The People vs. Cashmere

by Karen P. Williams

  “But I hate what I’m doing, Black. I—”

  He placed a finger on my lips. “This is where you belong. This is where you gonna stay.” He locked his eyes with mine. He was serious. “That was some cold shit, coming home and you not being there. I felt like I lost a part of myself, Cashmere.”

  He rinsed off the washrag and washed the soap off my body. “I’m not liking the way I feel, Cashmere, when it comes to you. Man, this is some way-out shit.”

  He stood and held a towel open for me to step into once I rose from the tub. Then he led me back into the bedroom. I was silent as he dried me off. Then he laid me on the bed so he could rub baby oil all over me. And I was feeling those feelings again, which I didn’t want to, the shame, guilt, and fire.

  Blacke fucked me so good, I ended up going right to sleep in his arms.

  I felt the heat of a whip on my flesh. First I thought I was dreaming. Then I felt it again. I opened my eyes to find Black standing over me. “Black, what—”

  He struck me again, but the shit didn’t feel like a belt, which it was; it felt like a damn whip.

  I screamed when it struck me on my ass. I rolled over and hit the floor and ran to a corner of the room. I held my hands out to ward him off. “No, Black.”

  He easily yanked me back on the bed, on my stomach, and straddled me with his body. He struck me over and over, till I felt pieces of my flesh pop open. My body was burning like someone had thrown some boiling water on me.

  I kept yelling, “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry, Black!”

  In my ear he whispered, “You run away from me again, Cashmere, and I’ll kill you for sure.”

  Seconds later I felt something soothing on my back, down my spine, and my butt. Slowly, it took the sting away. Then he kissed me all over my back and tear-stained face, before saying, “Go to sleep.”

  Desiree quickly got over that dude she claimed she was in love with. She dropped that baby like it was hot—in the abortion clinic—and went back to her obsession with Black. The dumb bitch got his initials, BM, tattooed on her neck, like the rest of the hoes. It stood for Black Mitchell. I refused to, though, but I knew eventually he would want me to.

  She also had something else she was in love with, and I couldn’t figure out which one she loved more, Black or crack. Every time I turned around, she had a burnt-looking plastic tube smack in her mouth. So I’ll wager it was the latter, that she loved crack more.

  Black was actually the one who’d turned her on to it, saying to her one day, “Why you stuffing your nose with that shit? Soon your nostrils are gonna fall off, and you gonna look like a damn fool, girl.” He waved a pipe and some yellow shit in a bag that looked like a small piece of soap in front of her.

  I peeked from the corner of the bedroom as he stuffed some Brillo pad (I knew what it was ’cause we used it to scrub pots when she cleaned dishes) at the bottom of the pipe, put the piece of look-like-soap shit in it, lit the shit, and shoved the other side in Desiree’s mouth.

  “Now breathe it in, Desiree,” Black told her, “nice and slow . . . that’s it.”

  Desiree did what he said. Then I watched as she fell back against the couch like she just bust the biggest nut of her life.

  And, boy, was she starting to look jacked-up. She didn’t get private clients anymore, which pissed her off. But, hell, we talking about rappers, athletes. You think they want to fuck a crackhead? Be for real, honey.

  In fact one day she was at the kitchen table, and once again the burnt-looking tube was shoved in her mouth. Black grabbed her by her hair and said, “You better not let Cashmere try this shit, or it’s over for you.” Then he stuffed another bag in her hand before shoving her away.

  He didn’t have to warn me. I wasn’t putting that shit in my body any damn way. I didn’t know who I hated more, him or her.

  And after the last stunt she pulled, having us both run away from Black and landing us both in shit, you’d think she would wise up and get with Black’s program, since, like she always said, we married to the game and there was no such thing as divorce.

  Word was, Desiree had tried to pocket some of the tricking dough, and Black found out about it. All I knew was that I woke up ’cause somebody was screaming at the top of their damn lungs. I ran outside, because that’s where the sound was coming from, and found people crowded in a circle around the middle of the street. I pushed through them all when I recognized Desiree was the person screaming. Once I was able to bust through, I understood why she was screaming. She was buck-ass naked, and Black was striking her with his belt, foot, and free hand. And though there was fury on his face, he never uttered a word.

  Desiree was wailing and, at the same time, trying to cover up her pussy and titties. She tried to crawl away on her knees.

  I stood in the crowd shivering. I shook my head and resisted tears.

  “Come here, ho.” Black snatched her up by what was left of her hair, so that she was standing, and walked her down the line of neighbors and hoes. “Bitch, don’t you ever steal from me.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  As my eyes teared up, I frowned at myself because I didn’t understand why I was crying. This shit should’ve made me feel good, to see him stick it to her for all the shit she’d done to me, but it didn’t. It was killing me.

  Black punched her in her face, and she fell with the impact, as did a tooth. The belt flew again, getting her in her face and body. Soon her body welted and swelled up. As she coughed and sobbed, he kicked her over and over again, till her screams turned to moans. Black then took three steps back, nodded, and all the hoes joined in and commenced to whipping on Desiree, throwing punches, slaps, kicks, and spitting on her.

  Without thinking, I rushed forward and dived into those bitches, blindly throwing punches at whatever I could come into contact with, and spitting right back on their asses. I felt my fist connecting with heads, faces, titties, backs, but then somebody lifted me clear in the air. I continued to swing but was only hitting air because my feet couldn’t touch the ground.

  “Let me go!”

  Black had me and he wouldn’t release me, but still I struggled all the way, so he had to practically carry me in the house. A glance over Black’s shoulder showed me that them bitches were still whipping on my sister. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Once we were in the house, Black didn’t release me until we were in the room I shared with him. He sat me gently on the bed and sat down next to me. I scooted over as far as I could away from him. He took a deep breath, rose from the bed, and walked out the room. As soon as he did, I dug in my flesh so hard that an area of my skin popped open and blood gushed out. I ran into the bathroom and rinsed it off, and placed a Band-Aid on it. As I turned around to go back into the room, I collided with Black, who held his arms out for me like he really thought I was going to hug him.

  I sidestepped him and looked down at the carpet. The belt he had just whipped my sister with was dangling halfway on the ground, mocking me almost. When he reached for my arm, I took a step back, crossed my arms over my chest, and looked at him with fire in my eyes.

  He took a step toward me, but then his cell phone went off. He paused, flicked it open, turned on his heels, and left the room. I walked back in the bedroom.

  I sat back on the bed, waiting to see if my sister was okay.

  Five minutes later he came back into the room. “Put some clothes on.”

  Chapter 20

  We went to the usual hotel I met my “dates” at. Black always waited outside for me, and once the deed was done, I would go on about my business. The dough was always handed to Black though, but sometimes they gave me tips, which he always took too. He didn’t let us hold much of shit. A couple dollars here or there for drink and ecstasy, that’s all.

  I knocked on the door and waited for the dude to tell me to enter. Once he did, I walked in the room and sat my purse down on the table. The dude’s back was to me, and he was staring out the window.

 
“What’s up? My name is Cashmere. I’m with Black.” He spun around quickly, and my eyes and his stretched to the sky. It was Caesar’s brother. I shook my head and laughed. “You got the game twisted, homie, if you think I’m fucking you.”

  Angelo marched up to me and snarled his lip, looking ugly as hell. “Bitch, I already paid. It’s a little too late for you to be playing the sew-ditty role, ain’t it? You are, after all, a dirty-ass, lowdown, sleazy ho at that.”

  Can you imagine that coming from a nigga who was the lowest of the low, fucking scum of the earth? Without much thought, or any fear that this shit would come back to bite me in my ass, I spat on his punk ass and ran out of the room.

  I walked down the hall to the elevators. When it beeped open, I stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby. I’d planned to tell Black no. I had never said it to him before, so maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t trip and would understand the situation if I explained it to him. My stomach floated as the elevator sailed down to the lobby.

  As soon as the elevator doors opened, I jumped. Black was facing me, a calm look on his face. He stepped on silently and pushed the button for the 16th floor. I bit my lips waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t.

  “Black, don’t make me do this shit. I fucking know him.”

  “You will go back in that room, Cashmere.” He slipped closer to me, so his breath was on my cheek. First, he tried kisses, shushing me, as I continued to bitch and whine to the point where I was about to cry. When that didn’t work, he hemmed me up against the wall by my neck. “You getting far too ambitious, Cashmere. Maybe I made a mistake of handling you with kid gloves. Did I, Cashmere? Huh?” He applied pressure to my neck.

  Tears popped out of my eyes. “No, Black.”

  “You lucky I love you, girl, else you’d be hurt. Listen to me and listen well.” His angry eyes pierced through me, and he aimed a finger in my face. “You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. You’re going back in that room to do old boy.”

  I nodded, my heart beating fast as hell.

  “Wipe your face.”

  I obeyed.

  Once the elevator door opened, I had no choice but to follow Black into the room I’d just abandoned. Black knocked, and as we entered, I hid behind him.

  “There’s been a mistake. Cashmere is down for anything.” He stepped to my right, exposing me to Angelo. “Ain’t you, baby?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes and sobbing.

  “The bitch spit on me. Can I spit on her back?” Angelo’s nostrils flared out with anger.

  “Like I said, she’s down for whatever.”

  And spit on me he did, on my face, as the bastard rode me like he was a disc jockey, and all over my back and ass as he fucked me doggy-style. Then he spat all over his hands and smeared it all over his dick before I had to put my lips over it. And when it was time for him to cum, he sprayed me all in my face with the shit.

  I didn’t talk to Black after that, but he didn’t give a shit. He was just as pissed at me for my “ambition,” and that landed me out there on the block after he gave me a beating like never before.

  Chapter 21

  Life for me wasn’t no beach chair. Hell, life was infectivity. I felt like walking cancer. And my sister? She was walking death. Crack was now her middle, first, and last name, and she was chasing her own ass to get it. I personally wasn’t fucking with any more drugs. Since the last time I popped ecs after that shit with Caesar’s brother, I popped two pills and ended up in the hospital. And seeing my sister practically dead on her feet, I put an X to taking ecs and made a promise to myself not to ever use drugs again. My dumb ass thought I was taking the high road with ecstasy. But I found out that shit had damn near every drug imaginable in it.

  Now even though it had been a year and a half since Daddy had his accident, he still had not gotten any better. I flew there solo today. Sadly it was now to the point where, just to breathe, he needed to be connected to all those damn machines. He couldn’t function without them, kind of like how Desiree needed to get a hit of her pipe to handle her business. And Black had no problem supplying her with the shit, just as long as she took her ass out on that track and got him his money.

  Now I knew I looked a mess, and I don’t mean a mess in the physical sense. I still looked decent, still had all my hair. I had all my teeth, unlike Desiree, who was missing one of her front teeth, and was the same size pretty much, except like Mama always said, my titties would grow once they got sucked on. But I don’t think Mama anticipated that they’d be licked, sucked on, gnawed, chewed on, and bitten. But there was other damage, like the crisscross scars on my palms and wrist, but I usually wore gloves even when I fucked tricks. I’d be ass buck-naked, but I’d cover up the scars. The tricks just thought I was being freaky.

  What I mean by mess was how I felt on the inside. I felt like people could see how fucked-up I was, that they could look me in my eyes and instantly know about all the alcohol I had consumed, all the ecstasy I had popped, and all the niggas I had fucked.

  Once I left my visit, Lanette, the nurse who me and my sister always spoke to in passing, stopped me. “Why do you always look so down, Cashmere?”

  I shook my head. See, I had no problem with her. In fact, I liked seeing her smiley face. I wish I had a reason to smile back, but I always gave her a nod. Still, I couldn’t disclose all the shit I had been through and was still going through.

  She grabbed me by one of my hands in a firm grip that made me want to follow her and said, “Come with me.” She held my hand all the way to the chapel, which was empty when we got there. And she didn’t let it go, even after she sat down.

  To tell the truth, I didn’t mind her hands being on me. They were rough, yes, but oh so warm, they gave me comfort. I remembered I didn’t have on my gloves, so I tried to snatch them back, but she wouldn’t let me.

  “I remember when my kids were your age. I was never able to be home with them much, working all these hours, but they understood.” She tightened her hold on my hands.

  I nodded a bottomless nod. I shifted my body, hoping that, as I did, my hands would slip from hers. They didn’t. She didn’t see my scars, I guess, or maybe she did, but didn’t acknowledge them.

  “Tell me something, Cashmere—Have you ever had a conversation with God?”

  I shook my head and twisted my lips to one side.

  “Do you believe in Him?”

  “I used to.”

  “Why don’t you anymore?”

  “I been in too much pain to believe in a God.”

  “Belief gotta stick around, even through the fire. It’s just a test, anyhow. This is not going to be the way it’s always going to be, honey. It’s a hump in the road, not an opportunity to turn in the towel, ’cause it’s your life we talking about. And, baby, you are far too young to be carrying all that weight on these little shoulders.”

  How she know what I was carrying? Was it that apparent? Obviously.

  As she searched my eyes, I shifted mine to the ground.

  Quietly she asked, “Well, Cashmere, can I please pray for you?”

  I nodded slowly. “Go ahead.” I bowed my head and closed my eyes.

  She did the same, grasping my hand tighter again.

  “Father God, I ask that You move Cashmere through this, Lord. Lord, Cashmere is a beautiful girl, Lord, with a broken spirit, Lord. Father God, Cashmere is out of faith. Lord, I ask that You her see just how important her life is to this earth. Lord, help her to understand that she is needed, Lord, that she is loved. Lord, help her to believe in You, Lord, to see that, through You, all is healed, aches can go away, broken bones can be fixed, Lord, a split heart can be put back together, Lord, depression wiped out, Lord. Cashmere has pain in her heart, Lord. She’s been hurt, Lord. Help her find joy again, Lord, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  Crazy as it sounds, I did feel better. I left the home feeling so much better that I couldn’t wait to go back.

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nbsp; Eagerly I showered the next Sunday, put on something pretty to wear, and dashed into the living room. I was sure that if Lanette prayed for Desiree, it would make her feel good about living again too. I asked breathlessly, “Desiree, you ready?”

  She was laying across the couch, looking half-dead. “I’ll pass.”

  “What?”

  She rolled her red-looking eyes at me and repeated herself, “I said I’m not going.”

  I didn’t want to argue with her, so I took a deep breath and smiled at her.

  She smirked.

  “Desiree, we gotta go, so we don’t break tradition. We been doing this for almost two years, you know—”

  “I know what? Huh?” She held a hand out to me as if I had something to hand her.

  I rubbed my eyed wearily. She was draining me.

  “He can’t see me. He can’t do shit, Cashmere. Really, if you think about it, we wasting perfectly good money.”

  “Desiree, how can you—”

  “Don’t call me that shit!” She threw a cup at me, and it fell at my feet.

  I scooped it up and sat it on the table calmly. I couldn’t understand why she was tripping, or what had made her so insensitive when it came to Daddy.

  Black stepped in the room. His voice silenced and confused me. “Y’all both need to sit tonight out, Cashmere.”

  “What?”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off.

  “Cashmere, money is low. I need you both on the track tonight.”

  “Fine wit’ me,” Desiree said.

  “I’m not—No, we not!”

  Black studied my face, his jaw twitching. “You saying no to me, Cashmere?”

  “Yes! I do whatever you ask me to do, Black, but this is something I cannot do. I won’t. So beat my ass, fuck me, throw me out, whatever, but you can’t stop us from seeing our Daddy!” My eyes were on his, and I saw my reflection staring back at me. I was shaking and walking around in circles, and as I spoke loudly, my voice was cracking too.

  The room was silent for a minute. our Desiree was frozen on the couch, waiting for what was about to happen next. Maybe Black would knock my head off my body or throw me off a cliff.