dollars her first night."
I widen my eyes at the unfairness of the business. "So, actually she made six thousand."
"Yeah," she whispers. "You'll start out with one man, but you can have as many as three per night. You're theirs until they decide they're finished with you. Now, the worst part about that is—" Lenisha's voice trails off. "I'm on the phone!" she yells loudly, then lowers her voice. "The worst part is that they can do anything to you they want, stopping short of pouring acid up your coochie. I'm for real serious, though."
Holding the phone tightly, I draw in a breath and cringe. "Ouch."
"That's what I'm saying. Some of them old men can get kinda kinky. Know what I mean? I would be scared somebody would put a blow torch to my nipples."
My gasp catches me by surprise. "Girl, don't scare me. I already don't want to do this."
"You're sexy and all, they'll pay a lot for you. Just get 'em so hot they can't stay. And, unless they took Viagra or one of them other drugs, you might be okay."
"So, if it's so easy, why don't you try it?" I ask, growing nauseous at the thought.
"Girl, this body done dropped two babies. I can't shake this baby fat. Your skin gotta be smooth, like yours. I'm for real serious, though. Satin don't just take anybody. I'll call my friend, then let you know something."
I toss my phone aside, lean back on my pillow, fold my arms and wait. Finally, I walk over to the mirror again. It reflects my intentions, and I feel dirty and cheap. Each time I check on my son, I look at my substandard living conditions. I can't let him live like this.
Finally, Lenisha leaves a text telling me the date, and where to go. On Wednesday evening, I take a shower, iron my clothes and get dressed. After one last look in the mirror, terror takes hold. A mist of starch can make my old jeans look new, but it won't stiffen my spine. I have never been so tense in my life. When I open the door to my apartment, the manager has taped another eviction notice to the door. Gnashing my teeth, I snatch the paper off the door, ball it up, then toss it aside.
When I get in my car, my neck burns with stressors from the task at hand. I look at my cell and follow the address. Satin's Dolls Talent Agency is in a club on Fourth Street. Parking near the adjacent building will be better. That way, no one will see me if I decide to pull out of this venture.
After getting out of the car, I gaze at the poorly remolded building. Someone needs half their money back for doing such a horrid job on the structure. From the foyer, I see at least sixty gorgeous women, each one preening, primping, and fluttering their lashes. Beyond a doubt, I know I don't belong there. Their slacks are tight; their shorts, panties in disguise.
Stopping short of the doorway, I survey past the front area and toward the smoky darkness near the rear. This is not the place for me. Gradually, I tip back outside and get into my car.
When I crank the engine, a woman appears outside the window of the passenger's side. She leans over and instructs me to roll down my window. Of course she's attractive, but I feel pretty sure he's a queen. "Honey, are you here to see, Satin?" he croaks.
I remain quiet for a few seconds. "I was, but I've changed my mind. This is just not right me for."
"Sugar, I said the same thing. Satin sent me after you, honey. No one walks away from Satin."
Before he finishes speaking, I roll up my window. "I just did."