“I don’t have any money,” Chantal told her daughter.
“Don’t worry, Ma. Things were slow tonight, but I was able to make a little money. I’ll take care of it. You want anything else?” Jade already knew the answer.
She went to Big Rob, a dealer she knew, who had been trying to get in her pants for almost a year now. Hunts Point Avenue was where Big Rob made his best money. But instead of the warehouse district of the Avenue, frequented by johns and prostitutes, he preferred nearby Barretto Point Park on the East River waterfront. Jade knew Big Rob would give her what she wanted, and she probably wouldn’t even have to pay for it.
Jade watched Big Rob from across the street before she approached him. He was a big man; about six-five and weighing somewhere around 260. His hair was cut in a nice fade and he was wearing a pair of Tommy jeans and a red and green Tommy sweater with a pair of Timberlands. Homeboy looked good.
“What’s up, Freckles?” Big Rob greeted her when she approached, as he soaked in every inch of her body with his eyes.
“What’s up, Big Rob? I need something special.”
“How special are we talkin’?”
“I’m talkin’ primo and pure as the driven snow; somethin’ that will take its rider straight to heaven. You got something like that?”
“You know I do, Freckles, but what you got fa’ me?”
“Baby, I got something that’ll take your ass beyond heaven. It’s sweet and sticky and can ride you sixty-nine ways ’til Sunday. All you gotta do is say the word.”
“Word, baby, word. Let me go git you ya’ shit. You wait right here; don’t you go nowhere.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here waiting for you. Just make sure you bring me what I asked for,” Jade responded.
“It’s as good as done,” Big Rob said.
Big Rob came back with exactly what Jade asked for and more. She was amazed to find that Big Rob was packing more than his Glock 17. He had a dick that would make even a veteran ho salivate. After Jade took what she asked for from Big Rob, she took him in his car and gave him what he asked for. It was difficult to deep throat him because he was so big, but she sucked him so good, his dick grew to even more epic proportions.
“Hold up, lover,” Jade said, when she thought Big Rob was about to cum.
She stopped slobbin’ his huge member and removed her lips.
“Aren’t you going to hook me up with a little somethin’-somethin’?”
“I thought I already did,” he said.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh? I thought with all the junk you carryin’ you could give a sister a nice ride, but I guess you all about gettin’ yours.”
“Naw, Freckles, it ain’t like that. We can both get ours. Just hop on, baby.
The veins were protruding from his thick, stiff, throbbing cock and Jade moved from the passenger side to the driver’s side of the car. She slid one of the condoms she was carrying down on his dick and then mounted Big Rob, gobbling his cock up with her pussy like it was dinnertime. Jade gripped the back of the seat and slid up and down his cock, slow and easy at first, slowly building the momentum, until Big Rob’s breathing was obviously labored. Jade thought she might actually be feeling something. She never enjoyed it with any of the johns she fucked, and she didn’t date like young women her age would normally do. She thought she might actually feel herself about to cum and she did. Her body began to tremble and she soaked Big Rob’s dick with a flood of her juices.
“Uhm, baby,” Big Rob said. “That pussy juice smells good, baby. Damn, baby, you make a nigga feel right!”
He met each and every one of Jade’s thrusts with a counter-grind, plunging his cock into her as hard and as fast as he could. That is, as hard as he could with his ass pinned to the seat of the car. When he came, it was like a backed-up waterhose had suddenly been cleared. Jade was afraid he might blast the condom up into the deepest recesses of her pussy, never to be seen from again. Jade was too drained to get off of Big Rob right away, so she stayed there for a while; and Big Rob wasn’t complaining.
“Dayum, girl, you laid it on me. I knew you had that 24K shit goin’ on. So, when can I see you again?”
Jade enjoyed it, but she wasn’t in the market for entanglements; and homeboy could definitely become one. She jumped off of Big Rob’s now limp dick and made a hasty, but cordial exit.
“I’ll catch up wit’ ya,” she said as she left; knowing full well that she intended to leave that shit alone. As far as Jade was concerned, good dick was like salmonella poisoning; it may taste good goin’ in, but by the time it’s ready to come out, you realize what a terrible mistake you’ve made. Jade wasn’t prepared to be sick. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry than some dick. Some serious changes had to be made.
CHAPTER THREE
THE HUSTLE
While Bridget and Chantal waited at the house for Jade, Chantal suddenly got an eerie premonition. It was a feeling of impending doom. She wondered if it were the fact that she hadn’t had any drugs or whether it was plain old good instincts. Whatever it was, it frightened her; frightened her a lot.
Bridget was in the living room looking for a DVD to watch when Chantal came in the room. They had had such a good day and night, that Bridget was surprised to see the serious look on Chantal’s face. She hoped she wasn’t going to start acting the way she used to act; all mean and aggressive. But, upon closer inspection, she realized that wasn’t the look she recognized it all. This look was one of melancholy; Chantal looked sad.
“Bridget, come here.”
Chantal sat down on the couch and patted the seat, so Bridget walked over to the ugly brown and yellow plaid couch and sat down next to Chantal.
“Bridget, I got the strangest feeling, like something is about to happen; something bad.”
“No, Chantal, everything is okay. We’re fine. You’re fine. It’s just that you’re changing; that’s all. It always feels strange when you do things out of character. I felt the same way when I came to live here.”
“No, sweetie, it’s more than that. Something isn’t right, but that’s not important. What’s important is you. It’s finally my turn to be the adult in this house and I need to have a serious talk with you; no interruptions. If anything should happen to me, Bridget,—”
Bridget tried to interrupt Chantal and tell her nothing was going to happen, but Chantal continued.
“If anything should happen to me, you’ve got to leave here. You’re probably not going to believe what I tell you right now, but someday you will. I’m hoping by then it won’t be too late.”
“What, Chantal? What are you saying?” Bridget asked.
“Jade is bad, Bridget. She’s bad to the core. I take responsibility for that because I was no kind of mother. Even her birth was born of the evil of these streets, but, Bridget, she’s bad nonetheless. If you stay with her, one of two things will happen; either you will become evil like her or she will eat you alive. I don’t want either of those things to happen. You’re a good kid, and although I wish it had been under different circumstances, you’ve come to feel like my own daughter. I feel protective of you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Just promise me right here and now, that if anything should happen to me you, will go to one of those people you know at that outreach program and find a way out.
“You’re a smart girl and you can do so much better than this. It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you. I can’t save my daughter. I’m afraid her evil runs way too deep for any of us to fix. Jade was born bad and she will die bad. But you, Bridget, you have a promising future. You have dreams and a kind heart. Besides, you’re so damn young. Life isn’t over for you yet. You can still be all the things you want to be. Don’t let Jade drain your dreams from you. And, believe you me, she will if you let her. Bridget, walk away. You don’t owe her anything. Jade is doing exactly what she’s always wanted to do. Jade is one of those people who’s got the streets in her blood. She lives and breathes them. She
would be lost if she couldn’t live this life. She’s addicted to the drama of it all.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to be a part of that. Let her have what she wants, without you. The thing I’ve never been able to understand about Jade, though, is I don’t consider myself a bad person, just a victim of circumstance. Her father wasn’t a bad man either. He was a good, decent human being; a man to be proud of, and our lives would have been very different, if we had gotten a chance to be together. I truly believe he loved me once.”
Bridget was suddenly very confused.
“I can see the look on your face. You assumed the same thing everyone has assumed over the years. But, no, Jade’s father wasn’t one of my johns; at least not technically. It started out that way but we never had sex with each other for money. Jade’s father and I loved each other. Or at least, we loved each other as much as two teenagers could love each other who are purposely kept apart. I tried to contact him after I found out that I was pregnant, but between my pimp at the time, J.T., and Jade’s father’s family, they saw to it that he never knew anything about Jade. That’s when I got hooked on drugs. He supplied me with drugs in order to maintain a tight hold on me, and it worked. And, I never saw Jade’s father again.
“I even managed to find out where he lived once and I visited his home, but they told me he wasn’t there and gave me ten thousand dollars to go away. One of the things I’m most proud of is the fact that I tore that check up. As much as I needed that money, I needed my dignity more. So, whenever I’m ashamed of what I’ve become, I think of that check and my decision and the fact that I had pride once.”
When Chantal was done talking, Bridget sat there dumbfounded. She was surprised at the raw emotion Chantal had displayed in talking about her own daughter and what was probably Chantal’s only one true love. She was actually crying. She truly believed that Jade was evil. How could a mother think of her own daughter that way? And why on earth hadn’t Chantal told Jade who her father really was? Bridget was so confused. Yet, she seemed to be trying to protect her. But why? What could she possibly be afraid of? What could Jade do to hurt her? After all, it wasn’t Jade’s fault they were here, it was hers.
If she hadn’t killed Buster, Jade wouldn’t even be living this life. Then it occurred to her that Jade always wanted to come back here anyway. Just as quickly as the thought entered Bridget’s mind, it left. Chantal threw her arms around Bridget and hugged her with great force. Bridget was now convinced this was a reaction to drug withdrawal. But, she hugged Chantal anyway, enjoying the closest thing she had to a mother in a very long time. Chantal maintained a tight grip on Bridget, almost like she didn’t want to let go; that is, until Jade came back into the house.
“So, what’s this?” Jade asked when she entered. “My best girl and my mom all hugged up. Ya’ll turning lesbo on me or what?”
“Bridget and I were sharing war stories.”
“War stories.” Jade grunted. “Miss Bridget has led a charmed life. What war stories could she possibly have to tell?”
At that very second, Bridget was more pissed off with Jade than she had ever been. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever truly being pissed off at Jade, but she was now. She felt as though Jade were minimizing her pain. She had been tossed from foster home to foster home her entire life, been born addicted to drugs, never knew her mother or her father, and had been raped by a disgusting security guard at the only place she considered home, the only place she felt safe. Now, she was twenty-one years old and making a living fuckin’ strangers in one of the most dilapidated corners of the world imaginable. Her life had earned her the right to call them war stories.
Although Jade, Bridget and Chantal all sat together in the living room and watched Imitation of Life together, you could cut the tension in the room like a knife. Everyone was clearly deep in thought. Sometime around six in the morning, when the movie was over, each of them went their separate ways. Chantal went into her room to go to bed, but when she heard Jade leaving the house to go out, Chantal stopped her to ask if she’d picked up her “package.” Jade left the house, muttering something about catching up with one of the bitches who owed her money. Bridget settled down for the night to do some reading. So she put on her night clothes and pulled out the couch bed. Bridget read for about half an hour before she drifted off to sleep.
Sometime around nine, nature called and Bridget got up to go to the bathroom. Usually, because of the late hours she kept working the streets, she would sleep well past noon, but the wine coolers she’d had this morning had interrupted her sleep. When she got to the bathroom, the door was closed, but because the door was warped, you could never really close it completely. She could see Chantal through the crack, slumped over onto the floor. First she called to her and then she pushed the door and went in.
She tried to perform CPR, but quickly realized there was no use. Chantal was obviously dead. Bridget remembered Chantal’s earlier premonition. She had been right. Something horrible had happened. Chantal had predicted her own death. Bridget wasn’t sure what she should do. So, she got a blanket from her bedroom and covered Chantal up. Then, she went into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa bed. It seemed as though everyone that loved her or could have loved her had left her. She had only known Chantal a short time, but her absence from her life would be deeply felt. Chantal was the closest thing she had ever had to a mother and she would be greatly missed. Suddenly, she thought of Jade. Poor Jade would be devastated. She adored her mother. As if on cue, Jade was standing in the living room. She seemed in a really good mood. She was smiling. Bridget hated to be the person to wipe that smile from her face.
“What’s up, girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Bridget started crying. But, when she saw Jade heading toward the back of the apartment, she summoned the courage to speak.
“Jade, don’t go in there. It’s your mom. Chantal...Chantal is dead.”
“What are you talking about?” Jade asked “She’s not dead. She’s probably just high; that’s all.”
Jade went into her mother’s bedroom, then into the bathroom and that’s when she saw her, lying there, with her blanket strewn over her body. She lifted the blanket and stared at her mother’s lifeless body. She would no longer be her mother’s daughter. She would no longer be anybody’s child. The one and only parent she had ever known, was now dead.
Jade’s soul was darker than she ever felt it. She realized what she felt wasn’t exactly remorse. She didn’t know what she was feeling. In some respects, she thought, just maybe, she felt nothing.
Once, when she lived at a foster home with a couple with about three or four other kids, she killed the family cat; slit his throat from ear to ear. The family felt sorry for her and, for a short time, thought all she needed was help. Therefore, they sent her to a psychiatrist. Once, when the overworked, state-appointed psych- iatrist was dozing off to sleep, she snuck a peek at his notes on her. She was pissed when she read that he had classified her as a sociopath with homicidal tendencies. Not long after that she left the home of Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and that’s right about the time she ended up at Mannersville Group Home. Jade had been completely offended that she had been classified a sociopath. A socio path was a fuckin’ nut that didn’t feel anything. She felt things all the time. How could anyone call her a sociopath? Now homicidal; that was something different. She wasn’t offended by that at all. Anyone could be homicidal. There was not a person on this earth that wasn’t capable of murder under the right circumstances. Even Miss Polly Purebred, Bridget, had mustered up enough guts to kill someone when she felt she had to.
Standing above her mother’s lifeless body, she couldn’t get over the fact that she still felt absolutely nothing at all. However, in order to keep up pretenses, she managed to shed a few well-placed tears here and there; enough to satisfy any questions Bridget might have. Jade had to hand it to herself; she was quite the little actress.
When sh
e thought she had cried enough to satisfy Bridget’s delicate sensibilities, she got down to business.
“Come on, Bridget. We have to get rid of the body.”
“Jade, what are you talking about? We can’t do that. We have to give her a proper burial. She deserves at least that.”
“Bridget, think about what you’re saying. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, we do what you’re suggesting. We call the police, because in order to give her this ‘proper burial’ you’re talking about, we have to call the police. Otherwise, how will the body get to the morgue? So, we call the police, they classify it an overdose, but they’re going to want to know who we are, why we’re here and if it truly was an overdose. Whenever there’s a death, the police have to investigate, statements have to be taken. Are you really prepared for that kind of attention? Not to mention the fact that you are wanted for murder. I don’t know about you, but I’m not prepared to take that kind of a chance. Chantal wouldn’t have wanted us to sacrifice ourselves like that for the sake of a ceremony for her. My mother lived by the code of the streets and survival always comes first.”
Bridget remembered Chantal’s last words to her: “If anything should happen to me, you’ve got to leave here.” She also remembered something else Chantal had said: “Jade is bad, Bridget. She is bad to the core.”
“Come on, Bridget, snap out of it. We’ve got to do this now!”
Bridget hadn’t thought the whole thing out. In some respects, Jade was right; the last thing either of them needed was the police sniffing around. But Bridget felt guilty about getting rid of Chantal like she was garbage to be thrown in the street.
“Is there someplace we can bury her?” Bridget asked.
“This is fuckin’ Hunts Point. Where the hell do you think we’re going to bury a body?”
“I was hoping you might know someplace.”
Color Me Grey Page 5
