La Familia 2 (6 page)

“Who's watching the kids?”

“Cream's sister,” she answered.

I was taken aback. “What?” I blurted out. I didn't know this bitch, never met her, and here she was supposedly coming over to watch my daughter.
Oh hell nah!
I threw my hand on my hip, shot an angry look at Erica, and expressed my uneasiness. “You serious?” I exclaimed.

“What's the problem?” Erica returned with a slight attitude in her tone.

“I ain't wit' having some strange woman watching my child. Are you crazy?”

“Mouse, she's cool, trust me. And besides, you owe me anyway,” she countered.

“Owe you?” I was amazed by her reply.

“Yes, owe me. I let you stay here, and I bought ya daughter some stuff, and giving you clothes to wear and trying put money in your pocket. Bitch, I'm doin' you a favor.”

She did help me out, and I couldn't argue. But I didn't ask her to buy Eliza anything, even though we truly needed it. But now if felt like she had my arm twisted around my back. Her favors, they cost, and how much they were going to cost me I was going to find out, because I was backed into a corner and didn't have a choice.

She continued with, “Mouse, I'm about my business, and you can either get down wit' me, or be on your own. It's ya choice. We friends, but money comes first.”

Yeah, she definitely changed all right, and I thought that nigga Cream was brainwashing her. She looked at me, waiting for my answer. I had a hint of what she was about. It made sense to me all of a sudden.

“You turning tricks, ain't you?” I blurted out.

“And? You got a problem wit' it? I hope not, because it's mad money doin' it. I gets mines, Mouse, and I get plenty of it,” she justified the behavior.

“Erica, I'm no fuckin' prostitute,” I exclaimed.

She looked at me sideways and came back with, “You better be, because if you wanna stay here, then you gotta get that money out there on the streets wit' me.”

“Wow, it's like that?” I said pointedly.

“Yes, Mouse, it's like that. Look at you, you ain't got shit right now. You is broke bitch wit' nowhere to go, and I'm being the friend I am because I got love for you. What, you turning ya nose up at me because you think it's foul? You sucked dick before, right? You fucked niggas before, right? And you ain't had a problem doin' it for free. So why all of a sudden a bitch gotta problem suckin' and fuckin' a nigga for that paper?” she frankly proclaimed.

Because it was disgusting, I thought. “And Cream, is he your pimp?” I asked.

“He just looks out for me while I'm on the street, that's all,” she said, sugarcoating his role.

“And what, he gets a large cut when you the one spreading your legs and opening wide?” I was being sarcastic.

“He gets what he gets, okay!” she snapped at me. “You either in or ya out, it's ya choice, Mouse. Ain't nobody holding a gun to ya head.”

She might as well have been, because it felt like she was extorting me.

I found myself in a critical dilemma. I couldn't go back out there onto them cold streets with Eliza in my arms. It would have been suicidal. Tonight it was going to be fifteen degrees and tomorrow night they were predicting snow. Erica stood right there in front of me, waiting for my answer.

Why me? And was this it for me? Was this actually what my life had turned into?

“Mommy,” I heard Eliza call out to me.

I turned around and she was standing in the hallway, wearing the new clothes Erica had bought for her and had dressed her in: Baby Phat pajama sleepwear that made my daughter look so cute. It was little things like that that was getting to me. Seeing my daughter in something nice that wasn't hand-me-downs. She was warm and she was fed. She was somewhere comfortable, to some extent.

Eliza came trotting over to me so I could blanket her with my motherly affection. I wrapped her in my arms and said, “What's wrong, sweetie?”

She didn't say anything. She nestled her little head into my chest and only wanted me to hold her. And I did. As I held Eliza in my arms, I looked over at Erica, who was still standing there. She smirked and shrugged, waiting for my answer. With a steely glare focused on me, she said, “A mother would do anything to take care of her kids, I don't care what. My kids are good. I want yours to be too.”

I sighed heavily. She was right.

I was the last to exit the cab in front of a closed automobile /mechanic shop on Oak Point Avenue. It was nearing midnight, and I, Erica, and Cream were in the Hunts Point neighborhood in the South Bronx, an area dominated by industry, and considered a “Red Light District,” in many cases for its crime and prostitution. It also consisted primarily of older apartment buildings with a smaller number of semidetached multiunit row houses. It was a very dangerous area to be in after dark, suffering from crime and poverty for many years with many drug addicts and drug dealers residing in the dilapidated community, and here I was about to walk the track to flag down cars for a date.

Erica and I were both clad in Skhoop down miniskirts with insulation for sleek warmth, keeping ourselves warm with tights and winter boots. It was too cold out to try to look sexy in some heels and skimpy attire. I wore a Micro Puff Hooded Jacket, and underneath it a simple T-shirt. Erica wore something almost identical to me.

Cream was dressed in a leather jacket and Yankees fitted skewed across his head with designer Sean John jeans and beige Timberlands. He concealed a 9 mm in his waistband and was considered our protection. But he was nothing less than a young pimp. He was happy to see me out there with Erica. But I wasn't his to control. I was doing this for my daughter, until I was able to get back on my feet and get us our own place to live.

It was a cold night, feeling like it was below zero, freezing. I blew into my hands to keep them warm as we stood next to an abandoned and stripped automobile. Traffic was sparse, the area deserted like a ghost town. It was creepy. The wind cut bitterly through my coat and I felt like someone had shut the door and locked me inside a freezer.

Erica turned to me and said quickly under one breath, “Okay, it's fifty for a blowjob and a hundred for sex. You give a trick fifteen minutes to cum; if they don't cum in fifteen, you fuckin' leave or charge them extra. Time is money, and we can't be wasting our time on one trick for the entire night. You make him bust a nut as fast as you can and leave. But you always get paid first; no pleasure until you receive that treasure, you understand?”

I nodded.

She continued with, “Now you walk around always with a smile and flag down as many cars as you can. Get them to stop, flirt wit' muthafuckas; pull up ya skirt and show that pussy if you have to. It always gets their attention. If they ain't alone, don't fuck wit' it; that's how bitches get killed out here.”

I continued nodding.

Cream was standing off to the side looking around as Erica lay down the rules to me. I could tell she was already a professional at this. She knew the do's and don'ts. Me, I was trying to keep warm, always blowing in my hands to keep them from numbing up and catching frostbite. It was so cold that it was painful. And we had to walk around in this frigid weather to make money. And speaking of money, Erica jumped onto that subject like she was reading my mind.

“Now when you get paid, you put that somewhere safe, 'cause believe me, these tricks out here can get grimy and shit, and try to take back what they paid you, either by sneaking it from you or taking it by force. So you gotta protect yourself. Here,” she said, handing me a small razor to carry on me. “If niggas even think about tryin' sumthin' on you, you cut that muthafucka deep, and cut somewhere where they gonna definitely remember you. If they exposed, cut they dick off. They gonna definitely remember not to fuck wit' you then.”

Just thinking about being put in a frightening situation like that had me thinking second thoughts. But it was too late to turn around. The cab was gone and we were at the point of no return.

“Also, I get sixty-five percent,” Erica said.

“Sixty-five?” I uttered in disbelief.

“Yeah, bitch. Until you get on ya own, I gotta get mines. You stayin' wit' me, right? So that's rent, food, clothes, transportation. You ain't paid for shit yet.”

It was highway robbery. Crazy!

“So sixty-five is my cut.”

I couldn't argue with her. I could only bend over and take it in the ass roughly without any Vaseline to make it easier.

“And don't play me, Mouse, you understand? Don't steal from me, 'cause I'm serious about my money,” she warned.

“I'm no thief,” I said.

“Cool.” Erica handed me over a dozen condoms, mostly Magnums, saying, “Keep them in ya purse, protect you from that HIV shit.”

Just hearing her mention HIV had me like,
whoa, this is really serious.
I thought about Sammy's mother's having that treacherous disease and I prayed I wouldn't end up like that.

From there, it was about business and turning tricks. “I'm gonna work across the street and you stay here and work this block, walk around, but not too far, keep yourself in a certain perimeter, and watch out for five-oh and undercover, 'cause they be creeping.”

“Y'all bitches have fun,” Cream said to us with an unruly smile. He looked at me and winked, and then walked away from us, allowing us to do our thing. I guessed he didn't want to scare away any potential customers.

I exhaled noisily, still not sure about this. Erica strutted across the street and started to walk leisurely up the block, switching her ass left and right and having her eyes fixated on every passing car with a smile and a welcoming wave. She stepped out into the street and advertised herself for sale.

I went the opposite way, toward Tiffany Street. Traffic was so sparse that I didn't think any business would come my way soon. There was a part of me that hoped it didn't. Was I really ready to suck a stranger's dick and give him my pussy? But then it was getting so cold and I was so desperate to make some money that I prayed tonight didn't end up in a bust.

Ten minutes later, I saw headlights approaching my way. I continued walking slowly away from them, trying to keep warm and focus on my surroundings. It was a dangerous area. The car was approaching me from behind. I turned my head and noticed it was slowing down and moving closer to the curb. I stopped walking and turned completely around to see what he was about. It was a blue five-door hatchback. He pulled alongside me and rolled down the passenger window. He leaned across the passenger seat and called out, “Hey, what's up?”

“What you want?” I asked gruffly. I was nervous. I felt my heart beat a million times per second. He was a black male, looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was slim with glasses, and had a small afro and a mustache. I made it my business to screen everyone quickly.

“How much for you?” he asked promptly.

I just blurted out, “It's fifty.” I didn't even know if he wanted a blowjob or sex. Fifty was the first thing that popped inside my head.
Shit,
I said to myself. I hoped he didn't think it was fifty for sex.

“Fifty for a blowjob?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, being short with him.

I was tempted to walk away. Then I heard the words, “Get in.”

For a moment, I froze. I stood there like the cold had frozen me to the concrete looking like a deer caught in headlights. He said, “Get in,” but I didn't rush to the passenger door like I had seen Erica do just recently. She had spoken a few words to the driver and then trotted around to the passenger side and climbed inside this stranger's vehicle like he was an old friend giving her a ride somewhere.

I just wasn't that forthright about it, not yet anyway. I knew once I climbed into his car what would be expected of me: sexual favors for nothing more than a hundred dollars, if that.

“You gonna get in?” he asked loudly.

I took a deep breath and felt myself moving closer to his car. He unlocked the door and there was me reaching for the door handle, opening it up and getting into the front seat. Then I closed the door and he drove away. It was like I was watching myself in this vivid dream. But this was reality.

I was so nervous that I felt myself getting sick.

“You're beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied faintly.

“What's your name?”

There was no way in hell I was about to give him my real name, so I quickly uttered a false identity. “Diamond.” It came out all of a sudden because I remembered the character from that movie
The Players Club
with Ice Cube and LisaRaye.

“Yeah, you are definitely a diamond.”

I displayed a fraudulent smile. He drove east, toward the more industrial part of the area where there was darker alleyways, parking lots, and dead-end streets. I could tell he'd done this before.

“Yeah, I want you to suck my dick. You pretty, too, with some nice lips. Damn, I can't wait,” he said bluntly.

His callous comment made me even more nervous. He parked near the water, behind an uncoupled container at a shadowy dead-end street on East 149th Street. The block was industry, still because everything was shut down for the night. We had privacy. He had fifteen minutes.

He killed the ignition and looked at me hungrily. “Fifty, right?”

I nodded.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a few dollars. He peeled away two twenties and a ten and handed it over. I took the cash and placed it into my bra strap. It was the most secured place I could think of. Now that I had the treasure, I reluctantly had to give him the pleasure.

He didn't hesitate to unbutton his pants and unzip his jeans. He pulled down his jeans to around his ankles and removed his erection for me to suck. His dick was average size, about six inches hard, with a thick, bulbous head, but not terribly long. He also had some girth and his privates were hairy. He gripped his dick, stroking himself and waited for me to put my lips to it. I grabbed a condom, tore it open, and rolled it back onto his small size.

“You got fifteen minutes,” I told him.

With his pants down and legs spread he was ready for me, groaning as he pleased himself with anticipation for me to take over. I leaned into his lap, opened my mouth wide, relaxed my throat, and slowly wrapped my lips around the tip of his cock and took him deeply as I could into my mouth. He was hard like stone as I slid my mouth up and down on him a few times, sliding and popping him past the urge to gag. I knew how to suck dick. I was really good at it, pleasing the ones I loved and wanted to be with. But a stranger in the front seat, I had to close my eyes and pretend he was somebody I liked in my past.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck! Ooooh, that feels so good. Damn, girl. Ooooh,” he cooed, “You really like this, don't you?”

No, I didn't, but the way I sucked him off, it seemed like I did. I kept my eyes closed for the oral duration. I didn't want to see him or even hear him. I just wanted him to cum quickly.

I bobbed my head up and down on him a few times, following my hand as I stroked him. I felt his hand on the back of my head, touching my hair, and he was shoving his dick farther into my mouth. It upset me. I stopped momentarily and warned him, “Please, don't do that. Don't grab the back of my head.”

“I'm sorry,” he quickly apologized.

I continued.

“Damn, your mouth feels so good. Ooooh. Oh fuck, you're going to make me come! Oh, fuck.”

His breathing was already a bit ragged as he reclined in his seat and groaned loudly from my oral sensation. The feel of his dick was growing inside of my mouth, indicating he was about to come.

“Jesus, girl,” he hollered. “Oh shit. Oh damn. Oh fuck!”

The tension in his body and the way his cock twitched as I felt him shoot inside my mouth was proof he loved it, and the condom barrier prevented me from tasting and swallowing his semen. I felt him explode like a volcano with my mouth on him and his body shuddering in the front seat wildly.

And just like that, it was over.

But for me, the latex taste from the condom lingered in my mouth and I wanted to gag so badly. I really felt the urge to throw up when he came inside my mouth. I couldn't believe I actually went through with it. The degrading feeling, it wasn't worth the fifty dollars he paid me and by the end, I was just an open, wet mouth for him to please himself and make him come.

“I really enjoyed that, Diamond,” he said, pulling up his pants.

I didn't.

“You got a number so I can call you?”

“I don't have a cell phone.”

“Do you be out here often?”

“I don't,” I said, being brief. “Just drop me off.”

“I was just making conversation.”

I wasn't in the mood to talk. I wanted to scrub his taste from my mouth. I wanted to go home, but I had no home. It was going to be a very long night. He dropped me off at the same place he picked me up. I climbed out of his car and didn't want to look at him. When he pulled away, I saw Erica jumping into a black Accord across the street. She was working on her third date while I barely finished up with my first.

Cream was standing in the shadows a block away. He was on his phone and watching the block. The only good thing about being in that trick's car was the temporary warmth I got from the heat blasting. Besides that, it was the worst day I ever had.

I started to walk down the block and I couldn't even get a minute to myself when a second car pulled parallel to me, rolling down his window and vying to get my attention. This one was in a burgundy minivan, and he was a bearded white guy.

“How much for a blowjob?” he hollered out the window.

I told him my price and he told me to get in. Several minutes later, parked on a secluded block, my head was in his lap, with my lips sliding up and down his pink, little raw sausage. He came quickly. When I was done with him, I threw up on the street and continued walking the track. The third trick I turned, he wanted sex. So in the back seat of his SUV, I lifted my skirt, pulled off my tights, spread my legs, and he pumped himself into me so excitedly that he came inside of me instantly. The next trick, he wanted to fuck me doggie style in the back seat of his cramped car. He was well endowed and stretched my pussy out like it was a rubber band.