Red Light Wives (13 page)

But lying around the house pregnant with nothing but food and books to keep me occupied, I gained even more weight. The money I gave to Jenny Craig was a waste. I would eat that Jenny Craig shit and still gobble up a whole pizza by myself the same day.

I gave birth to a beautiful baby. Like I had hoped for, Juliet had my light skin and Joe's straight hair. I treated her like a Black American princess and so did Joe. Because of my daughter, I was so happy with my new life that I rarely thought about where I'd come from. One thing that helped put my past behind me was I never visited the projects, and I never called anybody who still lived there. Not even my family. There were times when I wanted to, because I did love and miss them. But I couldn't give Mama the satisfaction of knowing that she'd been right about Joe all along. If I was nothing else, I was stubborn. That was something I hoped I could correct someday. I just didn't know when and how.

My kids were all school age the first time my family saw them and that was by accident. It was at Stonestown Mall one Saturday afternoon.

Like dazed sheep, Mama, Daddy, and my brother, Carl, strutted over to where my kids and I had stopped in front of a bakery. It was a tearful “reunion,” at least for my family. Mama cried and hugged and kissed on me and my frightened kids like she'd just rescued us from a death camp. Juliet, eight at the time, wiped off her face after Mama kissed her on her cheek. Barry, my six-year-old slapped Daddy's hand when Daddy tried to pick him up. Five-year-old Michael giggled.

“They're shy,” I managed, slowly walking away. The last thing I wanted was for somebody I knew to see me talking to such a group of vagabonds.

“Rockelle, our telephone number is still the same. You could call us sometime, just to let us know you all right,” Daddy yelled. He looked twice as old as he had the last time I had seen him. His thin, kinky hair was completely gray and his eyes looked like somebody had pushed them halfway into his head. His tacky gold tooth was gone but in its place was a rotted out shell.

Mama had on a stained flimsy brown dress and a pair of shoes that kept sliding off her feet. Carl looked like the rest of those ghetto thugs terrorizing people everywhere they went. He had on baggy pants hanging below his butt. A greasy, plaid bandana was on his head.

“Uh, I've been meaning to call. But I've been so busy with the kids and Joe's got that new filling station in Daly City and all.”

“Three kids all you got?” Mama asked, wiping her nose and eyes with a stiff handkerchief

“Uh-huh,” I said, moving in the opposite direction. I had planned to take the kids for Chinese food, but I'd suddenly lost my appetite.

“Where you live, sister-girl?” Carl asked, cocking his head. It was then that I noticed a tattoo of a dagger on his cheek and a ring in his nose.

“We have a house on Joost Street.” It gave me a lot of pleasure to add, “Four bedrooms.” That didn't seem to impress anybody but me. “A retired dentist lives next door. His daughter, Helen, babysits for me.”

“Well, do you need anything?” It seemed like a stupid question for Mama to be asking.

“No. We're fine.” I didn't say it, but I knew there was nothing Mama had that I needed. Her dress was all but falling off her lumpy body. I assumed she had given up on her hair because a lopsided black wig was on her head, held in place by a faded scarf.

“Sid's got him a good job workin' as a security guard for Bank of America. Daddy got on SSI and gets him a nice little check every month. We got us a nice little house now. You and the kids and Joe are welcome to visit anytime you want to. It's a real nice house on Carson Street next to that dollar store I used to take you to.” Mama paused, and then she offered a pleading smile. “We doin' a whole lot better than we used to.” I was surprised to see that her dull teeth didn't look any worse than they'd looked the last time I had seen her.

I shook my head. “We have everything we need. Uh, you all take care of yourself now. I got to get these kids home. Joe said he'd take them to the movies.” I heard Juliet gasp, because that was a bald-faced lie. Joe had less time for his kids than he did me. I had to get away from my family because I was afraid that I would fall apart and admit how wrong I'd been about the man I'd married. It would have been the perfect time for me to humble myself and resume a relationship with my family. As much as I loved them and wanted to be with them, I still couldn't bring myself to do it. And I think they knew that. They didn't try to follow us, or continue the conversation.

“Rockelle, take care of yourself,” Daddy yelled. The farther we got away, the louder he yelled. “If you ever need us, just let us know.” His voice faded out like the last scene in a movie.

“Who were those people?” Juliet asked, rubbing her nose as we reached the nearest exit.

“Your grandparents and your uncle. Walk fast,” I mumbled, looking over my shoulder. Mama, Daddy, and Carl were standing in the same spot, still looking like dazed sheep. Juliet pulled away from me when I tried to put my arm around her shoulder. This rude gesture from my daughter was nothing new, and I was used to it. But this time it hurt.

“Yuck,” Barry said, giggling. I wiped candy smudges from his cheeks and chin with the tail of my dress.

“Mama, that old lady looks just like you,” Michael, said, wiggling his nose. My heart felt like it wanted to drop right out of my chest.

I didn't have time to sit around thinking about Mama and the rest of my family, no matter how much I loved them. Besides, I had my disastrous marriage to work on. But instead of getting better, things got worse between Joe and me. His brazen whore started calling the house asking for him. Every time I confronted Joe, he responded with a fist upside my face.

The beatings didn't last long and didn't happen that often. Not because Joe came to his senses, but because he and his little slut eventually packed up and left town while the kids and I were at Marine World.

I got so depressed, I didn't comb my hair or bathe for three days. I didn't have any close female friends to invite to my pity party. It was just as well, because I didn't want anybody to know my business. But the word got out anyway. The only way I could avoid people was to not answer my door. Before long, I didn't have a friend in the world.

My kids became even more important to me, because at least I had somebody who cared about me. But even that was not what I thought it was. A week after Joe's disappearance, I picked up the extension in the kitchen and accidentally overheard part of a conversation between Juliet who was on the bedroom telephone, and one of her little friends.

“Is that your mama I seen with you at the store?” the child on the other end asked.

“
No!
She…she's a maid and she comes over to help my mama take care of us until my daddy comes back from visiting his sick uncle in Canada,” Juliet replied.

“She's a creep,” the other child said, giggling.

“Yeah, she is a creep,” Juliet agreed.

As much as I loved my child, I never looked at her the same way again.

 

My situation went from bad to worse. I had to break down and go to the county building and apply for welfare and food stamps. I would have enjoyed sitting in a funeral parlor more.

There was a bright side to the mess I was in. My elderly neighbors, the retired dentist and his wife, let their daughter babysit the kids for free when I had to go out on job interviews.

Each day, after an interview, I went to whatever bar I could get to without having to spend money on public transportation or gas and parking for my car. Since I didn't have much money to spend on alcohol either, I went to the places that had the cheapest drinks. I got to like the phrase
buy one, get one free
. I spent hours at a time sitting at a wobbly table in a dark corner, humped over a bottle of warm beer at a tacky place in the run-down Tenderloin District. Next door was a strip joint that offered “wall to wall” sex acts. On the other side of the bar was a flophouse. Streetwalkers strolled into the same bar between romps with their tricks. I was surprised when one finally approached me one gray afternoon last March.

She was a slim, light-skinned Black woman. Her breasts were so full and firm, they looked like they were about to leap out of her blouse. “Girl, you better put a smile on your face. Ain't nobody goin' to pay you nothin' with you lookin' like that,” she said, sitting down at the gummy table across from me. She had on a sleeveless white blouse and black leather pants. A white windbreaker was draped across her arm. There was a flushed look on her face. The weather was too dreary and cool for her to be sweating from the heat, so I figured she'd just finished turning a trick.

“I'm not what you think—I'm not
working
,” I said fast. I was flattered that she thought a plump, depressed-looking woman like me was a streetwalker. But when I looked at some of the other girls, I realized I looked better than most of them, including the one sitting across from me. She had to be at least thirty-five. Her face, even though it was pretty, was hard, tired, and dry. The heavy makeup that looked like she'd applied it in the dark, didn't hide the circles around her puffy eyes.

“Well, excuse me,” the woman said, lifting her neatly trimmed eyebrows. “Since you're a sister, I'll warn you anyway. Girl, you better find you another place to wet your beak. The girls on this block can get real territorial. They don't tolerate no new outlaws. Last week I seen this bitch go after another girl with a box cutter.”

“But I'm not a-a,” I couldn't even finish my sentence.

She gave me a dismissive wave. “It don't matter. Them bitches will jump you first and ask questions later.”

I sighed and started to rise, but the bold woman waved me back to my seat and offered a broad smile.

“You ain't got nothin' to worry about as long as I'm here. This homie don't play,” she said proudly, shaking her fist. “I'm Carlene.”

“I'm Rockelle.”

“Like the movie star? That's a sharp name.”

I nodded, spelling my name. “My mama was into Raquel Welch movies when she was pregnant with me. She thought it would be cute to name me after her, but with a different spelling.”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing right now. I'm looking for a job.”

“What do you do?” Carlene repeated in a stronger voice, looking at me with her eyes narrowed like slits.

I shrugged. “I'm willing to do whatever I have to do. My husband took off and left me with three kids to support.”

“Oh? You ain't got no mama to help you out? No daddy? Nobody?”

“They're all dead.”

“Oh.” Carlene snatched a napkin out of my hand and wiped some of the sweat off her face. “I ain't got no more family neither. At least none that would claim me after I got…busy gettin' paid.” She snorted. “And some of them same folks doin' more dirty business in a week than I do in a month. My brother killed his wife, but my family still treats him like some brass-ass king. It's a bitch bein' a bitch. Don't nobody wanna show you no love, unless there's somethin' in it for them.”

I nodded. “Girl, I know what you mean.” I chose my words carefully. I'd never had a conversation with a streetwalker before, so I didn't know what to say to one. The little I knew about the proper etiquette among these women was what I'd learned from novels and movies. I smiled and complimented the woman on how pretty she was. I didn't see how I could go wrong by going in that direction. That made her smile. “Uh, have you been doing what you do long?” I asked.

“Girl, sometimes it feels like I been on my back all my life. At least since I was seventeen. I wouldn't know what else to do with myself. I started off in Cleveland. Sugar Man—that was my man's name—he didn't treat me good, so I ended up in a little town called Richland not far from Cleveland. It's in Ohio, too. I was workin' for this old sister who really knew how to treat her girls. She didn't even try to stop me when I told her I wanted to leave her and move to California. We called her Scary Mary.” Carlene yawned and stretched her arms so high above her head I could see the bushy air under her arms. Then she gave me a critical look before a broad smile appeared on her face. “You thick and pretty. Scary Mary would have liked you.”

“I bet she would have.” I laughed, sucking in my gut. It was good to hear that somebody appreciated the way I looked.

“Listen, I know you don't know me and ain't got no reason to believe me, but I can help you. I ain't got no man of my own to hook you up with—I been a outlaw ever since I came out here. But I'm in good standin' with the right folks. Judge Messic is one of my regular tricks, so don't nobody mess with me.” Carlene leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Listen, I know a real good brother who ain't goin' to do you nothin' but good. He won't beat your ass, and he won't make you do nothin' that you don't want to do.”

“Is he looking for more girls?”

“All the time. He takes calls personally from his best clients. And he got another place where me and some more girls take the overflow calls. Business is boomin”, girl. You better get you some of that money.”

“What's this brother like?” I asked with interest.

“Oh, he's just as sweet as he can be. Me and him like brother and sister. And he's a family man, see. All his girls he got now, they just love him to death. He calls them his red light wives. Ain't that cute?”

I nodded. “Well, I'll do whatever I have to do, as long as nobody gets hurt,” I said firmly. “Give me that man's telephone number.”

I didn't even wait to get home to contact Clyde Brooks. I called him from a pay phone in the bar. And he must have had his telephone in his lap. He picked up on the first ring.

Carlene had told me that all I had to say was, “Clyde, Carlene told me to call you. My name is Rockelle.”