“It’s me, Ma,” Jade answered.
Chantal swung the door open. You would think that after at least a year of mother and daughter not seeing each other, there would be some display of affection. But, there was none at all.
“Whatcha doin’ here?” Chantal asked. “They let you out?”
“No, Ma, they didn’t let us out. You got anything to eat? And, then we can talk about it.”
“I ain’t got shit to eat. You want somethin’ to eat, you betta’ go git it yourself. We can talk all you want, but you can only stay ’til Friday. I get my best customers on Saturday and I won’t have you two tenderonis messing up my shit. You hear me?”
“Yeah, Ma, no problem. We’ll be out of here before Saturday.”
Bridget could never get used to women like Chantal. She was probably only in her late thirties or so, but, when you looked at her, empty, aged eyes were staring back at you. Chantal Smith had been used up. She was like one of those zombies you saw in late-night horror movies. Her body was still moving, but there was something vacant about her existence. Yet, the johns who frequented her broken-down hovel of an apartment and nearby Hunts Point Market didn’t seem to care.
Looking around, Bridget could see that the rats and roaches were the true tenants here at 1675 Westchester Avenue, and Chantal Smith was a tolerated guest. Bridget wondered where she and Jade would sleep. The walls and ceiling were coated with black mold and appeared to have been white at some time, but now could only be described as gray. There was a brown and yellow plaid couch in the living room with stains all over it. The kitchen housed a rickety farmhouse-style table with four chairs in various degrees of disrepair. Bridget’s best guess was that the odors she smelled were probably coming from the bathroom, which she was afraid to see.
It frightened her to think of what was living in the mattresses, or what she might end up sleeping with, if she made a bed on the floor. Not even the worst foster home she had ever lived in had been as bad as this. She wondered why Jade would ever want to come back.
“And what’s your name, honey?” Chantal asked.
“Oh...” Bridget stammered. “I’m Bri-Bridget...Bridget Grey.”
“Yeah, sorry, Ma. This is Bridget. This is my girl! I don’t know what I would’ve done without her in that place.”
“Shit! You say ‘that place’ like it was so fuckin’ bad. I’ve seen Mannersville. It wasn’t that bad. Why’d you leave anyway?”
“We had to, Ma. Bridget got in some trouble and I couldn’t leave her out there like that,” Jade responded.
“What’s up? Now you your brother’s keeper an’ shit? Bridget betta’ wise up and learn how ta’ take care of herself. Where you from anyway, honey? Sutton Place or somethin’?” Chantal chuckled.
Jade went into her mother’s hall closet and found some bed linens. The couch was one of those sleeper sofas, so Bridget and Jade pulled it out and changed the linens. Despite the scurry of rats running across the floor, Bridget was so tired that she managed to sleep. After Bridget dozed off, Chantal got busy going through Bridget’s things to see if there was anything of value. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that trademark burgundy velvet Lazlows Jewelers box. She could recognize a Lazlows Jewelers box anywhere. Lazlows was one of those upscale jewelers. A few times Chantal had considered trying to stick up one of those jewelry places, but had chickened out. She was a sometimes prostitute, sometimes street corner stick-up kid. Chantal tried not to mess with the big-time. As far as Chantal was concerned, she knew her place; and the big-time wasn’t her place.
Meanwhile, Jade was propped up watching her mom, too keyed up to sleep. She wasn’t worried about Bridget’s things, nor did she really care. Besides, Bridget didn’t own anything of any real value. The most expensive thing Bridget owned was that heart-shaped necklace around her neck. If she only knew how much it actually cost or where it came from. Bridget assumed it was from her and therefore, probably thought it was worthless. Jade was amazed at how someone so smart could be so dumb. Bridget had been at the top of their English class, yet couldn’t recognize cunning wording to save her life. Jade played that game with Bridget often, with 100 percent success. She told Jade there was a present for her in their room. She didn’t say it was from her. With all the shit Bridget had been through, she was still a bit naïve. Some time in the hood would solve that. They needed money and the best way for poor, teenage girls to get money was with their bodies, that and Jade’s own artful twist on “the game.” During the last year or so at Mannersville, Jade had worked out the plans in her mind for a hustle that she was confident would net big money. She had planned it down to the very last detail. Jade already knew the score, but she would talk to Chantal about how to introduce Bridget to reality.
Although her mother said they could only stay a few days, she knew her mother would be more than willing to help, if it meant her getting a dollar or two thrown in her direction. It would be tough convincing Bridget to work the streets, but work the streets she would. It was the only way her plan could work. And, at least she was no longer a virgin. While at Mannersville, Jade wondered how long Bridget would hold onto that little “treasure” anyway. At least now that wasn’t standing in the way. Bridget honestly believed someday her muthafuckin’ prince was gonna come along. The girl was seriously deluded. Jade had big plans and none of them involved a prince on a fuckin’ white horse. Jade’s sleepless nights at Mannersville were spent planning. Her plans involved long-term money. She had no intention of being satisfied with that chump change her mother was getting.
Chantal was the only mother Jade had so she couldn’t help being drawn to her. But she couldn’t stomach weak women and often felt her mother would be better off if someone put her out of her misery. Bridget reminded Jade of her mother. They were both too easily influenced; her mother by drugs and Bridget by other people. Very often Jade would be in the middle of manipulating Bridget into something or another and she would hold her breath, almost hoping that Bridget might actually wise up and match wits with her. More than anything, Jade longed for a challenging adversary. But, Bridget was too fuckin’ trusting; and that would be her eventual downfall.
If there was one thing Jade had learned, both on the streets and off: No one, but no one, was ever to be trusted. The only person you could trust in life was yourself. If it were not for Jade’s planning, neither her nor Bridget would be here—exactly where she wanted them to be—where fast money could be made. It occurred to her that, in some respects, Bridget was actually lucky she had a friend like her. If it weren’t for her, Bridget would be busy preparing for a life that would never, ever, be hers. She was constantly walkin’ around with those goddamn law books. People like them didn’t grow up and become lawyers. She would try and fail and find herself flipping burgers somewhere. That shit was for suckers. What she planned involved making real money. After all, that was all it was about; the Benjamins. Besides, she would be helping Bridget, too. It was high time she stopped foolin’ herself with ridiculous dreams that would never come true. That kind of life didn’t happen for people like them and the sooner Bridget figured that out, the better.
For days Bridget waited for the police to come knocking on Chantal Smith’s door and cart her off to prison. The worst Jade would probably get would be aiding and abetting, but Bridget knew she would be going to prison for murder. It wouldn’t matter that Buster had raped her. The first question they would ask is: Why didn’t you run or scream? And, what would her answer be? She was out of her head? She was scared? In a nutshell, it amounted to no answer at all.
Bridget wondered if the dreams would ever stop. Each night it was like living the experience over and over again. Each night she would drift off to sleep and be awakened by the stench of alcohol and the horrible weight crushing her, depriving her of oxygen; and just when she thought she could no longer breathe, she would wake up, drenched in her own sweat. She thought of that old cliché about time healing all wounds and hoped it was more than a cliché.<
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Sleep time had always been a time for her to dream; beautiful, incredible dreams of the future, but now her dreams were plagued with horror and the overwhelming sense that she lost so much more than she could ever get back. And it wasn’t merely her virginity she was thinking of. She was afraid she lost her ability to trust. Bridget was having a dream in which she was chasing a small piece of paper down the street as huge gusts of wind blew it further and further away from her. She chased the piece of paper and eventually was able to plant one of her feet on top of it to keep it from moving. But as she was about to bend down and pick the piece of paper up, it began to change form, and shift into some thing else. As she reached for it, it suddenly grew into this ugly, horrible creature bent on her destruction. It chased her as she ran on and on, trying to escape, gasping for breath. Just as she thought it might grab her, she woke up.
Someone was shaking her; really shaking her.
“What are you gonna do? Sleep all damn day and night?” Chantal was shouting as she shook Bridget awake.
Bridget slowly awakened and rubbed her eyes. Jade and Chantal were both standing over her. She looked at the clock on the moldy walls. She couldn’t believe she slept that long. When she went to sleep this morning, the sun was shining and it was sometime around eight. It was now dark out and close to nine forty-five. She slept for nearly fourteen hours. She focused her eyesight as she slowly became fully awake. That’s when she realized how much Jade and her mother resembled one another. Jade was wearing a red pleather micro-mini with zippers on each side, that looked more like a bikini than a skirt. At the top she wore a black bustier, or was it a bra? Bridget wasn’t sure which. She had on red stilettos and was carrying a red fur purse. Jade’s mom, Chantal, had on a leopard print lycra dress, which was equally as short as Jade’s red skirt, yet somehow it looked even more vulgar on Chantal.
Although Chantal was very slim, probably no more than 135 pounds, her legs were plagued with the ugliest-looking stretch marks she had ever seen. They almost looked like scars, they were so violently etched on her legs. Also, Chantal was a slim woman with a huge gut that reminded Bridget of those starving children you saw on TV. Both Jade and Chantal were wearing Tina Turner- type wigs. Only, their wigs were clearly very, very cheap. Jade’s was jet black and Chantal’s was burgundy. Under different circumstances Bridget might have found humor in this display, but somehow right here and now, none of this was funny.
“Get your ass up out that bed. It’s time to earn your keep,” Chantal said.
Chantal was overbearing and more than a little frightening. She was like her daughter, but somehow different. Although Jade was pretty tough, Bridget always thought of her as a kind person. What Bridget didn’t know was that Chantal wasn’t the person she needed to be worried about.
Bridget looked at Jade and Jade shrugged her shoulders. When she sat up, she saw there were clothes at the foot of the bed and another wig. This wig was long and straight and it was a light brown color. Under the wig, there was a pair of black shiny stretch pants laced on the side and a matching belly shirt, also laced on both sides. Bridget didn’t want to believe the truth; that this outfit could only have been placed there for her to wear and, even more devastating, this probably meant they expected her to go out hookin’ with them on Hunts Point.
Jade grabbed the clothes and the wig off the bed and sat on the edge next to Bridget.
“Come with me in the bathroom, okay,” Jade whispered.
Bridget got out of bed and followed Jade into the bathroom.
“Sweetie, I know this isn’t what you want, but this is only temporary. I had to tell my mother what’s going on, in case they come looking for us. She ain’t gonna let us stay here for free.”
“Oh no, Jade, you told your mom! She’s going to turn me in! She doesn’t like me! I’m going to spend the rest of my life in prison!”
“No, you’re not. My mom will protect us; both of us. And, what makes you think she doesn’t like you? Trust me, Bridget. Chantal Smith’s bark is worse than her bite. The only thing we need to worry about is money and keeping a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. This is what we have to do.”
“But, Jade, I took typing and dictation classes while we were at Mannersville. I type sixty words per minute. I can get a job as a clerk or a typist or something.”
“Bridget, get real. You killed someone. You need identification to get a job and the minute they run your ID, the police will be knocking down the door to cart you off to prison. You may be able to live that life one day when all this shit blows over, but for now, this is it. This is what has to be done. This is what all of us have to do. Don’t worry. Like I said, it’s only temporary. We have other options. We have to do this for now to get some quick money in our pockets.”
“But why do I have to wear these clothes? Why can’t I just wear my own clothing?” Bridget asked.
“First of all, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb if you wear your clothes and, second, these clothes are a sort of uniform. They quickly identify you to potential clients while providing easy access.”
Bridget reluctantly dressed in the clothing Chantal had provided. However, she was sure she would never be able to go through with it. After all, it wasn’t so long ago she promised herself she would never, ever, choose this life. Jade helped her with the wig and applied some makeup to Bridget’s face. It was time to go to work.
CHAPTER TWO
HUNTS POINT
Hunts Point and the people that cruised those streets at night reminded Bridget of roaches when you turned the lights on; all that scattering and scurrying here and there, ducking into doorways, all to make paper. One look at Chantal and Jade and you could tell they knew these streets like the back of their hands. They knew where to stand to get maximum exposure, which alley- ways to get lost in and the best doorways to “conduct business.” There were discarded rubbers everywhere. The whole thing turned Bridget’s stomach. She couldn’t believe her life had come to this.
Cars came and went looking for quick and easy satisfaction. Girls lowered tops to give potential customers a bird’s-eye view. Chantal was attempting to stop cars in the middle of the intersection as they were driving by. She pulled down the front of her lycra dress, leaving her 36-C’s swinging free. Chantal had a habit to feed and you couldn’t be shy with so much competition. There were girls everywhere, looking for their next trick. A car cruised by checking Chantal out and she stuck her head in the car and spoke to him on the driver’s side. She turned to Jade and whispered something in her ear. Bridget wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but she was kind of glad to see Chantal leave. She made her uncomfortable. Chantal got in on the passenger side of the car and the fat white man who was driving drove away. After watching the cars and seeing some of the customers, Bridget was sure she wouldn’t be able to do this without throwing up. The thought of these losers touching her, or her them, repulsed her. She didn’t drink, but suddenly wished she did; anything at all to help her block all this out. As if Jade were reading her thoughts, she offered Bridget a pill and some bottled water.
“Come on, sweetie. Take this. It’ll make it easier.”
Bridget took the pill without hesitation. She had never taken any kind of drugs before but, then again, she had never peddled her ass on Hunts Point either. She had also never worn five-inch stilettos and her feet hurt like hell. She couldn’t imagine walking for hours in these shoes.
“Chantal thinks you should stay out of cars for now. There are plenty of places on the street where you can conduct business. It’ll be safer that way. Most of these guys want to get their rocks off, but every now and then you get a sicko. You’re much safer outside of a car than in one; easier to run. Most of the guys that come to Hunts Point want blow jobs. I’m guessing you’ve never done that before, so I’m going to give you some advice. First, take this.” She handed Bridget a string of condoms. “Don’t do anything without using one of these.” She ripped one off the end and opened the
package. She blew into it and rolled it down over her fingers. Then, she popped it into her mouth and sucked on it by way of demonstration.
“Second, to speed things up, keep repulsion time to a minimum and allow yourself a greater opportunity to make more money in a shorter period of time. When you’re suckin’ the guy off, play with his balls. Take your finger and trace a line with your fingernail from the back of his balls near his ass to the front of his balls; right down the middle where the line is. When you think he’s about to cum, milk his balls, like a cow. And, yeah, make sounds; moaning sounds, sucking sounds. It speeds them up.”
“Milk ’em?” Bridget questioned.
“Yeah, milk ’em. Take ’em in your hand and massage them up and down. It’ll make him cum much faster that way. Here comes one now,” Jade said.
A car pulled up in front of them.
“You can take this one,” Jade offered.
Bridget was terrified. But, it wasn’t as bad as it could be. At least this guy looked relatively harmless. He was white and skinny and looked like he was probably pretty short; maybe five-four”. He reminded her of a science teacher she once had—Mr. Pinchot. Suddenly, the idea of Mr. Pinchot cruising Hunts Point looking for pussy was unbelievably funny. Wow, Bridget thought, s ince when do I think of it as pussy?
Suddenly she felt strange, like she was walking through a dream, a good dream. She felt like a hundred hands were pampering her entire body; like she was getting her feet, hands, head, back, front, everything, all massaged at once. She hadn’t expected to feel this way. She thought she would at least be a little afraid but, surprisingly, she wasn’t. Maybe it was the pill Jade had given her.
“Yeah, it probably was the pill,” Jade answered. “It’s Ecstasy.”
“Hey?” Bridget asked. “That was weird. Did you read my mind? I was wondering whether or not the way I’m feeling right now was because of the pill you gave me, and then you answered my question.”
Color Me Grey Page 3
