Brooklyn Brothel (13 page)

“Lolita beats me sometimes,” he said innocently.

It was at that moment that I knew what people meant when they said children were a gift from God. He looked at me to better his life.

Instantly, I had a flashback. A moment where my mom should’ve protected me. It was a cold, Christmas mornin’ when my mother came from her room. She slammed the door behind her. “I’ll be right back, honey,” she told her man of the hour.

I remember her rushin’ toward me, with what I hoped would be a tight embrace, or a chance to hear kind words for a change, like Merry Christmas. Instead, I was met with a harsh hand to the right of my jaw.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your room?” she shouted. “Why you gotta be knockin’ on my damn door?”

I knew my mom looked stressed so I didn’t give her any flack. I didn’t even complain like most children would’ve about there being zero gifts for me under the small tree. Sadly, I walked back toward my room with tears fallin’ from my eyes.

I remembered the way it all happened like it was yesterday. Before I could even make it to my door, a tall, slender man with a two inch jerri-curl jetted from my mother’s room. He wore a torn white t-shirt and no underwear at all. Just as I tried to make it into my room so that I could lock my door, my mother’s friend called out.

“Tell her to come here, Cynthia,” he demanded.

As usual, she yelled for me to comply and come to her. I covered my eyes so I wouldn’t see his dick swingin’ from side to side. By the time I made it back to the livin’ room, he and my mother were giving each other secret looks, and talking in codes. I could feel that something terrible was about to go down, but prayed it wouldn’t.

“Mama, can I go back to my room?” I remembered askin’.

“Hell no,” she told me. “Chantel you better do as I say. Richard needs to see you for a moment.”

Richard grabbed me by my hand and started twirlin’ me around the open space on the livin’ room floor. He began hummin’ and actin’ like we were really a couple. When he swung me around for the third time, he ended with my ass on his dick. I flinched, then looked at my mother for help.

She lit a cigarette and sat down down on the couch for
a front row seat. “Show us what you got.”

Richard kept me in that position for nearly two minutes fondlin’ my breast, and holdin’ me with force. I couldn’t see his face but smelt the disgustin’ stinch of his alcohol. Suddenly, I started screaming for help. I knew my mother was in cahoots with the enemy, so I shouted like crazy hopin’ the neighbors would hear me. Before I knew it, Richard had my right arm tangled up behind my back tellin’ me to shut the hell up.

“I’ll break it, if you don’t shut up. Shut this damn girl up, Cynthia,” he begged.

My mother said nothin’ and did nothin’. She puffed and blew out smoke like she was on a smoke break at work. Then it hit me; the excruciatin’ pain. I heard the snap, but wasn’t clear on what had just happened. I screamed out like crazy! Then came a knock on the door. It was a voice all too familiar for me.

The landlord knocked on the door a few times with several loud knocks. We could all hear him shoutin’ and askin’ for his over due rent. My mother got antsy, tellin’ Richard to stop. I hollered to the top of my lungs until Richard placed his hand ova my mouth. I chomped down hard, determined to get help. It wasn’t until the landlord used his keys to open the door that my torture ended.

Immediately, 911 was called, and I was rushed to the hospital. A broken arm became the diagnosis. It was shockin’ to most who’d heard about it, especially me. I’d been through several nasty incidents with my mother, where she once even tried to sell me, but nothin’ compared to havin’ my arm broken at ten years old, nor the fact that the incident marked the beginnin’ of my introduction into the Pennsylvania System of Child Services. From one foster home to the next, I floated, always lookin’ for love.

The question will always remain with me, did my
mother ever love me? Was she so into satisfyin’ a man, that she forgot about lovin’ her child? Or did she just not know any better? I knew she did a few drugs here and there, but hell, drugs don’t make you wanna stand by and watch your child get abused.

When the bell rang, it immediately snapped me from my thoughts. Carlton cried ’cause he had to leave me. I grabbed him by the shoulders and told him to call 911 if Lolita eva hit him again. He nodded, then rushed to hug me for the second time.

“Now, you be a good boy. Go back to class, so you can get good grades.”

When I put the gold chain around his neck, he smiled, and stopped the cryin’. I told him every time he looked at the chain to think of me. We embraced tightly, before his teacher nudged him away. I watched him walk off thinkin’, it was just a matter of time before I would have him back in my life.

Chapter 10

Monday rolled around
quicker than I expected. I had been makin’ moves all week, and checkin’ off the list the things my lawyer instructed me to do. Court was at ten, and Bo announced he was gonna roll with me. I was crushed. Bo would be a punch in the stomach for me if the judge caught a glimpse of him.

I took my mind off Bo and reviewed the list again realizin’ only one thing was left undone. I slammed the paper down thinkin’ about my road block. Mr. Sulferri had instructed me to find a job, or least someone who could vouch for me. That was a big problem.

“Who wanted to hire an ex-con?” I asked myself out loud. No matter what, he said I shouldn’t lie to the judge when the time came.

As I rambled through the thoughts in my head, Bo stood behind me cursin’ me out, talkin’ ‘bout he had shit to do, so I’d better light some fire under my ass. Not wantin’ to get his ass started, I immediately grabbed the court paper, and looked around for my purse. I caught a glimpse of Bo and shook my head. He had slapped one last layer of grease onto his hair and stepped toward the door, still talkin’ shit. I rushed behind him, ready to get at least one slick comment in on him. But instead, I was slapped in the face by the front door.

“What a fuckin’ man!” I said to myself. He can’t even hold the door for me.

“Come the fuck on Chantel!” he shouted from the bottom of the staircase.

That was it. I knew I wasn’t gonna say shit to him all the way to the courthouse.

When we arrived at the court buildin’, mediation was first, then our opportunity to see the judge. Mr. Sulferri was standin’ outside of courtroom G lookin’ like he was ready to kick some legal ass. When he set eyes on Bo, he frowned.

“Ahhhhh, Chantel, we need to talk,” he informed me.

“Sure.”

“Come over here please.” He nodded for me to follow him off to the side for privacy. However, the only problem was, Bo followed, too.

Mr. Sulferri wasn’t the same professional man who stood in his office givin’ handshakes, eye-contact, and sound advice. He pretty much ignored Bo and didn’t even offer him a greetin’ or extend his hand. That troubled me. I knew what he was gonna say, before he said it. I turned to Bo and begged for him to leave.

“Bo, can you just wait out front of the courthouse, or go grab somethin’ to eat while I take care of this?” I begged.

His face frowned and he turned his voice up to volume ten. “You mean to tell me I don brought yo ass all da way down here, and you don’t want me to go wit you? See, you can’t be nice to a hoe.”

I was completely embarrassed. When I looked ova at Mr. Sulferri, his mouth was wide open. “Bo, don’t start,” I pleaded.

“Bitch, I could be out in da street collectin’ money instead of in here wit’ yo ass. You know what…fuck you and yo mufuckin’ cracker-asssssss lawyer.”Bo twisted his upper lip into a cold grimace and stared Mr. Sulferri down.

Mr. Sulferri simply adjusted his tie. “Come on, Chantel. Let’s go inside,” he instructed.

Bo took off in the otha direction not even givin’ me a chance to explain. I kept my eye on his backside until Mr. Sulferri pulled me by the arm. “Chantel, it’s time to get down to business,” he uttered. “I’m sure your friend will calm down.”

He was right. I didn’t have time to argue with Bo’s crazy ass all day. gettin’ my son back was way more important. I needed to be focused.

When we got into the mediation room, the first thing I saw was Dre cuddled up with a bitch. The blonde, frail, female mediator asked my lawyer some basic information, then ordered me to take a seat. I looked around the small, cramped room and listened to my lawyer shoot back sharp, crisp answers. Dre and a tall, fair-skinned woman with scraggly hair sat on the opposite side of the table where we were supposed to sit.

It has to be that Lolita chick
, I thought to myself.

She sat with her legs crossed, poppin’ her gum loudly, and rubbin’ the back of Dre’s neck. It was apparent that Dre was representin’ himself, ’cause when my lawyer questioned the mediator about his lawyer, Lolita snapped.

“Let’s get started,” she announced. “It’s just us and y’all.”

“Yeah, let’s get started,” I shot back then looked at that nappy head bitch. “Word has it, you been beatin’ my son.”

Lolita stared back at me with an evil glare. “You talkin’ to me?” she asked pointin’ to herself.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well you got me fucked up ’cause I ain’t been hittin’ yo son.”

“You have so. My son don’t lie!”

The mediator cleared her throat then looked to my
lawyer for help. After receivin’ a light tap on my leg, I went into my purse and popped a piece of Big Red into my mouth. Mr. Sulferri looked at me like he wanted me to throw the gum away, but didn’t say anything. He was serious about how he handled business.

Even though, I didn’t throw the gum away, I still had sense enough not to pop and blow bubbles like Lolita. Once the mediator started talkin’ again, I saw Lolita whisperin’ in Dre’s ear. He seemed irritated by what she was sayin’. I tried to make out any sounds I could. The mediator even seemed perplexed.

Then out of nowhere, Lolita got loud. “Look, Dre you need to handle dis shit ’cause I don’t won’t no extra damn kids. We got enough!”

Dre shook his head in disgust before decidin’ to speak up. “Look, me and Lolita getting married,” he said like it had to be pushed outta him. “Carlton can live with you.”

My eyes lit up. Even though it bothered me that Lolita was talkin’ about Carlton like he was a fuckin’ burden, I dealt with it, especially since I needed him to get away from her as soon as possible. I stood frozen at the table, while Mr. Sulferri quickly packed all his papers into his briefcase.

“That’s it,” he said to me. “We’ll tell the judge. It’s that easy,” he continued. “His father is giving his consent.”

I remained frozen like I’d just missed bein’ hit by a freight car. Where were we going to live? Certainly not with Bo. How was I gonna take care of my boy? Certainly not as a prostitute. I needed a job and fast.

Before I knew it, we were in the court room, standin’ before Judge Macon. He was a nice, older white man who seemed to favor women. Besides, he knew Mr. Sulferri well.
From what he told me, they played golf together. I listened as my lawyer explained that Dre had verbally agreed to let me have full custody of Carlton, and that he could live with me.