Gwen Terriault was furious when Taunya told her sister what she had done: “How could you even think about becoming a prostitute?” Don’t worry, Taunya insisted, it’ll never happen again. Two days later, Taunya called the agency, ready to give it another try. That fifty dollars had soothed her bruised feelings and besides, she had been perfectly safe, with her “bodyguard” downstairs on Spring Garden Road.
In two days of work, the fourteen-year-old serviced eight clients and earned nearly five hundred dollars—then quit the agency altogether and decided to return home. Taunya liked the money but at age fourteen she wasn’t ready to commit to a life of prostitution, not yet. A few weeks later, the need for parental concern and guidance won out over the fear of being lectured and reproved; Taunya confided in her mother, telling her all about the escort service. Brenda Terriault, shocked and outraged, pleaded with Taunya to stay away from the agency—and for a while, she did. She even promised to try harder in school when it resumed in September. It was too late for her to do anything about the disgraceful marks she had earned in the preceding months. That was the promise but Taunya was not ready to keep it. Within days Taunya resumed her habit of showing up at home on Sunday afternoon after a Friday night party; she skipped more classes than she intended, and when her parents persistently asked her what she was planning to do with her life, her usual response was, “I don’t know.”
The only bright spot for Taunya was the job her mother found for her after she returned home: Taunya worked afternoons at a vacuum sales and service outlet owned by a family friend. She had worked a few days there over the winter and now it looked like she had a full time job. Taunya was already planning to find a way to drop out of school when the fall rolled around, and if she could work at the shop she could support herself.
The frustrated Mrs. Terriault tried once again to impose some discipline on her daughter, and fell into the unfortunate habit of needling Taunya about her episode with the escort agency. After one all night party she even accused her daughter of trying prostitution again. The worried mother hoped her approach would act as a deterrent, but it had the opposite effect. In the final week of June Taunya left home again and returned to the service; but this time her mother knew where she was working—the furious Mrs. Terriault phoned the office and scathingly informed the manager that she had hired a fourteen-year-old. When Taunya returned from her “date,” she was fired. Running juveniles was not part of the legitimate image that escort services attempt to convey.
Brenda Terriault thought she had put an end to her daughter’s prostitution career. She was mistaken. Her intervention only served to drive Taunya into the dangerous world of street prostitution, where younger is better. Taunya’s first exposure to pimps came through a friend, Teri MacDonald, another fourteen-year-old runaway from Dartmouth. Teri and Taunya had developed a bond in school and it strengthened now that they found each other alone and away from home. One of four children, she and her siblings had been repeatedly beaten by their alcoholic father; the MacDonalds had separated in 1991, when Teri was thirteen and she had been living on her own ever since jumping from one foster family to another.
Teri was not a prostitute, but she spent a lot of time with the pimps from the North Preston area, in particular a man named Jeremy “Slugger” Field, who was a cousin of Manning Greer’s and a key player in the Scotian family. The thirty-year-old Slugger met Teri when she was hanging out on Spring Garden Road in the spring of 1991. He was home visiting family in North Preston and, as was his habit, he cruised Spring Garden Road and visited the local malls looking for new talent. After his visit, he returned to his apartment in Montreal, and the persistent pimp got on the phone to his now “girlfriend” several times a week, trying to talk her into joining him.
Slugger also began talking on the phone to Taunya; who now spent all of her time with Teri. Slugger hoped she would be willing to join him too and go to work for his elder brother Eddy, if both girls came to Montreal. Eddy was the reason Slugger had become a pimp. The older Field, Eddy was closing in on forty, had invited Slugger to join him in Montreal after Slugger finished school. Eddy was the first to join The Game but Slugger was a better looking, faster talking, harder working pimp. The two girls talked about the idea almost every day. As June drew to a close they decided they would just go check out this big city that Taunya kept referring to as “party central.” After an uneventful hitch-hiking journey to Montreal, the girls landed in the east end of town and phoned Slugger from a small strip mall; he told them to hang on and he’d pick them up. About an hour later, a shiny blue Cadillac pulled up in front of the video store where they stood waiting. A tall, wild-haired man got out on the driver’s side, and as the second man emerged, Teri whispered: “That’s Slugger,” and, waving to them as they approached, “the other guy is Eddy.” Taunya thought Eddy’s Afro hairstyle looked a bit weird, and although Slugger was a good ten years younger, she wasn’t that impressed with his appearance, either. Still, they had a fabulous car.… “Hey girl, how ya doin’?” Slugger smiled at Teri; then greeted Taunya and politely picked up the girls’ small knapsack. “Traveling a little light, aren’t you?” If they wondered about the question, it wasn’t for very long. Taunya couldn’t help smiling as she sat in the back seat of the Cadillac; it had to be one of the nicest cars she had ever been in—leather interior, air conditioning, and a really great stereo. She kept nudging Teri, who grinned excitedly at her friend. It was a longish drive through the city to a residential area on the west side, where Eddy parked near a three-storey building; the pimps led their two new acquisitions up a flight of stairs to an apartment on the second floor. The fun and games were over, though Taunya and Teri didn’t know it yet.
Eddy and Slugger might have traveled in style, but their living quarters were sparse—to say the least. About the only furniture in the living room was a badly worn sofa and a mattress under a jumble of bedding; in the kitchen were a beat-up table and a couple of chairs. The place was a mess, especially the kitchen: hardened food formed a dark crust on dishes piled high in the sink; on the table were dirty cups and glasses, a half-eaten loaf of bread, and a small plate with a bit of butter melting on it. Slugger wasted no time in getting to the point: “Well, Teri, you did it—you’re in the city,” he crowed, as the two girls stood staring at the disarray. “I hope you’re ready to go to work for me, ’cause I know we could make some real money. Taunya, you can be with Eddy.”
After a long, dismayed silence, Teri finally found her voice. “Ah, we’re not really sure what we’re gonna do, we just wanted to come up and see you ’cause you were always inviting us.… I don’t know if we’re gonna work, though; we might just get square jobs or something.” Slugger grinned, and exchanged a meaningful glance with his brother, who was jangling his car keys impatiently. “Well, girl, you just give it some thought, but I know you’re gonna want the night life. No pressure, though—you think about it. Now, Eddy and me got some work to tend to with the Big Man, so do us a favor and clean this place up while we’re gone.” With that, they were out the door; the girls never even got the chance to question what was clearly an order, not a request.
Taunya had never met Manning Greer, but she knew how important the Big Man was thanks to the education Teri provided during the hours spent standing at the side of the road hitching a ride. Teri had also told her Eddy and Slugger worked closely with him—so they must be important, too. Taunya and Teri turned on the radio and cleaned the place then sat down to discuss sleeping arrangements. There was a bedroom, and then there was the mattress on the living-room floor. Teri made it clear she’d be sleeping with Slugger, whether or not she went to work for him, so they’d take the bedroom and Taunya could crash on the couch while Eddy used the mattress. It didn’t quite work out that way. After Slugger and Teri had retired, Eddy clarified the situation. “Never you mind that couch, girl,” he said, patting the space next to him on the mattress. “You come down here with me.”
“That’s okay, I do
n’t mind the couch,” the frightened teenager replied.
“I ain’t asking you girl. I’m telling you. And I don’t care what you mind or don’t. Now, come down here.” Taunya obeyed, and Eddy promptly crawled on top of her and began pushing off her panties. Taunya struggled at first, but she was afraid of Eddy, and didn’t know what she’d do if he told her to leave; she’d be stranded, in a strange city, alone at night. So she gave in, and tried her best to pretend it was just not happening.
By the next morning, Taunya and Teri realized that Slugger’s promise of no pressure, was a joke. When the brother pimps had finished their morning coffee, they started in again on their now familiar refrain about the girls getting to work. Well, they’d think about it. Slugger, winking slyly at Eddy, casually remarked that they were going out now, shopping for new clothes that two of their other prostitutes needed. Maybe they’d bring something back for Taunya and Teri. This was no simple act of generosity: men who worked closely with the Big Man had adopted his philosophy.
“Keep the ’ho lookin’ sharp all the time. When a man comes downtown looking, he doesn’t want to spend a lot of time at the curb. First bright, fresh-looking ’ho he sees, he’s gonna choose her. A well-dressed ’ho is a money-maker.” When Eddy and Slugger had left, the two teens discussed their limited options: they could only stay at the apartment if they hit the stroll, and soon; if not, they’d have to hitch a ride back to Halifax. Teri had heard stories, though; these guys beat their girls, and might even kill one if she got too far out of line. “It can’t be any worse than the service,” Taunya retorted. The fourteen-year-old had made up her mind: that night, Taunya agreed to go to work for Eddy.
Teri was still reluctant to give The Game a try. Slugger would have to continue to pressure her, a tactic that would—and did—work in time.
While Teri and Slugger discussed her future Taunya put on one of the outfits the two pimps had bought that afternoon, a tight denim miniskirt, a pair of black fishnet stockings, and a tight red sweater. She put on what she hoped was enough make-up, teased and sprayed her long, brown hair into a face-framing style, and set out with Eddy to a nearby subway stop. During the ride downtown, her man explained the rules of The Game to his newest recruit—just as K-bar had set out the situation for Stacey. One of the Big Man’s more experienced girls would keep an eye on Taunya and show her the ropes; she would give him everything she’d earned at the end of the night—and she was never to talk to a black man, or even make eye contact with him. Undoubtedly he would be another pimp, and she was to turn and walk away. Taunya, like Stacey, found that rule unusual, but accepted Eddy’s instructions.
When they got off the subway, Eddy stopped at a pharmacy, and purchased the prostitutes’ usual nightly necessities: a supply of condoms and a pack of cigarettes. Next stop: dinner, at Harvey’s on St. Catherine Street, where Taunya was delighted to see a girl she knew from school. Lori Campbell, a sixteen-year-old, who, like Teri, Taunya, Stacey, Clara, and just about every other teenager on the street, had run away from a difficult home life, was working for another Scotian player, whom she’d met about a year before. The two girls spent a few moments talking in the washroom, and Lori touched up her new colleague’s make-up; when they returned to the table they saw a tall, striking young woman chatting animatedly with Eddy. Lynn Buchanan, a nineteen-year-old from Montreal, had reached the pinnacle of her chosen profession: she was Manning Greer’s “main girl,” a four-year veteran of The Game who had earned a great deal of respect on the street—almost as much as a player. It was a good thing Lynn had earned that respect because she had been the girl who was missing from Manning Greer’s stable and only her long-term loyalty kept him from punishing her when she returned with the explanation that she had taken an unplanned vacation to visit her sister.
The first night for Taunya was a blur. She hardly blinked at the succession of nameless men paying her to blow them for eighty bucks a go. She could have been busier but she spent as much time talking to Lori on the sidewalk as she did approaching the curb when a car slowed. Before she knew it the night was over and she had more than three hundred dollars to hand over to her pimp. “Not bad, girl,” he told the tired Taunya, “but it better be five hundred from now on.” Eddy was threatening her not encouraging her.
It took Taunya less than a week to realize she had to get away from Eddy. “Doesn’t matter what I do, he always hits me,” she complained to Lori one night. “Yesterday I gave him, what was it, almost six hundred, and still he’s like, ‘You dumb bitch,’ for no reason at all! Like I called at two-thirty instead of two, or something. I don’t mind The Game, but I gotta find another player.” It never occurred to Taunya that The Game itself was the problem. Unpredictable tempers and sudden unprovoked violence were just another part of the package. She never even considered making a break for home. Not yet anyway.
Waiting to go to work in Montreal. [Print from ATV video tape]
Lori agreed that Taunya should choose another man, but warned her to seek out someone the family respected—and, especially, someone willing to pay her leaving fee, which would undoubtedly be high, given young, pretty Taunya’s bright prospects and Eddy’s level of respect as a member of the Greer family. Could be seven hundred dollars, Lori suggested. Taunya though about approaching one of the Jamaican pimps from New York; they had several girls working the Montreal stroll, and one of them had told Taunya she would be welcome in the family. Not a good idea, Lori said, telling Taunya about the bad blood between the Nova Scotians and the Jamaicans. In the end, she decided to approach an older man, “the Coach,” who monitored the stroll for the Scotian family but rarely took on a girl himself. When he was approached by Taunya Terriault, he decided to make an exception; when she was on her way over to his apartment, she found herself wondering, for the first time since she and Teri hit the road a week ago, whether it might not be better for her to return to Halifax and go square, after all. Maybe this old guy could be convinced to free her.
Taunya needed her clothes first, so she called Eddy’s apartment and asked him to bring them to her. That was how she found out that the Coach had not paid Eddy his leaving fee. Nor, she deduced from her former man’s barely controlled anger, did he apparently have any intention of ever paying it. “Please, Eddy, I just want my things,” she implored. “I just want to go home.” Maybe they could talk about it, he said; Taunya agreed, and about a half-hour later a van pulled up outside the apartment. She walked up to the driver’s window—and suddenly her heart was in her mouth: Manning Greer was sitting behind the wheel.
“Get in,” he said, and she obeyed promptly; exactly why he was there she didn’t know, but she was fairly sure it didn’t have anything to do with her clothes. She was right: Greer said it was time for her to get back to work and stop fooling around with that old man. He wasn’t as angry as Taunya thought he would be, but even his mild tone conveyed that he was not there to discuss her options. She was with his family now, and she would take it back on the street. Greer drove Taunya to the stroll and informed her that Eddy would be picking her up at the end of the night.
Taunya had other ideas. Less than an hour had passed when she approached one of the Jamaicans’ girls and said she wanted to join their family. Great, the girl said; Taunya could work with her and her “sisters” for the rest of the night, and then they’d take it from there. Sisters, Taunya repeated to herself; that sounded comforting. Although Greer’s players were forever referring to “family” and “blood,” the girls working for them rarely felt that sort of bond. Close friendships did form: Stacey and Annie Mae had become inseparable; Taunya herself was very fond of Teri and Lori. Teri had finally relented and began working the street for Slugger a few days after Taunya made her decision, and the street work helped intensify their strong friendship.
But Scotian girls often ratted on each other to the pimps about those who broke the rules, not out of meanness but because of their stress-induced fear: a prostitute who told her pimp about the “ba
d behavior” of another man’s girl might get a little slack; that her colleague would almost certainly face a punishment was, unfortunately, something she should have considered before stepping out of line. That was just the way The Game was played, Nova Scotia style—and few girls knew that better than Lynn Buchanan. She didn’t wait to speak to the Big Man: when she saw Taunya join the enemy, she walked over and ordered the teen to return to the Scotian section of the stroll. Three of the Jamaicans’ girls, who were standing near the new recruit, retorted that Taunya was now with their man, Sweet Lou; unless Lynn was looking to join them, she should go back to her own beat. Ignoring their laughter, she fixed Taunya with a cool stare: “You just made one very big mistake, child”—and with that, she rejoined Lori and the others on the other side of the street. One of Taunya’s newly acquired “sisters” headed to a phone booth to call Sweet Lou and moments later a sports car pulled up to the stroll to pick up the newest Jamaican property.
Indeed, Taunya’s “betrayal” infuriated the Big Man and his family, still smarting from the incident with High T. outside Greer’s club. They considered scooping Taunya off the stroll that night and giving her a lesson she’d never forget, but that could wait. The Jamaicans needed to get the message first. Contrary to High T.’s contemptible parting shot to the injured Greer; Montreal belonged to the Big Man and his Scotian family, not these New Yorkers. While Sweet Lou, a player who favored the seventies image of Hawaiian shirts, suede jackets, and snakeskin shoes, talked to Taunya in his car near the stroll, Greer his cousins, and the redoubtable Bullet waited and watched from their vantage point a few blocks away. As they had hoped, Lou returned to the stroll periodically to check on Taunya and the other girls—he knew the Scotians would be real pissed—but he didn’t get a chance to pay a second visit. As Lou pulled out into traffic, Eddy eased the van over to follow: Bullet was beside him, and Slugger sat with the Big Man in back. Lou was out of the downtown area before he noticed the van following him: “We got a problem,” he told his cousin and a friend traveling with them. In New York, Lou always carried a gun, but he never risked taking it across the border; his flashy tricked out Acura Legend sedan and loud clothes drew enough notice from Customs officials as it was and he had been searched more than once. His companions had no weapons, either. Well, there was no choice in the matter, as far as Lou was concerned. “I’m just gonna pull over and pay the fool,” he said. Forking over a leaving fee was a lot easier than getting mixed up in a turf war. Sweet Lou had the same attitude Manning Greer had adopted when he was out numbered by High T. and his friends, and as in the earlier incident the issue was not so much money as it was turf. Unlike Greer, Sweet Lou had the advantage of better advice. His cousin, a Canadian at whose instigation Lou had expanded his thriving New York sex trade into Montreal, had a much clearer picture of the situation. “This ain’t about no leaving fee, Lou,” he said urgently. “These guys wanna bitch-whip you and take your stable, man. They’re crazy, man! You pull over when we ain’t packin’, and it’s gonna be pain city, man.… Keep drivin’, okay?”
Somebody's Daughter Page 11
