Little Black Girl Lost (9 page)

J
ohnnie walked into Sears, still angry about the inappropriate questions Simmons asked her. She thought the Savoy was the one place where she wouldn't have to be concerned about people knowing her business. She began wondering if everybody at the hotel felt the same way.

“May I help you?” the store detective asked, flashing a badge.

“I'm just doin' some shoppin', sir,” she said, snapping out of it.

The detective was a tall man with wide, football shoulders. He was about six-five and intimidating. He wore a slight scowl on an otherwise friendly face.

“Shoppin',” he said, mocking her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let's see some ID.”

Johnnie didn't have identification with her. It had never been necessary before now. She had to at least pretend she had identification. Rummaging through her purse, she acted surprised that it wasn't where she thought it would be.

“I'm sure I put my driver's license in my purse this morning, sir. I can't seem to find it.”

“That's just what I thought,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Come with me.”

When Johnnie saw the other customers, most of whom were white, staring as she was being literally dragged through the store, the humiliation she felt overwhelmed her. She felt even more degraded when the few colored people in the store looked at her as though she was an embarrassment to them. She bowed her head and cried softly. The tears, one after another, rolled down her cheeks.

When they reached the detective's office, the degradation continued. He opened her purse and emptied the contents onto his maplewood desk. A wad of money fell out of the purse. He picked it up and counted it. It was four hundred dollars in small bills.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, shaking the money in her face.

She just stood before the towering hulk of a man with her head bowed, tears still flowing. She knew she had to lie.
But what lie do I tell? I can't tell him my white lover pays me for sex, and I can't tell him I have a job. What if he asks me where I work then calls to see if I actually work there?

“Well? Speak up!” he demanded.

“Sir, I don't want no trouble,” she said, still looking at the floor. “I just came to do some shoppin'.”

“Did you steal this money?”

“No, sir.”

“Then where the hell did you get four hundred dollars? I think you stole it. Do you have any more?” He had made up his mind to take the money from her. Who could she tell? As far as he was concerned, the money, in all likelihood, was stolen.

“No, sir. That's all I have.”

“I don't believe you. Up against the wall and spread 'em!”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. I said spread 'em.”

When she just stood there frozen, he turned her around, pushed her up against the wall and began frisking her. As he patted her down, he squeezed her breasts and ass. Not finding anything, he said, “Where's the rest of the money?”

“I don't have no more, sir,” she pleaded.

“I think you do. Take off the dress. I think the money's in your panties.”

Johnnie couldn't believe what she was hearing. He wasn't looking for more money. He wanted sex. She could see it in his eyes.

“No, sir,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I will not take off my dress. You can have the money, but no, I will not do it.”

“Fine! You're going to jail then,” he said and picked up the telephone.

“Okay, okay,” she said and sniffed as the tears ran down her cheeks again.

When she pulled the dress up over her head, exposing her naked breasts and panties, the door opened.

“Detective Little, what the hell is going on in here?” the store manager asked.

Johnnie pulled her dress down. Her humiliation was now complete.

“Sir, this woman looked suspicious, and when I asked her if she had identification, she told me no.”

“Little, you know what I'm talking about.” His voice was just a notch under shouting. “Why was she undressing?”

“I wanted to make sure she didn't have any stolen items on her, sir. You know how these people steal. It's the only thing they excel at. Left alone, they'll rob you blind.”

Johnnie was enraged by what she was hearing.
He knows I didn't steal anything. I haven't been in the store long enough. It was all probably a trick to get my clothes off.

“Look at this money, sir,” Little said, showing him the four hundred dollars. “I found this on her.”

“Is this your money?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That's a lot of money for a colored woman. Where did you get it?”

“I saved it, sir,” Johnnie said, finally figuring out what story to tell. She knew most men thought she was much older than what she really was. “I've been savin' for years—since I was fifteen. Decided to come and look for some new furniture. I just bought a house, sir.” She walked over to the desk where all of her belongings were and picked up a folded piece of paper. She handed it to the manager. “Here's my deed, sir,” she continued. “See, I wasn't gonna rob you, sir. Just doin' some shoppin', that's all.”

The manager unfolded the deed then looked into her sad eyes and decided she was telling the truth. He handed the empty purse to her. Johnnie took the purse and collected her things. When she finished, she stood quietly, waiting to be officially released.

“Detective Little, what the hell did you think you were doing?” the manager yelled. “Did it ever occur to you that if she had four hundred dollars, she didn't need to steal from the store?”

“Sir, I, uh—”

“You're fired!”

“What kinda white man are you?” Little asked, shaking his head. “You're taking the word of a nigger over a white man? I've seen it all now. This country is going to hell in a hand basket because of you fuckin' nigger lovers.”

“Get out before I have you thrown out!” the manager yelled.

“I'll be glad to leave. I feel sick to my stomach,” Little said, slamming the door.

“Are you okay, Ms. Wise?” the manager asked, handing her a handkerchief.

“Yes, sir,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Can I go now, sir?”

“Yes. I'm truly sorry for your inconvenience. I hope you'll continue to shop at Sears.”

“Yes, sir,” she said then walked out of the office.

J
ohnnie calmed down considerably by the time she reached the offices of Glenn and Webster. However, she still had some residual anger from the way she was treated at Sears. As she rode the St. Charles streetcar to the central business district, she thought of her introduction to whoredom, the selling of her womanhood and self-respect, and the constant innuendoes from men. The problem with Robert Simmons this morning particularly came to mind. She knew she definitely had a way with men, but it wasn't until the streetcar passed through the Garden District, the city's uptown area with all of its fancy old mansions, that she made up her mind to take Martin Winters up on his offer of a “later date.”

As usual, she could feel people staring at her, and the yellow sundress she was wearing didn't deter any of the men from gawking. With her head held high, she walked straight to Cynthia Lamar's desk. She was on the phone. Johnnie stood in front of her with an angry look on her face. Cynthia looked at her and rolled her eyes. Johnnie put her hands on her hips and patted her foot. She was in no mood to be subservient; not after what just happened to her, not after that kind of humiliation. A few seconds later, Cynthia hung up the phone.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Wise?”

I see you remembered my name. That's a good start, you little tramp.
“I need to see Martin right now,” Johnnie said gruffly.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Have a seat and he'll get to you when he can.”

“No,” Johnnie said in the same brusque tone. “I will not have a seat. You tell him I'm here right now.”

“Now, just a minute.”

“Look, Cynthia,” she said, raising her voice an octave. “I don't care nothin' about you screwin' a married man.” She knew the comment would get a rise out of Cynthia. “As far as I'm concerned, that's y'all's business. I'm here to discuss my stock portfolio. Now, either you tell him I'm here or I will.”

Stunned by Johnnie's brash manner and her knowledge of the ongoing affair with Martin, Cynthia went into his office. Johnnie followed her and closed the door. Martin sat at his desk, going over some papers when they entered.

Without looking up, Martin said, “Cindy, I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed.”

“You did, but she started yelling about us having an affair and only God knows who heard her.”

Martin looked up and saw Johnnie standing right behind Cynthia with her hands on her hips. She looked like she was enraged about something.

Confused, Cynthia asked, “Why would you tell her about us, Martin?”

“He didn't tell me anything,” Johnnie said in a sharp tone. “Now, leave us alone, please.”

“What the hell is going on, Johnnie?” Martin demanded.

“Johnnie, is it?” Cynthia asked, suspecting something was going on between them.

“Cindy, why don't you wait outside,” Martin said calmly.

“No! What the hell is going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” Martin said, raising his voice.

Johnnie couldn't resist the urge to say, “Not yet, but trust me little girl, something is going to happen. Isn't that right, Martin?”

“Are you fucking her?” Cynthia asked. “Is that why she's being so bold?”

“Cindy, let's discuss this later,” Martin said.

“No!” Cynthia said, full of rage. “We'll discuss it right fucking now!”

“No, we won't!” Martin said with equal force. “Now, get back to your desk!”

“Yeah, get back to your desk, Cynthia,” Johnnie jabbed. “We business people have things to discuss.”

Cynthia was about to say something but Martin cut her off. “Cindy, I mean it,” he said, softening his tone. “I'll discuss this with you later. This is a client and you're behaving very unprofessionally. Please, return to your desk.”

“Yeah, Cindy, he means it.” Johnnie laughed.

Still frustrated, Cynthia turned around and looked at Johnnie, who was smiling from ear to ear. “Bitch,” she said under her breath as she walked past.

“Ya mama!” Johnnie said loudly.

When Cynthia closed the door, Martin said, “What in the hell do you think you're doing barging into my office, making wild accusations? Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

“Oh, shut up and sit down, Martin,” Johnnie said, full of confidence.

She had effectively gotten rid of Cynthia, and now she felt like she was in the driver's seat. After all, Martin propositioned her. As long as he wanted sex, she knew she was in charge. Martin stared at her for a couple of seconds and decided to play along, at least until he got a piece. He sat down and gestured for her to do the same. She did.

“Now, do you mind telling me why you're being so acrimonious?”

“Went to college, huh?”

Martin laughed a little. “Seriously though, Johnnie. What's happened? Did you and Earl have a fight?”

“No. This has nothing to do with Earl.”

“Then what's this all about?”

Johnnie reached into her purse and took out the four hundred dollars. She threw it on the table. “I want you to buy me more stock in Sears.”

After telling him about the incident at Sears and making plans to see Martin when she moved into her new home, she prepared to leave the office. She could feel his eyes on her ass, so she turned around to see if he was looking. He was. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the same look that Earl had that Christmas Eve when he took her for the first time. She knew then that Martin Winters would do whatever she wanted.

As she walked past Cynthia's desk, she said, “You can have him now.”

J
ohnnie was waiting in the school park for half an hour, watching the kids leave from a distance. She began to wonder if Lucas Matthews went to school that day. She was just about to leave when the door opened and he came out of the school, carrying his gym bag over his shoulder.

“Lucas!” she yelled.

He turned in the direction of the voice. When. Lucas recognized her, he smiled and waved. He jogged in hurried excitement over to the park bench where she was sitting. “Where you been? I was wonderin' what happened to you today.”

“I needed some time away from school, Lucas,” she said, believing it would be best to tell him her decision to quit school later. “Guess what, though.”

“What?”

“It looks like I'll be gettin' the house sooner than I thought.”

“A house, huh? Where 'bout?”

“Ashland Estates.”

“Uh-huh,” he said skeptically.

“You don't believe me?”

“I believe you, Johnnie,” he said with a heavy heart. “It's just that kids have been sayin' that you were goin' to be livin' with some white man. I didn't wanna believe it, but I guess it's true. Is it?”

It was like someone let the air out of her. Johnnie bowed her head. The look on her face said it all. Lucas was the last person she wanted knowing what was going on between her and Earl. She would have told him herself at the proper time.

“I suppose you don't want me now, huh?” Johnnie asked.

Lucas felt sorry for her, but he still liked her. “No, I still do. Can you tell me somethin'?”

“Let me guess. You wanna know how I got into this situation, don't you?”

“Yes, but if you don't want to tell me, I understand. From what I hear tell, you ain't the first girl Shamus done did this to. But you seem to be the only one gettin' somethin' for your trouble.”

“What do you mean, Lucas?”

“Johnnie, I'm not real smart, but any fool can figure out that a sixteen-year-old colored girl livin' in the ghetto cain't afford no house—let alone in Ashland Estates.”

“So, it don't bother you that I'm with this white man?”

“I didn't say that. My mama had the same trouble. She told me womenfolk do what they gotta do to survive. I don't like the idea of you being with a white man in that way, but what could you do? I know you're still a good girl, and if you didn't have to do what you're doing, I know you wouldn't.”

Lucas made her feel as if he was the only person in her life who truly cared about her. She looked in his eyes and saw sincerity in them. Taking his hand into hers, she kissed him on the cheek. A broad smile appeared on his face. He felt like royalty. He wanted to ask her to be his girl again, but thought it was too soon.

“Can I trust you, Lucas?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I mean can I really trust you?”

“Johnnie, yes. You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay, listen. I have some obligations to fulfill, but I have plans that I cain't tell you about right now. All I can do is ask you to trust me. If you can trust me, I'll be your girl. If you can't, I guess I won't.”

Lucas frowned.

“What's the matter, Lucas?”

“What plans do you have?”

“Lucas, you just said you trusted me.”

“I do, but—”

“No. Either you trust me or you don't,” she said, releasing his hand. “There are some things that you don't need to know right now. The last thing I wanna do is hurt you. I've been hurt and I know how it feels, especially when you've entrusted your entire being to a person. To have that trust betrayed is unbearable.” She turned her back to him. “You wanted to know how I got into this situation? I'll tell you. My mother made a deal with Earl on Christmas Eve a year ago. On Christmas Eve! Do you know what that's like, to know you have to do something so offensive, something so disgusting, something so wretched that you want to heave every time you think about it?” She turned around and looked at him. “A year ago, do you think you would have heard the things you heard about me today?”

He shook his head.

“Don't you see? I have nothing left. Nothing.” She laughed a little. “And get this. After I let Earl have his way with me, my mother walks into the room and tells me she did me a favor. She basically tells me my virginity was worthless and that I would have just ended up givin' it to some good for nothin' nigga. She tells me that all men want what a woman has between her legs and that I should learn to use it to get ahead. And you wanna know what's frightening? I'm startin' to believe she was right. You wouldn't believe the day I've had, Lucas. It all started at the Savoy.”

“The Savoy Hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Me and my mother got into a fight after you left and I ended up moving out. It's just been one thing after another.”

“And you rode with Shamus?”

“Yes.”

“So, that's when Billy Logan saw you?”

“Yes.”

“I'ma kick his ass again.”

“No, Lucas. Leave it alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“So, you stayin' at the Savoy, huh?”

“Yes, and that's where things went bad today. The owner got fresh. He wanted to have dinner with me. Then when I told him I had plans, he just totally disrespected me. So, I tell him a thing or two, then I go to Sears. I'm not in the store two minutes when the store detective started harassin' me. The next thing I know, he's haulin' me up to his office where he feels me up while he's supposedly looking for some money I was supposed to have stolen. Then he threatened to call the police if I didn't take my dress off. If it wasn't for the store manager, he would have forced me to have sex with him.”

“Why cain't them crackers leave our women alone?”

“It ain't just the white men. It's the colored ones too.”

“Don't they know you're only sixteen?”

“Earl does. But as you see, it hasn't stopped him. He's probably convinced himself that it's okay since I look older than girls my age are supposed to look.”

“Probably, but I guess what makes me mad is if we did the same, they would castrate us—even if she wanted it.”

“Not if you take her to the Savoy. For some reason, as quiet as it's kept, it's okay if you do it there.”

“Yeah, I heard that too.”

“You ever thought about it with a white girl, Lucas?”

“Huh? Uh, no.”

She knew he was lying, but it didn't matter. This was who she had chosen to give herself to, fully and completely. If he wanted to see a woman, any woman, colored or white, she wouldn't object. “Lucas, I gotta be going. I'm supposed to go by my mother's and take her to the new house.”

“Okay, I'm gonna trust you, but you're gonna stop doin' this as soon as you can, right?”

“I promise, Lucas. As soon as I can, I'll stop.”

Lucas smiled. “Well, can I walk you home?”

“Sure, but not up to the door, okay? I don't want to start any mess with my mother. How about I call you when I get moved in and let you know where I'm stayin'.”