by T. Styles
He moved uneasily in his seat. “I’m buying you some sweatpants at the first store I see.”
“Suit yourself,” I said dryly.
I folded my arms angrily over my breasts and glanced out of the grimy window. It looked like it had never been cleaned. A blue truck drove next to us and I saw a woman reach over and kiss the driver on the lips. I wondered how long they’d been in love, and if I would ever find that for myself. I laughed at the thought and dismissed it the moment it entered my mind.
The closest thing I’d found to love was a man I dated some years back. He started out kind but then grew cold and vicious over time. I hid all I could hide from him, including falling deeper into the underworld of Houston, Texas.
“How much longer we got to go,” I asked softly, looking out at the road ahead of me. “Long car rides make me sick and my stomach is starting to flip.”
“I’m not sure, Lourdes,” he said in a disgruntled tone. “But unless you want your brains splattered all over the streets of Baltimore, I suggest you sit back and relax. You know what kind of drama we just left back there. We have to keep moving or risk getting caught.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Where do you want me to start?” he responded.
“It wasn’t my idea to go to Texas, you know.”
“Is that why you begged me a million times at the home? When niggas was trying to take my head off and I was trying to get out alive?”
“You’re the one who came into the hotel to save me, remember? I left you.”
“Don’t remind me.”
He confused me so much that I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know what was going on in his mind or what he wanted from me. One minute he despised me, and the next he saved my life. That’s not all he did that amazed and bewildered me at the same time. After we left the hotel room in a hurry, and made it to the car, he went back inside and grabbed my briefcase from the room even though I didn’t ask.
“Have you ever been to Texas before?” I asked, my voice so low I could barely hear myself. “It really is beautiful.”
“No, but I always wanted to go,” he responded looking into my eyes, causing my heart to pump faster. “Just never thought it would be like this.”
He focused back on the road and clutched the steering wheel tightly. I couldn’t help but wonder why. I always felt like he was holding himself back around me, and I wished he would just let go so that I could learn to know him better.
“Do you hate me?” I asked. “Do you blame me for everything that happened back on Belair Road and at the hotel? With the murders, the shooting and you having to save my life? I gotta know, Preacher.”
He sighed. “Part of that drama we left in Baltimore was mine, so no, I don’t blame you. Just wish I didn’t have to deal with this shit right now.”
I massaged my arms to warm myself up.
He glimpsed at me, turned the air off and rolled the window down. My hair soared in the wind. That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. He must’ve known that the air, even at its lowest setting, was too chilly for me and he relented by turning it off. He was considerate and evil at the same time.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask you when we left the hotel, but are you hurt?” he asked. “I mean he didn’t …uh…did he…rape you?”
I turned the radio up and Brian McKnight’s voice filled the car. “He tried to…really hard. I fought the best I could and he decided to show me what he was going to do to me by killing that girl. As he put her through all that pain, he looked over at me with a grin on his face. The look on her face will stay in my mind forever.”
I closed my eyes and tried to push the diabolical actions I witnessed in that room away. How that woman begged for her life and how it seemed to fall on deaf ears was horrendous. I prostituted myself for living but I’d never been introduced to so much savagery until now.
“I guess I shouldn’t worry about you too much, as far as that’s concerned anyway, considering you sell your body for profit,” he said.
My jaw tightened so much it felt like I was about to shatter my teeth. “It’s amazing,” I said looking over at him. “You have the ability to lift me up and then throw me down in the same minute. You must’ve practiced being cold in life for a very long time because you’re good at it.” I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair to tame it as it blew in the wind. “If you want, Preacher, you can drop me off up the street. Nobody is forcing you to take care of me now.”
“You’re not running again, Lourdes. Every time something doesn’t go your way you don’t get to run. I’m not letting you do that again. Once we are in Texas you’re free to do whatever you want, but not until then.”
He peered at me and my heart melted. It was like being on a seesaw with him. And for some reason, for the first time in my life, I want to be better and do better.
“I’m not running, I just don’t want to be a burden on you that’s all.” I cupped my hands together and sat them in my lap. “I don’t want to throw my problems your way. And you were right about one thing. I do know a little about taking care of myself since I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
As he drove, his index finger tapped softly on the steering wheel. He was holding back again. “I’m a man. I’ll dismiss any situation I don’t feel like handling, so you’re good for now.” He looked at me and then back at the road. “Since we got hours to go tell me about yourself.”
“Well,” I sighed, “Contrary to what you might think of me, I actually have a sound business plan. I’m going to be a top salesperson for Candy Girl Cosmetics.” I smiled with my cheeks so high they looked like sand hills sitting directly under my eyes. “My mama was the best in the business when she was alive and she bought us a beautiful house back home.” I stared out ahead of me at nothing in particular, as I allowed my thoughts to escape me again. “Life was sweet back then, real sweet. I was surrounded by the kind of world worth living in. I’m not dumb either. I mean, I know I’m never going to have that again but it always feels good remembering.”
His forehead crinkled. “If your life was so good, what happened?”
“Mama married Shannon Vale—”
“Hold up, Shannon Vale the pimp?” He interjected.
I looked over at him. How did he know his status? “You’ve heard of him?”
“Not a lot but he was in the ceilings when I was doing my time. Did you work for him too?”
I groaned because that time in my life was pitiful. Normally I hated talking about it but for some reason, I wanted to tell him how I became a whore. “When I was seventeen, he got me ready for the life. Showed me how to use my body so that I could make money. If anything, I should be grateful to him because I don’t have any real skills…”
He frowned and I could feel anger radiating from his body. As if I were standing directly under the sun’s rays. “What you mean he got you ready?”
“My mama worked for him and it was only right that I worked for him too.” I shrugged. “I didn’t mind too much, plus I wanted to help out with the bills and things around the house. Shannon had some other girls who were working with him too and they all seemed to love the work and he wasn’t always mean. Before I knew it, prostitution became my life.”
“So basically you were raped and your mother allowed it to happen. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
Anger squeezed my chest. “Who said anything about rape?”
“If you had sex with a grown man at seventeen and your mother allowed it to happen, you were raped.”
“Don’t talk about my mother. Whatever you do, don’t go there. My mama was a wonderful woman and she loved me very much. You don’t know nothing about my mother or my life.”
He chuckled. “News flash, any woman who would pimp her own daughter out does not love her child.”
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was trying to catch my breath but it remained out of reach. So I began hyperventilating and fanning my face w
ith my fingers. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t calm down. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t gotten high. And then there was the burning question. Was what he said true? Did my mother allow her boyfriend to rape me?
Preacher brought the car to a slow crawl. “Lourdes, you okay?”
“No, can you pull over,” I said still trying to catch my breath. “I…I can’t breathe.”
“But we gotta stay on the road.”
“Please, Preacher. I need to catch my breath.
He pulled the car over into the parking lot of what looked like an old diner. I opened the door and a blast of air massaged my body as I ran. Maybe it was the fact that I was holding back my tears, or maybe it was that he had talked badly about a woman I worshipped, but something in my spirit was off. I was about to try and find some dope when he came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Lourdes,” he said in a voice so deep, my body rocked. “I was out of line for the shit I said in the car.”
And just like that, I was immediately at ease. Who was this man? When I turned around and look up into his eyes, I could tell that he felt something for me in that moment. My heart said it was true even if he didn’t tell me. What I didn’t understand was why. I didn’t deserve the kind of love he could provide although I desired it badly.
“My mama wasn’t the best person,” I said walking away from him. “But she was the only mama I had. And if I don’t hold on to the love I have for her, nothing in my life will matter. I won’t matter. Without her love, I’ll be the person you and the rest of the world think I am. A run down whore.”
“Damn, look at that bitch over there,” someone said interrupting our conversation. “She fine as shit ain’t she, man? Wearing the hell out of that skirt.”
When I glanced in the direction of the voice, I saw a short guy with a baldhead. Two taller men flanked his sides and they looked like they spent their entire lives in the gym. The short guy wore a gold chain almost as tall as he was.
Preacher immediately broke away from me and approached the men. “What the fuck you just say?” Preacher towered over the short guy, placing him under an umbrella of shade.
“I’m saying she fine as shit,” he said looking around Preacher and at me. “She’s a working girl, right?” He looked up into Jamal’s eyes. “I mean anybody wearing a skirt that high gotta be a whore. So how much you charging? You her pimp, ain’t you?”
I didn’t know how this was going to end, but I doubted it would end well.
CHAPTER TEN
PREACHER
Picturesque, rural green landscapes passed by as the hum the old Chevy made in perfect unison with nature soothed me. There’s nothing like the serenity of driving down a highway on a beautiful day to release the troubled thoughts of the mind. Lourdes sat next to me and, as usual, we argued and then agreed it was okay to disagree, sort of.
Every so often, I would steal a glance at her. Even though she had been battered and bruised, I got the feeling her psychological wounds were deeper than the physical ones. She looked haggard and weary, but she still was one of the most beautiful chicks I’d ever seen. Her short skirt rose up her leg, exposing the cleavage of her thigh as we talked. I couldn’t help but treat myself to some of her eye candy. In the back of my mind, I kept thinking how I could have been so stupid to turn down her sex, amongst other things.
I needed to know just who Lourdes Beaumont was. I wanted to ask her about the hit man at the hotel who was getting ready to rape and murder her. He was a professional, a hired killer, and judging from the way he cut up that girl, he obviously enjoyed his work. I had the feeling Lourdes was running from something and that bonded us in strange a way I couldn’t explain.
In some ways, Lourdes was beginning to open up to me. She told me the despicable things about her past and that her mama was a hoe too. That really got me to thinking. I wanted to know more.
After a heated conversation about Lourdes’ mother, I pulled the car over on a desolated stretch of highway into an old diner with tumbleweeds and trash littering the parking lot. The sweltering heat was unbearable. Lourdes looked like she was hyperventilating or some shit when she hopped out the car. I must have really struck a nerve talking about her mama.
As I got out the car, an eighteen-wheeler passed by and blew its loud horn. Lourdes flinched as dirt and debris stirred like a miniature tornado in the distance. I walked up behind her and put my hand on her shoulder. She turned around and looked at me, still holding her hair in the swirling wind. I had just apologized for the umpteenth time and was about to offer her a much-needed hug when I heard some asshole from behind disrespect her.
In a heated exchange of words with a discourteous thug who just asked me if I was her pimp, I said “Naw, I ain’t her mothafucking pimp, but what you call her a bitch for?” My body went rigid with anger.
Lourdes cut her eyes at them disconcertedly. “Don’t pay no attention to them. Let’s just go,” she said softly and placed a hand on my chest. The trio continued to harass her; it was as if I wasn’t standing there, as if I was a fuck nigga.
With my jaw clinched tight, I tried to muster some semblance of diplomacy.
“Yo, fall back or it’s going to be a problem,” I said dead ass serious.
“Who the fuck is you?” One of the dudes asked. He had a nappy red Mohawk and freckles on his face. He wore one of them little handmade muscle shirts with the sleeves cut off, showing his massive arms.
“Look, my nigga, y’all need to keep it moving. Take that shit on the road ‘cause it ain’t what you think.”
The other guy walked to the back of the Chevy. I watched him through the corner of my eyes as I wondered what the fuck he was up to. Then he answered my question.
“Nigga, you a long way from home. Maryland.” He said with a smirk on his face. His eyes looked too close together, he too wore one of them little ass shirts, he had big lips and his dark skin was tatted up.
“Yea, I’m from B-More, what?”
“You down south now, nigga, and we don’t fuck with lame ass dudes from Baltimore.” The dark skin dude said with grit in his voice and walked up on me.
It was obvious what was about to go down and I heard Lourdes shout, “Y’all stop it!” There was a fearful tremor in her voice.
“Yea and I don’t don’t fuck with no country ass, backwoods ass niggas.”
I don’t know what it was; it was like I was having buzzard’s luck since I had come home from prison. I watched the short big head dude take off for a white Cadillac Escalade truck sitting on twenty-eight inch rims; he was getting something out the back seat. My eyes scanned the surroundings. We were in the middle of nowhere.
The dark skin dude walked up, chest bumped me and placed his finger in my face. “You got a slick ass mouth like you looking for some rec,” he barked. The entire time my mind was on the short dude getting something out the vehicle. I knew I had to move fast.
Then dude dark skin dude mushed my forehead with his finger. “Nigga, you hear me talking to you?”
The guy with the freckles laughed heartily.
“Let’s get out of here, Preacher,” Lourdes yelled. She stomped her foot and continued to pull at her windblown hair as the drama unfolded.
I took off for the car just as the short dude turned with whatever he had retrieved from the vehicle.
“Scary ass nigga, don’t run now.” The freckled face dude laughed.
I grabbed the chopper off the back seat and held it at my side to conceal it from passing traffic as I calmly walked back over. At first, none of them saw it because of how I positioned myself on the side of the car. The short dude had retrieved some type of club and was rushing back over to me on a mission to pummel my ass, and so was his dark skin buddy. I stepped out with the AK-47, pointed it at the short one, and watched his jaw drop as both of them stopped in their tracks.
Freckled face’s laughter died and gave way to a gasp. “Oh, shit,” he exclaimed.
&
nbsp; “We was just playing, dawg,” big head said and dropped the club on the concrete; it rolled down the embankment as cars pass by every so often.
“Well this chopper doesn’t play. Let me get the keys to the whip and your proceeds. You country niggas about to donate to the cause,” I said.
To my surprise, Lourdes stepped forward. She didn’t seem like the meek woman I first met. She folded her arms over her chest, sucked her teeth and spat, “I’m sick of this shit. Y’all bitches get butt ass naked and take everything out your pockets. This a stick up.”
She was totally out of character and I had to do one of them comical double takes. I watched her, the abused, became the abuser. Lourdes smiled a sheepish grin as the dudes stripped butt ass naked. For some reason that I would never know, Lourdes was enjoying herself immensely.
We stripped them of everything—a few hundred dollars, a thick gold chain and a nice ass brand new Escalade—and left them lying naked on the side of the road.
****
Hours later, we were in Houston. We rented a room at a Best Western. Lourdes was still jovial and hyperactive as she entered the room and tossed that big ass briefcase on the bed and whirled around doing a happy dance.
“I’ve never seen you smile so much,” I said as I walked over and peered out the window.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a reason to smile.” She kicked off her shoes and turned on the radio.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“What?” She continued to fiddle with the radio station.
“What are you running from?”
Her hands stopped moving. There was a pregnant pause. Static buzzed from the radio. She didn’t turn around.
Finally, she shrugged her shoulders and answered dejectedly. “I saw something I shouldn’t have seen…or maybe I should have. I’m not sure anymore.” Her hand traced a scar on her wrist as she turned and around looked at me with sad eyes. “My mama always told me not to run from anybody or anything. She said to face your troubles or they’ll stab you in the back.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not running no more. And I want to tell you something else.”
