Color Me Grey

by Michelle Janine Robinson

  “Whew, that was fast!” Jade responded. “You weren’t just thinking it; you said it out loud, honey. Now, go to it. That’s your first customer. Tell him to park and you can take him over by that loading dock over there. Just watch them hoes over there. Sometimes they try to rip other girls off. And, whatever you do, make sure you get the money up front. Twenty for a blow job, fifty for pussy penetration, seventy-five for anal, and a hundred if he wants to go to a hotel. But, don’t go with anyone anywhere yet. You’re new at this and I think we should wait on the hotel or car action. If they can’t do it somewhere around here, they won’t be gettin’ none.”

  “Don’t worry, I got your back,” Jade assured her.

  Leaning into the driver’s side of the car, Bridget tried to act like she was tough and experienced, because she figured if she didn’t, she would get taken advantage of, or worse.

  “It’s twenty for a blow job, fifty for penetration and seventy-five for anal. Payment is up front,” Bridget demanded.

  The guy seemed afraid. He fumbled haphazardly with his wallet, dropping the money.

  “No, not in the car. You can park here and follow me.”

  After he parked, Bridget led him to a dark corner only a few feet away with a doorway that provided a minimal degree of privacy.

  “Cou-cou-could I have a blow job?” he stuttered.

  It occurred to Bridget that if it were not her standing in front of him right now and it were another of these girls, like Chantal, they would have not only taken the money, but they probably would have given him nothing in return. Bridget hoped she never became that sort of woman. Yet, she recognized the potential for such a thing happening under the circumstances. As much as she hated having to do anything with this guy, she was an honest person before she was anything else.

  She pulled out the condom, opened it, and instructed “Pinchot-The-Stutterer” to pull down his pants. She rolled the condom over his erect, but tiny penis and sucked him as Jade had instructed. Her only sexual encounter until now had been Buster at the home, and unlike Buster’s bravado, this man reminded her of a baby. At one point, Bridget thought she actually heard him whimper; and when Bridget started playing with his balls as Jade had told her to do, he lost complete control immediately. He bellowed so loudly, Bridget was afraid he might summon the police with the noise. When he was done, he thanked her and even gave her an extra twenty. Bridget wasn’t sure why, but she hid the second twenty inside of a hole in the lining of her purse. This would become the first in a long line of bills that got shrewdly hidden. She would soon learn that her instincts were more fine-tuned than she thought.

  The first night Bridget had three customers. As far as Bridget was concerned, that was more than enough. But, when they got back to the apartment and Chantal demanded her “take” for “living expenses,” she was pissed that Bridget only had sixty dollars to contribute.

  “What the fuck is this?” Chantal asked. “I can’t do shit with sixty dollars!”

  “It’s twenty dollars for a blow job and I had three customers. I couldn’t get any more customers than that,” Bridget explained.

  “You couldn’t get any more customers, huh. Well, honey, you betta’ work on getting more customers or you’re gonna starve.”

  Bridget couldn’t understand why Jade wouldn’t speak up for her. She didn’t even try to defend her. Jade told her that Chantal thought she shouldn’t get in any cars or go anywhere with any of the customers, and that’s what most of them wanted. One guy wanted to have sex with her in his car. In a way, Bridget was glad Jade told her not to go with any of the customers. Although Bridget hated doing any of what she was doing, she imagined that having sex with these strangers had to be far worse than sucking them off.

  The days and nights began to blend together and before Bridget knew it, she had been working the streets for over three years. It was hard to imagine. She continued to work the warehouse district of Hunts Point, despite her revulsion about what she was doing. But, at least she had a plan. There was an outreach program for prostitutes and whenever she could, she spoke to the workers; some of whom were ex-prostitutes themselves. She took whatever leaflets and flyers she could get about different training programs, hopefully, without Jade or Chantal knowing. She trusted Jade, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her feel like this life was good enough for them, but not good enough for her. And she was afraid if Chantal found out, she would be out on the streets before she secured herself a job and a place to live. She wanted so much to share the information with Jade, but she couldn’t risk it. She wanted Jade to see there were other options; that this didn’t have to be their life. Bridget was afraid Jade would become hopeless like Chantal. What she didn’t know was that Jade expected Bridget to become Chantal and only by doing so could Jade hope to tighten her grip on Bridget.

  Jade continued her effort to supply Bridget with drugs, to no avail. And even when she thought she was successful in getting Bridget to pop a pill here or there, she was wrong. Bridget was putting the pills under her tongue and then throwing them away. Bridget was smart enough to know that if she got hooked on drugs, she would be trapped forever. Jade was hoping it would help her to dominate Bridget.

  Neither Chantal nor Bridget knew it, but during the daytime, Jade had been supplementing the income she made hookin’ by boosting in different department stores downtown and selling the stuff on the streets. She was also grabbing women’s pocketbooks. Jade cased the restaurants on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, much the way a bank robber would case a bank. She discovered that if you dressed and spoke the part, you could pretty much blend in and no one would really notice you. Bridget would have been great at this particular scheme, because of her ability to “talk-the-talk.” Bridget had been a virtual bookworm when they were at Mannersville, and she was smart, real smart. But, her dark skin might elicit too much attention. It was sad, but true, that even in the nineties, profiling of black folks still existed. Jade, with her red hair and light skin, got past certain doors easier than Bridget would have.

  Jade discovered that there was this culture of women living on the Upper East Side that spent their hours lolling the day away. Most of them were married to rich men, CEOs of large corporations; and all they wanted their wives to do was take care of the house and the children. Most of them had cooks and housekeepers and nannies; so they spent the better part of the day sipping tea and coffee with each other, eating lunch and getting manis and pedis.

  When they were at Mannersville, every now and then they would take these “field trips” into the city, and Bridget would watch these women forlornly and hope for the same sort of life for herself someday. Jade wondered if after living with her and Chantal, she figured out what the “real deal” was—probably not. Bridget didn’t know it, but Jade had seen those brochures she had been hiding concerning employment training programs and housing for “way- ward” prostitutes. She was still hoping to grab the brass ring.

  Once Bridget got past the initial shock of workin’ the streets, she turned out to be quite a little earner. As far as Jade was concerned, if Bridget thought she was going to desert her after she “taught her the ropes,” she was dead wrong. No, Bridget couldn’t leave until she said she could leave, and that wouldn’t be for a long, long time yet.

  Jade sat in a Starbucks on the corner of Seventy-fifth Street and First Avenue sipping a Grande Iced Americano. Starbucks was one of her best spots. These women were so fuckin’ stupid. Most of them would come in with their friends and a baby or two in carriages. They would be so distracted with the rugrats or talking about their latest vacation or their husbands that they wouldn’t even notice Jade slipping the pocketbook off the back of their chairs. This was not one of those days.

  Typically, Jade would pick up the pocketbook, put it on her shoulder and walk out like it was her bag before anyone even noticed. The key to getting away with it successfully was remaining calm. How- ever, on this particular day, one of the toddlers in the coffeeho
use conspired against her. The entire time she had been sitting there, this pain-in-the-ass kid had been getting up from the table where he sat with his mother and her friends and coming over to her table and the other surrounding tables. Even if Jade were not trying to get paid today, she would still have been pissed off because she couldn’t understand why everybody in Starbucks had to deal with this lazy bitch’s kid. She was sitting there having herself a high old time and everyone else had to contend with his touching things on their tables. Yet, if the kid got burned by a cup of coffee or something, the mother would be the first person to scream in outrage. If it were not for the fact that she had come here for a particular purpose, Jade thought she probably would have “accidentally” burned the kid on fuckin’ principle. The sequence of events that were to follow, made her wish she had.

  She grabbed a beautiful brown, genuine Prada bag and was headed out the door, when the pain in the ass kid began following her out the door onto the street. His mom noticed that her son was leaving the store and screamed at him to come back, causing everyone in Starbucks to turn around and look toward the door, including the woman whose pocketbook she had stolen.

  “Stop her!” the blonde-haired woman with the sensible shoes yelled.

  Just before she walked out the door, the counterperson looked her directly in her eyes. Jade thrived on going unnoticed and the key to going unnoticed was never maintaining direct eye contact.

  “Shit!” Jade exclaimed, as she hauled ass, running toward Lexington Avenue. She didn’t stop until she got to the subway on Lexington and Seventy-seventh Street. She wasn’t even sure if anyone was chasing behind her, but she didn’t stop running until she was sure she could escape. The subway was a perfect place for that.

  Damn! Jade thought to herself.

  That was one less Starbucks she would be able to “work” out of. And, that particular Starbucks had been so lucrative for her. Once, she actually retrieved a grand from this woman’s pocketbook, not to mention the countless credit cards she had been able to use. She was surprised at how many stores didn’t even ask for any form of identification. Not that she was complaining.

  Oh well, she thought. There are plenty of Starbucks to choose from in Manhattan.

  Slightly paranoid, Jade decided to find a bathroom someplace where she could go through the contents of the bag and then dump it. She rode the Number 6 train on Seventy-seventh Street to the next stop uptown to Eighty-sixth Street where she found a Barnes & Noble bookstore. Often she would keep the pocketbooks, because some of them were worth more than the contents and they were so beautiful and rich-looking.

  Jade was starting to get a bit tired of the “strenuous” hustle and thought it time to get her “real” hustle going. She started this whole thing off with a plan and she wasn’t going to forget that. The money was okay, but she wanted more than okay. Her months “working” Starbucks had further driven that point home. She wanted the kind of money the “ladies that lunch” were privy to, and she knew where to get it and how. But first, she would need to tie up a couple of loose ends.

  “Damn!” Jade said out loud, after dumping out the contents of the purse while sitting inside the bathroom. The bitch didn’t even have any money. There was thirty dollars and a wallet full of credit cards; and the woman was sure to report those cards right away, so she wouldn’t risk trying to use them. Jade was more pissed that she couldn’t keep the beautiful Prada bag. But she wasn’t stupid. When you started to get sloppy, that was when you got your ass caught!

  When Jade got home, neither Bridget nor Chantal were around. Her mom was usually sleeping off her high before she went out on the Avenue for the night and Bridget would usually be somewhere in the house reading a book. But, for some reason, they weren’t there now. That was odd.

  “That was such a good movie,” she could hear Bridget saying through the door before she walked in. But, she also heard another voice; a woman’s voice.

  All Jade knew was Bridget better not be tryin’ to come up in here with one of them chickenheads from the Avenue or, even worse, one of those fuckin’ do-gooders from that outreach program. She was stunned to recognize that the light-hearted voice she heard with Bridget was none other than her own mother. In all the years that she had been alive, she didn’t think she had ever heard her mother like this. She actually sounded happy. Instead of being thrilled at the sudden change in her mother’s usual disposition, Jade was agitated. All she could think of was that she was losing the upper-hand. She had witnessed the subtle changes in her mother’s demeanor over the last couple of years and she didn’t like it one bit. She had somehow evolved into a kinder, gentler woman. She was becoming something very different than the mother she had known all these years. And all thanks to Bridget. Of all people, Bridget was influencing her mother’s thoughts more than she was. And, she couldn’t have that.

  Always equipped with a great poker face, she refused to let on that she was annoyed with their cheerful mood. More than her mother’s change in attitude, Jade was even more annoyed with Bridget’s “take lemons and make lemonade” way of looking at things. Where once Bridget seemed to be a walking victim, ready to crumble at any moment, she was actually adjusting to what life had handed her and, for some reason, Jade wasn’t okay with that. She wanted, no, she needed, to see the people around her suffering. She’d be damned if anyone was walking around having more fun; being happier than she was; especially high-and-mighty Bridget.

  “Hey, Jade.” Chantal greeted her daughter. “Bridget and I went to see Blankman ; you know, with Damon Wayans. That shit was so fuckin’ funny. I’m glad Bridget talked me into it.”

  For a moment, Jade was amused with the irony of the choice of films. How perfect, that Bridget would choose a film with a pure-hearted, optimistic, Pollyannish character, someone exactly like herself.

  “Oh she did, did she,” Jade commented.

  It must have been her tone of voice, because both her mom and Bridget looked at her funny. Jade suddenly realized she needed to check herself before Bridget got wise. But, it was too late. Bridget continued on, but Chantal suddenly saw her daughter as she had never seen her before; through wide open eyes.

  Bridget was a sweet girl who had been caught up in some unfortunate circumstances. Had things been different, Chantal was sure Bridget could have done incredible things with her life; probably still could. Instead, she was here in this shit hole with her and Jade. Until now, Chantal hadn’t truly taken a long, hard look at her daughter. Suddenly it was like turning on a light in a darkened room. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Jade was a bad seed and Bridget would do well to get as far away from Jade as quickly as possible. Jade was always so busy with whatever it was she was up to that Bridget and Chantal had been left on their own more and more. Not only that, Jade had begun to work the streets less and less. Over time and without Jade’s constant influence, Chantal had been given a chance to really get to know Bridget, and she liked her; she liked her a lot. And, although Bridget was naïve in some respects, in other respects she was a very wise young woman. Chantal was surprised at Bridget’s capability to care for others, when she had been through so much. Bridget had tried over and over again to show Chantal how she could do anything, if she put her mind to it. Chantal was convinced that her life would never be more than what it was right now, but Bridget assured her that life wasn’t over until it was over, and as long as she was alive, she had the power to change her own fate. Chantal wasn’t sure whether she believed that yet, but she hadn’t had any dope today; at least not yet. She couldn’t remember the last time she managed to make it through an entire day without drugs.

  “What made ya’ll go see that, of all the movies you could see?”

  “I don’t know,” Bridget responded. “We were both sitting around talking and feeling a little low-down and figured the best thing to fight depression was a little comedy. So we looked in the newspaper and picked Blankman. It was playing on Eighty-sixth Street and we’re always saying how we’d
all like a change of scenery and all. We wanted you to come, but we couldn’t find you.”

  They were all on Eight-sixth Street at the same fuckin’ time. What if they had seen her? Then they would’ve found out about her extracurricular activities, which she definitely did not want to happen; especially given the fact that she was constantly crying broke and trying to get “everyone” to work harder getting more johns. Even with her mom, Jade was the leader and Chantal was the follower. If there was one thing Jade figured out from early on, in every relationship, whether it’s friends, lovers, husbands, wives, or even parents and kids, there is the leader and there is the follower. And she had no intention of ever being the follower in any relationship; even one where she was the child.

  Jade resolved to stop this shit right now!

  “So we workin’ tonight or what?” Jade asked

  “Of course, we’re workin’,” Chantal responded. “Just let us get dressed.”

  Oh, so now it was us all of a sudden. Yeah, this shit had to be stopped. The two of them together made her odd man out, and she couldn’t do her thang if she was odd man out. She knew exactly what to do. Her future success depended upon it. And if there was one thing she learned over the years, she came first, before anyone else; and that included her mother. After all, when had she ever put her first? Never!

  That night was real slow and most of the girls on the Avenue called it a night early. Chantal was stressed out big-time because, although she had abstained from drugs all day, she had a habit and her body wouldn’t allow her much more than that. By the time it was two in the morning, she was jonesing for a fix.

  Chantal was sitting in the front seat of a Chrysler LeBaron giving a hand job when Jade found her.

  “I was thinking we’d call it a night when you’re done and go home and watch some DVDs, since I didn’t get a chance to go with you guys to the movies. Maybe we could get some smoke, some munchies, and a couple of those wine coolers Bridget likes and kick back for a change,” Jade said.