Dirty Dealing(Book 1 Baptiste Family Trilogy)

By: Jade King

It took her three more hours to get me out of that closet. When she finally did come she was high and drunk and I had to help her out into the street. We walked up the streets of Magnolia, my little body trying hard to keep my mother on balance. I walked her all the way down the alley and to the whorehouse.

My mother never cared about me. For one, I was darker than she was and two she never wanted me, it was my father that she wanted. A secret affair had turned into a tragic love. She blamed me as the reason that her family disowned her. She would always call me nigger when I did things that she didn't like, and if I refused to let men rape me, she'd slap me in the face and tell me I had no choice that it was my job to take care of her. I hated my mother's guts, and if murder had of been an option to me at eight I would have taken her out with the quickness. Early in my life I was taught how to hate.

I didn't trust anyone, not even my own mother. She was a self-serving bitch, and I knew that I was alone in the world. I learned how to steal when I needed food or just wanted a piece of candy. I was cute, and unsuspecting. Often this was a way that my mother put me to work. She had taught me how to use what I had to get what I wanted early.

The first time I was touched by a man I was eight. My mother left me in the bed of a dirty hotel room. She kneeled down beside me and said, “Let him use you.” It was the most selfish thing anyone could ever do but I closed my eyes and waited for him to come in. He came in with hunger and desire in his hateful eyes. Hungry for me, ready for me; he was big, black and ugly. Old enough to be my grandpa. He sat next to me and grabbed my face. He made me kiss him as he touched my undeveloped body. It felt so wrong but I remembered the words of my mother. His hands slid over my tiny nipples and he ran his fingers through my curly hair.

Repulsed. I wanted out. I tried to run, but my mother stood outside the room holding the door. I banged on the door and pleaded with her her to let me out. Instead she let him get me and throw me onto the bed. He didn’t waste any time. He ripped me open like a Christmas present one waited all year for. I cried and bled so much he became furious, beating me in my face. I was choking on my own spit and tears. He was done, leaving me there to lose conscious in my own urine, blood and tears. I didn’t die, though I wished for it. My mother threw me in a cold shower and made me put on some clothes she brought me. She ran around that room and tried to cover her tracks. The man had left some money on the dresser and she scooped it up. I could barely walk, but she dragged me down the street to a crack house and got her some rocks. I slithered under a table and fell asleep, only to be free from the nightmares.

Like I said I learned some bad habits early in life. After my first rape, after a while I considered it a way of life. The schemes just got worse, I was the bait, my mother’s little con.

"Why are you crying child?" an elderly lady would say.

I would crouch on a bench at the bus stop and pretend to cry. I didn't have any feelings because all I had ever been around in my lifetime were thugs and criminals.

"I lost my mama." I said tears streaming down my face.

"Oh child, it's ok, we will get you to the police." the elderly woman would say.

I was already scoping out a way to get into her purse to snatch her wallet. I was smooth and I knew how to get my way. I was as charming as my father and innocent as my mother. Everyone instantly feel in love with me on the streets. An elderly man or woman always seemed to be my target. They were always so easy to convince and at times would go to console me when I cried, giving me time to unzip her bag or pick his pockets. Once I had gotten what I wanted that's when I would take off running with a wallet full of cash. Sometimes when my mother was feeling generous she would use some of the money to buy me food. Other times, she just smoked it all up or spent it on one of her men.

That's how she was, men were her weakness there was nothing that a man could do to either of us that would make her leave him.

"I thought I told you to go stand in the corner." My mother yelled.

She had ordered me to stand face the corner while she gave a man some head for twenty bucks and a rock. I could still hear the sound of her jacking him off and I heard when he had cum. Just like all the other men, he would short her ten dollars and tell her to go fuck herself.

"You fucking bastard. You still owe me ten and a pack of smokes." I heard my mother yell. I was still facing the corner, my hands in my pockets.

"Get off me you dirty bitch." the man said.

I heard what sounded like a slap and my mother groan a few times. I was pretty sure that her pimp was around the corner, but she always tried to duck out of paying him by doing things on the side. My mother was weak; she could never stand up for herself without ending up ass backwards.

"Turn your stupid black ass around." I heard my mother say.

She always took things out on me when things went bad for her. She grabbed me by the arm and made me face her.

"Don't you ever be like me? Do you hear me? You go out and get your own shit, never depend on a man." She slurred. I watched as she crumbled and fell to the floor in tears. It was obvious that she was unhappy with herself but just couldn't change so easily. I hugged close to her and tried for once to have some feelings.

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