The Punany Experience Page 5

  “Keith, those are business expenses. I can’t keep quality clientele if I look like a walking billboard for Montgomery Ward,” Dream Crow said, self-consciously pulling her strapless silver Giorgio Armani dress up to secure it over her breasts.

  “If I could get this tender on our team,” Keith said confidently, “we could double that and move into a big house. We could get that Laundromat you want, with the daycare in it,” he promised again.

  “That’s what you said before.”

  “Did you hear any fucking thing I said? You should be helping me and supporting me, like I support you. Not threatening to bail out like some punk bitch. You mess around, wasting time trying to be a singer, and you’ll be fucking for free…laid up on some music exec’s couch somewhere. Come on now, you’re smarter than that. Don’t lose the faith. You have to trust me on this.”

  Keith was talking fast until he saw the defiance in Dream Crow’s eyes dwindle down to defeat. He liked to keep that look in her pretty brown eyes; it made her look sexy, sad and sexy like a blues singer. He lifted her chin with his pinky finger. “Baby, I’m just saying the truth to you. If I didn’t have mad love for you, I wouldn’t tell you the truth. If I didn’t love you, we would be over there like Titus and that crazy bitch. He’s messing up her face, bruising her up, probably shooting her up, and using her pussy all up for himself. He’s turning her into a twenty-dollar hoe. I’m not like that. I’m good to you, right?”

  “Yes, you are, Keith. You’ve been real good to me, for what this is.”

  “For what this is?” Keith repeated, unbelieving, “For what this is? Trina and them never lived with me; they didn’t share my space. I moved you in. I share everything with you, like we’re partners. And except for that one time when you got drunk, I’ve been real cool to you. I be letting shit slide, you know, letting you express your opinions and shit. I have more love and respect for you now than ever before. When Seth brought you to me, you were only seventeen. You had a little past with him; I figured that out when you were holding on to his legs like you were. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough with that brick of cocaine under his coat. He was dragging you across the carpet, trying to get out of the door. Do you remember that?”

  “Of course I remember,” Dream Crow said sadly, thinking of Seth. She had heard that he was in West Oakland somewhere, walking the night like a toothless zombie.

  “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to think about that now.” Keith had promised never to bring it up. “But I never held that against you. Never once did I think, Oh, I can get this nasty bitch to do anything. Now look at you, classy as all get out. You can hold a conversation with anyone. You can go anywhere and feel right at home. You’re all woman,” he told her, flashing the smile that used to melt her. “I’d like to think I had something to do with the beautiful woman you’ve become.”

  “I know,” Dream Crow said, wanting to get him to shut up so she could get out of this loud place that had been sounding off like warning sirens in her head for hours. “I have your back, Papi, like you have mine.”

  Satisfied, Keith stepped away from her. “What am I going to do about Korea?”

  Dream Crow replied, “Leave her alone. She’ll come to you. Daddy, I would love to stay and talk, but I have a date. I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow with so much cash, you’ll forget all about that little fucking teenager.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “He’s new; I’m breaking him in.”

  “Make sure he’s paying double, if you’re staying over.”

  “Of course, Keith. If I have any problems, I’ll call you.”

  “You can break him in all you want, as long as you break him.”

  “Will do,” she said, pecking Keith on the cheek.

  She grabbed a small Louis Vuitton tote, her Gucci handbag, and left the condo. Over her silver mini-dress she donned a luxurious vintage three-quarter-length, brown mink. Dream Crow stepped into the night with her strappy silver stilettos beating the pavement quickly to her car. The minute she walked out of the door, her stomach had stopped hurting. She wasn’t nervous anymore. Her hands weren’t sweaty or shaking. She didn’t have to shit.

  The clock on the dash reminded her that the time on her dressing table was set thirty minutes ahead. She wouldn’t have to meet Hartford’s friend for another forty-five minutes. She drove down California Street, thinking about the girls that she used to work with and had left behind. She didn’t know that they had been traded. She wondered what Keith had traded them for. She was headed for the 101, but decided to take a left onto Leavenworth and drive by her old stomping block. It was Friday night and the 500 block of Jones was popping with rich white potential clientele. Besides the music convention at the Moscone Center, a big charity fashion show called Macy’s Passport was going on. She had heard that Elizabeth Taylor would be helping to raise money for AIDS. The event was sure to bring a lot more Hollywood players to town.

  Dream Crow drove around the turf, showing off her shiny black convertible Spider, waving at girls that she used to know. It had been a long time since she had seen or talked to any of them. Looking at the scene, she almost felt like a traitor. She stopped for a traffic light when a girl leaned against her car.

  “I’ll suck your pussy for fifteen dollars,” the girl said. Dream Crow pulled her car over to the curb. The girl followed and stood outside the passenger door. “So we got a deal?”

  Dream Crow could see that she was high on heroin and there were needle marks all over her arms and neck. “I don’t know, yet. You got a man around here?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said. “He’s over there in the car, watching.”

  “Okay.” Dream Crow reached into her purse and pulled out a fifty. “Here.” Dream Crow handed the money to the girl. “Go ahead, get in.”

  “Damn, how did you go from hoeing to tricking?” Someone on the sidewalk was talking to her. Dream Crow looked up and saw Trina standing there in a dingy white pleather dress and white boots. Her blonde wig was matted and her lip was healing from where it had been recently busted. There was a black patch over her left eye.

  “I see you’re still giving those tricks more than they bargain for,” Dream Crow said. “Who blacked your eye?”

  “Ain’t nobody blacked it,” Trina said. “It’s gone.”

  Dream Crow wanted to stay and talk, but she didn’t have time. “You take care of yourself, Trina.”

  “You, too,” Trina said. “Hey, where are you going with Pillow?” Trina called after the car as Dream Crow hit the corner.

  “I can’t go too far for too long. Pull over in the alley over there,” the girl said. “I can do you in the car.”

  Dream Crow turned into the alley, but she did not stop. “How old are you?” she asked, guessing she wasn’t more than fifteen under her makeup.

  “Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age?” the girl said, nodding off.

  Dream Crow checked her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed as she pulled out of the other end of the alley onto O’Farrell Street.

  “Hey, wake up!” Dream Crow smacked her face and pulled her eyelid open at the stoplight. “How old are you?”

  “Twelve. But I can suck your pussy like a grown-ass woman. For this fifty bucks, you can even suck mine.”

  “YOU KNOW, HARTFORD, I’LL DO MOST ANYTHING FOR YOU, but your sister is late and I’m supposed to be taking a very large check to Macy’s Passport tonight. If I don’t show up with that money, Liz will hogtie me. How much of my time did you promise to your sister?”

  “Mr. Bandarofski, I promise you that Dream Crow is well worth the wait. She’s fantastic. You won’t be disappointed. Please, hold on. Give her fifteen minutes; she’ll be there.”

  “I’ll give her ten,” Bandarofski said, and then Hartford was talking to a dial tone.

  IT WAS A TEN-MINUTE DRIVE TO POTRERO AVENUE. She parked in an emergency room stall and helped Pillow out of the car.

  Dream Crow
put the child in a waiting room chair and walked up to the reception desk.

  “Hi,” she said to the nurse behind the counter. “Is my sister on duty? Her name is Blue Crow.”

  “Yes, she’s in the Children’s Health Center.”

  “Will you call her please? I can’t stay. Tell her that her sister was here. Tell her that I brought this little girl here,” she said, pointing to the child. “She needs to be fixed up.”

  The nurse winced when she saw the little girl with a painted-on face and festering needle marks. “Oh my God, child! What has happened to you?” She looked curiously at Dream Crow. “How do you know this girl?”

  “I don’t know her. I found her like this. I don’t even know her name.”

  “My name is Linda,” Pillow said. “Lady, you’re going to be in so much trouble. You took me.” She was slowly shaking her head and waving her finger back and forth. “He’s gonna be mad.”

  “Who’s going to be mad?” the nurse asked.

  “Titus. Titus is gon’ be real mad.”

  “Is he the one who did this to her?” the nurse asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know who did this. I have to go,” Dream Crow said.

  “We’ll take care of her. She’ll be okay. I’ll tell Blue you were here.”

  “Hey, lady,” Pillow called after Dream Crow in a weak voice. “Do you want your fifty dollars back? I didn’t get a chance to eat your pussy.”

  THE OLD MAN TOOK OFF HIS SMOKING JACKET AND LAID IT ON THE BED. He stood in the mirror and straightened his bowtie and took his green paisley tuxedo vest off of the hanger and put it on his body. He checked his profile in the full-length mirror. He checked his watch and decided to give the girl a few more minutes while he had a glass of wine.

  In Friday night traffic, it took Dream Crow twenty minutes to drive five miles. She was hoping she hadn’t messed up her opportunity when she pulled up in front of The Bellevue Hotel. She gave her keys to the valet, and got directions to the lobby bathroom from the concierge. Dream Crow stepped into the stall a hooker, and stepped out a star-in-the-making. Her simple black dress clung to her curvaceous body in all the right places, its neckline plunging nearly to her navel. She tossed her silver mini-dress into her tote, dressed her slender neck with a single strand of black onyx, and twisted her long hair into a French roll. She put her demo tape into a simple black clutch and strutted through the lobby to the elevator with a winner’s stride.

  He gasped when he saw her standing at the door of his hotel suite. His appreciation for her stunning beauty was obvious and honest. “Your brother told me you were talented but he didn’t say you were so beautiful,” the man said, handing her a glass of wine. “Name’s Bandarofski; Jerome Bandarofski.”

  Dream Crow took the wine and sipped from the glass. “I’m Dream; Dream Crow. Here is my demo.”

  “Yes, of course,” the old man said, smiling. He took the cassette tape from her hand but did not look at it. “We’ll get to that. Have a seat. Why don’t we start by you telling me what you want?”

  “What I want?” Dream Crow was confident and certain when she answered him. “I want everything.”

  “What a coincidence,” Jerome said. “So do I.”

  CHAPTER 4:

  180 DEGREES

  Between sweat suits, basketball shoes, nail maintenance, dining, hotels, and movies, Keith figured he had spent a few thousand dollars on Korea, but she was rationing her pussy like she only had a limited supply. I’m going to have to fix this, he thought to himself, as he dialed her number. She didn’t answer. He had tried to take Dream Crow’s advice and wait for the girl to call him, but he couldn’t.

  His golden skin was naturally tanned and glowed, no matter the season. His thick eyebrows arched down to the corners of his almond-shaped green eyes that were clear and sparkling between thick, long lashes that women envied. His jet black hair had been permed and finger-waved into a silky Lord Jesus-style that cascaded down his neck and lay coolly on his back. Bringing his full lips together in the mirror, he checked his mustache.

  Something didn’t look right. Something was off. He tried smiling again and cocking his head left, then right. His mustache was crooked.

  “That hoe cut my shit crooked,” he said out loud. He tried the smile again, this time like Billy Dee; wide and sexy-like.

  Yep, his shit was crooked.

  “Bitches!”

  AFTER GETTING HER TEST RESULTS, KOREA CRIED ALL NIGHT. She cried hard and soft. She cried tears of anger and tears of self-pity. She gasped and whimpered, and nearly lost her breath. She cried until her stomach hurt and her body convulsed and shook. She cried until her crying was merely a noise her mouth made and no more tears would come. She cried until she fell asleep.

  In the morning light, she was already beginning to heal. She had showered and dressed and was standing in the bathroom mirror when she heard a knock at the door. Korea didn’t open it but answered, “Yes?”

  “It’s Mom, honey,” Gladys said through the closed door. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Was that you that I heard crying last night?”

  “No, Mom. I wasn’t crying. That wasn’t me. It must’ve been my television.”

  “I guess. That must’ve been some program,” her mother said suspiciously.

  “Yes, it was, Momma. It was something else.”

  “Well, alright then. I wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need to talk about anything…anything at all. I work a lot, but I’m still here for you; even if all you want to do is watch TV together.”

  Korea appreciated the gesture and she didn’t mean to lie to her mother; she didn’t share trauma or drama with her mother. Gladys was fragile and given to mood swings that could last a few weeks or more.

  “Okay, Mom,” Korea answered. “Maybe we can go get some ice cream.”

  “Let’s do that, baby. Ice cream always makes me feel better. I’m going to go ahead and get dressed. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  Korea didn’t mean that she wanted to go get ice cream right then. She had a lot on her mind. Walking down East 14th was like taking a cool test. Anything could happen to test your cool. And whenever they went to the ice cream parlor, they walked. The last time Korea and Gladys took the walk, two women had fallen out of a car door, fighting, and had almost knocked Gladys down. Another time, a boy had threatened to sick his dog on them if he couldn’t get Korea’s phone number. To avoid injury or rabies, she had given him a fake number. Once, there was a bum peeing on people as they walked past him. If her mother hadn’t been with her, she would’ve knocked him in the head with the gallon jug of wine he was pissing out. But Korea wasn’t feeling cool and level-headed today. If anyone does anything to piss me off today, Korea thought, Momma might see another side of me.

  Korea stood in the bathroom mirror, trying to see if she looked any different. The doctor said the virus would be manageable; that it may never even return if she kept her stress level down. She had no intention of dealing with Keith ever again. But she wasn’t the type of girl who let offenses to any part of her, especially her pussy, go down without retribution.

  “Stop it,” she warned the young athlete looking back at her. “Stop your fucking whimpering. Shit happens. Deal with it. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve been some broke-ass street niggah who gave you his baby, or infected you with that new deadly disease, AIDS. What if I had his baby and it looked just like him, and reminded me of his stupid face every day for the rest of my life? I really need to be grateful,” she told herself. “Just be grateful and walk away.”

  Then she thought, What if I’m one of those people who break out all the time? What if I get it on my face, or on my mouth? Everyone will know! Hell no!

  Korea almost started to cry again. She could feel her throat knotting up, and her nose beginning to run. She hardened her face in the mirror and blew one final time into a tissue. She toss
ed it into the toilet and watched as it spun around in the bowl, flushing her tears and anxiety.

  By the time the toilet stopped running, a light bulb had turned on in her mind and she felt suddenly better. The epiphany had come to her as quickly as a flash flood; the details of her retribution falling into her mind like raindrops, flooding her consciousness like storm clouds, images of Keith’s pain flashing like lightning bolts. He would pay. He would pay with his blood. She could taste it already.

  The trip to the ice cream shop was sweet and uneventful. No dudes stopped in their cars to holler at her and disrespect this rare time Korea had talking and walking with her mother. None of the employees at the ice cream parlor did or said anything to set her off, and all the bums had taken the day off.

  Her mother ordered black walnut ice cream and was carrying some home in a container for later. They talked while they walked home and Korea revealed enough of her teenage life and adult plans to make her mother feel hopeful. She painted visions of gated housing and security that her mother had only dreamed of. There was a garden in the plan, and a minivan and golden years of nothing to do but plan vacations to exotic places.

  “See that building over there, baby?” Gladys asked.

  “Yes, Momma, I see it, that little broken-down shack next to the liquor store across the street?”

  “Liquor store? Now when did that get there?”

  “It’s been there for a little while, Mom.”

  “Nothing around here really looks like much now, but that little place used to be a clubhouse…a kind of meeting place. That’s where I first saw your father.”

  “My father?” Korea repeated.