Brooklyn Brothel Read online

  When the night ended, Serita walked around collectin’ Betty’s cut for the night. I handed ova $700.00. Sasha looked at me and shook her head. She made me feel inferior like I’d done somethin’ wrong. Just before we headed ova to 2A, she pulled me to the side.

  “Look, I’m not into schoolin’ dumb broads. But you gotta be smarter than that. If you make $800, tell’em you made less; like $600.00. It’s the only way you’ll really come out on top ’round here.”

  “Thanks,” I ended up sayin’ to her backside.

  Sasha walked off like she’d neva said anything to me. I followed behind after my long, stressful day. As I left the room, Serita locked up sayin’, “The clock never stops ticking for nothin’, no matter what. Remember that Co-Co.”

  I put that bitch on the back burner, ’cause it was Betty who I was scared of. I wanted to grab somethin’ to eat, or at least order in. The girls had some food earlier in the great room, but I neva got any. It made the second night I would go to bed hungry.

  Later that night, Cinnamon made me a sitz bath after I complained about what happened between me and Adam. She said she’d seen Betty downstairs smokin’ a cigar, so not to worry. Obviously Adam hadn’t said anything to her.

  While I soaked in the tub, Sasha walked by with a cell phone in her hand. I panicked instantly. It was my only chance. “Hey, Sasha,” I yelled tryna dry my hands on the towel layin’ across the tub. “I’ll pay whatever you ask…can I call my son?” My eyes pleaded for mercy.

  She neva hesitated. She passed me the phone. “I got unlimited,” she revealed. “Just don’t drop my shit in the water.”

  I said a silent prayer hopin’ my ex, Dre, would answer. After all, it was one a.m., and a school night at that. All I needed was to hear Carlton’s voice. Just for a minute.

  The phone only rang twice when Dre answered the phone in a groggy tone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Dre, it’s me, Chantel. I know it’s late, but can you just put the phone to Carlton’s ear?”

  “What? You must be crazy! You haven’t called here in two weeks and you think it’s a good idea to call at one o’ clock in the morning. You must be on that shit again!” he shouted.

  “Dre, I’ve been sick,” I lied. “Just let me say hello.”

  “Tell that to the judge. The paper work should be on the way to your apartment. I’m about to get full-custody. See you in court!”

  Click.

  My mouth hung low, and my eyes crossed like I’d been shot with some dope. I cried out! “My baby!” Was I losin’ him for good?

  I leaned my upper body across the edge of the tub to lay Sasha’s phone down on the floor when my ears zoomed in on the yellin’ headed my way.

  “You fuckin’ whore!” I heard someone shout.

  Then came the rumblin’ sounds of things being knocked down and bodies headed my way. Finally, they appeared. It was Betty. She stood near the door to the bathroom area with her victim in hand, held hostage, for everyone to see. The broads name was Special.

  She was a black chick that I’d only seen once, and had thrown me shade like she didn’t even wanna be in my presence. I wasn’t sure what the beef was all about, but the way she had Betty all fired up told me it was serious.

  “You see this hooker here?” Betty shouted. “Do you!” she yelled again.

  I nodded timidly, and looked around to see if any of the other girls where nearby. I felt like I had been singled out to watch Betty’s performance, until about two or three otha girls came closer to watch the show, including Sasha.

  The girls ranted like typical bitches, “Oh shit!” someone shouted, excited about the showdown.

  “And what do we have here,” another announced.

  I remained quiet and threw my bathcloth across my chest to cover my boobs. I blinked for a second as smoke seemed to escape through Betty’s tightened lips. I coulda sworn I saw horns pop up through her scalp. As she pulled Special in front of her and twisted her arm behind her back, I tried to process all the possibilities of what coulda happened.

  Special had on a red negligee with a matchin’ garter belt, which told me that maybe she’d just finished turnin’ a trick. The girl was tremblin’ like crazy and beggin Betty for forgiveness.

  “C’mon Betty, why you doin’ this?” she whined.

  It was like a scene from an old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Betty picked her up like a wet mop, grabbed her by the back of her neck with her oversized hand, and slammed her head against the hard surface on top of the tub. Instantly, Special’s rough-lookin’ weave spread all ova her head.

  Gasps were heard from all around the room. We couldn’t believe the strength Betty possessed. She roared like an irate lion, and switched her facial expression into an even nastier scowl. Repeatedly, she banged and banged, as blood spilled from Special’s nose and from the side of her head. I cringed with each bang, and moved closer to the wall hopin’ she wouldn’t get thrown into the tub with me.

  I thought about Special. Damn, I wouldn’t wanna be her ass right now.

  Betty’s anger increased by the second. And her slammin’ method grew more powerful.

  “So you thought you could pull some bullshit like that, without any repercussions from me!”

  Special tried to answer but couldn’t.

  “This- is- what- happens- when- you- fuck- with- me!” Betty uttered, makin’ sure she smashed special’s head against the hard surface of the tub between each word.

  My eyes bulged like they wanted to pop outta my head. It was crazy, how I wasn’t even the one gettin’ whipped, but I was scared as hell.

  Betty’s tone was erratic but understandable. “You- don’t think-I -know -whores will- be- whores!”

  Instantly, she gripped Special by the neck and began dumping her head in and out of my bath water. Bubbles surfaced on top of the water from Special’s attempt to breathe. Betty didn’t give a fuck. She pressed harder and harder makin’ sure Special couldn’t come up for air.

  “Fuckin bitch!” Betty shouted.

  For seconds, I was terrified, almost ready to piss right on Special’s head. Instead, I took short breaths hopin’ Special hadn’t drowned. It was obvious she’d lost her fight just as her movements ceased, and the bubbles declined.

  All of a sudden there was silence on Betty’s end, and her movements stopped. She released her grip from Special, lifted her from the water, and stood ova the tub like she’d just conquered the world. Only sniffles from Special could be heard.

  Her face was fucked up, and her spirit had been broken. Blood trickled down the sides of her swollen face. But none of us offered to help.

  “I want you outta here,” Betty announced. “Twenty minutes flat!” And don’t call no damn ambulance to come to my spot!”

  With that, Betty walked out leavin’ us all with our mouths wide open.

  I guess the kick-ass session was finally ova. The room remained completely silent. I simply turned my head, and slid as far down in the tub as I could go without drinkin’ my bath water. I knew I needed to find out as soon as possible what that bitch did to Betty, ’cause I damn sho didn’t wanna make the same mistake.

  Chapter 4

  The next mornin’ nobody had to wake me, or shake me. I was up, had my sweat gear on, ready to make my way downstairs. The block looked hot from my window so gettin’ out onto the streets of Brooklyn had me excited. I was beginnin’ to feel a lil’ more comfortable with my new environment.

  “Where you going?” Cinnamon asked, in her hyped tone.

  I had my hand on the railin’. “To get somethin’ to eat ’fore I starve. And then to find a store. I need baby wipes like a mufucka.”

  “Baby wipes?” Cinnamon looked confused.

  I started walkin’ down the stairs, not wantin’ to waste anymore time. She followed, waitin’ for me to explain what the baby wipes were all about.

  “You use those nasty-ass towels that get re-used by client after client?” My face said it all. It was sickenin’
to even think about it. “I need to find a store to get me some wipes. You do what you do,” I told her, “but I like bein’ clean. I had better treatment in prison,” I joked.

  “Oh, you did,” Betty belted from the doorway of her office.

  Her voice was powerful and a major threat. My eyes quickly darted her way. “Good mornin’, Betty.”

  “Then go back to fuckin’ jail then, bitch,” she belted, followed by a set of rollin’ eyes. “Bring your ass in here.” She turned and sashayed into her office.

  “I’ll wait out front,” Cinnamon told me.

  What the hell could she want with me? I turned in my money last night. I followed all the damn rules, and it was just the second day. What was the problem? Maybe she found out Bo had fudged my resume sayin’ I had prostituted before, and worked in otha in-houses. Maybe she had checked up on me. Or maybe Adam told her he wanted a refund.

  I walked in, about to sit down when Betty shoved a bill in my face. My eyes focused on the over-sized, long dress she wore from the 50’s that straddled the floor. The gold, glittery dress squished her tits up high, allowin’ them to greet people instantly.

  “I collect my administrative fees on Wednesday nights. You got today and tomorrow to gather the money for this bill. Since you’ve neva been here before, I wanted you to know what I’m gonna be expecting. You pay in cash, or we beat it out your ass!”

  I hoped her last comment was a joke. Beat me? Maybe that’s why there were always strange men hangin’ around at the bottom of the stairs dressed in black suits, and who neva said a word. I scanned the bill that said invoice at the top. It was handwritten and scribbled sloppily.

  “I’m done,” Betty said coldly. “It’s ten o’clock. I suggest you hurry.”

  Two hundred and seventy dollars for just stayin’ here! I fumed inside, but dared not say anything out loud. Ten dollars for laundry- that fat nasty bitch probably washes once a year! I burst out the front door tryin’ to wipe the frown from my face. I’d forgotten Cinnamon was out front waitin’. The moment I started fussin’, Sasha came prancin’ from the in-house, too.

  “We gonna grab a bite. Wanna go?” Cinnamon asked Sasha.

  Sasha was hesitant, but agreed. We walked down the street like three normal chicks, but got looks of death from the neighbors. I glanced back ova my shoulders to see Betty gazin’ at us from the window. She spied on us with a watchful eye. Her expression had a warnin’ attached to it. I was pissed already with her fees, so if she thought she was gonna keep me from minglin’ with the girls, she was wrong. I felt like the old Chantel was coming back. The defiant, expressive Chantel. The one who wasn’t gonna let Betty ruin my chances of makin’ money.

  “Let’s hit the bodega,” Cinnamon suggested.

  “What the hell is a bodega?” I asked.

  They both laughed at me which lightened the mood. When Cinnamon explained that is was a food truck on a corner, I agreed. Food was food in my book. Besides, I was real hungry. When I reminded the girls that I needed to get to a store, a pharmacy, or anything like that, Cinnamon offered to drive.

  “You got a car?” I asked, like she was an alien or somethin’. And my voice rose into a frenzy.

  “Yeah,” she stated proudly. I got me a new-school pimp. I make him money, he protects me, and handles all the business. It works,” she bragged. “The car isn’t anything fancy, but it gets me back and forth to different in-houses across the east coast. Plus, I’m glad I got a car ’cause it’s hot as hell out here. I can’t be catching no train or bus in this shit.”

  She was right. For late August, it was still hot outside. Even now, it was early in the mornin’, and I was already startin’ to sweat. “So, lemme get this straight, you drove to New York?” I questioned.

  “Yes, I drove. You know…grab the wheel, step on the gas.”

  I felt like the idiot of the bunch while Cinnamon continued to make big fun of me. Not only did Bo send me on a bus, he didn’t send cab fare, and no money either. For now, all I had to my name was the $350 I tricked up the night before.

  “What kinda car you got, Sasha?” I asked boldly. She had been for the most part quiet so far, which made me really not want to ask.

  “Well, I don’t have a car,” she announced openly, “and I don’t have a pimp. Never have, never will. They take all your hard earned loot, and don’t really provide protection. It’s all a mind game,” she smirked. “I’m my own business woman. I’m fucking for me and my daughter. That’s it. One day I’m gonna own my own in-house.”

  My eyes lit up. “You got a daughter? How old? Where she at?” I hit Sasha with question after question before her eyes crinkled at the top.

  “Damn…slow your roll. I just met you.”

  I got to thinkin’ hard as we walked down the street. The sound of ownin’ my own in-house sounded good. I knew I could be a madam; a much better one than Betty. I would get the best girls, have the cleanest sheets and towels, and give a better percentage. I glanced ova at Sasha who had gotten on her cell. She had the look of a business woman. Her walk even looked professional. At first I thought it was a put on, inside the brothel. But even on the streets of Brooklyn, she strutted like she had lots of self-esteem, and was bred from royalty. I wanted to borrow just a bit. I continued to watch her walk. She had swagger for a girl and someone who would be a great partner. It seemed like we had so much in common; our past, the fact that we both had a child, and our goals. I didn’t want a pimp either. I knew I had good business sense, it’s just that I was caught up with Bo.

  Before long, we’d grabbed a meatball sub from the bodega and made our way into a Duane Reed’s pharmacy. It had everything my CVS did back in Pittsburgh. I combed the aisles for baby wipes, good smellin’ lotions, razors to shave my legs, and extra lubricated condoms. The ones Betty provided were garbage.

  Once I made my way to the counter, Sasha cut me off, handin’ me a small, spiraled notebook. She told me to start writin’ down my earnin’s for the week.

  “Hide it under your bed,” she stressed.

  “Got it.”

  I considered myself a quick learner. She only had to tell me once. My stuff added up to thirty-two dollars. Damn, New York is high, I thought. Because Bo sent me all the way to Brooklyn without any money, I had to spend my cash wisely. Thirty-six was already gone for the day, and that didn’t include any dinner yet. I was without a doubt eatin’ tonight.

  “Co-Co, what’s up?” Cinnamon asked.

  “Nothin’, why you say that?” I wanted to know ’cause I was feelin’ straight.

  “You keep a serious look on your face. All the time,” she added. “Live a little girl. At least smile.” She shot me one of her infamous playful looks.

  I don’t have much to smile about, Cinnamon. But I’m cool though. I’m actually happy right now. That’s unhappy ova there.” I pointed to Sasha, and we all laughed. Even Sasha.

  Cinnamon glanced down at her watch and sent us all into a panic attack; me more than them. It was 11:15 and we weren’t even dressed. Together, we took off runnin’, prayin’ that we would make it back before the 11:45 bell rang.

  Darla offered us all a drink for some reason while we got dressed. I wasn’t into alcohol, but I took a sip as a sign to show my alliance to the team. It calmed me and helped me get bolder with my outfit. I felt like I was on a mission. I’d chosen an all white, lace one piece dress, that stopped just below my butt cheeks. The dress was perfect and made my breast look undeniable. As I slipped on my four inch heels, I asked Sasha for some of her perfume. She always smelled so good.

  Not only did she say yes, she sprayed it on for me. She was turnin’ out to be extra cool, and I felt a closeness to her even though she didn’t talk that much. Just before I left the room to go ova to 2C, I placed silver and gold stickers all ova my body that glistened in the dark. They read bad girl, and were compliments of Bo. We’d gotten them from Silky Sorts back in PA, which was a Fredericks of Hollywood knock off.

  I made it ova to the gre
at room just in time. Cinnamon had beat me there and was livin’ up to her stripper status. I gave her a high-five before grabbin’ a seat near the armoire, showcasin’ all these sex books. I thought Cinnamon looked better than I had seen her so far. Her four inch, spiked leather, boots really impressed me, with the short bootie shorts to match.

  The girls were all still passin’ around Darla’s complimentary drinks when a girl named Angel arrived. She knew two of the girls personally that hadn’t even spoken to me since I had arrived. Angel was confident and looked the part of a wholesome lookin’ broad except for the fact that she had one of those Buffie The Body asses that bounced from side to side when she walked. She appeared to be in her thirties, but they all claimed she was the best girl to work the room. Better than us younger, inexperienced broads.

  I was shocked to find out she actually lived in New York and came to Betty’s regularly, at least four times a month. She had special rates, and special terms.

  “I thought there were no beds left?” I asked Cinnamon.

  “Well, while we were out, one of the girls got thrown out for not making enough money. They called for Angel to come in. You know like when people call the Terminator? Ghost Busters. She gets the job done.”

  She laughed. I didn’t.

  “Normally, Mike brings her here for a few days, then picks her up, and takes her back to Manhattan where she lives with her boyfriend.” Cinnamon chuckled. She was so damn goofy sometimes. “He thinks she’s a sales executive.”

  I eyed Miss Angel like crazy ’cause I didn’t want her movin’ in on my money. Otha than her skin tone bein’ smooth and silky lookin’ like mine, there was nothin’ special about her if you asked me; green eyes, long flowin’ hair, and glasses. When Cinnamon told me that she beats the men, and the ones who like it paid big bucks, it intimidated me.

  I jumped up when I heard Serita bringin’ a guy to the door. I had finally had a good mornin’ and didn’t want anything to ruin it. My connection with the girls was good. It was fun racin’ back to the house, and it seemed like both Cinnamon and Sasha would be people I could talk to after the week was ova.