A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (21 page)

“Abie, I’m worried about you. If the councilman is beating you, you need to say something.”

“Maybe I have already. It doesn’t matter. All Madam cares about is her goddamn money,” Abie said. Rachida reached to turn on the lamp again.

“ ’Chida, just let it go, please. I’m so tired of this. This whole life. I’m just tired. Nobody cares about me. Everybody just uses and abuses me. All for the money. Turn off the light and go to sleep.” Abie rolled over so her back was to Rachida.

“Abie …”

“ ’Chida, let it go. I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.” Rachida did what she was told. She hated to see her friend upset, but what could she do if Abie wouldn’t let her in?

T
he grandfather clock in the foyer chimed, indicating that it was four p.m. Today was Wednesday, the day all the women at the
brothel huddled around the speakerphone in the large parlor as Madam Celecia gave them their assignments, made special announcements, and filled them in on highlights of the past week’s events.

The parlor, with its oversized columns, hardwood floors, and antique furniture, had an eighteenth-century flair with twenty-first-century amenities. The madam’s taste was far from contemporary, and the entire house boasted pricey antique furniture, expensive wallpaper, and original Persian rugs. The parlor was one of the biggest rooms in the house; it had been designed that way when the home was renovated. The wall between the living room and dining room had been removed to expand the parlor, which had enough room to seat about twenty comfortably on various sofas and chairs that circled an oval table in the middle of the room.

The women filed into the parlor slowly, all of them chatting with each other, except for Abie. She wore dark sunglasses to cover her swollen eye, and she’d done a good job covering her bruise with makeup. Rachida walked in behind her, still unnerved by the sight of the bruise, which Abie refused to discuss. That wasn’t normal, because they were tight, tighter than sisters, and they shared everything. Rachida was concerned.

The sound of the speakerphone ringing was the women’s cue to be quiet and start the meeting. They all shuffled to their seats, and before Uncle Brick pressed the
TALK
button on the phone, he held a finger to his lips.

“Hello, Madam,” he answered.

“Good afternoon, Brick. Good afternoon, ladies.” All the women responded with hellos of their own.

“Is everybody doing okay?” Madam Celecia’s southern drawl was thick and syrupy, like one of those southern belles from Mississippi during the Civil War era. Rachida noticed that Uncle Brick’s eyes went immediately to Abie before he answered.

“Everybody is doing fine, Madam. Old business first?”

“Good. Well, I first wanted to commend you all for doing an amazing job last week,” the madam said. “All your clients had nothing but good things to say about you. One thing to note: Since the seasons are changing, you need to be sure you’re all taking your vitamins and drinking plenty of water to keep your skin hydrated. Brick told me a couple of you had a few minor breakouts, so the dermatologist is scheduled to come in tomorrow at ten.”

“Old business—we have two ladies who are eligible for the transition program,” Uncle Brick said. “Both of them have done outstanding work while in the program, and are ready to transition into independence, and I’ve approved their release. Zakia and Jasmine, congratulations!” He motioned for them to stand as the remaining women—except for Abie—applauded. Uncle Brick gave Abie a look, and if looks could kill, she would’ve been dead on the spot. Rachida was beginning to think that Uncle Brick and Abie were at war over something. Their scowls weren’t evident to anyone but Rachida, and she made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. As Uncle Brick put his finger to his mouth again, Rachida noticed several scratches on his arm. Could he have been behind Abie’s injuries? But why?

Then Abie, who’d been unusually quiet, spoke out of nowhere.

“Madam, I need to talk to you privately.” Abie’s abruptness startled everyone in the room, and the celebration was swept under the rug like dirt.

“Is that you, Abie?” The southern voice spoke through the speaker.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Well, there are no secrets here. Whatever you need to say to me, feel free to discuss right here. We’re all family, you know.”

Abie looked around at the other women, all of whom had puzzled looks on their faces. Abie was always the vibrant leader of the pack, keeping the women in order, teaching them the business, leading them as they progressed. They all put her on a pedestal
and considered her, along with Uncle Brick, Madam’s right hand. Today she was different—cold and aloof—and they didn’t know what was wrong with her.

“I submitted my transition paperwork two weeks before Zakia and Jasmine, and I haven’t been approved yet,” Abie said. “I was wondering when I’d be getting my transition package. I mean, I have more seniority than anyone here.”

The transition package was the official release from the “shelter,” which provided the women with a bonus check of ten thousand dollars to get them started on their own, a key to an apartment in the city, and documents regarding a real nine-to-five job.

“Abie, dear, I didn’t receive a transition request for you. Brick, did you send me a package for Abie?”

Uncle Brick stared coldly at Abie.

“I thought I sent it to you, Madam. You didn’t get it?”

“No, I most certainly did not.” The sarcasm seeped through the speakerphone. It was obvious to Abie and everyone else in the room that Brick and Madam were playing Abie. But no one could understand why. Why wasn’t Abie given a chance to leave like everyone else?

Abie sighed heavily. She knew what was happening. They were trying to keep her there because she was Madam’s cash cow. Sure, Abie had saved enough money to leave on her own. But she wanted what Madam had promised her, had promised every girl there: an apartment and the cash, particularly the cash. She’d worked hard, damn hard for Madam, and she deserved everything that was due her.

“I’ll send it again,” Abie said. “This time I’d rather mail it to you overnight. Can I send it myself?” No one could see Abie’s expression behind the shades, but she squinted as she stared at Uncle Brick.

“Brick, make sure I receive Abie’s paperwork this time, okay?” the madam said.

“No problem. Not sure what happened to it.”

The women listened attentively while Madam listed their assignments for the week. One of the women would be servicing a senator from Washington, D.C., who was scheduled to be at a town hall meeting with Virginia’s governor. Another was assigned to one of Richmond’s delegates, who used the services at least once a month. Abie, who was often requested by some of the elite clientele, would be servicing the co-pastor of one of Atlanta’s largest megachurches, who’d be in town that weekend for a Christian leadership conference.

As some of the women scribbled notes and others whispered comments to one another, Rachida kept her eye on Abie and Uncle Brick.

“Y
ou have to let me go, Brick.” Abie moved slowly through his in-law suite, a place that had become all too familiar to her. The one-bedroom apartment was stuffy compared to the main house, and sometimes Abie felt like Uncle Brick’s physique was too big for such a small place. Standing with her back to the door, she closed it softly, staring at his massive collection of Washington Redskins memorabilia. It was obvious that Madam had allowed him to decorate his space himself, because it was a bachelor pad to the fullest extent: oversized matching La-Z-Boy chairs, a coffee table adorned with
Sports Illustrated
s and various car magazines, and atop a mahogany stand a flat-screen TV and several DVDs and CDs.

Uncle Brick walked to Abie, towering over her like a skyscraper.
He gently touched her cheek before bending to kiss her on the forehead.

“If that’s my baby, I need to know. Furthermore, I’ll kill that motherfucker for putting his hands on you.”

“Brick, this is all my fault. I provoked Scoot. I should’ve just, I don’t know.” Abie found a safe place to snuggle in Uncle Brick’s arms. He stroked her hair gently and held her tightly while she cried.

“Listen, Abie, the best thing for us to do is just cut our losses here and leave this place—together.”

Abie pulled away.

“How? We broke the rules. If Madam finds out about us, I could be put out on the street and forfeit my transition package. Then there’s this baby. I just don’t know what to do. I think I need to have an abortion.”

“Abortion? But that’s my baby, Abie. How could you kill our child?”

“You don’t know that.”

“You told me you always use protection with Scoot because he’s out there in the streets. I know you use protection with your clients. I’m the only one you go raw with. I know that’s my baby. You know I love you and you know we belong together. I can handle Madam.”

“Brick, listen. What you did to Scoot today was wrong. You almost killed him.”

“He hit you.”

“Brick, listen to me, please. I have to work. For me to work, I can’t be someone’s mother. I can’t have this baby. You have to give Madam my paperwork and let me go.”

“So just like that, you’re going to kill my baby and leave?”

“You don’t understand. I have a lot invested with Scoot. You and I, we have something very special, but the more I think about
it, the more I realize our relationship can’t go any further. Everything we do is done in secrecy. What do you want to do? Run off into the sunset together, have a baby, and live happily ever after?”

“Hell, yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. Be with you and my child. I can take care of you, Abie. Fuck this job. We can move to Atlanta, where I have a few connections, and set up there.”

“Set up and do what? Me be a fucking prostitute? You want to take me somewhere else to pimp me out?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I can get a job, you can stay home with the baby. I have enough money saved to get us started. I know you have money saved too. You can get away from Scoot, I can get away from Madam, and we can start a life together.”

“So you’d give up your life here and loyalty to Madam, all for me?”

“Yes, Abie.”

Abie pulled away from Brick and sat on the tweed oversized sofa. She rubbed her temples, not sure how she’d get out of her predicament. First, she and Brick had a forbidden relationship that had backfired on her with the discovery of her pregnancy. Second, Sullivan was stalking her and abusing her every chance he got, but when Abie mentioned it to Madam, she told Abie to deal with it for the sake of the business. On top of that, she’d given Brick the impression that Scoot had roughed her up, when in actuality it was Sullivan’s doing. As a result, Brick had given Scoot a beat down that had almost cost him his life.

Why did all these men want Abie, a runaway, a street girl who used her body for money to survive just so she could get away from her mother, who’d allowed her boyfriend to use her for free? All she wanted was to make enough money and go into seclusion somewhere, far away from the life of a prostitute, which she’d grown tired of.

Abie knew Brick cared about her. Hell, so did Sullivan, at least that’s what he said. But her heart belonged to Scoot. Despite his
aggressive personality and quick temper, she still loved him and wasn’t sure if she was ready to give him up. Besides, Abie and Scoot had a plan that was about to be put in motion. It would put an extra $250,000 in their pockets—that is, if everything went the way it was supposed to.

Brick sank into the sofa beside Abie, wrapping his heavy arms around her.

“Let me handle everything. I’ll talk to Madam. I’ll tell her about us, tell her I love you and we’re going to be together.”

“But, Brick, what’ll happen if she refuses my package? She owes me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get everything I’ve earned since I started working for her.”

“Abie, I promise you, you’ll get everything you deserve and then some. I’ll handle everything. But you have to promise me one thing—you have to break it off with Scoot.”

“And you’ll make sure I get my package?” Abie asked.

“I told you, you’ll get your package and then some. Let’s just say that I have a way with Madam.” Brick put his tongue in Abie’s mouth and kissed her hard. His size made it hard to be delicate, but Abie was used to him. After having a relationship with him for over a year, she’d become accustomed to the gentle giant. He stood up, carrying Abie through the cramped living room to his bedroom, laying her down on his king-sized bed. He pulled her halter top over her head. He kissed her stomach, trying hard to connect with the unborn fetus growing inside her flat belly. She was about four weeks along, so she still had a ways to go before her stomach would swell. She decided that she’d just tell Brick what he wanted to hear for the sake of getting her package, because she had no plans to keep the baby.

“I just love you so much, Abie. You and this baby.” Brick rubbed her stomach before cupping her breasts. He sucked them hard, causing her pussy to throb. Even though her body was excited, her brain was checking the clock on the nightstand, calculating when
the whole event would be over. Abie hated having sex with Brick. His body was too big and heavy, and his dick was too small. Plus he always breathed heavily when he thought he was putting in a lot of work, when in fact all his dick did was tease. He barely reached her G-spot, let alone the full depth of her pussy, a major reason Abie didn’t want to ride off into the sunset with him. She’d had her share of men, all flavors, and one thing she couldn’t live without was sexual gratification.

She turned her head sideways to avoid being suffocated by Brick’s body, fixing her eyes on the various Washington Redskins knickknacks that lined the marble-topped dresser. The bed squeaked when Brick got up on his knees, unzipped his pants, and pulled out the short, stubby dick that disappointed Abie so. Just the sight of it turned her off.