peak my interest, and that same cross-eyed brother suddenly sounded like the man I’d been looking for all of my life.
“Bo’s goin’ to be movin’ back to San Francisco in a few weeks to find work with another band. If I was still into men and Bo wasn’t my brother, I’d go after him myself,” Odessa said smugly, giving me a sideways glance.
I perked up right away. It was like a lightbulb lit up inside my head.
“Your brother is movin’ back to California?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. Next month. Me and Verna goin’ to give him a little goin’ away party, and you better come.”
“I will,” I said, so tired and confused I said the first thing I could think of.
“If y’all do hit it off, maybe he’ll ask you to go back with him. I hear San Francisco is one happy town.”
I looked at the wall behind Odessa, all kinds of thoughts going through my head. “And I just might go with him,” I said.
Chapter 4
ROCKELLE HARPER
“Where you goin’ this time, Miss Rocky?”
“Uh, just to visit a sick friend.”
“The same one you went to visit last night?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s wrong with your sick friend?”
“Look, Helen, I’m in a hurry, and I don’t have time to stand here talking a lot of nonsense. Where are the kids?”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about them little dudes. I tucked ’em all in the bed, and they are sleeping like logs. Can I go watch music videos on BET now?”
“Yeah, yeah, go on,” I ordered, snapping my fingers. “There’s soda and chips in the kitchen. And you stay away from my beer! Your mama would have a cow if she knew about you drinking over here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I closed my bathroom door as soon as Helen stumbled out, pouting like she usually did when I hollered at her. Helen Daniels was a good friend to have. She came in real handy. A lot of it had to do with the fact that she was mildly retarded. At nineteen, she was more like ten or twelve. But she was mature enough to run errands for me and babysit when I didn’t have to be away from my house for too long.
It was convenient having Helen living right next door. Her elderly parents eagerly allowed Helen to help me with the kids. Even before Joe took off with that bitch of his, Helen spent a lot of time at our house. In addition to keeping an eye on my three little monsters, she loved doing the things around the house that I didn’t want to do.
One of the few good things I could say about Joe was, he liked to live well. We had rented a nice big house in a safe, quiet neighborhood. He’d let me spend as much money as I wanted to decorate the house. I’d spent a fortune on black leather couches, smoked-glass coffee tables, an entertainment center, and carpets so thick and shaggy, it felt like walking on cotton. My house on Joost Street was a long way from the cheap, gummy walls and linoleum floors in the run-down Bayview neighborhood I’d escaped from. I was willing to do whatever I had to do to keep some distance between myself and that jungle.
Now that I was “escorting” lonely men who Clyde Brooks had set me up with, I needed Helen more than ever.
Just a few dates. Just until I get my bills caught up. I’d told myself that at least a dozen times since my meeting with Clyde at that Fisherman’s Wharf restaurant a week ago. But what I said and what I did were two different things.
It would take more than a few dates to get me out of the hole that Joe had left me in. I’d been hiding my Honda two blocks and one street over from my house, because I was three payments behind. And a damn repo man had already come banging on my door, twice in one week. I didn’t know how long I could hold him off with the lie about my brother taking the car to L.A.
Right after Joe’s disappearance, I’d applied for welfare, planning to stay on it only until I found a job. But anybody who knows anything about welfare knows that money is not enough to live on and live the way you should. It covered my rent, and we got food stamps, but I couldn’t handle other necessary expenses like utilities, clothing, gas, and maintenance for my three-year-old Honda. Without a decent job, or a generous man in my life, my only other option was to move back to that run-down ghetto that I’d married Joe to get away from! My welfare check could cover me and my three kids there, but living in the rough areas meant other necessary expenses. That included things like bullet-proofing and putting bars on your windows, replacing items in your house that some bold thief had helped himself to, and worst of all, unexpected funeral expenses. I hoped that life was behind me for good.
Tonight’s date, Mr. Bob, lived in Marin County. It was my second date in two days. My first date, with a nervous little man from Philly, had only involved dinner and a little fondling on the bed in his hotel room. After admitting that he was slightly impotent and had just wanted some female company, that trick had dismissed me after stuffing three hundred dollars into my bra.
“Mr. Bob’s an older man, so you’ll be out of there in ten minutes if you treat him real good. I been hookin’ him up for years. He’s one of my best clients,” Clyde told me over the telephone. Clyde was a very “private” person or so he claimed. He only dealt with his “business associates” in person when he had to. The regular clients would call him up and put in an order for a woman, just like they would for a pizza. Like a secretary, Clyde called up a woman and rattled off a list of instructions. After each date, he’d meet the woman in a designated spot to collect his fee.
Clyde went on with relish. “And my girls just love Mr. Bob. He’ll want a few drinks before anything else. And if you get him good and drunk, that’s all you’ll have to put up with. You behave yourself now. Don’t steal nothin’ from his house, flush your condoms down the toilet, and don’t leave no other mess—like rank panties or cum-soaked tissue. If you do, I’ll hear about it,” Clyde informed me, talking in a fast, eager voice. I felt like a teenager being groomed for my first date.
It was the easiest money I ever made in my life. I had no trouble getting Mr. Bob to drink three shots of bourbon to my one. Within an hour of my arrival, he was so drunk he couldn’t even stand or sit up, let alone do much of anything physical with me. He passed out on top of me. When he came to, I told him how great he’d been and how much I’d enjoyed his lovemaking, and how sorry I was to have to charge him for my services. My lies backfired. Mr. Bob wanted me to stay a little longer so that he could make me feel even better.
After it was over the second time, while sitting on Mr. Bob’s living room couch with his head on my shoulder, I did something I should not have done: I told him all about Joe running out on me and the kids, draining our bank accounts, and leaving me with a ton of bills. After a few more drinks, he felt so sorry for me, he gave me an extra three hundred dollars.
“This is just to show you how much I appreciate you gals,” Mr. Bob croaked. His limp gray hair slapped against the side of my face and his hot, foul breath almost melted my ear. Somehow I was still able to smile through the entire ordeal.
I didn’t know what kind of arrangements the other women who worked for Clyde had with him. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t even met any of them in person yet. When I’d returned a call to Clyde’s apartment to get the details for my first date last night, a woman with a young, high-pitched voice named Ester answered the telephone. She introduced herself, with a Spanish accent, as Clyde’s “first wife.” She didn’t explain her role any more than that, and I didn’t ask her. And when I tried to pry more information about Ester out of Clyde, he told me the same thing that this Ester woman had told me, “She’s my first wife.”
Since I didn’t plan to be involved with Clyde and his shadowy business too long, his relationships with the other women he dealt with didn’t mean a thing to me. The main thing on my agenda was getting paid.
When