Red Light Wives (37 page)

“You can't blackmail me. I won't let you.” I swiped my face so hard, it ached.

“Who said anything about blackmail? I'm just askin' you for a little help this weekend.”

“I can't do it, Clyde. I'll get you the money, but not
that
way. I-I…my husband is the only man I've been with since I got married. Twenty-two years. I've never even looked at another man.”

“Look, I told you not to make me get ugly up in here. You ought to be flattered that a man would be willin' to pay you that kind of money for a little fun. I know a lot of much younger women who would jump at the opportunity to spend a nice evenin' in a five-star hotel with a nice clean gentleman.”

“Why don't you get one of your much younger lady friends to do it?” I hollered, tossing the soaked napkin back on the table.

“I…want…you.” Clyde paused and glanced at his watch. “I'll call you again tomorrow night after I get everything set up.”

“Don't bother. I'm not doing it, Clyde. Can't you get that through your head?”

I could not believe how calm he was. He just blinked his evil eyes and continued. “What's the best time to call? If somebody other than you answers, I'll hang up, but you'll know it was me. I'll keep callin' 'til you answer the phone, like today.”

“You are sick,” I mumbled. I was almost too weak and overwhelmed to talk any further.

“If I don't talk to you so we can set things up, I'll be talkin' to that husband of yours. I wonder what old Robert will say when I tell him about all the fun I used to have with his pretty blond wife, and that he got a biracial stepdaughter. Now you have a nice day.”

Clyde tossed a few dollars on the table and left.

R
ichard Rice lived on Webster Street in a shabby neighborhood in a big brick building tagged with gang graffiti. Men of all ages, with desperate looks on their faces, stood on every corner, smoking and drinking from bottles in paper bags. Their colors ranged from the palest white to pitch black.

As soon as I tumbled out of a cab at the corner, unintentionally exposing more thigh than I meant to, the men started aggressively leering at me, making lewd comments in a variety of accents. Equal opportunity sexual harassment; I was used to it by now. Just as a tall, swarthy man with a stringy gray ponytail lunged at me, making smooching noises with his puckered lips, Richard popped out of a doorway, hopping on bare feet. Without saying a word to my admirer, Richard grabbed my arm and led me to the living room of his basement apartment.

The living room was also his bedroom. A dark green couch and a coffee table faced an unmade bed. A small television sat on the only chair in the room. There was something vaguely familiar about Richard's apartment. It was the smell of fried chicken, greens, and corn bread in the air, and a bowl of mean-looking gumbo on a card table by the door. It reminded me of home. Not the hellish place I'd shared with my daddy and my vicious stepmother, but the apartment I'd lived in during my doomed relationship with Larry Holmes. I got misty-eyed, and for a brief moment, homesick. I was proud of the fact that I no longer got angry when I thought about Larry. I felt it was better to use that energy on something more positive, which I was trying to do.

Richard did not let go of my arm until we were safely inside and he had shut and locked his door. In addition to a chain lock, the door also had two dead bolts. Behind the door, propped up in a corner was a lethal-looking metal baseball bat, with what looked like nails sticking out on both sides. Richard saw me looking at the curious object with my neck tilted back and my face screwed up into an open-mouthed frown.

“Don't let that headbuster bother you. I ain't never had to use it,” he said, smiling.

“I hope you never do,” I said, shivering even though the room was about ten degrees too warm.

“I was surprised to hear from you, Lula. I been thinkin' about you a lot since that day in Tad's.”

“I've been busy.” I sat on the side of his bed, looking toward the one window he had. It faced a round-sided refrigerator in a corner that served as a kitchen. I'd had a few three hundred dollar dates with another man who also made his living driving buses, so I knew bus drivers made fairly decent money. But knowing that Richard sent money back home to his relatives in Louisiana, I was not surprised that he lived in such a depressing place himself. His clothes hung from a rack that faced his bed. Half a dozen pairs of shoes, the heels well-worn, were lined up on the floor outside his postage stamp-size bathroom.

“Yeah. This is one busy city…” he said, handing me a beer. He had on a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of black jeans, ripped at the knees. His hair was matted, making his head look like somebody had sliced off the back half. Even so, he was still the best-looking man who'd ever paid any attention to me. I hadn't met another man yet as nice as my late husband, Bo. But, I had a feeling that Richard was a strong candidate to fill that spot.

“You…know what I do. But you still asked me to call.” I gave him a dry look as I took a sip from the bottle of beer. It was so cold it stung the insides of my throat. That was good because it dissolved a lump that had been roosting there for hours.

Richard sat next to me, making the bed tremble and the springs squeak. A minute after he'd sat down, the bed was still moving like somebody was having good sex in it. That thought gave me mixed feelings. I didn't think of sex the way I used to, not since I'd started selling it. Every time a trick or Clyde was on top of me, I concentrated on a red brick wall until it was over—unless I had to do something that involved a lot of theatrics and contortions. The wall facing Richard's bed was made of brick. Not red like in my vision, but off-white. But brick was brick. I didn't know if that was a bad omen or just a coincidence. And at the time I didn't really care. Richard had revived feelings in me that I thought I had buried with my sweet husband.

“I'm glad you did. I really did want to see you again. Now, what's this goin' to cost me?” he asked, rubbing his hands together like he'd just won a car on the
The Price Is Right
.

I gasped. “I didn't come here for that,” I said real quick, sliding a few inches away. “You think all I'm about is gettin' paid? Well, if that's what you think I came here for, you wrong. Besides, from what you've told me, I don't think you can afford me,” I told him, a sly look on my face.

Richard chuckled and gave me a thoughtful look, holding his bottle of beer with both hands. “You right about that. My money is so funny, even my cash bounces.”

“And anyway, I'm about to get out of this business,” I said in a whiny, childlike voice.

“I'm glad to hear that. You got too much goin' for you to be makin' a career out of…what you do,” he said, slidin' his fingers along the side of my arm. “If you don't mind me askin', what's your backup plan? San Francisco is one expensive city.” He sighed and looked around his room. “This hole costs me fifteen hundred a month, and that's cheap.”

“I'll find somethin'. I can do a lot of other things.”

Richard's hand was still rubbing my arm when he hauled off and kissed me, long and hard. There was nothing special about the way he kissed, but it felt good. It felt even better when he did it again. He eased me down on the bed and unbuttoned my blouse.

Richard was out of his clothes so fast it made my head spin. His hard body, healthy and meaty in all the right places, was a sight to behold. All I wanted to do was just lie there and admire it. But when he jumped on me, I pushed him away. “You forgettin' somethin',” I said.

“Oh, I ain't forgot nothin',” he said, panting like a dog in heat, sweat dripping off his smooth skin like raindrops. He gave me a puzzled look and then he sighed. “You ain't got to worry about catchin' nothin' from me. I'm clean. HIV negative.”

“So am I. And I want to stay that way,” I said seriously. It was a disappointment to know that he was willing to fuck me without protection. Especially knowing how I made my money.

I leaned toward the floor and fished out a package of condoms from my purse. Richard reluctantly reared up far enough for me to slide it on that hungry-looking thing between his legs.

I had not enjoyed sex with a man since that fiasco with Larry Holmes. I hadn't had enough time with my husband to develop a routine, so I would never know if he could have made love to me the way I liked it. With my eyes closed, making love with Richard for the first time was like being with Larry again. I had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed it.

I was not watching the big clock on Richard's wall above the bed, but it seemed like we wrestled around on that weak mattress for hours.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, watching his chest rise and fall, wondering how I was going to keep this man in my life, and how I was going to get rid of Clyde.

“Will I see you again?” he asked, breathing on my face.

“I hope so,” I said in a shaky voice. “I just don't know when, though. I still want that dinner, movie, and a walk on the beach you offered.” I grinned.

“That and more. I just hope it won't be another few weeks before we can do it. I'd like to see you again, real soon.”

“I have a few things I have to settle first. I need to get a job and another place, real fast.”

Richard sat up and stared down at me. “I don't want to get all up in your business. I mean, you ain't got to tell me nothin' you don't want to. But if you in trouble, or if you need to hide out 'til you get your situation straightened out, you welcome to crash here with me.”

His generous, thoughtful offer almost took my breath away. “You mean that?” I managed.

“I wouldn't say it if I didn't. I care about you, Lula, and I will help you if you let me. Now, you know I ain't no rich man, and I ain't got much to offer, but I want to be with you.”

“You don't even know me, Richard. I could be the bitch from hell,” I admitted, gently rubbing his back.

He nodded and turned to face me. “You could be, but I could be even worse.” I can honestly say that I never felt more loved before in my life. “I know what I need to know about you, Lula. You didn't have to tell me what you told me that day in Tad's. I didn't have to ask you to hook up with me. I don't do nothin' I don't want to do. I know enough about you to know that we could probably have somethin' good together. Besides, I done already told you, I grew up around the same kind of shit you livin' now. I know people can change. There's a whole lotta shit I did that I ought to be ashamed of. You didn't try to hide nothin' from me from the get-go. At least I know now, so I can make up my mind now.” He paused and stared off into space.

“I'm still here,” I said, tapping his arm.

Richard sat up on the side of the bed, rubbing the side of his head.

“Lula, before I came to San Francisco, I was livin' in L.A. I was one wild and crazy-ass nigger. The Crips was my homeboys. I sold drugs, busted a lot of heads, beat up on my women. You name it, I done it, I had it. I cruised around town with a gangster lean in a low-ridin' pair of wheels, sunroof top, and diamonds in the back. Then, them same folks I thought was my friends set me up over some dumb shit but one of the same women I'd beaten and abused believed in me. She scraped up some money, and we hauled ass that same night. I been walkin' a chalk line ever since. Well, after that angel got me straightened out, I married her.”

Richard's past sounded similar to Ester's boyfriend. It was good to know that at least two ex-thugs had straightened out their lives.

“She the one who died in the earthquake with your son?” I asked, rubbing his back some more.

Richard nodded and turned to face me. I can honestly say that I never felt more affection for a man before in my life as I did at that moment. But it was a scary feeling. I had loved Larry Holmes from the bottom of my heart, and I'd lost. I didn't want that to happen to me again. My brain was whirling with confusion, and my emotions were as out of control as a runaway train.

“I still can't move in here with you.” I sighed, sitting up, my knee pressed against his. “I wouldn't feel right about it. I want to make it on my own. I got enough money saved up to pay rent somewhere until I get a job. Maybe you could help me find a place and a job.” I squeezed his hand. “We'd probably have a better chance if we took things slower, keep our own space.”

“Well, there's always a vacant place over here,” he said, looking around the room. “If you ain't too particular. This ain't the best neighborhood in the world, but the units in this buildin' come furnished, and it's better than a lot of places. You got a lot of stuff to move?”

“Just my clothes. The furniture belongs to the girl I live with.”

“When you plannin' to make your move?”

“I don't know. Like I said, I have a few things to settle first.”

“Lula, I wasn't lyin' when I said I cared about you. You got my attention the first time you rode on my bus. You don't know how excited I was when you set down at my table in Tad's that day. All that shit I told you about my years in L.A., I didn't even scratch the surface. I ain't the man I used to be, and I never will be, because I wanted to change. I know you do too, and I know I can be the one to help you do just that.”

I looked away because every time I looked in Richard's eyes, I felt myself getting weaker and it was weakness that had made such a mess of my life. “I better go now,” I said, looking at my watch and feeling around on the floor for my clothes. “I'll be in touch.”

“I hope you will, Lula. I hope you will.”

I
f I could live my life over, things would be a lot different for me now. I had made enough stupid choices during my youth to last a lifetime. I could not imagine Robert's reaction if he ever found out about the relationship I'd had with Clyde.

I no longer loved my husband, but compared to most women, I had a good life, and I didn't want to lose it. At least not yet. Robert and I were not happy together, but I wasn't ready to make it without him. And as miserable as our relationship was, I enjoyed the prestige of being married to a successful architect.

My father owned the house we lived in, so if Robert and I ever did split up, I'd always have a place to live. But I still had way too much to lose. I didn't want to think about how a divorce would affect the kids.

I called Clyde at his used car location. “I need to see you,” I said stiffly.

“Uh-huh.”

“We need to get a few things straight.”

“We done already done that. I done told you what you got to do. All you need to know is where and when.”

“It's not that simple, Clyde. I don't want to discuss this over the phone. I need to see you tonight before my husband comes home.”

“Well, you caught me at a bad time. I got somethin' else I need to take care of tonight. We can discuss anything we need to discuss right now. Like I said, all you need to know is where to go and when. After you done what you supposed to do, you call me at this same number. We hook up somewhere, you give me my money, and that's the end of it. You won't hear from me no more.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Tomorrow night, the Hyatt Regency Hotel, room 301, eight o'clock. Don't be late.”

“I hope you burn in hell.”

“And I probably will. But in the meantime, I got to do what I got to do. Now, we straight?”

I sighed with defeat, convinced that there was no way out of this mess. “I'll be there.”

“Well, you better be your White ass there. Oh, and wear somethin' normal. Show some class. Put on a business suit, some low-heeled pumps, make up your face, carry a briefcase, wear your hair in a bun, and splash on some Chanel No 5. Don't go up in that hotel lookin' like no two-dollar streetwalker.”

Two hours after my difficult conversation with Clyde, I was still awake when Robert crawled into bed. I flinched when his toenail scratched the side of my leg.

For the first time in a month, he slid his arm around me, patting my crotch and nudging me with his knee.

“Meg?”

I ignored him.

“Meg? Honey, how about it?” he whispered in my ear.

I could feel his erection against my ass, the hardest one I'd felt in years. But I ignored that, too.

 

I wore a yellow tweed suit that I had not been able to squeeze into since before my weight loss. I crawled into a cab and headed for the Hyatt Regency Hotel, near Union Square, the following night after my conversation with Clyde. I could feel the four shots of vodka I'd drunk in place of a dinner, floating around like acid inside my empty stomach.

Robert had left the house earlier that evening for a business meeting, not that his presence would have made a difference. He never asked what I was doing or where I was going.

I had allowed myself enough time to sit in one of the hotel bars, where I gulped down another shot of vodka.

Finally, I took the elevator to the third floor, but it took five minutes to drag myself to room 301 from the elevator, a few feet away.

I'd been in the same hotel before for the same reason as tonight, many years earlier. More than once, I'd shared my body with men whose faces and names I could not remember. A stockbroker from Sacramento, an Iranian businessman on vacation, a bachelor party with a group of rowdy college boys from U.C. Berkeley. A trick was a trick, but this time the trick was on me.

I held my breath and knocked. My husband opened the door.