Chapter 6
“Was I not a good Christian?”
A
t first, Earl Shamus was in a hurry to have sex with Johnnie and get home to his family. His lust demanded immediate satisfaction. He had been coming to the house two, sometimes three times a week. But after a few months of unbridled passion, he began to stay longer and longer, talking to Johnnie about his dreams of running the family business. Eventually, he'd end up telling her how he wished he could leave his wife but couldn't because he would be out in the cold without a cent to his name. Meredith was an albatross hanging around his neck, he told Johnnie.
Each time Shamus left Johnnie, he placed conscience money on the pillow. Johnnie refused to spend it, believing that the moment she spent it, she would be the whore that Earl Shamus and her mother had made her. She toyed with the idea of putting the money in church, but if she did, she thought it would be like giving money stained with sin to God. So, she just kept putting the money in her dresser drawer, occasionally counting it to see how much was there, and to keep track of how many times Earl Shamus had violated her.
There was no longer any pain when he entered her. Johnnie was feeling pleasure now. She felt ashamed of herself for feeling pleasure with him, albeit brief. She began wondering what it would be like to do it with boys her own age. That made her feel ashamed, too, but the more she tried not to think about sex, the more she thought of it. Guilt consumed her. She felt like a hypocrite for continuing to go to church, singing, and playing the piano.
Everything changed. Nothing was the same. And where was God in all of this? Johnnie wondered. Why had he let all of this happen to her?
Was I not a good Christian? Was I not chaste and faithful before Mama sold me?
She began to pray that God would stop her from having sexual feelings and thoughts, but the more she prayed, the more the thoughts increased, until finally she stopped praying.
It was bad enough that Earl Shamus was having his way with her, but it was worse when Johnnie realized that everyone in the neighborhood knew her shame. What she found particularly bothersome was that she had put other young girls down for being fornicators. She preached righteousness, and now she was practicing what the elders of the church called “the Devil's work.”
How can this be?
To combat these thoughts, Johnnie read the Bible. She read how almost all the great men of the Bible had fallen into some sort of sin from time to time. She read how Joshua spared the life of Rahab, the whore who hid the two spies, and she found solace.
Solace aside, her sexual urges grew as the months passed. In all that time, Johnnie still had known only one man, though she fantasized about others. She had learned to accept her situation and made the best of it. In those months, she became skilled in the art of making loveâso much so that she began asking Earl, as she now called him, for more money, which he willingly paid. He had fallen in love with her. In addition to the extra money, Earl bought her fine dresses, shoes, and jewelry. Johnnie decided to continue saving her money so she could leave New Orleans one day. She wondered how Earl would feel if she left, and decided to ask him the next time he came over.
Chapter 7
“Do you love me, Earl?”
C
hoir rehearsal ended promptly at 6 p.m. Johnnie was on her way to the restroom when she heard a few teenage girls say, “Why we always lettin' her lead songs on Sunday morning? Everybody knows she's a whore now.” Johnnie heard them laugh. The comments hurt, but the laughter brought the tears. Johnnie believed that she wasn't a whore as long as she went to church and sang in the choir. If she was going to get understanding and mercy, the church was the only place in the world to get it, but now she knew differently. Instead of going to the restroom as she planned, she left the church and headed home. Although she had just suffered one of the most humiliating moments in her life a moment ago, Johnnie still had to get home and be further humiliated by her only paying customer.
It was about 7:00 in the evening when Earl arrived. Johnnie knew his habits now. He was going to come in and have a glass of red wine with the andouille she made for him. Earl would tell her about his day then he would complain about his wife. After that, he'd want her to make love to him as only she could. But today was different. Earl came in, gave Johnnie a big kiss and told her he had good news, but first he needed a quickie. He took her clothes off right there in the living room. He licked her luscious, dark nipples. Johnnie moaned. Then he buried his head in her crotch.
After Earl's lust was satisfied, he said, “I got promoted today, Johnnie. I won't have to go door-to-door selling insurance anymore. I'll have my own office downtown.”
“So, you won't be comin' around no more?” Johnnie asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, Ill still be coming around.” He rolled over and faced her. “Why? You don't want me to?”
Johnnie turned over onto her side to hide her face from him. “Well . . . I've been thinkin' about leaving New Orleans.”
“Really?” he said skeptically. “Where will you go? How will you live?”
“I'll do just fine,” she said confidently. “I've been saving my money.”
“You have, have you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Why don't you put the money in the bank or invest it in stocks and bonds?”
“Is that what you do with your money?” Johnnie asked.
“Yes, but my wife is rich, as you know. When her father dies, I'll be taking over the company.” He turned her over so he could see her face. She wanted to leave their arrangement and it bothered him. “You should let me invest your money in the company for you. How much have you saved?”
Johnnie stared at him for a moment or two then turned her back to him again. Johnnie wondered if she could trust him with her money. It had been almost a year since he took her virginity, and now he wanted to help her make money? It didn't make sense.
Why would you want to help me?
“Are you still seeing other women, Earl?”
“Why? Would it bother you if I did?”
Sensing his vulnerability, Johnnie asked, “Do you love me, Earl?”
He was silent.
Do I dare admit that I've fallen in love with this young black girl, this beautiful vixen that drains my strength from me?
Johnnie looked him in the face. She climbed on top of him and moved back and forth on his soft penis until she felt him stiffen. When he was fully erect, she slid down onto him. She moved up and down until he made those animal-like groans.
“Do-you-love-me-Earl?” she repeated through clenched teeth with each impassible thrust.
“Yes, oh yes,” he said desperately. “I do love you, Johnnie.”
“Can-I-trust-you-with-my-money-Earl?”
“Yes, you can,” he said, gasping for air.
She looked down at him, sensing he was on the verge of orgasm. So, she pumped faster and harder until his eyes rolled back into his head. Then she said, “How-do-I-know-that-Earl?”
No longer able to control himself, he rammed himself inside her as fast and hard as he could. Seconds later, he came harder than he had ever come in his life.
Catching his breath, he said, “I'll tell you what. Tell me how much you have, then I'll tell you how I can prove it.”
“Okay.”
She slid off him and ran up the stairs to count her money. She had $870, a fortune to a teenager. She ran downstairs and climbed back into bed with Earl.
“I've got almost nine hundred dollars.”
“Nine hundred?” he repeated, obviously stunned.
“Yeah, you started off by giving me five, then ten. And now you give me twenty.”
“And you haven't spent any of it?” Earl frowned.
“Nope, not even a penny.”
“Okay, give me half of it, and if I don't double it, I'll give you the money back out of my own pocket. How's that for trust?”
“Yeah, but I still have to trust you to give me back the money if you lose it, Earl.”
“Johnnie, you have to learn to take chances in life. That's the only way to get ahead.” Johnnie was lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Earl rolled onto his side and looked down into her face. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered as sweetly as he could.
“Okay, Earl. If you lose my money and you don't pay me back, then you cain't have me no more. Now, that way you either make me money or I buy my freedom.”
“Is sex with me really that terrible, Johnnie?”
After all this time, she still didn't find their relationship fulfilling and it hurt him. The lust he felt for Johnnie was so overwhelming that he actually believed he had found love for the first time. And even though she was just sixteen, Earl convinced himself that Johnnie embodied all he wanted a woman to be. Johnnie was a beautiful young woman who made him feel like a man. She was sweetly obedient, did as he asked, was a good cook, and now he knew she had good business acumen. As his feelings for Johnnie grew, Meredith, who was on the homely side, became less and less appealing, to the point that he was no longer sleeping with her or anyone other than Johnnie.
“Is it a deal, yes or no?” Johnnie demanded.
“Deal.”
“Swear, Earl.”
“I swear.”
“No, Earl, say it all.”
“Okay, I swear if I lose your money, I'll either pay you back, or I'll leave you be, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now, is it really that bad with me?” Earl asked anxiously.
“Don't you worry none how bad it is for me. You just worry about what you gon' be missin' if you lose my money.” And with that, Johnnie climbed on him, and the animal groans filled the room once more.
Chapter 8
“Anything botherin' you?”
M
arguerite came home about twenty minutes after Earl left. She had been at Shirley's house, a friend of hers who lived two doors down. They were playing spades for a nickel a game. She waited until the game was over even though she'd seen Earl's Cadillac pull off. Upon entering the house, Marguerite smelled the food Johnnie was preparing and walked into the kitchen, where Johnnie was sitting at the table about to eat. Marguerite pulled a chair back and sat down. She put some of the red beans, rice, and plump spicy sausage on her plate. She was just about to dig in when she noticed Johnnie had something on her mind.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Marguerite asked in French.
Johnnie was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of mood her mother was in. One moment she could be friendly, and the next she would snap at her like a vicious dog.
“Mama,” Johnnie said, also in French. “Did you love my daddy?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Why?” she asked while cutting up her sausage.
“I don't remember him. I guess I wanna know what happened between y'all to put us in this situation, Mama.”
“It's a long story, girl,” Marguerite said gruffly. “Maybe I'll tell you about him someday.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.” Marguerite put some more food into her mouth. As if it were an afterthought, she said, “Anything botherin' you?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I don't know . . . I guess it's the way people look at me now.”
“They just jealous of you, girl. Women always have been jealous of us Baptiste girls 'cause we's pretty.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, girl. They was jealous of my mama. They was jealous of me. And they sho' as hell gon' be jealous of you. I remember when I was about twelve years old. My mama was attractin' all the men, especially the white ones, and all the women got mad at her and put us outta the house. We didn't have nowhere to go, but my mother got one of her suitors to get us a place of our own, and that's where we lived for a while. Then I met Michael, Benny's daddy, and like a fool I ran away with him.”
“Was he colored?”
“Yeah, he was colored. You don't think a white man is goin' to marry a colored woman in the South, do you?” Marguerite didn't bother to wait for an answer. She just continued talking after a brief pause. “Let me tell you somethin' about white men, girl, and don't you never ever forget it. A white man got to have his brown sugar. That's just the way he is. It's in his blood now. See, girl, ever since slave time, the white man has been havin' his brown sugar. He creep his ass out to the slave quarters at night, havin' his way with the colored women. Then he go back to the big house with his family. The same shit Earl is doin' today.
“Now, his white sugar is for show, see. They need the white woman for respectability, but what they didn't know is, all them years of sneakin' down to the slave quarters and sportin' with the colored women give him what they call a predilection for us. And a lot of his offspring end up havin' the same penchant. That's why colored women, like my mama, always had it better than white women did. And that's also why white women and colored women don't like each other too much.
“It's all about what we got between our legs. And how we use what we got between our legs usually determines our lot in life. We womenfolk like sex, too, so now it comes down to who gon' have a man. You see how we women compete with one another for a man's attention. How you think a white woman feels, knowin' her husband is doin' to us what she wants him to do to her?”
“But if white women like doin' it, cain't they get the same . . . what's that word again?”
“Predilection toward colored men? Yeah, and many do. White women either love colored men or they hate 'em. And even when they hate 'em, I have to wonder why. Most of 'em think a colored man wants to rape 'em. Colored men know not to even look at a white woman, let alone rape one. They know if they do, the white man will string 'em up and cut off their plows.”
“How old was you, Mama?”
“How old was I when?”
“When you ran away.”
“Oh, about sixteen or seventeen.”
Marguerite looked into her daughter's eyes. In them, she saw the flicker of young love on the horizon. Intuitively, she asked, “You like some boy at school or somethin'?”
“Yeah, Mama,” she said, her fondness of the boy gushing forth. “His name is Lucas Matthews, and he likes me too, Mama. I see 'im watchin' me all the time.”
“Girl, don't you get yo'self in trouble with that boy,” Marguerite snapped. “How we gon' live if you get yo'self with child?”
“Cain't Earl get me with child?” she asked flippantly. “And if he do, how we gon' live then, Mama?”
Marguerite reached across the table and slapped the triumphant grin off Johnnie's face. “Don't you get snippety with me. I'm still yo' Mama and I expect you to show me some respect in my house. You understand me, girl?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And don't think you too old for me beat the black off you neither!”
“I'm sorry, Mama.”
“You better be.” Marguerite frowned. “Now finish your dinner. You got homework to do before you go to bed.”