The People vs. Cashmere (15 page)
Read The People vs. Cashmere Online
Authors: Karen Williams
He reached over and slapped me in my face. Blood trickled down my lip, as he held the knife to my neck. “I'm gonna repeat myself just one more timeâGet them pants down.”
My fingers were shaking, but I managed to do as he told me to, crying the whole time and begging him with my eyes not to hurt me. Once my pants and panties were around my ankles, he shoved roughly me on the concrete, making me skin one of my knees.
I cried but couldn't fight him because he had the knife pressed against my throat and an arm pressed around my neck.
“Bitch, don't move.”
“Okay,” I said in a weak voice, still crying.
He kneeled behind me. “Where you want me to fuck you?
“Huh?”
He slapped me again, and heat filled my face.
“You want it here?” He slid the knife to my pussy. “Or here?” He slid it to my asshole.
“The first place, please.”
“Naw, your pussy probably run-through.” And without reprieve, he pressed his dick in my asshole.
My screams were muffled as he had one hand over my mouth, the other around my neck, the knife clutched in his fingers, and he kept on jamming.
When it wouldn't go in, he yelled, “Fuck!” and repositioned himself, leaning back and jamming himself all the way into me, making a growling sound.
He slipped out of me, and right back in, hard and fast, breathing harshly and gripping my neck harder. I screamed as heat and burning spread throughout my body. I could feel my skin tearing.
He heaved in loudly and jammed me and started moaning as he rocked behind me. Then he pulled out and went in, out, and in, shoving me forward each time, pressing my kneecaps into the concrete and making them chafe.
I couldn't describe how the pain felt, except to say that I felt like I was being stabbed. I sobbed and kept my eyes closed and prayed it would be over soon, as he gripped a tighter hold on me, slid it in my pussy, then back into my ass, moaning loudly and busting into my ass.
I was sure I was bleeding now, and it was my blood mixed with his cum that was leaking down my legs.
Then he left me out there.
If I was never the same and lost touch with reality and who I was, it was in that moment.
Desiree was acting real weird. She couldn't stop bragging about getting one of my clients, and the fact that for once I had to be on the cold-ass track. She claimed she was able to stay warm with the dude, who spoiled the hell out of her on their date, and that he had requested her again and again, which pleased Black.
I told her, “Kiss my ass. I don't care how many times he requests you.” Any reminder of that night brought back to mind what happened to me with that dude who raped me on that cold-ass concrete.
My butt bled for three days straight, and I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't shake the feelings of wanting to die, so I took a pill to help me forget, and when that didn't help, I went back to digging in my skin.
Then I worked on getting back into Black's good graces, so I never had to be out there again. But for a whole week Black had me out there.
Desiree wasn't on Black's jock anymore and kept bugging him to see if the trick named Raphael had requested her again. If Black said yes, she'd nod coolly, but once he left the room, she couldn't stop cheesing. I just assumed he paid her well.
Chapter 18
couple weeks later I found out what the deal was. I was knocked out when Desiree woke me up with a kick in my ass. I ignored her and turned my back to her. “Cash, get up. This is serious. God, this shit is serious.”
I sucked my teeth and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “What?” I narrowed my eyes at her as I sat up in the bed and saw her fidgeting and tapping on something behind her back.
She cleared her throat and bit her lip. “Ummm, I need you to help me do this.”
I slid out of the bed. “Do what?”
She shoved a box in my hands so quick, I didn't have time to grasp it before it fell. When I bent over to retrieve it and read the label, my eyes widened. It was a pregnancy test.
“Is it Black's?”
She gave me a long stare and picked at her nails. “If it was, do you think I would be tripping? But we always use condoms.” She looked down and offered a weak smile.
“Desiree, don't tell me.”
“I love him, Cashmere. Finally I found someone to love me for me.”
Desiree was a sucker for chances. Fucking with the trick, like she was doing, was suicide, but obviously she didn't care. She went on and on about how good he treated her, but I was half-listening.
Desiree was eighteen now, but the bitch read at a third-grade level, so I was reading the instructions on how to do the pregnancy test. And it turned out that she was very, very pregnant.
She screamed and kicked the laundry basket. “I'm not prepared for this!”
“You stupid.”
She paced around in a circle. “Shit, Black don't show me no love. All he ever has his mind on is you. Now he showing me some attention 'cause he mad at you. But I didn't care anymore 'cause I was getting caught up in ol' boy. And he has some good dick. But it's not just that.” She had a dreamy smile on her face as she continued to pace.
I waved a hand at that bullshit she was talking. “What are you going to do?”
She stopped pacing and gave me a dumb look. “Whatchu think? The man loves me. He was begging me to leave Black for him, and now that I'm pregnant, I have a reason to. But, to be quite honest, the last thing I need is a snotnosed muthafucka to take care of, but hell, like I always tell you sometimes, you got to do what you got to do. So I'll go on and ride this baby thing out to get my man, 'cause I love my boo-boo, and I think he'll make a good daddy.”
I shook my head at her, as she made the decision for us to leave Black.
How Desiree got the money up to get us the bus tickets, I don't know, since Black pretty much controlled the dough we made. But she was sure able to get up enough for us to take the Greyhound to Oakland, and enough for us to get us both burger specials at some café. I was happy though. I didn't want to be with Black, or to hook, anymore than she did.
When we got there with our backpacks and a few clothes, Desiree and I walked about three blocks until we made it to a Motel 6.
“This where we always meet,” she said excitedly. “He'll probably call a cab to come scoop us up.”
I shrugged, not sharing her excitement. I just had a funny feeling the whole way there. I stared down at the crisscross cuts all over the back of my hands and wrists while she made her phone call at a booth. Whenever Black saw them, he told me I needed to stop doing that to myself, but he didn't know what was going on in my head, and he damn sure couldn't take the pain away. He was partly the cause of it.
My thought was interrupted by Desiree's yelling, “But I thought you saidâ”
He must have cut her off, because she paused her loud-ass voice and started tapping her foot on the ground, frowning like our mother used to.
“But, baby, we out here and weâ”
I chuckled when he cut her off again.
Suddenly she yelled into the phone at the top of her lungs, “You lying muthafucka!” Then she took the earpiece and beat it against the base of the phone over and over again, yelling, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Then she crumbled to the ground and started crying.
My sister wasn't very smart or resourceful, but when something became an issue of bodily harm and possible death, she knew what moves to make. Case in point, we ended up selling drugs yet again in Oakland for some dude named Rocco, out of this abandoned house. In all honesty, we were only lookouts for the dude, Desiree on one side, me on the other. We sat outside and alerted them whenever we saw the po-po coming, so it wasn't as risky as it was before. Since there was nothing but dudes there, we didn't have to worry about nobody fucking with us. Plus, Desiree was fucking Rocco. Since she was now eighteen, we stayed in a pretty cool hotel, and she was even talking about me going back to school.
That shit didn't last long, though. We showed up one day to find the place abandoned. None of the usual dudes were there, and the next thing we knew, cluckers were crowding the room for shit we didn't have.
“Where Rocco? Where Rocco?”
“He ain't here. We don't know where the fuck he is,” Desiree snapped.
That's when Black walked in the room.
Before he could even look me in the eye, I was running and yelling for Desiree to do the same, but he easily reached out and snatched me up by the back of my neck and held me so I couldn't move. Hell, I could barely breathe, because of the pressure. Then he grabbed De-siree by her ponytail, yanking her back.
Desiree did all the talking. “Black, I'mâ”
He ignored her and turned to the three cluck-heads. “I'm sorry y'all didn't get what y'all needed. Maybe I can accommodate y'all with something just as good.”
The three cluckers turned to Black curiously.
“Black!” Desiree screamed.
“Shut the fuck up, ho.” Black's hold on me tightened.
“Y'all can have a go with her, and the shit is for free.”
I struggled against him as he held me firmly, giving me no choice but to scream at the top of my lungs. He shoved Desiree so hard, she fell on the ground, and the crackheads were given the opportunity to get a free fuck from her.
I tried to pull away from Black, but this time he twisted my arm, making me cry out. I closed my eyes but couldn't help but hear her crying, slapping sounds, and the cluckers' moans.
Black said, “You wanna run away from me?”
Somebody roared, “Yeah!”
My sister was bawling like a baby. “I'm sorry!”
I just wanted the shit to be over.
I peeked at Desiree laid out on the ground, the dude over her. When he finished, he didn't even bother wiping his dick. He shoved it in his pants and ran out the warehouse.
She had one dude to go. As he fucked her, there was no expression in her eyes. After that dude busted quickly and vanished as well, Desiree struggled to put on her clothes.
I thought I was next, but I wasn't.
We were both shoved in his car. I was still nervous as hell 'cause I knew my punishment was far from over.
Chapter 19
Once we got back to LA, Black dropped Desiree off on the track. “You got tonight to make up for the dough I lost, ho, or I'm fucking you up.” In the rearview mirror, I watched her sadly limp away to the corner.
Once we made it home, Black hissed for me to go straight to my room, like he was my Daddy. I did it though. He was behind me and closed the door softly. When he pulled the belt from his pants, my eyes widened.
“No, Daddy. I'm sorry.”
He pulled me in his arms and said gently, “I have to, baby. You can't be running away from me.”
Instead of hitting me, he sat me on the bed, and pulled off his pants and shirt so he was in a wife-beater and boxers, and walked into the bathroom. A few moments later I heard water running.
Black came back and began stripping me of my clothes. Then he shoved me on the bed. He walked back in the bathroom.
I dug my hands in my flesh again. The shit was really starting to be a habit. It went from every once in a while to all the time. After each trick I always ended up with a new mark, and ended up with five more after the dude raped me.
“Cashmere.”
I walked naked in the bathroom, expecting to be burnt with an iron or a cigarette. I met him there sitting on the edge on the tub, his head in his hands. There was water and suds filled to the rim of the tub.
He raised his head and looked at me. “I was losing my mind thinking I lost you.”
I lowered my lashes.
“Get in the tub.”
I slipped in with the quickness. Even though the water was warm. I was shivering.
Black kneeled down and grabbed a wash towel, and began washing my body with it. “Do I make it real hard for you, Cashmere?”
I didn't reply.
“I took you and your sister in. Gave you a home. I pay for yo Daddy. I'm more than fair to you.” He clutched the washrag and soap so hard, the bar of soap slipped from his fingers.
“You treat me and my sister like shit,” I wanted to say, but instead asked, “Why I'm not out there with Desiree? I ran away too.”
“Desiree don't have what you have, Cashmere. I can't just treat you like you generic. Like I said before, you got the potential to be my bottom bitch.” He poured some shampoo in my hair and lathered it up. “You know you're special to me.”
Maybe if it wasn't coming from a pimp, it would have been nice to hear.
“Niggas been blowing my Sidekick up for you. I can probably let the other hoes go and live off of you alone.
You really think I'm giving that up?” He tilted my head back and rinsed the soap out of my hair, which hung down my back.
“But I hate what I'm doing, Black. Iâ”
He placed a finger on my lips. “This is where you belong. This is where you gonna stay.” He locked his eyes with mine. He was serious. “That was some cold shit, coming home and you not being there. I felt like I lost a part of myself, Cashmere.”
He rinsed off the washrag and washed the soap off my body. “I'm not liking the way I feel, Cashmere, when it comes to you. Man, this is some way-out shit.”
He stood and held a towel open for me to step into once I rose from the tub. Then he led me back into the bedroom. I was silent as he dried me off. Then he laid me on the bed so he could rub baby oil all over me. And I was feeling those feelings again, which I didn't want to, the shame, guilt, and fire.
Blacke fucked me so good, I ended up going right to sleep in his arms.
I felt the heat of a whip on my flesh. First I thought I was dreaming. Then I felt it again. I opened my eyes to find Black standing over me. “Black, whatâ”
He struck me again, but the shit didn't feel like a belt, which it was; it felt like a damn whip.
I screamed when it struck me on my ass. I rolled over and hit the floor and ran to a corner of the room. I held my hands out to ward him off. “No, Black.”
He easily yanked me back on the bed, on my stomach, and straddled me with his body. He struck me over and over, till I felt pieces of my flesh pop open. My body was burning like someone had thrown some boiling water on me.
I kept yelling, “Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, Black!”
In my ear he whispered, “You run away from me again, Cashmere, and I'll kill you for sure.”
Seconds later I felt something soothing on my back, down my spine, and my butt. Slowly, it took the sting away. Then he kissed me all over my back and tear-stained face, before saying, “Go to sleep.”
Desiree quickly got over that dude she claimed she was in love with. She dropped that baby like it was hotâin the abortion clinicâand went back to her obsession with Black. The dumb bitch got his initials,
BM
, tattooed on her neck, like the rest of the hoes. It stood for Black Mitchell. I refused to, though, but I knew eventually he would want me to.
BM
, tattooed on her neck, like the rest of the hoes. It stood for Black Mitchell. I refused to, though, but I knew eventually he would want me to.
She also had something else she was in love with, and I couldn't figure out which one she loved more, Black or crack. Every time I turned around, she had a burnt-looking plastic tube smack in her mouth. So I'll wager it was the latter, that she loved crack more.
Black was actually the one who'd turned her on to it, saying to her one day, “Why you stuffing your nose with that shit? Soon your nostrils are gonna fall off, and you gonna look like a damn fool, girl.” He waved a pipe and some yellow shit in a bag that looked like a small piece of soap in front of her.
I peeked from the corner of the bedroom as he stuffed some Brillo pad (I knew what it was 'cause we used it to scrub pots when she cleaned dishes) at the bottom of the pipe, put the piece of look-like-soap shit in it, lit the shit, and shoved the other side in Desiree's mouth.
“Now breathe it in, Desiree,” Black told her, “nice and slow . . . that's it.”
Desiree did what he said. Then I watched as she fell back against the couch like she just bust the biggest nut of her life.
And, boy, was she starting to look jacked-up. She didn't get private clients anymore, which pissed her off. But, hell, we talking about rappers, athletes. You think they want to fuck a crackhead? Be for real, honey.
In fact one day she was at the kitchen table, and once again the burnt-looking tube was shoved in her mouth. Black grabbed her by her hair and said, “You better not let Cashmere try this shit, or it's over for you.” Then he stuffed another bag in her hand before shoving her away.
He didn't have to warn me. I wasn't putting that shit in my body any damn way. I didn't know who I hated more, him or her.
And after the last stunt she pulled, having us both run away from Black and landing us both in shit, you'd think she would wise up and get with Black's program, since, like she always said, we married to the game and there was no such thing as divorce.
Word was, Desiree had tried to pocket some of the tricking dough, and Black found out about it. All I knew was that I woke up 'cause somebody was screaming at the top of their damn lungs. I ran outside, because that's where the sound was coming from, and found people crowded in a circle around the middle of the street. I pushed through them all when I recognized Desiree was the person screaming. Once I was able to bust through, I understood why she was screaming. She was buck-ass naked, and Black was striking her with his belt, foot, and free hand. And though there was fury on his face, he never uttered a word.
Desiree was wailing and, at the same time, trying to cover up her pussy and titties. She tried to crawl away on her knees.
I stood in the crowd shivering. I shook my head and resisted tears.
“Come here, ho.” Black snatched her up by what was left of her hair, so that she was standing, and walked her down the line of neighbors and hoes. “Bitch, don't you ever steal from me.”
“I'm sorry, Daddy.”
As my eyes teared up, I frowned at myself because I didn't understand why I was crying. This shit should've made me feel good, to see him stick it to her for all the shit she'd done to me, but it didn't. It was killing me.
Black punched her in her face, and she fell with the impact, as did a tooth. The belt flew again, getting her in her face and body. Soon her body welted and swelled up. As she coughed and sobbed, he kicked her over and over again, till her screams turned to moans. Black then took three steps back, nodded, and all the hoes joined in and commenced to whipping on Desiree, throwing punches, slaps, kicks, and spitting on her.
Without thinking, I rushed forward and dived into those bitches, blindly throwing punches at whatever I could come into contact with, and spitting right back on their asses. I felt my fist connecting with heads, faces, titties, backs, but then somebody lifted me clear in the air. I continued to swing but was only hitting air because my feet couldn't touch the ground.
“Let me go!”
Black had me and he wouldn't release me, but still I struggled all the way, so he had to practically carry me in the house. A glance over Black's shoulder showed me that them bitches were still whipping on my sister. And I couldn't do anything about it.
Once we were in the house, Black didn't release me until we were in the room I shared with him. He sat me gently on the bed and sat down next to me. I scooted over as far as I could away from him. He took a deep breath, rose from the bed, and walked out the room. As soon as he did, I dug in my flesh so hard that an area of my skin popped open and blood gushed out. I ran into the bathroom and rinsed it off, and placed a Band-Aid on it. As I turned around to go back into the room, I collided with Black, who held his arms out for me like he really thought I was going to hug him.
I sidestepped him and looked down at the carpet. The belt he had just whipped my sister with was dangling halfway on the ground, mocking me almost. When he reached for my arm, I took a step back, crossed my arms over my chest, and looked at him with fire in my eyes.
He took a step toward me, but then his cell phone went off. He paused, flicked it open, turned on his heels, and left the room. I walked back in the bedroom.
I sat back on the bed, waiting to see if my sister was okay.
Five minutes later he came back into the room. “Put some clothes on.”
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