The People vs. Cashmere (14 page)

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Authors: Karen Williams

BOOK: The People vs. Cashmere
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Of course, Desiree explained all this shit to me while I glared at the bitch like she wasn't shit for getting me involved in this shit. But, according to her, if it wasn't for Black, we would've been in a lot of shit 'cause he was the one paying for Daddy to stay in that home.
“What you been doing with the money you were making and the dough I been giving you?” I wanted to ask but didn't. It wouldn't matter. We were stuck. Destiny was a son of a bitch. After they transformed me from the girl I was to this shit, I hated looking at the mirror.
When I thought about the day they'd drugged me and Black fucked me, I kept tugging at my palm with my nails, to wipe the thoughts away. Afterwards I woke up to find him cuddling me like I was his wife and shit. When I tried to pull away, he snatched me back and said, “You home now. You got a real nigga now. And I'm gonna take care of you.”
“I don't wanna be here,” I mumbled, tears pouring from my eyes when the reality of where I was and what just happened hit me again.
“You'll adjust,” he said.
 
 
“Cash!”
I ignored my sister and looked back at the dudes. One was tall and ugly, one was short and ugly, and one was fat and ugly. There was no way I wanted them all up in my fourteen-year-old pussy. Well, I was turning fifteen next month, but that didn't matter.
I shivered. I pulled on the edges of my shirt so that the material would loosen up and wouldn't fit to my chest the way it did.
Desiree tapped me. She laced her hands in mine.”We gotta get this started.”
I finally turned a cold eye on her and snatched my hand away from her. I closed my eyes as shame filled me.
She shrugged and pulled her shirt over her head.
Just then, I jumped up from the bed and ran in the bathroom. I locked myself in there and sat down on the edge of the tub.
A few seconds later, I heard Desiree sigh and knock on the door. I ignored her.
“Cashmere, come on, open the door.”
“Fuck you!”
“Baby, we got paying customers.”
“Fuck them!”
I heard laughter.
“Black is waiting outside. These his clients and friends. You can't disrespect him like that, and plus, they already paid Black.”
“Fuck him too!”
She huffed a deep mouthful of breath. “Come on.”
I unlocked the door and sat back on the edge of the tub.
Desiree stepped in the room with a glass and two plastic baggies in her hand, both her titties hanging out. She sat down next to me. “Listen, I know that you're still mad, but face it, this is our life now and you gotta accept it. We need someone to take care of us. Every woman needs a man, and ain't no man harder than Black. We his hoes and we both broken in now. Ain't no turning back now, Cash. One day you going to love me for the choice I made for us.”
I turned to her. “Just so you know, I hate you, Desiree. Hate you more than Auntie. Hate you more than Mama. I wish you wasn't my sister. I hope you die one day.”
Seemingly unaffected by what I said, her reply was, “Here take some of this. It will make you feel good like the other day.”
I glanced down at her hand, balled in a fist and some white powder on the edge of it. She pulled it to her face, pinched one nostril, and sniffed deeply. Her face screwed up for a second, and she shuddered. Then, eyes closed, she smiled like she was floating.
I shook my head at her. “I don't want that shit.” That was what she gave me that night Black did what he did.
She shook her head and placed a pill in my hand. “Then try this, Cash. It's not coke. It's like a painkiller, and it's not addictive. It will get you through this. However you wanna feel, it's gonna make you feel like that—happy, high, horny, funny, all of it. Because, despite how much shit you talk, you gotta do it. And you know it too.”
I needed a painkiller, all right, to kill this pain I had inside. I dropped it down my throat and took a long swallow of the bitter brown liquid she'd poured in a glass for me.
She patted my back and said, “That's it, little sister. Let the pill do its work.”
And after a few moments I was feeling good.
She helped me undress, and I slipped back into the room with her. The dudes were leering at me.
Desiree went straight to her trick, dropped on her knees in front of him, pulled his pants and boxers around his ankles, and took his dick in her mouth. I watched, feeling good, but horrified nonetheless. She bobbed her head on it quickly.
I jumped when a hand stroked my behind. I gave him an evil-ass look.
He winked at me, the tall ugly one, and asked, “You ready, baby?”
I closed my eyes and nodded. I guess I was expected to do the same. Whether he was ugly or fine, I still wouldn't want to do this shit.
My sister pulled the dick out of her mouth and said breathlessly, “Cash, make sure he puts on a condom.”
He did.
The other two men stood around the bed and watched the action, my naked ass sprawled up on it and him jamming his dick into me. I kept my eyes closed, squinting to keep the tears from falling out of them. To ease my mind and to keep from screaming, I thought about everything I could think of that would halt me from jumping up and pushing him off of me as he stabbed me. And it hurt like hell, 'cause his shit was hard, big, and fat, and my pussy was dry, little, and tight. I moaned in pain.
He thought I was enjoying the shit, so he got rougher. “You so pretty,” he murmured.
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had to be in his forties. Had to have a kid, a niece, a godchild, or something my age. But that didn't stop him from wanting to fuck me. Then that's when his dog chain hit me in my face. Had a reflection of a girl looking back at me, smiling. I turned my face to the side to avoid it hitting me again, or seeing it.
“Man, come on with all that shit.”
I ignored the voice. The belt buckle on his pants kept slapping me in my ass as he entered and exited my pussy. I kept singing songs in my head, recited The Holy Prayer.
When he busted, I rolled away, and for the first time in my life I sucked a man's dick. Through it, in my head, I recited the “I Have a Dream” speech. I grimaced every time he snatched my hair up to jam his dick deeper in my mouth. His balls were in my face, and he smelled like some old sweaty boxers. I tried not to gag.
The worst part was having to swallow his cum. His grip on the back of my neck grew tighter and his legs shook. After that I knew when a man was going to cum.
The next guy, unlike the other guys, had sympathy in his eyes. He also had a little dick that didn't hurt as much as the other bastard. He stroked my pussy gently and smiled down at me. He was the short, ugly one. I just prayed the shit would be over soon, 'cause the other three dudes were watching me and saying what a fine ho I was, and how good my pussy was. And Desiree was nowhere to be seen.
And finally he came.
For all that shit, I received three hundred dollars, but I felt like I did the shit for free, 'cause I paid a high price. My sanity and self-respect started chipping after that.
Afterwards, feeling dumb for doing it, I went directly to the shower. I felt like I was on TV. And it was one of them movies where a woman was raped and she always showered afterwards, as if it would wipe away the act. I guess I was delusional like them chicks in them movies, 'cause I couldn't stop scrubbing myself, and still it didn't get rid of the shame that I felt.
I slipped on my clothes, left the hotel, and climbed in the backseat of Black's car. Desiree offered me a smile.
I stared out the window. The hot tears ran down my face so slow, by the time they got to my chin, they were cold. And I cried all night.
Chapter 17
After my first trick, I found two things to get me through the rest—Grey Goose and ecstasy—which enabled me to sleep peacefully. Desiree's drug of choice was coke. I, however, wasn't fuckin' with that shit! The ecstasy and Goose was cool. The only time that I didn't get high was on Sundays when we went to see Daddy. Our real Daddy! Being there always made me feel like shit, 'cause I was far from being Daddy's little girl now, from being the perfect girl he always thought I was.
Black called us his “prime bitches,” and often took us to special clients. We got the rappers who flew into Cali and wanted a little pussy, or the actors, and basketball and football stars, so he kept us pretty clean. But Black said when these clients showed a decline, we would be back on the track. But, see, I never hit the track. I had seen it when we would roll by and collect dough. Desiree was on the track, and I know it pissed her off. Still, we got partial treatment, compared to the other bitches.
In that short time, I had fucked men of all kinds and ages—thugs, hustlers, Wall Street dudes, lawyers, even celebrities. The shit was crazy. A lot of times we'd show up at parties dressed to impress then I'd see a nigga point at us, or murmur, “I want that bitch.”
Then Black would nod, and it was on. Black said I was a high-priced ho. I didn't like the title. I felt like I was being insulted when he said it was a compliment.
“Cashmere, baby,” he told me, “you sure are hard to please.” But he also said I was too special just to be standing on a stroll.
So the niggas I fucked with wined and dined me before fucking the hell out of me, poking tiny holes in my young-ass soul that didn't get a chance to be nurtured. Sometimes I had the same trick request me again. I'd just slip a pill and do what I had to do. All these niggas raking in dough for him should have made Black happy, but all it seemed to do was piss him off more.
But then again Black was a weird dude anyway. He didn't eat no meat, and every morning he woke up and exercised. He prayed to Allah, and yet he pimped hoes. And he did all this pimping without ever raising his voice. Bitches acted like they worshipped him and moved whenever he snapped his fingers, including Desiree, who acted like she was obsessed with him. And his ass, hell, he acted like he was obsessed with me.
Now, at first, Black never laid a finger on me. In fact he never yelled at me. But even still I knew he was dangerous, so I never crossed him. I'd heard stories of what he'd done to other hoes who got out of pocket. Beatings, burnings, and shit I didn't wanna hear, far less repeat. Yep, I could tell Black was no joke.
Mama always said, “The heard muthafuckas are the ones that don't have to say shit. They rep speaks for itself. So if somebody wolfing shit, that's really all the hell they doing, and shouldn't be no problem taking their ass out.”
Whatever. I didn't want to be one of them girls. Desiree neither. I also knew that Black had spent nearly half his life locked away at Pelican Bay. One of the hoes told me that though. She said he had no problem killing, and if a ho ran away, he had no problem killing again.
“How long was he in jail?” I asked her.
“How old you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Longer than you been living, and he did some cold shit in that bitch too. So don't go getting too independent. Just try to be a good little ho. Suck and fuck as many niggas as you can. Do that shit good, don't fuck up the count, and don't try to run away, or you gonna find yourself in a dumpster.”
Even though she wouldn't tell me what Black went to jail for, I knew it was something horrible. But she added, “He don't plan on going back anytime soon in this lifetime, and I'm sure he'd take a bullet before allowing the po-pos to take him in.”
I was taking a shower and was about to step out when I felt a presence in the room. I almost jumped when I saw Black in the bathroom studying me through the sheer plastic shower curtain. Though he was gentle with me most of the time, I still feared his ass.
“Cashmere, you following proper protocol on them dates?”
His voice was so soft, I had to turn the shower off to hear him fully. “Yeah.”
He studied me for a long moment, ignoring his ringing phone. He pulled the shower curtain back, pushed his fingers in my hair, and kissed me on my lips.
I pulled away but not too quickly. I walked into the bedroom to dry myself off. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into his arms and walked me backwards toward the bed. My heart started pounding. I hated him and I didn't hate him—That's the only way to describe how I felt about Black.
See, he wasn't mean to me, he was nice, treating me like I was his woman sometimes. I knew he was attracted to me and desired me, 'cause he fucked me just as much as the tricks did. But I hated him for making me be a ho. His fingers made me melt too, and I hated myself for that.
“You know I let a lot of stuff you do slide, Cashmere?”
I nodded, pulling my lips in.
He tilted my face up to his. “I do it 'cause I know you're special, Cash. Your sister ain't got the pizzazz that you have. You givin' my bottom bitch a run for her money. You sure are.”
I looked in his smoky eyes, as his hold tightened on my arm.
“Just don't do anything to fuck up my good graces, Cashmere.”
“I won't, Black.” I looked at my feet.
His hands slid up and down my back. “Daddy,” he corrected.
I gritted my teeth and repeated what he said.
“Who am I?
“My folk, my pimp.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That I belong to you. I serve you.”
He made me say this all the fucking time, like he thought he was gonna brainwash me.
“You love those fools?”
“No. There's only one man that I love, and his name is Desmond Pierce.”
Black frowned. He must have thought I was going to say him, but I wasn't the lovesick puppy my sister was, I was just playing the game I had to play.
“Lay down.”
I did as he told me, and as usual, panic rose in my chest. The way he made me feel made me hate myself later because he was controlling everything I did.
He crouched on his stomach and knees and skipped my naked legs over his shoulders. His tongue slipped into my pussy, past my lips, into my crevices. All of them. Sensations built up inside of me. I couldn't deny or fight them for shit on this earth. It was always like this. I knew Black had a gift. He could eat pussy and fuck. And these gifts allowed him to have seventeen hoes under him.
He made love to my pussy, kissing it like it was my mouth, sliding his tongue in it like he was exploring it for lost treasure. He bit my clit gently then tongued it. I moaned loudly, even though I didn't want to, tightening my legs around my neck as tremors pulsed throughout me. And right when I felt that sensation like I was going to cum, he stroked me, and I felt my cum splash out of me.
Black left and came back with a rag and cleaned me up. “Can Daddy make you feel like that, Cashmere?”
I lowered my lashes. I knew he was jealous of my love for Daddy, and might have thought it was taking away from the love I had for him.
Ninety percent of the time Black treated me like I was his baby. If ever he slipped away from treating me that way, it made Desiree happy as hell, who was in love with Black as deeply as a person could fall for a man, even though he treated her like shit and had her on the track day in and day out.
We didn't really fraternize with the other hoes because Black didn't really approve of that shit. He felt that any free moment we had should be reserved for making dough. But sometimes we sneaked and had little parties and watched movies together. Not too many were with the program, not wanting to risk Black finding out.
I befriended one of the hoes, Peaches, who had been down with Black for over four years. Ol' girl was twenty-two but looked like she was in her thirties. They said that's what the game did, age the hell out of you.
Black kept her around because, according to him, she could suck a mean dick. And I knew for a fact that he dibbled and dabbled with all the hoes in the building. Once I caught him, Desiree, and Peaches in bed together. I almost vomited at that nasty shit. Peaches was a tow-up looking ho. Just being real. She'd been getting a weave in her hair by some chick named Crystal, who lived in Carson, but was on maternity leave, and some other chick ended up burning her hair out. So she was taking a break from it.
So I offered to braid her hair for her and had been working on it that whole morning.
“Girl, you must have some magic fingers,” she exclaimed, touching her hair.
I just laughed. It felt good to be able to do braids again. I had just finished the first half of her hair when Black slammed into the house. See, we had snuck, 'cause her ass said he was going to be making rounds on the track.
“Hey, Black,” she said nervously. “Your girl Cashmere here was just doing my hair. Now I know you said we couldn't hang, but I needed to get my hair right, so I can go out and make them ends for ya. I wasn't doing too good on that, since the weave come out. You said presentation is everything, right?”
He stood in the doorway, where we couldn't see his face, there being no light there.
I bit my bottom lip, feeling uneasy.
“Go home, Cashmere.” He walked past me.
Before I made it to the door. I glanced back and saw him walk up to Peaches. He took one look at her, and hauled off and slapped her in the mouth, and she started crying.
“Go home, Cashmere,” he repeated.
I slipped out the doors, but heard him tell her, “Bitch, go out like that and make my dough looking stupid just like that, and if you short, I'm fucking you up!”
My heart started to pound as I dashed out and went to me and Desiree's apartment.
When he came back to the house. I was sitting on the couch.
“Go in the room.”
I did, and he followed after me. I was waiting for him to slap me like Peaches, but instead, he told me, “Take off your clothes.”
I did quickly and stood in front of him. His eyes raked my body. The only real change these past couple months was my titties were bigger and my hips slightly wider.
“Listen, Cashmere, and listen well. You are a ho. That's what you do. You are not a hairstylist. You fuck, suck dick and assholes, and even feet, if need be. You get ambitious again, and I will fuck you up.”
There was fire in his eyes, but not once did he raise his voice above a whisper. But he still scared me so much. I nodded my head over and over again. But instead of fucking me up, he fucked the shit out of me.
My punishment for getting “ambitious” was being put on the track that night with fat-lipped Peaches. Desiree got my trick, and she couldn't have been happier about the shit. That night out there, shivering like a damn fool, part of me wanted to take a chance and run away. It wasn't the first time I thought about doing it. But every ten minutes Black would cruise on by, letting me know not to try it. I didn't bother to even look at him as he slid down the street past me.
Another pimp casually approached me talking that dumb shit. “Say, ho, you need to get with a winna, that's a winna like myself. They broke the mold when they made a pimp like me, ho. I'll make all your ho wishes come true.”
Black told me whenever a pimp approached me with that lingo to keep on pushing, so I kept my head down and brushed right past him. But every time I turned around, his silly ass was on my heels.
He must've said, “Say, ho,” at least forty times, until I couldn't take it anymore and ran in the opposite direction.
He got the hint and went after another ho. He did it in the nick of time too, 'cause Black sped by me again and hit the corner. He was probably going to check on another ho.
I took a deep breath and froze when I felt something poke me in the small of my back.
Whoever had something in my back said, “Walk.”
I nodded, scared out of my mind. Judging from the prick, I thought it was a knife. I walked slowly and said, “I don't have any—”
“Shut the fuck up! It's not your money I want.” The knife slid up some more, making me stumble. “Keep on walking.” He guided me into the empty parking lot.
Just my luck
. I was crying and holding my breath at the same time, not knowing what this man planned to do to me.
I finally looked at him when he shoved me further into the lot and paused between two cars. He was tall as hell with a cap on his head. It was so dark, I could barely make out his features. And I only got a second's worth of a glance.
“Get them pants down.”
“No, please.” Then I sobbed and felt my shoulders moving up and down with my crying.

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