by E. N. Joy
"Okay, cool," I nodded, figuring that the ten percent she took off top would simply be a part of her thirty percent cut. That would only be leaving her twenty percent when all was said and done.
"Okay then, Poppa..." she enunciated the "P's" hard, "...then I guess you got a new girl." She picked up the knock-off Louis Vuitton backpack that rested at her feet; another failed attempt to hide the fact that she was a hoodrat-a project chick. She shoved her backpack into my hands before saying, "Lead the way."
Once again I looked at Tia, who once again shrugged. Without vocalizing the fact that chicks usually carried my things for me, I headed toward the car thinking the entire time, Two months tops. I'll have her right where I want her in two months tops.
After arriving to my old school Thunderbird that was parked at a meter around the corner from the bus station, Saved stood at the passenger door and waited until I opened the door for her before she'd get in.
Three months tops, I reevaluated as I opened the door for her and let
her in. Three months tops and I'll have her...
Chapter Three
Just like with so many other girls, I had picked up Saved from the bus station, had her in my car and heading to my apartment in a matter of minutes. Instant gratification; just like some Christians desired, so did most of the people I came into contact with. It was this microwave mentality that made Tia's job that much easier. Everybody wanted what they wanted and they wanted it now. Nobody wanted to wait and see what could be. They needed for things to happen now; quickly. They wanted the rabbit out of the hat; a genie in a bottle and magic tricks. Oh, I had some tricks for them all right. Man, oh man did I have some tricks for them.
I was a magician in my own rights, and Tia was my lovely assistant. Oh how my Tia could play so many roles. Oh how my Tia could sway which ever way the wind blew. This skill enabled her to sympathize and empathize with those she came into contact with. She knew just what to do and just what to say. She didn't need to pass out Tracts telling these young ladies how they could get saved. She'd convinced them that she could lead them directly to the savior himself.
I laughed to myself as I pictured Tia less than five minutes ago standing beside Saved; some glazed- up chick, as if she'd just brought me the prize Apostle Paul says in the Bible that one should press toward. I think that scripture is in the book of James. I don't know. I only went to church back when I was a little kid. But now I was a grown man close to my mid twenties. I wasn't thinking about going back to the church house. Church was, though, the place I learned the game from in the first place. I learned by watching the preacher man do everything but pull out a magic wand in order to get the people do what he wanted them to."
"To God be the Glory!" the pastor would always yell from the pulpit, covered in sweat after hooping, hollering and carrying on. Some of the church mothers called it 'gettin' happy.' But the only time I really saw the pastor 'gettin happy' was after he took up an offering.
In my opinion, he might as well have been saying Abracadabra or hocus pocus! He might not have used those words, but he used words all right.
"Uncle Sam gets his money from your paycheck first," the pastor would preach. "Why? Because he don't trust you, that's why. He don't trust you to give what's due him. And I'm sure you don't trust him either. But there is someone you can trust, and His name is G-O-D," he spelled out. "God says you must pay your tithes. So if you do as God says, then you can trust Him to keep your lights on. You can trust Him to make a way for your rent to get paid. You can trust Him. Trust God!"
By the time he finished up, folks couldn't get to the offering plate fast enough.
"Excuse me, son. Excuse me, baby," the women in big hats and flowery perfume would say, bumping my sister and I out of the way so that they could get to the giving plate. Most of the time, my sister and I didn't put the dollar our mother would give us in the plate anyway. We'd go and get junk food from the corner store across the street from the church after service.
But I'd stand there in my Sunday's best and watch how the preacher would get folks to put their last dime in that shiny little plate that the ushers walked around with twice per service. I observed how he delicately told them that if they didn't turn over their tithes and offerings according to the word of God, then they would reap what they sowed.
"If you give little, then you're gonna receive little back. If you give plentiful, then you will receive plenty back. If you don't give at all...well, I'm sure you all can figure out the rest. And don't get made at me when it comes to pass. Those are God's words, not mine."
I sat there amazed; in awe. I wanted to learn from that man who stood before me with such power and authority. I wanted to learn, not how to get into heaven, but how to create my heaven on earth by having such riches and wealth in my own house. So I watched, listened, took notes and mastered the gift for my own good. I'd wake up every Sunday morning with my mental notebook and pen, ready to get schooled.
"Go get your sister up and you two get ready for church," my momma would peek her head into my bedroom and say to me come Sunday morning. "And don't be taking your sweet ol' time either. You know the church van comes at nine o'clock promptly. If you and your sister ain't out there when it comes and you get left, y'all gon' walk y'all's black tails to church and I meant it. I got company coming this morning and I don't need you two running around here getting in the way."
And on that note the door would close and Momma would begin her ritual of getting ready for her 'company.'
At first I hated Sundays. In my book, it was the worse day of the week. For one, we had school the next day so it was back to going to bed at eight-thirty at night (eight if Momma was having company early). For two, I had to go to church and at first I hated going to church.
"I don't know why we gotta go," I'd spat while throwing my clothes from my drawer, looking for something to wear, "when our own momma don't even go." That's the part I never understood-not at the time anyway-why momma always made my sister and I get up and go while she got to stay home and sleep in...if she wasn't having company that is.
Sunday mornings eventually became something I looked forward to. I was learning mad skills from the preacher man. And just to think, at first I hated having to get up early Sunday morning in order to make it to the church house by 9:30 a.m. I'd only started going to church in the first place because my moms used to force me and my sister to go. She never even went on Easter.
Once I started getting older and making my own decisions, I stopped attending church regularly. Don't get me wrong, that preacher man could preach a good word. I saw him lay hands on folks and they'd fall out. They'd come to and never be the same again. I watched killers and thugs go to the altar and get saved. I watched gang members leave their gang and join his congregation. But I'd seen enough. Once I figured I'd gotten all I could out of the church scene, I didn't want to be there anymore at all. By then, I only half paid attention to the preacher man anyway, especially since I'd seen him on an occasion or two creeping out of my mom's bedroom. And I'm sure it wasn't after a session of prayer either.
Needless to say, I took both the things I'd learned from the preacher and my momma, and used that as the foundation to build my very own tabernacle so to speak. It was a place where, I too, took people off the streets and promised to show them a love that they'd never experienced before. Tia was my first recruit. Now Tia was the recruiter.
Tia had a trained eye to spot the look in the girls' eyes of which to whom she could lead to their destiny. She could detect the desperate look in their eyes a mile away. It was the same look she had worn the day I recruited her four years ago at that very same bus station.
But this girl, Saved, that Tia had recruited today didn't seem to have that look in her eyes though. Not consistently. Not in my opinion anyway. So I couldn't really tell if she was turning it on and off-playing a little game of her own. But if she was standing before me, ready to be put to work, then certainly Tia hadn't made a mistake. Had
n't seen something in this girl that really wasn't there...or had she?
That's where I came in. I had to be ready, willing and able to be the Shepherd of all the lost little sheep Tia rounded up and brought my way. But somehow, this time around, with this new sheep that Tia had wrangled up, I already knew my job wasn't going to be easy. But I was not one to be discouraged quickly. Who did this girl think she was anyway? Standing there like she came with her own set of rules? Didn't she know that I was the master? I laid down the law of the land. She was just a sheep. Not even a sheep. A calf maybe. She should have asked somebody, because then, I was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing.
We arrived at my spot, which was only about ten minutes from the bus station. After parking in the garage, we headed up to my top floor two bedroom apartment. I unlocked the door and went inside and turned off the alarm. Before I could even tell Saved to come in and make herself at home, she'd already done just that.
"Well, God really must love me in spite of me," Saved declared as she flopped down on my white, leather sofa. "Because I feel like I'm in heaven," she screeched.
She looked around my living room of which the color scheme was all white. The furniture, the rugs, the lamps-all white. The fluffy, fury toss pillows on the couch-all white, resembling soft clouds. I could see why she felt like she was in heaven. And ironically enough, that was my train of thought behind the all white color scheme. Honest, innocent and pure; that's what I wanted the girls to feel like when they entered my home.
"Well, don't go giving God all the glory just yet," Tia interrupted Saved's moment as she stood in the doorway, holding Saved's backpack. "This is Poppa's apartment. Ours is—"
The excited look on Saved's face was just about to fade when I interrupted Tia's sentence. Clearing my throat, I said, "Tia, why don't you take Saved's bag into her bedroom." I nodded toward the second bedroom in my pad at the end of the hall.
Tia's satisfaction of bursting Saved's bubble had now been replaced with Tia's own bubble being burst.
"But—" Tia started.
"But nothing." I put some bass in my voice. "Do what I said and then leave me and Saved alone so I can get to know her better. And send Monet up to come whip up Saved something to eat." I looked at the five feet six, dark-skinned, short curly head girl that couldn't have weighed more than one-hundred twenty pounds. "Saved here looks like she's starving. You hungry?" I asked her. "You want something to eat?"
"Oh, no, I'm good," Saved said as she took her shoes and footies off and squished her toes into the white fur rug that laid in front of the couch. "Tia bought me a burger from that joint inside the bus station while we were waiting on you to show up. I just need a hot bath to satisfy me right now."
"Cool then," I stated, "but you might want something a little later." I looked to Tia. "Send Monet down anyway. Then after you take Saved's bag to her room, you can get gone."
Smacking her lips, Tia walked through the living room and down the hall with a grimace on her face. She mumbled something under breath. I couldn't make out the words, but I knew it was something smart by the way she was rolling her eyes. Everything in me wanted to knock her eyes out of her head, but that's not the impression I wanted to give Saved about me right away. So I'd check Tia later-in private.
Tia passed the bedroom on the right, which was mine. My room was off limits to any of the girls. Next, she passed the guest bathroom on the left and went straight to the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. She dropped the bag at the door with a thud and an attitude and then headed back down the hall. She rolled her eyes as she stomped pass me, making her way out of my apartment.
Oh how I couldn't wait to tag that butt for showing disrespect. Fortunately, though, Saved was too busy admiring the décor and wasn't paying attention to Tia's behavior anyway.
Per my instructions, I knew Tia was headed down two floors where I kept two two-bedroom apartments for my girls. The smaller of the two bedrooms in each apartment had a double bed that two of the girls shared. The larger room had another double bed and a futon that could sleep one. I always tried to have at least eight to ten girls on the payroll. Sometimes I'd bring in a new girl when I knew one of the old ones was on her way out. So if we had a full house, that meant the newbies had to take the sofa bed in the living room. And since we did already have a full house, that's probably where Tia had expected Saved to go, but Saved had brought a force with her; a spirit for lack of better terms. And that spirit was leading me to keep her close; at least for now anyway.
"So," I clasped my hands together once Tia was good and gone, "let me show you to your room and get you a towel and washcloth so you can get cleaned up."
"Praise God! You don't have to tell me twice." Saved jumped up from the couch and followed me to her temporary living quarters. I'd spoil her for a day or two before she joined the rest of the flock. "God is good," she mumbled, galloping behind me. "Bless His holy name!"
I hadn't prayed in a long time, but just then I prayed that God would give me the strength to not laugh in this girl's face again. This entire Holy hooker thing was far too much for me to grasp. But I just continued to lead the way, pretending as though she wasn't saying anything out of the ordinary.
"And here you are." I opened my arms up, as if offering her the world, instead of a guest bedroom. I then moved aside so Saved could enter.
"Holy crap!" she exclaimed. Only she didn't say the word crap, but an explicit instead. "Forgive me, Lord; You know I'm working on getting rid of that cursing demon that has my tongue bound. But dang, this room is pimped out." Saved went and sat on the queen-sized black and red satin sheet comforter set that covered the bed. She bounced up and down as if testing its durability. That's when she looked up at the wall and shouted, "You's a lie! You lying!" She got up, pointing at the flat screen television that was mounted on the wall. "If you tell me it's Hi-Def, I'ma pee my pants."
"Then hold up while I go get you a diaper," I joked.
"Oh, Poppa!" The next thing I knew, this seventeen- year- old girl was giving me a hug. It was a big hug. It was as if I was her father and had just won her an oversized stuffed animal shooting basketball at the Ohio State Fair. "What I gotta do? Tell me what I gotta do to stay here? I'll do anything. I promise."
There was that desperate look again on her face. My mouth almost watered. I was breaking down that wall she had up. Slowly but surely, I was breaking it down. I don't know why I had even concerned myself with the issue. She wasn't that much different than the other girls. She just had a bigger mouth was all. But I was starting to see that her bark was much worse than her bite. All it had taken to completely woo the other girls over was a couple of material things too. I don't know why I thought she would be much different. They were all the same. Same girl, different name. Inside, Saved was like the rest of them. It was just hard to detect at first because of that fly mouth of hers and that hard exterior she had surrounding her outsides.
"I know sometimes I just come out and say stuff and can be bossy," Saved said. "That's 'cause Puddin' told me that I always have to appear dominant so that nobody would walk all over me. I'm sorry if I might have offended you back at the bus station or anything though. I promise it won't happen again. I promise, Poppa, because, see, I know you're the boss. You're the boss, Poppa."
All in one breath these pleas from this little girl filtered the room. Ordinarily I'd given myself a pat on the back. Ordinarily I'd treated myself to a glass of Moet. Well, actually it would have been a glass of Crystal, but thanks to my Jay-Z boycott of Crystal, Moet would have to do. It would be accompanied by a steak, a treat to myself for breaking down a hoe so quickly. But for some reason, this time I felt different. As if my cup of pimp juice was only half full, I found myself putting my arms around this girl, like a father would a child, and kissing her on the forehead.
"Does that mean we cool?" she asked with hopeful doe eyes.
"We cool." Before that smile that was burning to cross my lips could seep out, I pushed her away.
It was my job to get in her head, not let her get into mine, and I could tell that's exactly what those slanted mommy eyes were attempting to do. "Grab your stuff so you can get cleaned up." I looked down at her backpack. "You got something to change into?"
"Not really," she said, shaking her head.
"Here," I said, leading the way to the closet. "I'm sure something in there will fit you. And there should be some under garments in the drawers."
She turned her nose up.
"They're brand new," I assured her. "Tags still on 'em and all."
She relaxed her facial muscles.
I looked down at her. "What are you, about a thirty-six C cup?" I asked.
Her eyes confirmed I was on point.
"Second drawer in the middle drawer," I told her. "About a three-four in panties?"
Once again, her eyes confirmed my accuracy.
"Top drawer on the left."
While she picked out something to wear, I headed to the hall linen closet and grabbed her a matching towel and washcloth set.
"Bathroom is right here," I pointed as she exited the bedroom with some clothing in hand. There are toiletries under the sink." I always kept a nice selection of Bath and Body Works for the girls. Once a month, which ever girl had brought in the most money spent a night in the guest room and got treated to dinner and some Poppa time. I liked to make things nice for them during their twenty-four hour stay. This kept them motivated. The night they spent at Poppa's house would be the only night they had off work. Unlike Saved, the other girls had no problem working on the seventh day.
"This is nice," Saved said as she entered the bathroom, looking up at the globe lights over the vanity.
