by Mary Monroe
She raised both eyebrows and whispered, “What then?”
“Turning tricks,” I announced boldly. “I know enough about the business, and I’m old enough now,” I said, unable to conceal my impatience.
Scary Mary looked me up and down, in a mean, critical way that made me feel like less than nothing. I certainly felt like nothing the way her eyes were blinking and her head bobbing up and down. I got a lump in my throat just recalling that day when Mr. Boatwright was on top of me, and I told myself that if I reached adulthood I would share my life only with women and cats. Well, my life had taken an odd turn. I never truly developed my lesbian tendencies, and Muh’Dear had never let me own a cat.
Scary Mary laughed like a hyena for two minutes. “I don’t know who you been talkin’ to, girl. What makes you think you can make a thousand dollars in a week turnin’ tricks? Even I couldn’t make that kind of money turnin’ tricks in no one week. And what do you know about…um…the um…my business?”
“Well I…might be a lot of things, but I am not stupid and I am not blind, Scary Mary. Muh’Dear and I used to live with you. Remember?”
The old crow gave me a long, hard look. “All that don’t mean nothin’. What I meant was, what you know about pleasin’ a man?”
I looked at her just as long and just as hard as she looked at me. “I’ve had a lot of experience. I know what men like,” I said seriously. Our eyes locked, and her bottom lip trembled.
Scary Mary drank from her cup before responding. Then she laughed again. “In the first place, you ain’t no Liz Taylor,” she informed me, shaking her head.
“I know that. Like I said, I am not blind,” I mumbled. I had never tried to fool myself. I knew that I was not beautiful. But fucking was not about beauty. Besides, I had seen Scary Mary’s girls over the years. She had never had any you could call beautiful. When I was around eight she even had one who was almost as retarded as Mott, but who knew how to get what she wanted from men. And then there was the one with polio. The one I liked most was Lula, the crazy one. Lula had worked for Scary Mary for just a few weeks, like most of her girls, when I was eleven. Lula looked and even acted normal most of the time. But when she didn’t take her medication, she ran out of the house naked. Two or three times a week Lula would run out of the house naked, pluck a switch from one of Scary Mary’s trees, and run until she found a school playground, where she’d beat and chase the kids. Scary Mary and some of her other girls would have to chase her and throw a sheet over her. Scary Mary currently had five women working for her. Two were over forty, one weighed fifty pounds more than I did, and the other two were just average.
No matter how I begged and pleaded, Scary Mary would not let me work for her as a prostitute. She said I could look after Mott, run errands, and do a little cleaning around the house. I agreed to do all that; I just didn’t tell anybody.
I quit the telephone operator job and started working for Scary Mary the next day without telling Muh’Dear.
A week after I started working for her, Scary Mary moved five blocks away to an even larger and grander house. Her new place, a five-bedroom, red-shingled building, had a birdbath and a flower bed in the front yard. It was right around the corner from Antonosanti’s, where most of her prosperous customers dined. “Now the menfolk can get here even quicker,” she said to me and Muh’Dear the day after she moved.
I cleaned that big house, emptied funky trash cans filled with used condoms and whiskey bottles, washed and pressed the prostitutes’ work clothes, and performed other duties, like running to the store and going to pay bills. I also babysat Mott.
One day it rained hard and one of the men, a former Black preacher I had run to the store for a few times, offered to give me a ride home. Five minutes after I’d gotten into his car, he propositioned me, and I accepted without hesitation. He paid me fifteen dollars just to masturbate him.
“You be a good little girl and make ‘Daddy’ feel nice…hear?” he slobbered in my ear. He was no worse than Mr. Boatwright. In fact, he was better-looking, and he certainly smelled better. Even though my skin was crawling, I forced myself to smile and promised him I would and I did. He was so hot he couldn’t even make it to a motel just five more minutes away. I did it in his car in an alley behind the city library. It took two minutes.
When I got home I plunged the hand I had jacked the ex-preacher off with into the hottest bowl of Clorox bleach and water I could stand. That night I was in such a state of disbelief over what I had done, I had to sleep with the lights on.
I felt nothing for men so far, so it didn’t faze me one way or the other if I made them pay for me to make them feel good. I justified my actions by telling myself, if I’ve got to do it anyway sooner or later with a husband, if I ever got crazy enough to get married, why not do it now and get paid for it. The money would make up for the times I’d have to do it with a husband for free.
This ex-preacher and several others became my regulars. Before long, I didn’t even need the other odd jobs, the things Scary Mary had me doing. I quit, but I didn’t tell her why.
With Mama still working so much, I was alone most of the time. My tricks just called me up at home and told me what they wanted and where to meet them. Motels, hotels, their cars, alleys; I didn’t care. More and more each day I despised what I had become. I was selling the very thing that had made most of my life so miserable, sex. Like Rhoda’s aunt Lola had told me, it was the best card a woman had to play.
I had always believed that Mr. Boatwright was probably the biggest, weakest motherfucker in the world when it came to sex. Well when I saw the way some of my tricks carried on over a three-minute blow job, I began to see men in an even more disgusting light. Most of them were mature, married, and successful in whatever their business was. But they were subhuman. They had to be! They were risking losing their lives, their families, and their children over an orgasm that lasted only a few moments.
It took me two months of prostituting myself to save enough money to leave home. I went through it all in a mild daze. I didn’t feel a thing and didn’t give it much thought when I was doing it. During that dark period of my life I thought of it as just a job.
Because of a minor stroke, Judge Lawson was now almost exclusively confined to his bed and a wheelchair. He still had his poker parties, but he couldn’t drive anymore, and when he left the house it was in a specially made van driven by a chauffeur. He needed round-the-clock care. Another woman and a driver had been brought in to help Muh’Dear. In a way I was glad. Not glad about the judge’s failing health, but glad because Muh’Dear didn’t have to spend so much time at his house. In addition to all that, Muh’Dear got involved in two things. One, the most important of the two in my opinion, night school! “You the first and only one in my family to graduate from high school. I want to be the second one,” she told me shyly one evening. I had encouraged her and even helped her select the appropriate courses and school.
“I’m so glad you got that telephone-operator job. I can finally cut back on my hours even more,” Muh’Dear told me.
Since the judge was not in the picture as much as he had been, the other thing Muh’Dear involved herself with was another man. I think of my mother as some kind of a magnet. Like Mr. Boatwright, he just showed up at our house one day out of nowhere. I had never seen him around town before even though Muh’Dear told me he had lived in Ohio longer than anybody else she knew.
The whole business just about scared me to death, but I didn’t tell her how I felt. All I wanted was for her to be happy.
“This here is Mr. King,” Muh’Dear introduced him that Sunday night. “He owns the Buttercup restaurant.”
I was amazed at how much emphasis she put on the word own. Her face lit up like a lamp as she talked. I had just returned from performing three tricks in an alley across town, with almost two hundred dollars inside my bra.
I recalled the day I came home from school when I was six and found out that Muh’Dear had moved Mr. Boatwr
ight in with us. At first, I figured that this Mr. King was going to move in with us, too, and it pissed me off. If that was the case, I’d have to work overtime so I could move out even quicker. There was no way I was going to risk going through another episode like the one with Mr. Boatwright with another man Muh’Dear had moved in with us to help out.
“Where you been all day, girl?” Muh’Dear asked me.
“I was visiting some friends from work,” I lied. I had not bathed yet and could still feel the men’s sweat on my body. I hated it, but my need for money kept me from stopping. I had two more men lined up for the next day. “Is he moving in with us?” I said quickly.
The man gasped.
Mama rolled her eyes at me.
“Naw, he ain’t movin’ in with us. Mr. King got him a big old house all to hisself right next door to his restaurant.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I mumbled uneasily.
“My girl here is a phone operator,” Muh’Dear told the man. “I’m so glad she such a good girl. Oh now she’s strayed off the track a mite. When she was a young’n, got herself in the family way by mistake. The Lord saw fit to make her miscarry and praise Him, she been on the straight and narrow ever since.”
“Give thanks,” the man nodded. “My girl got herself in the same fix when she was fourteen. Now she twenty-five, married to a serviceman, and I got me two grandbabies runnin’ around somewhere out there on that island of Hawaii.” The man and Muh’Dear groaned at the same time. He was her age, tall and tan and rather handsome. He still had most of his hair and a nice set of pearly white teeth. His thick black mustache was streaked with gray.
“I ate at your restaurant one time, Mr. King,” I said shyly.
“Well I do hope you enjoyed the food and the service!” he told me with great excitement, standing to shake my hand. My hand felt too dirty for anybody to be shaking it. My whole body felt dirty. No matter how many baths I took, I could never wash away the nastiness that went along with being a prostitute.
Muh’Dear’s new friend started babbling on about something, but I wasn’t listening. My mind was on too many other things. Like the men I had spent the last few hours with. I could hardly look in Muh’Dear’s face without wanting to throw up. But every time I felt that way, I justified what I had resorted to by telling myself that after all the times Mr. Boatwright had used me and paid me only a nickel I deserved as much as I could get from other weak men.
I sat with them in the living room and listened to Muh’Dear talk about her schoolwork.
“As soon as I finish school, get my GED, I’m goin’ to start lookin’ for a night college!” she hollered. “I ain’t goin’ to be no simple simon the rest of my life.”
“College?” I mouthed. College was something I had never even considered for myself.
“I want to study business administration. I’d like to have some business know-how, so I will be ready to run my own business.” Muh’Dear paused and looked directly at Mr. King, sitting next to her on the couch. “My girl is goin’ to get her a fancy office job and make lots of money. She goin’ to finance me a restaurant when she make her first million.” She paused again and this time, she turned to face me. “Ain’t you?”
“Uh-huh. A restaurant and that long-overdue trip to the Bahamas,” I added.
CHAPTER 43
What made my life even more miserable was the fact that another man had somehow come between Muh’Dear and me, and I didn’t want to have to live around that again. I wanted my mother to be happy, and if she could find happiness with some man, I would force myself to accept it.
“Me and Mr. King thinkin’ about takin’ a little trip ourselves one day soon,” Muh’Dear told me. She had only known him a few weeks!
I was shocked and horrified when Muh’Dear took a day off from her work and went to an amusement park with Mr. King. I was at “work” when they left, so I didn’t see what she had on until she got home. A pair of shorts!
I called Rhoda as soon as Muh’Dear and Mr. King left to go out to dinner. “My mama’s been drinking like a fish!” I yelled into the phone. “Not just beer, but whiskey and brandy.”
“What’s wrong with that? I wish my mama was well enough to get out and enjoy herself.” Rhoda was so calm she made me angrier.
“She’s never done that kind of stuff before that hard and heavy!”
I heard Rhoda let out a loud sigh.
“You better hurry and get yourself to Erie, Pennsylvania. You’re goin’ nowhere fast. Pee Wee is gone, I’m gone. Even Florence is gone. Why are you still hangin’ around Richland?”
“I’m saving money for my ticket.”
“You’ve been workin’ long enough to have saved your fare. Look, you sit down and decide what day you’re leavin’. I’m not goin’ to talk to you again until you call me from Erie.” Rhoda hung up on me. I felt bad because I had not even asked her about her pregnancy, and since she hung up on me, I was too afraid to call her right back to ask.
I cried for a while, then I sat down and figured out how much money I had saved up. Fifteen hundred dollars. The next evening when Muh’Dear got in from the movies and came to my room to tell me what a good time she had had with Mr. King, I told her. I told her, “I’m moving to Erie soon. I don’t know exactly when yet, but it’ll be before Thanksgiving, so I can avoid the holiday crowds.” A sad look appeared on her face. She let out a deep sigh, and then she sat down on the side of my bed. I had already turned in for the night.
She just looked at me for a moment, like she was studying every inch of my face.
“You really leavin’ me?” she rasped. Tears had already formed in her eyes. “You don’t have to go nowhere if you don’t want to. You can live with me the rest of your life if you want to.”
I shook my head. “I can’t, Muh’Dear. It’s time for me to get out in the world and see if I can make it on my own,” I said with a forced smile.
“You just got out of school. Lots of kids don’t leave home ’til they get in their twenties,” she informed me.
“I’m ready now, Muh’Dear. I’ve been ready for a long time.”
Muh’Dear sighed and looked around the room. “This room sure could stand a new paint job. Uh…I’ll get you some new suitcases in the mornin’.” She returned her attention to me and gave me a big smile, though there were still tears in her eyes.
“OK, Muh’Dear.” I smiled and gave her a bear hug.
I packed everything I wanted to take the Sunday night before my departure date, almost four months after my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t really have a plan as far as my future was concerned. I figured a few months or maybe a year or two in a place where I didn’t know anybody would give me the time I needed to get a grip. Besides, turning tricks, even for the short time I had, had worn me out. I felt dirty and cheap. Even though it was all behind me, I still took two baths a day, gargled frequently, and douched before going to bed every night.
Muh’Dear arrived home unexpectedly in a cab from Judge Lawson’s house around 5 P.M. “Why are you home so early? I haven’t even put dinner on yet,” I said.
For once she didn’t look tired after working most of the day. She gave me one of her biggest smiles and gripped my shoulders. “’Cause I want to send you off with a bang. Get your coat. The cab’s waitin’. We got a reservation at Antonosanti’s.”
Muh’Dear and I didn’t talk much during the cab ride. In fact, I sat up front with the driver on purpose, hoping I could carry on a conversation with him instead. Muh’Dear asked me over and over if I had packed my Bible, my good dress, toothbrush, things like that. In addition to those items, I had also packed things that I would never use again, particularly clothes I’d outgrown, but that reminded me of special events I’d shared with Rhoda. Things Rhoda had given to me, like some stiletto heels her Aunt Lola had given to her that she didn’t want. I had worn the shoes only once, to the prom. I had also packed my prom dress, which I had not had cleaned on purpose. I would never wear it again, so the stai
n made by Lena Cundiff’s punch didn’t matter. I left it stained because I never wanted to forget what she did to me and what I did to her.
After we entered the restaurant, Mr. Nelson was the first person I spotted, sitting at the bar. He had an unlit cigar in one hand and a shot glass full of whatever he was drinking in the other. Sitting next to him was Mr. Antonosanti. He was smoking his cigar, and there was a full shot glass in his hand, too. I would have gone over to speak to them if Uncle Johnny had not appeared, staggering from a side entrance near the men’s room. Antonosanti’s was the nicest restaurant in Richland, but it was too expensive for average people. It was a large, dimly lit place with live plants leaping out from big vases on the floor. On the walls were paintings of Roman soldiers in uniforms hugging thick-bodied women. Music, women wailing in Italian, filled the main dining area.
The place was crowded with well-dressed white patrons stretching their necks and shading their eyes with their hands to look at me and Muh’Dear as we strutted proudly across the floor. I was glad Muh’Dear requested a booth near the back for privacy. “Let us try to stroll into a place like this in Florida. Them white folks would set the dogs on us so fast,” Muh’Dear said under her breath.
The only thing I felt a little uneasy about was the fact that we were so casually dressed. Under my trench coat I had on blue jeans and a gray smock. Muh’Dear had on her black-and-white maid’s uniform. We didn’t check our coats at the front. We didn’t remove them and place them on the other side of the booth until we had ordered. “Add a bottle of your best champagne,” Muh’Dear told the waiter. The friendly young man hesitated, then looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “Don’t worry, she’s twenty-one. You can ask your boss, Mr. Antonosanti…good friend of my boss, Judge Lawson,” Muh’Dear told him, speaking out of the side of her mouth. The waiter nodded and winked before he left. “They better not give me no stuff in here. I’ll sic Judge Lawson on ’em and make ’em lose their liquor license. Straighten your collar, girl.”
