Red Light Wives. Mary Monroe

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СКАЧАТЬ so we could have some privacy,” he said in a strong voice with a hint of a southern accent. He led me past a few dozen hungry patrons sipping fine wine and munching on fancy Italian food.

      “Thank you,” I mumbled, so nervous my voice cracked.

      From a huge window I could see the yachts hauling the people who could afford them across the bay as great white birds flapped across the sky. I loved Italian food, but I’d never been inside a restaurant as elegant as Alfredo’s, even though my mother had spent many of her years scrubbing and waxing its floors. A sad feeling came over me, and I suddenly wished I was anywhere but where I was. But I knew before I even left my house, that if I made it this far, it would be too late to turn back. Clyde cleared his throat and rubbed his smooth hands together.

      “Well now. Let’s talk business.” He paused as we slid into a booth in a corner. “My girl Carlene tells me you want to make some money,” he said in a low voice, sitting down across from me.

      I hated booths and had always avoided them. The fifty extra pounds, most of it stacked up on my hips and ass, which I had to haul around like a sack of flour, made it hard for me to sit comfortably in a booth. There wasn’t even enough room for me to cross my nervous legs.

      “Uh-huh. But just until I get myself straightened out. That’s all,” I insisted, quick and low.

      Clyde nodded, but his smile was gone. “I feel you, sister. And I’m fin to help you do just that, if you do like I tell you.” He paused to drink from a large glass of red wine, diffusing a belch with a monogrammed handkerchief. “Now, how old are you?” he asked, neatly folding his handkerchief and dropping it on the table. He had nice black eyes with long black lashes to die for; a waste on a man.

      Shuffling in my seat and blinking hard, with my cheap mascara stinging my eyes, I tried my best to sound like a young girl. “Twenty-three.” My voice came out sounding squeaky and weak. Minnie Mouse trying to sound like Tina Turner. Clyde turned his head to the side and gazed at me out of the corner of his eye, tapping the top of the table with a long neatly manicured finger. “Twenty-five,” I said firmly, coughing. He wasn’t going for that either, so I told the truth. “Twenty-eight.”

      His smile was back on his face. “What’s your background?”

      “Huh?”

      “Where you from? You look kinda exotic.”

      “Um, I got a little Irish blood, Italian, Indian on my mama’s side. My daddy’s great-grandfather was French. I got a lot of mixed blood.”

      He nodded. “You and every other Black person in America. Shit!” he grumbled, speaking like somebody from the ghetto. He gave me a hard look and tapped my hand. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, sister. That biracial shit don’t mean nothin’ to me and it ain’t goin’ to get you no more money than my girl Rosalee, and she black as the ace of spade. I’m lookin’ for women with class. I’m lookin’ for women who know how to deal with men and make ’em feel good. I know girls who look like Biggie Smalls and they got regular tricks lined up like ducks. The men I deal with, all they care about is gettin’…” he paused and lowered his voice, “you know…gettin’ took care of. They ain’t lookin’ to marry you so your pedigree blood don’t mean no more to them than it do to me. Shit.” Clyde snapped his fingers and a young waiter in a tuxedo rushed over and refilled his glass with more wine. “What you drink?”

      “I like red wine,” I managed, waving my hand in the air, balling it into a fist when I noticed three chipped nails. As soon as the waiter poured wine into the glass in front of me, I took a long swallow, pleased that I got an immediate buzz.

      “Tell me a little bit about yourself, Rockelle,” Clyde suggested, blotting his juicy lips with a napkin.

      I shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

      “What do you like to do in your spare time? I like to get a handle on my girls. I need to know what kind of women I’m dealin’ with.”

      “Well…I like to read, watch movies.” I shrugged again.

      “You into men?”

      “Huh? What do you mean by that?” I asked stupidly, shuddering.

      He laughed. “This is San Francisco, the gay capital of the world, and you are kinda husky. Some dykes make the best workin’ girls.” He sniffed and winked. “I ain’t got no problem with that.”

      I frowned, insulted because nobody had ever questioned my sexuality before. “I love men,” I snapped. “But I’ve never…uh…fucked men for money.” I paused and took another swallow of wine. “Other than what I’ve seen in the movies and what I’ve read in books, I don’t know how all this works,” I whispered, looking around to make sure none of the waiters or other patrons were listening. My ears couldn’t believe the words sliding out of my mouth. I fanned my face with a napkin, hoping I wouldn’t sweat too much and stain my clothes. I wanted to return the blouse and skirt I had on back to Macy’s, too.

      Clyde gave me a surprised look, holding up his hand and shaking his head. “I ain’t said nothin’ about you fuckin’ nobody for no money now. Don’t you be puttin’ words in my mouth,” he said, giving me a look that could have meant just about anything. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or testing me. Maybe he was being cautious. And in his business, I could understand why. He had just met me. I could have been anybody—from the wife of one of his clients to a vengeful relative of one of the women who worked for him. But I was the last person in the world he had to worry about. And with the financial mess I was in, I needed him more than he needed me.

      “But Carlene said…” I muttered, groping for words.

      “Carlene’s a fool. She’s from the old school. Spent her best years humpin’ for a old battle-ax in Ohio of all places. If she was as smart as she thinks she is, she’d have been out of this business ten years ago with a million bucks stashed away in a Cayman Islands bank. Shoot.”

      “What about the cops?” I mumbled, clutching my wineglass with both hands.

      “What about ’em?”

      “I don’t want to get arrested. I would just die if that ever happened.”

      “Girl, that’s the last thing you need to be worryin’ about. Ain’t none of my girls never had no problem with the cops. Hell, I play cards with half of the dudes on vice. In a city like ’Frisco, they got a lot more important things to be investigatin’ than a man and woman hookin’ up to have a little fun. As long as you do like I tell you, you ain’t got to worry about no cops. Now if you a hardheaded fool like Carlene and try to break the rules, you just might have a run-in or two with the man. You got any kids? You look like a breedin’ woman.”

      I nodded so hard, the curls on the hair weave that I had spent so much time trying to tame, came undone and fell across my eyes. “Three. Two boys, six and seven, and a girl just turned ten,” I told him, tucking my hair back behind my ears. I hadn’t had enough money to make an appointment with my hairdresser so I had to pray that none of my loose fake hair would fall off my head. “I like to spend as much time with them as I can.”

      “What about Daddy? He know what you fin to do?”

      “He’s long gone. That bastard.” Just thinking about Joe made my blood boil. I had no idea where he had run off to with his bitch and all of the money from our savings account. He was СКАЧАТЬ