Brooklyn Brothel (15 page)

Finally, the bag was almost completely shut, until I realized a pair of thongs had gotten caught in the zipper.
Fuck it,
I told myself. I didn’t have time to mess around with a stupid zipper, I just needed to roll. I reached for my purse and threw it around my shoulders, then thought about my favorite wig still in the bathroom.

Ready to move in the direction of my wig, I halted for a second after hearin’ a loud knock at the door. My heart raced at first, but then I came to my senses. Bo wouldn’t knock. He had a key. I thought,
yes! At least Renee seemed to be reliable
.

I darted across the room, draggin’ my suitcase along, almost trippin’ in the process. I was movin’ so fast, my fingers barely gripped the chain on the door. “Renee, is that you?” I shouted.

“Who else would it be,” she responded with a slur.

When I opened the door, I gave her a look that said, ‘no need to come in’. “I’m ready,” I told her. “Just grab my suitcase, while I get my wig…” Then it hit me. I stopped in my tracks. A human body stood behind Renee. Not a shadow, not my imagination. Once again, my breathin’ intensified, so I gripped my suitcase tightly. Her facial features hadn’t changed, but her youthfulness did. My mother’s skin appeared worn and abused. I tried to do a quick flashback of the last time we saw each other. I wasn’t sure who was there either. I speculated some group home or maybe it was in the courtroom. But the big question remained-why was she standin’ at my door?

I hollered while they both looked at me like they were supposed to come inside. “Renee, what the fuck? Why did you bring her here?”

“She’s your mother, damn it. She said she needed to talk to you.”

“About what? No need!”

I rolled my eyes draggin’ my bag closer to the door. All the bad memories surfaced to the top of my brain. There was nothin’ good to remember about my mother. She’d neva done anything worthy of bein’ called a mother. No home cooked meals, no bubble baths, no help with homework; nothing. Her only accolade was to allow men to abuse me, so I didn’t have shit to say to her. Crazy thing was, I always seemed to get choked up when I thought about her, so seein’ her face-to-face had me all emotional. Part of me wanted to embrace her. But she was the same old, evil witch I’d once called Mama. When she opened her mouth to speak, her rotten teeth greeted us all.
As usual, only negative comments came from her mouth.

“Well, look at you,” she uttered followed by a nasty grit.

I fixed my lips to tell her to fuck off, when another body appeared. This time, a dangerous body.

“Well, well, well, what the fuck is goin’ on hereeeeee?” Bo sang.

He held a brown paper bag in his hand, while he moved Renee and my mother aside with his right arm. He stepped across the threshold into the apartment, and walked directly up into my face. His eyes were scary, nearly bloodshot red. It was crazy ’cause they all had matchin’ eyes. Renee and Crystal, my mother, stood behind Bo like Satan’s helpers. They had all been smokin’, snortin’, or whatever they could do in order to get the drugs in their system.

“What’cha doin’ with this mufuckin suitcase?” he asked me.

“She’s tryna leave you, Mister,” my mother interjected.

My jaw dropped and my expression fell blank.

“And who mighta you be,” he asked my mother.

“I gave that wench life. I’m her mother.” She smiled at Bo’s surprisin’ look. “My name is Cynthia,” she extended her hand. “Did you know she was tryna sneak out on you?”

Bo slapped me ’cause he knew it was true. My purse, the suitcase, and my expression all told the truth. “Bitch! Who da fuck you think you are? You’s an ungrateful hoe!”

“Ummm hmmm…she think she hot shit,” my mother added, “looking like a hooker.”

Bo reached for my neck. I backed up like the scene was all a nightmare, somethin’ from a horror movie. His chillin’ eyes popped wide open. He looked ova his shoulder at both Renee and my mother who seemed to be one hundred percent on Bo’s side. It was crazy how he could be so broke, yet persuade people to remain loyal to him. He was like a
magnet for women with low-self esteem, so I had no chance of convincin’ my family otherwise.

“So, yo momma here tells me you supposed to be leavin’. Looks like you are ta me,” he said eyein’ my suitcase that I kept in my sight.

My mother placed her hands on her hip and breathed sarcastically. “Umm huh.”

“You gonna believe her!” I shouted tryna buy myself some time. I was still gonna make a run for it, and needed all my shit. I thought hard, deep, and as logical as possible. While all my thoughts swirled around in my head, Renee asked Bo if she could borrow a lil somethin’. He was obviously irritated by Renee, by the way he stared at her. At that point, I got up enough nerve to tell Bo I was really leavin’ him. I shouted, makin’ a big scene about how he treated me and how I hated him.

“I’m out Bo, you not gonna send me to be your hooker!”

“Oh yeah…well there’s only one way that you leavin’ out dis bitch.”

Bo shot past me with a crazed look, before I even had a chance to finish what I had to say. I knew where he was headed. The closet. To get the gun. A feelin’ of death shot through my body. I knew Bo would kill me. He’d told me the night before I would neva live to disrespect his name, Bo Rich. He said that Sugar G told him if he allowed even one hooker to rebel against him, othas would always try. So it was clear, if I was leavin’, it wouldn’t be alive. Bo didn’t care who witnessed my death. Besides, he could probably give Renee and my mother an eight ball of coke to split, and they’d act like they neva knew me.

Without hesitation, I darted in between Renee and my mother so quickly, neither could react fast enough. My mother gave it a shot though, I guess in hopes of collectin’
some type of reward for my capture. She reached for my arm, but got stuck with the edge of my elbow. Instantly, I jabbed her, landin’ my elbow right into her fuckin’ jaw. I could still hear Bo behind me yellin’ like crazy, his heals clickin’ against the floor.

“Catch that bitch!” he shouted, stompin’ back toward the front door.

When my foot hit the first concrete step outside the door, I had high hopes. Just maybe I could get away. But then it sounded. Bo had his chrome .357 pointed my way, ready to squeeze again. He was now completely out the door with Renee and my mother runnin’ closely behind him. When his piercin’ eyes met mine, I panicked.

We both were thinkin’ quick, ’cause I’d thrown my suitcase all the way down the openin’ in the staircase to the bottom floor, knowin’ that tryna carry it while runnin’ down the stairs would slow me down. Bo, had his thinkin’ cap on too, ’cause he said fuck the steps. He lunged and slid his ass down on the railin’ like an action-packed foot chase scene from the movie Miami Vice.

My heart rate had tripled by the time I made it curbside. Although on the verge of a heart attack, it was crucial for me to keep goin’. My life depended on it. I lifted my suitcase once again, and darted toward a cab to my left. The light on top told me the white cab was vacant, but the car moved slowly like it was waitin’ for someone. Just as I took my second step, I heard the sound of thunder. The bullet shot right past my cheek. My legs became numb, wonderin’ if I had been shot.

Bo wasn’t gonna give up.

“C’mere you damnnnnnnnn tramp!” he yelled about five yards behind me.

I wanted to stop to check for any sign of blood, but my adrenaline pumped so hard, I felt nothin’ and could do
nothin’. Only sweat and tears could be tasted as the liquids eased into the side of my mouth. The sweat that poured from my forehead was like a waterfall, but I kept sprintin’. Finally, I’d made it to the end of the block, where the white cab had come to a complete stop. I was ready to turn the corner. But before I turned, something sweet and serene stood out for me. In the midst of all the chaos, I saw Ms. Carla watchin’ from her window.

I looked up at her wonderin’ if she wanted to help, but the cab driver had rolled his window down askin’ where I was headed.

I snatched open the back door, so outta breath, I couldn’t speak. It was difficult squeezin’ my body and my suitcase into the cramped backseat, but time was crucial and Bo’s voice seemed to be gainin’ on me. I pointed repeatedly with my index finger for the Korean driver to get goin’. My eyes said now!

Even his eyes grew bodaciously large when he noticed Bo comin’ toward us at top speed. “What going on? Get out the cab!” he yelled in his broken English accent.

“Sir, drive this fuckin’ car before he kills both of us!”

I guess he figured we didn’t have time to go back and forth because my body jerked back as he quickly pulled off. I slouched down, then rested my head on the back seat only to notice Bo finally catchin’ up with the cab. He sprinted beside us like an Olympic track runner before he stopped and started shootin’ at us like a ragin’ cowboy. I’m not sure what happened, but once I realized the car wasn’t being riddled with bullets, I knew that Bo hadn’t managed to hit his target. As the cab continued to get further and further away, I sat up slowly then peeked ova the backseat. He looked stupid standin’ in the middle of the street, holdin’ a gun that he obviously didn’t know how to use. Not only was his ass a bad pimp, but now he could add bad shooter to his resume as
well. That muthafucka needed a new occupation.

Forty-five minutes later, my body and spirit had calmed down a bit, knowin’ that my life had been spared. I’d gotten a room at the Motel 6 on Steubenville Pike and escaped far enough away from Bo, Renee and my mother to breathe a bit easier. I vowed I would neva turn back. Bo was outta my life for good. And even though I knew it, his eyes kept invadin’ my thoughts. They were memorable, frightenin’, and undeniable, but I had to switch my focus to the future. All kinds of options ran through my mind. Betty’s was the best idea that came about. The plan was to work a week with her and save up some money to have for me and Carlton by the time the final court date came up. I had forty-five days to make some cake for me and my son. It was high time for me to be a mother, a good mother, leaving men as a secondary factor in my life. I began to have doubts. Did I know how to be a good mother? Could I really provide for Carlton?

I knew what I had to do. Finally, still nervous, and fearin’ for my life, I picked up the hotel phone. A part of me wanted to call Bo to apologize. He was a nut, and was probably out ridin’ around lookin’ for me. So it seemed like a long shot to at least apologize and try to smooth things ova.

I lifted the receiver, thought deeply about Bo, but instead called Mike. I told him to pick me up at Amtrak instead of the Port Authority. When I told him Bo would possibly be lookin’ for me at the Port Authority, he just said, “Ahhhhhhhh, I see. Be careful,” he warned. “I’ve seen pimps kill when they think they’re losing a part of their salary.”

I hung up and cried like crazy.

Chapter 12

My Amtrak ride
proved to be peaceful and well-needed. It gave me time to think and reflect on my dysfunctional life. I actually knew what changes needed to be made, it was all about execution. Everything seemed so clear until I stepped foot outside the train station, and saw Mike glarin’ at me. His expression couldn’t hide his feelings for me. Instantly, I got goose bumps.

“What’s up Mike? Thanks for comin’ to scoop me.”

He didn’t speak. He simply kissed me on the cheek, then grabbed my bag like a perfect gentleman. As usual, he opened the back door, and I hopped inside.

“It’s so pretty outside today,” I said tryna make small talk.

“Yep.”

Damn, that’s all I get? One word, huh? I asked myself. He seemed mad with me about somethin’, but didn’t really wanna show it. With every turn, he’d take the corners rougher each time. Our ride seemed extremely awkward. Mike kept starin’ at me through the rear-view mirror. I repeatedly turned my head in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

“Ah…Mike…a lil’ music wouldn’t hurt,” I told him.

Within seconds, he popped on Hot 97.5. My hope was that the disc jockeys would come on and start talkin’ ’bout some wild, crazy shit to keep my mind off of Mike and his games.

It seemed as if I was fightin’ off fate. In my heart, I knew Mike would make a great husband, and a good father.
But it just wouldn’t work. He was too soft. I needed a man to set me straight, keep me in my place…that’s what I’d become accustomed too. Mike certainly wasn’t that type.

“Let’s go to lunch,” he finally said to me.

“Oh, so you talk now?”

“Only to you.” He smiled.

“I can’t go to lunch. Betty’s expectin’ me.”

“I never told her you were coming. Did you?”

I hesitated. “Ahhhhhh.”

“Just as I thought.”

I saw Mike ready to flip a u-turn in the middle of the busy street. “No!” I shouted. “I can’t. It’s already after two o’clock. I just wanna go get settled. You know, take a hot shower.”

“We can do that, too.” He grinned again.

“Let’s just go to Betty’s,” I said. Then I leaned back in my seat. Mike knew it was my final answer.

The ride seemed like forever, but before long, we were pullin’ up onto Betty’s block. The sun shone down on the car as well as all the inquisitive eyeballs from nosey neighbors. Nothin’ had changed. The same deceitful, disapprovin’ looks combed the block. Mike grabbed my stuff, and I walked up the brick steps to Betty’s as if I were the Queen of England. Ironically, I didn’t have to knock. Just like royalty, someone opened the door for me.