Mama Ruby

by Mary Monroe

  Just then, Mazel returned to the parlor, holding the most beautiful little blond baby that Ruby had ever seen before in her life. She looked like the rosy-cheeked, blond, blue-eyed angels depicted on most of the religious periodicals and publications that her father shared with his congregation.

  Ruby got misty-eyed just looking at little Viola, and Othella immediately noticed that. She tugged on Ruby’s jacket sleeve and led her on to Maureen’s bedroom.

  Still clutching their suitcases, Ruby and Othella slowly entered Maureen’s boudoir, a large room that had once been the back part of what was now the parlor. They were dragging their feet like they were on the way to a guillotine. But there was no need for them to be nervous. Maureen lay on her side like a disabled dolphin, glassy-eyed, but eager to talk. First, she made small talk for a few minutes. She complained about how off key Maurice, her piano player, had been all week, but that he’d still raked in some hefty tips. She also laughingly complained about a gassy client who had stunk up the whole parlor so bad she had to have Al, her black maintenance man, spray the whole house with some pine-scented air freshener. This lighthearted conversation made Ruby and Othella feel so much at ease that they became relaxed, and were soon grinning like hyenas.

  Maureen’s bedroom was just as gaudy as the parlor. On the wall facing the door was a large picture of Moses parting the Red Sea. There was a loud orange bedspread on her bed. The rest of the bedding—pink sheets, large pillows with pink pillowcases, and a red blanket—were half on the bed, half on the floor. A thick red liquid had been spilled on top of the bedspread, where Maureen had accidentally dropped a large glass of cranberry juice and rum the night before. The bed looked like a murder had occurred in it.

  After a few more minutes of small talk, Maureen got down to business. “Othella, your mama was one of my best girls, but I had to let her go on account of she got too uppity too often with my gentlemen friends. She was nothin’ but an ignorant, backwoods Cajun, so I couldn’t have that,” Maureen declared.

  Othella and Ruby stood by the side of the bed, tired and so groggy, all they wanted to do was get some sleep. Somehow, they managed not to yawn. Their feet were throbbing from the long walk from Ola Mae’s house to Maureen’s. And, they were hungry. They hadn’t eaten since noon the day before, but those discomforts were the least of their worries. Despite what this woman had told Othella earlier, she didn’t look too pleased to be talking to them now. As a matter of fact, she looked annoyed.

  “Whorin’ ain’t easy, but it’s just a job, and somebody’s got to do it. Men are hornier than ever. And let me make one thing perfectly clear: come hell or high water, men will bend over backward to be with a good whore. If you don’t think you can please twelve, or even three or four men a night, this ain’t the job for you. Men are just like dogs and snakes, thank God. Next to food, water, and sleep, all it takes for them to stay alive is some kind of sexual gratification,” Maureen said with what appeared to be a sigh of relief. “I hope you realize that, Othella.”

  “I do, Miss Mo’reen, honest to God I do. I know how weak men are, and I know what it takes to make ’em happy.” Othella gave a vigorous nod.

  “Good! And I hope you know the power of the pussy. If your mama had been smarter, she’d be runnin’ her own house by now. When she left here and got herself involved with a Negro, and a foreign Negro from some heathen place in Africa—or was it one of them islands down yonder below Florida? Hmm. Anyway, that was the kiss of death for her.” Maureen waved her hand in disgust. “By the way, how is she doin’ these days?”

  “She’s doin’ just fine, ma’am,” Othella muttered, almost biting her tongue. “She does all kinds of stuff.”

  “I bet she does,” Maureen snickered. “She always did... .”

  “And she still got what it takes to get beaucoup men to pay her to go to bed with ’em,” Ruby added, nudging Othella in her side with her elbow. “She got ’em comin’ and goin’, day and night.”

  Maureen considered this information as she looked Ruby up and down. “I’m not surprised. She was the only one in the house who could swallow.”

  Up to this point, Maureen had ignored Ruby. But when she finally turned to her, she gave her a warm smile and a nod. “And what was your name again, girl?” she asked Ruby. “Ruby, ain’t it?”

  “Yessum. Othella told me that you told her that I could stay here, too, but that I don’t have to turn no tricks,” Ruby said with relief.

  “Girl, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, as far as gettin’ pestered. My clients can be real persnickety when it comes to poontang and other female pleasures.” Maureen slowly looked Ruby up and down, her gaze landing on her face. “But you are still good for somethin’ around here. Hmm.” Maureen scratched her chin and gave Ruby a thoughtful look. “I can see that you like to eat. You can help Mazel in the kitchen with all of the meals. And I expect you to keep my chicken coops in the backyard clean as a whistle.”

  Maureen paused and sat up in her bed. She removed a thimble from a jewelry box on her nightstand and dipped out a thumbnail of cocaine. She sniffed it and swooned like a woman in ecstasy, and she was. Other than money, there was nothing on earth that Maureen loved more than cocaine. For the next two minutes, she ignored her visitors. When she returned her attention to them, she seemed surprised that they were still in her room.

  “What y’all standin’ here waitin’ on?” Maureen asked, rubbing her nose and sniffing so hard her eyes watered.

  “Uh, is there anything else you want to talk about?” Othella asked in a nervous voice.

  “Like what? Y’all here, ain’t you? I told you, you can both stay a spell,” Maureen snapped, looking even more annoyed. “What else is there for us to talk about?”

  “Like money. Uh, like how much you can pay us,” Othella continued.

  From the sour, impatient look on Maureen’s face, it was obvious that she did not like to discuss money, at least not with these two. “It all depends on what you do and who you do it to. Now you colored gals generally don’t bring in much money most of the time,” Maureen said.

  “That’s why we colored gals are generally poor most of the time,” Ruby said quickly. Maureen’s jaw dropped. She looked at Ruby like she was looking at a creature from another planet. She didn’t like her looks, but she did like her spunk.

  “Most of these suckers are really easy to please, Othella. Once you learn the ropes, you can get ’em off with a thorough blow job, a hand job, or even less. And if you get ’em drunk enough, you might not even have to go that far. Any questions?” Maureen was still talking to Othella, but looking at Ruby. “Either one of y’all?”

  Ruby nodded. “Yessum. Where do we sleep?” she asked, looking around the room.

  “Once y’all leave this room, Othella, you go up to Fat Fanny. She’ll fix you up. You can share that room at the end of the hall with her. I was goin’ to put you in with Cat Fish, but she got a problem with Negroes.” Maureen paused and gave Othella an apologetic look. “Cat Fish’s use-to-be husband, and most of the men that she fools around with outside the house, are connected to the Klan. As a white woman, I have to respect that,” Maureen explained.

  She paused again and turned to Ruby, giving her an apologetic look, too. “You, girl, you go to the right when you leave this room. Keep walkin’ until you get to a green door right next to the door leadin’ into the kitchen—which is a royal mess, so it’s a good thing you got here when you did. You can help that Mazel spruce it up. That’ll be her room before you reach the kitchen. And don’t let her scare you. She’s as big and black as a grizzly, but she’s as tame as a kitty cat once you get to know her. There’s a roll-away bed in her room, and you and her can share it.” Maureen shook her head. “You and her are both a little on the heavy side, so that bed will be kind of crowded. But don’t worry. As long as you sleep on your side, you won’t roll off and end up on the floor with a splinter in your jaw like that last gal I had helpin’ Mazel out.”

  Another
damn roll-away bed! Ruby groaned, but she did it under her breath. This Maureen woman was her last hope in this wretched town, so she didn’t want to upset her. Ruby had already decided that if things didn’t work out with her, she was going to hightail it back to Shreveport, lickety-split.

  “A big, young, strappin’ girl like you, you might have to help Al do a few other jobs around the house. All of my girls got kids, but Fat Fanny’s is the only ones here. You can give Mazel some mammy assistance. Matter of fact, Fat Fanny just birthed a beautiful baby girl a few months ago. You got here just in time, so you can bond with that sweet little thing—that’s if you like babies.”

  Maureen’s last two sentences were music to Ruby’s ears. “Oh yessum!” she squealed. “I love babies, and especially girl babies! I seen Fat Fanny’s baby when we was on our way to your room. When can I start takin’ care of that sweet baby?” Ruby’s response was so loud and quick, Othella shuddered. She knew that Ruby had not gotten over giving up her baby girl and probably never would. At least she would have a substitute for as long as they remained in Maureen’s house.

  Othella did not like the idea of Ruby nursing and fussing over that woman’s baby. However, from the look on Ruby’s face, Othella knew that as long as she could do that, she’d be happy.

  And part of the plan was to keep Ruby happy, Othella reminded herself.

  CHAPTER 36

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR RUBY AND OTHELLA TO GET VERY comfortable in Maureen’s house, but there were a few things that bothered them both. They didn’t like the fact that they couldn’t sleep in the same bedroom, and that somebody was always reminding them that they were not white. But the biggest thorn in Ruby’s side was Mazel. Working with her in the kitchen was bad enough, but sharing a room with her was torture. That woman complained about everybody and everything.

  Ruby didn’t waste any time letting Mazel know that she was no pushover. Even though Mazel was three times her age, and about fifty pounds heavier, Ruby sassed her. She stood up for herself every time Mazel tried to boss her around or scold her.

  “Look, Ruby Jean, you can’t be walkin’ around this house grinnin’ all the time. These white folks already think we ain’t got but half a brain. Make ’em think you sorry you was born, and that workin’ for them is the best thing that ever happened to you. That’ll make ’em feel sorry for you and even feel less threatened. And believe me, you won’t be smilin’ when you start emptyin’ them slop jars full of piss and shit, and soppin’ up puke off the floor like I do. If anything, you’ll be rubbin’ vinegar under your nose to lighten up the stink,” Mazel barked at Ruby, a few days after they had begun to work together.

  “Look, lady, I work for Miss Mo’reen. She tells me what to do and how to do it, not you.” There was a sinister expression on Ruby’s face, complete with narrowed eyes, twitching brows, and flaring nostrils. “If you don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with you. Now if you’ll get out of my way, I got some slop jars to empty.”

  Ruby continued to do all of her chores with a smile. Even emptying the slop jars and spittoons and cleaning up puke. She knew that at the end of the day, and usually throughout the day, she could fiddle around with Fat Fanny’s beautiful blond baby girl.

  Othella didn’t do as much smiling as Ruby. For one thing, she didn’t get to share that nice room upstairs with Fat Fanny after all. Cat Fish, and at least one of the other women, had complained to Maureen about a black woman sleeping in the same room with a white woman. Maureen decided that it would make more sense for Othella to sleep in the room across the hall from Fat Fanny’s. It was primarily used for Fat Fanny’s three children. There were four roll-away beds in the room, a large chifforobe, and a few chairs. It was the only bedroom in the house that was not used for entertaining clients. But when a part-time, roving prostitute dropped by and wanted to spend the night, Maureen let her sleep in this room in the fourth bed. Now that same over-used bed belonged to Othella

  Al Holly was a large, plain looking black man in his forties. He spoke only when he was spoken to, or when he had to. His position was vague, but from what Ruby and Othella could determine, he was a handyman who did a variety of odd jobs around the house. He was also the mechanic who serviced Maureen’s Packard and Fat Fanny’s LaSalle. He played the piano when the regular piano player, a hatchet-faced Creole man named Maurice Dozier, didn’t show up.

  Buster Campbell was another large man in his forties, except he was white and just as plain as Al. He didn’t talk much either, and his position was also vague. He was the bouncer who ejected unruly clients and dumped them on the front porch of one of the other houses on the block (after Maureen had instructed him to take all of their valuables). He also did some maintenance work around the house, as well as other odd jobs.

  None of the male help resided in the house. Al showed up each day before the sun, every day except Sunday. He stayed until the last client left, no matter how late that was. Mazel had said something about him living across town, and that when he didn’t walk to and from work like a field hand, he rode up on his son’s bicycle. The piano-playing Maurice lived in a little house three blocks away with a wife and six kids. Buster lived in the toolshed behind the house right next to the chicken coops. He’d never been married, didn’t have a woman now, so he paid to have sex with the prostitutes. Because of his loyalty, Maureen rewarded him with a freebie every Christmas and on his birthday; he got to choose the woman.

  Fat Fanny and Marielle, a cute brunette in her early thirties, liked Ruby and Othella. They immediately regarded them as new friends. Betty Sue, another cute brunette in her thirties, was cordial, but she didn’t interact much with any of the other women. The others, especially Cat Fish, who was an attractive brunette in her late twenties, and the part-time workers, ignored Ruby and Othella as much as possible. The only time they acknowledged them was when they had something to complain about, or when they wanted a back rub or a foot massage. There were times when Cat Fish was downright hostile, especially when she thought the others were too friendly with the two newcomers.

  Other than that, it was not a bad arrangement at all.

  “I’ve got a woman to suit every man’s needs,” Maureen often said, especially to new clients. “I’ll line ’em up, so you can take your pick. It don’t matter which one you choose, I guarantee you she’ll do anything you ask her to do ... as long as it don’t involve somethin’ with a tail and four legs.” And that was true. There was nothing of a sexual nature that the women who worked for Maureen O’Leary wouldn’t do, as long as it didn’t involve something with a tail and four legs.

  Most of the men who patronized the brothels in the District were professional white men—doctors, lawyers, politicians, and a few military personnel. And the majority of them were married to women who were either too cold, too dainty, too worn out, too disinterested, too squeamish, or too clumsy when it came to bedroom activities. It didn’t matter who or what the men were to Maureen. Even though she considered herself to be a true patriot of her adoptive country, she would accommodate Adolf Hitler as long as he had money and was willing to spend it. To her, a horny man was a horny man. His politics were his business, as long as it didn’t interfere with her business.

  Maureen played hostess to a lot of men with wives who had “retired” completely from the physical side of their relationship. These men, some of them still young, felt that they had no choice but to visit the brothels—if they still wanted to feel good. And they were willing to pay for the privilege of spending time with women whose business was to make them feel like men, and give them some physical pleasure. However, the majority of the same men typically ignored women of color who expected to be paid for their services.

  Maureen didn’t have one single client who had not slept with a black woman, even the ones who claimed to be avowed racists. Several of them had fathered children with black women. Some slept with black women on a regular basis, but always in some back room in a shack in a shantytown. Not only did Maureen and he
r girls glean this type of information from loose-lipped clients, but Al and Mazel, her only other black employees, shared information on a regular basis with her that they picked up from the black blabbermouths that they associated with. Maureen rewarded her sources to deliver information that could be useful to her in some blackmail-related manner, if that client got out of line. That reward was usually an extra dollar, a glass of whiskey, or a few hours off.

  Maureen was pleased that there were enough white men willing to pay to sleep with a black woman in her house when they got drunk or curious enough. That justified her decision to hire Othella. For one thing, Othella was not that black. Her features were neutral enough that in the dark, a nearsighted man might even mistake her for an Italian or Spanish woman. Ruby didn’t fit that mold by a long shot, and that was the reason Maureen couldn’t hire her for her body. But things would take a dramatic turn a few weeks later.

  In the meantime, Othella made considerably more money than Ruby. Last week, Othella made several hundred dollars, Ruby made twenty; but that was only because Ruby had received some generous tips from clients who’d requested foot massages. Maureen fed and provided uniforms for Ruby, but she only paid her ten dollars a week.

  So that Ruby would not feel bad, Othella assured her that the money she made was their money, not just hers. Unfortunately, she didn’t make nearly as much as the white women for providing the same services to Maureen’s clients. But whether she made fifty dollars in one night or a hundred, it was more than the zero dollars that she had received doing all that housework for Ola Mae in the tacky house they’d snuck out of.

  “As soon as I sock away enough for us to live on for at least two months, we gettin’ up out of here,” Othella told Ruby in a low, nervous voice in the kitchen one morning just before noon, three weeks later. She stood by the stove as she watched Ruby drag a broom across the floor.