“No.” I sniffled into the phone. “No.”
He said, “Get a pen.”
I didn’t have to; I already had one in my hand.
“Write this number down.” He called out a number, and my hand moved accordingly. “Doctor Baker is still waiting on you, but at this point any pussy will do the trick,” he said. “This will be my first and last time calling you. You can sit over there hungry and get evicted if you want to, or you can allow me to welcome you into this establishment. You have one hour to think about it. If I don’t hear from you, then it was nice knowing you. I’ve never begged anyone to let me help them, and I’m not starting with you.” He hung up.
I stared hard at the phone and began thinking about Daddy, his monthly expenditures, and the hospital bill. My rent was due, and life without cable was a bitch. I saw the life that I was accustomed to slipping away. I could no longer afford the things I was used to, and that was the catch—I was used to them. With Damian footing the bills, I didn’t realize that I had been living beyond my means. I wanted to continue to have nice things and go to nice places.
I looked at Conrad’s number and couldn’t believe that I was dialing it. Fifteen minutes hadn’t even passed, so he’d know just how desperate I was. But I was at a point where it didn’t even matter; I was going broke.
“Hello?”
“When will I get the money?” I asked in an unsure whisper.
“He’ll give it to you tomorrow night. I already have my share. We worked that out.” He added, “But be sure to call the office and check in with my secretary when the deal is complete. She’ll need some information from you.” I could hear him smile. “Welcome to the Elite Establishment. You’ve made a wise decision.”
For the next ten minutes, Conrad brainwashed me into thinking that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what I was about to do. He kept mentioning all of my money problems, making them seem greater than they were. He informed me that Doctor Baker would be checking into the Hilton downtown under the name Will Brown around 7:00, and wanted me there no later than 7:30. “No playing around, he has to be somewhere else at ten o’clock.”
Before we hung up he said, “Please know that my clients are used to the best. Be sure to take care of yourself. Go get your hair, nails and toes done, and keep them done at all times. You never know when there is money to be made,” he said. “Oh, and if you don’t want to get on my bad side, don’t try to get paid and leave me out. Trust me, I will find out.” He added, “We have a conference in Detroit next weekend. I might need you there. But the most important thing is to have fun tomorrow night.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
“Have a nice day.”
“Goodbye.” I felt terrible about what I had just agreed to. But what else was I going to do?
As I hung up the phone it was ringing again. I was hoping that it was Conrad. I couldn’t do this, and I was going to tell him that I changed my mind. “Hello?”
“Thank you again,” Nat shrieked.
“Thank you for being a friend,” I sang. “Traveled down the road and back again. Your heart is true; you’re a pal and a confidant.” I loved the Golden Girls theme song.
She sang the next verse, which was the way we always did it. “And if you threw a party inviting everyone you knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me.”
We sang together. “And the card attached would say, thank you for being a friend.”
I giggled. “What’s up, girl?”
“Nothing. I wanted to say thanks again for the flowers, and I wanted to invite you to this thing they’re giving free tickets out to tomorrow.”
“What thing?”
“Does it matter?” she joked. “It’s free.”
“It could be a mass hanging. That’s free,” I said.
She was cracking up. When she finally composed herself, she said, “It’s an invitation to Vocalize. That’s that poetry reading jazz club on South Beach.”
“I’ve passed by that place before. That sounds good.” Then I remembered my engagement with Doctor Baker. “Oh, wait a minute. I have something to do tomorrow night.”
“What?”
I hated lying to her. “Doctor Baker is lecturing at the community college downtown. I promised him that I’d be there.”
“Aw, man. What time?” She sounded disappointed.
“Seven.”
“Oh, then that’s cool. This thing doesn’t start until ten-thirty.” She said, “If you want, we can go to the college together.”
“No, no.” I had to kill that thought. “I’ll go. You go to the club and get us a good table. I’ll meet you there. Those places get crowded fast.”
“Okay. Are you sure that you’re coming? I’m asking because I need to put your name on the list.”
“Yes, Miss Blake,” I said. “I’m positive.”
“All right,” she said. “See ya tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
For the first time ever, I didn’t want to see the next day, but it came anyway. I went down to Bob & Weave, and they tightened my weave job. Bob blew breath into my hair, bringing it back to life. Though he had to replace a few tracks, he didn’t charge me for them. He mentioned that he knew times were hard for me, and charged me only for a wash and set. I knew it wouldn’t take long before the gossip king learned my story.
At Nail Wok, they took care of my nails and toes. Once home I knew that the black dress I wore with Julian would do the trick for both Doctor Baker and Vocalize. I packed what I quickly named my slut box: condoms, extra panties, soap, a small towel, feminine and regular deodorant, lotion, perfume, and makeup.
I set out to the hotel at 7:00 and arrived at twenty after. I walked through the lobby like a zombie. I learned that “Bill Brown” was checked into room 529, and as I made my way to the elevator, I was tempted to run out. I kept my eyes on the entrance and vowed that if the elevator doors didn’t open in ten seconds, I would leave. I counted down in my head. Six, seven, eight, nine.
“I’m glad that you came.” Doctor Baker walked up next to me and pretended to be a stranger. He never looked my way. To others we appeared as two unrelated hotel guests waiting on the elevator.
His presence made me feel even more like running out of the hotel, but the elevator opened up before us, and he gestured with a smile. “Ladies first,” he said politely.
As the doors closed, he looked at me. “Can I examine you?” Before I could answer, he pushed me against the wall and slid his tongue so far into my mouth that it felt like he was tickling my tonsil. His hands traveled up my stomach and groped my breasts. “Isn’t it time for your mammogram?” He moved his hands around in a circular motion and was pinching my nipples as we came to a stop.
This was the wrong night for me to be sober.
When we got to the room, I remembered Conrad saying that Doctor Baker needed to be somewhere at 10:00, so at least this wasn’t going to be an all-night thing.
As we sat on the bed, I tried talking dirty to him, but it felt like something out of a cheap porn movie. I allowed him to kiss me and even stuck my tongue into his mouth, but nothing was working for me. He told me about how he often fantasized about me when I was in his office and even more when I left. He admitted to having an erection during most of my exams and said that he came on himself once during my pap smear.
After thirty minutes of me putting off the inevitable, he asked me to strip naked in front of him. He asked me to lie down on the bed with my legs opened up as though I was on his examining table. This idiot actually walked out of the room then in again with a clipboard. “Hello, Sarai.” He gave me a look, egging me to go on with it.
I was extremely uncomfortable. “Hi, Doctor Baker.”
“How are you?” he asked as he pulled the desk chair to the front of the bed.
“I’m doing just fine,” I said.
“You are a little late for your appointment.”
“Yeah.” I was anticipating his touch. It would mean
that this was almost over. “Traffic was heavy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late to apologize,” he said. “I have a little punishment for you.”
I got nervous and sat up a little. “What are you talking about?”
“Just relax.” He pushed my body back. “You took so long getting here that Nurse Brooks had to leave, so it’s just you and me.”
I felt stupid, but quickly focused on the money I would be leaving the room with. “I thought you weren’t allowed to examine patients without her in the room.”
Suddenly I felt his fingers touch me below. He began rubbing me gently. “I’m not supposed to, but you made this appointment so long ago, I couldn’t let you down.”
“Are you sure that this is okay?”
His words trembled. “Yes, it’s okay.”
“What instrument are you using?”
He giggled a little. “Well, someone broke into the office last night and stole just about everything, so I’m down to the basics.” He started sliding his finger in and out of me. “I’m using my finger.”
After a few minutes of heavy breathing he asked, “Would you mind if I used two?”
“That’s fine, Doctor Baker. You do whatever you need to do.”
“Really?” He doubled up his fingers, and just when I thought it was impossible, I began saturating his fingers with the oil from my spring. “I see that you like that,” he said.
I groaned a little, and I wasn’t faking it. “I do.”
While moving his fingers in and out of me, he used his other hand to stimulate my button.
Before long, I found myself grinding into his hands and squeezed my eyes shut. I was uncomfortable, but at the same time his hands were no different than any others that had pleasured me. Plus the fact that I was getting paid made me want to do the job right. “Oh yes, Doctor Baker, yes.”
Ten minutes later, he was kneeling in front of me, teasing me with his tongue. He started by pecking at me like a bird, and then he hardened his tongue and wiped it deep into me.
I jumped and cried, “Oh shit! Yeah, yeah, oh yes.”
“See how much fun we can have when Nurse Brooks isn’t around?”
I was truly enjoying the feel of his tongue, so I grabbed his head and begged for more. He must’ve been so excited; while lashing me, he managed to undress and strap on a condom.
Within minutes, he was on top of me, making faces like the world was coming to an end.
I didn’t see his equipment, and I didn’t need to, because I couldn’t even feel it.
Within five minutes, his sweat was draining down all over me, his eyes rolled back, and he let out a loud groan as he bit into his bottom lip.
I thought he was having a seizure, until he yelled, “Oh fuck, that was good.”
All I could do was roll to the right before the big ball of brown fat collapsed on top of me.
He was out cold, snoring and all. It was over.
“That wasn’t bad at all,” I whispered to myself. I left him on the bed, grabbed my slut box and took a warm shower.
Afterwards, I did my makeup again, being sure that I wouldn’t look like I had just reduced my worth when Nat saw me.
I opened the bathroom door and saw that Doctor Baker hadn’t moved an inch. His feet were still dangling off the edge of the bed, and he was snoring even louder. His hands at his sides helped to hide the rolls of fat littering him. The only way to determine where his back ended was where the crack began. He had no butt, just a holding area for shit.
“Doctor Baker.” I shook his body. “Doctor Baker.”
He was startled. “Yeah?” He looked around the room.
“I’m leaving. Conrad said that you’d have the money.”
He looked confused. “I do, but we’re not done yet.” He sat up. “Take off that dress. I want some more of that juicy pussy.”
He asked me to lie in bed and masturbate while he watched and stroked himself.
I did so until he walked over to me.
“Suck it, please.”
At least he was polite.
He used his hand to navigate himself into my mouth. “Spit on it and suck it.”
I wet him with my saliva so that I could easily gobble down all three inches of him.
When he seemed like he was about to come, he quickly pulled out and asked me to stand. He stroked his piece and applied the condom as he lay belly up on the bed and ushered me on top of him.
I hated every moment of it.
He kissed me harshly and continually squeezed my nipples.
I thought it would be over quickly like the first time, but Doctor Baker got his money’s worth. He poked me for close to thirty minutes.
When he climaxed, he pulled himself out of me, snatched off the latex, and insisted on coming on my breasts. Not only did he want me to spread it over my chest, but my stomach too. Then he begged me to lick my fingers, and I did.
When I was out of the shower, dressed and made up again, I had two thousand one hundred dollars in my hand. I didn’t want to see Doctor Baker ever again, but I probably would, because I had just proven to myself that for the love of money I would do anything.
“The lack of money is the root of all evil.”
—George Bernard Shaw
Bank Statement # 9
Account Balance: $2,415.20
It was 10:47 when I parked outside of Vocalize and dialed Nat’s number. “Where are you?”
“At the club,” she shouted.
The noise in the background was deafening.
“Are you still coming?”
“I’m outside,” I said three times before she understood. I gave the man at the door my name. “Where are you, meaning where are you sitting?”
“Up front by the stage,” she yelled.
“Okay.” I opened the door and heard the jazz saxophonist wailing.
Vocalize wasn’t that big. The maximum capacity had to be 100 people, and it looked like ninety-eight were already present. The bar was next to the door, so as I pushed my way through the crowd of about ten people, I was in front of it.
I ordered two Chocolatinis.
The wall murals of famous jazz musicians brought a smile to my soul. They made me remember my mother. The building was fashioned on a downward slope, like a theatre, so the stage was down below. There were five sections, each one a step lower than the next. There were three sofas in every section, with stylish coffee tables in front of them.
With the drinks, I carefully stepped down toward the front of the club, and the lights went down, leaving only the exit signs and the flicking candles on each table to light the way. “Damn,” I whispered.
“Sarai.”
I heard Nat’s voice to my right, and made her out in the darkness. I rested the glasses on the table then took a seat. “I got you a drink.” We were sharing a couch with three other ladies.
She pointed at two other Chocolatinis already waiting there. “I got you a drink.”
We both laughed.
“Well, two apiece ain’t ever killed anybody,” I said.
The saxophone player stopped, and the spotlight danced around the club. A tall, light-skinned guy graced the stage, wearing an orange dashiki and matching hat. He introduced himself as Twalik Abdul, the host. He knew good and well that his momma didn’t name him anything like that.
Twalik, just as I thought he would, opened the show with a pro-black poem, with the usual message of reciprocity. He introduced the next poet, an overweight black woman named Wanda Kendall. She had it all together, and before she was halfway through, most of the crowd was on its feet. I’ll probably always remember this line: “Between my legs you’ll find nothing but treasure. Rub it the right way and watch it spit diamonds beyond measure.”
Twalik’s presence, in a new dashiki between every act, was an absolute show-killer. I had finished both of my drinks and wanted to grab him from the stage and beat him until he admitted that his real name was Leroy.
“Can you all t
ake what’s up next?” Twalik asked the crowd.
The crowd roared the same answer they belted all night when he asked those types of stupid questions before each act. “Bring it on.”
“I don’t think you can handle this brotha,” he said.
Once again the crowd roared, “Bring it on.”
“Our next poet is no stranger to the Vocalize family. He graces us with his talent once a week in either song or poetry.” He paused. “But a song is just a poem set to music, isn’t that right?” He smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, sistahs and brothas, queens and kings, I present to some and introduce to others, Mister Tremel Colten.”
The crowd went wild more than they had for everyone else, but this time even Nat could barely contain herself. “Mel, do your thing, baby,” she yelled as he walked onto the stage wearing a beige shirt, black jeans, and boots.
“What’s up, Vocalize? How y’all doing?” He smiled. “It’s good to be back. I’d like to thank you all for coming back.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight I’ve decided to do a poem.”
There were sighs around the room.
“Come on, now. I have to rest my vocal chords. Maybe next Thursday I’ll have a song ready.”
Applause filled the room.
I fought rolling my eyes. “I didn’t know he was gonna be here,” I said to Nat.
“He’s the one that gave me the free tickets,” she said.
I tried to look comfortable on the couch. He was just ten feet away. “He’s probably no good.”
Nat smacked my leg. “Stop it.”
Tremel looked over the audience as he spoke. “I wrote this poem yesterday,” he said. “I ran into a situation that bothered me, and the only way out were these words.” He spotted Nat and gave her a little smile.
If he saw me, he didn’t make it known. It was like I was just another part of the chair.
“The title of this piece is Business Card.”
My eyes widened. I felt like sinking beneath the floor.
He rested the microphone back into the cradle and paused for a few seconds.
When he started to speak, it was with such thunder that I jumped.
Going Broke Page 12
