The two girls chorused, “No, we’re stopping off in Woodbrook.”
“I was thinking of passing on the avenue,” the driver explained.
“No problem then. We’re coming off at Murray Street.” Except for the low music and soft humming of the driver, no one spoke again until the girls reached their destination, paid, and alighted.
“Thanks, drive,” the young woman in the mini dress said as she closed the door. “But Effie,” she turned to her friend as they started up Murray Street, “you never finished telling me why your mother slapped you last night and ripped your dress.”
“Why you ask me that now, Maggie? I don’t want to spoil my good mood.”
“I was really feeling bad, girl. She really cursed you stink and got on ridiculous,” Maggie answered with genuine concern.
“You know my mother. You should be used to that. Don’t worry.”
They reached the park, where some other young women called out to them.
“Where you think those two are going?” the driver asked no one in particular.
“They’re going to work,” the male passenger in the back shrugged. “Look where they dropped off. Look how they’re dressed.”
The woman in the front seat, who had her arm resting on the window, shifted position and shook her head. “I think it’s a real shame the way those girls parading the street at night and standing at street corners. I thank God for mine. I know they are home right now doing homework.”
The man sitting between the woman and the driver stared straight ahead and remained silent. The others chatted with the driver for the remainder of the journey. They mainly discussed the demerits of prostitution, condemning the lifestyle.
The woman was the first to reach her destination. She exited the taxi with a cheery, “Good night to all.”
“I won’t say I never went with one of them,” the driver confessed as soon as the car was in motion again, “but that was when I was young and just doing it for the experience. I know better now.”
The man in the backseat cleared his throat and looked out the window. After a few moments, he broke the silence. “I used to hang around some friends who did that for a living,” he admitted. “I don’t lime with them now. When I used to be around them, I went with them. But I was a friend — although I would pass a little change.”
The man who sat next to the driver sucked his teeth and burst out, “That is why I didn’t say anything. I know man is man. I don’t know who you all fooling.”
The car was silent again.
Two blocks from the park, a car stopped. A man got out and slipped through the gate. A few minutes later he emerged. He drove slowly down Roberts Street. Two women standing at the corner opposite the park called out to him. He pulled over, rolled down his window, and stretched across the passenger side.
“You’re doing anything tonight?” Effie asked.
“I’m in the mood for a lot. Come in. Let us negotiate.”
“I’m not making a move till we settle on job and price. And I don’t have time to waste.” Effie glanced at another car slowing down across the road. The vehicle stopped and was quickly approached by two women from the park.
“I’m paying for the night,” the man said with an air of confidence.
Effie leaned on the window and looked him in the eye. She picked up a whiff of cologne she recognized. “That is twelve hundred dollars,” she said boldly.
“One thousand, baby. We’ll discuss the other two hundred at the end of the night.” Effie opened the door and plopped down on the seat. Maggie pulled out her small notebook as they drove off and recorded the license plate number — PVM 2025.
On and on she walked, more steadily now, more urgently, more confidently. Each time her heel then toe met the dusty asphalt, the acquaintance was briefer. The utter solitude of her journey was only broken by tiny flickering yellow lights, some close, some distant. They comforted her, amused her, distracted her long enough for her to forget her fear. She tried a few times to catch them but gave up because she felt silly waving her arms about. How would she know if she caught one, anyway? Would she feel a furry spot on her hand, or would it be a gooey mess? She could only tell by touch since she could see nothing except these luminous companions. No tree or shrub was outlined. No moon shone, and there were few stars. She kept a steady pace and made as little noise as possible. She had already encountered one stranger who had mumbled, “Night,” his breath almost knocking her out with its alcohol content. She briefly felt intoxicated herself. Suddenly she saw a light in the distance. It was small at first, then grew larger as it approached. It almost seemed to be rushing toward her. As she slowed her steps to delay the inevitable, her breath quickened. She felt strange as she realized this, the drumbeat in her chest echoing her anxiety. Abruptly she sank to her knees, her eyes on the light. Within a few feet of her, it veered to the left.
She sprang up like a blade of grass momentarily stepped on, determined to reach her destination. This time heel and toe barely met the asphalt. She considered running but did not want to attract attention. Despite her terror, running was not an option.
Eventually she discerned pairs of low moving lights crossing in opposite directions. Not many, but enough to let her know she was approaching a junction. Soon she could hear the passing cars. She slowed to her normal pace and strolled to the main road. The drum pounding inside her need not be apparent to all. She entered a bar and bought an Apple J, which she drank quickly and then bought another and left. She stopped a taxi and headed into town.
Effie did not return to Murray Street. She went to her friend Pat’s. Pat was not there, so she slept on the porch. She had no intention of returning home with all that money. If Effie got home before her mother, she hid her earnings in various places in the house. Otherwise her mother, who worked the area around Queen’s Royal College opposite the Savannah, took what she believed was her share. This time, despite Maggie’s warnings about taking too many risks with clients, Effie had stolen all the money she had found at her client’s home and more. This time, she had taken two plastic bags of cocaine.
“I ran out the house as soon as he fell asleep. I had to walk about a mile to the main road in these heels, and then while I was walking, the electricity went out. Talk about bad luck. You could imagine my fright. Then I saw car lights coming toward me. I swore it was him, then the lights swerved off. That was so scary.”
“So, Effie, you mean to tell me you stole money again? You will get caught one day.”
Sucking her teeth, Effie looked skyward, shifted her weight, and lifted her little handbag higher on her shoulder.
“I always tell you, Effie. I’m a prostitute, but I’m not a thief.”
“Guess what? He had cocaine and I took that too,” Effie announced boldly.
“What! Are you crazy?” Maggie exclaimed. “You went too far this time, girl. What do you intend to do with that?”
“I gave one parcel to Marlon to sell. He is selling already, so I offered him a cut.”
“So you will trust Marlon to give you the profits?”
“Marlon knows I’m not afraid to use my knife.” Effie pulled the weapon from her bag and flicked it open.
“What about me? Now I can’t go back for a long time. You did the thieving, but I was with you, so what am I supposed to do when that man comes looking?”
“I’m giving you a cut too. He had five thousand dollars in the house — well, that is all I found. We can work Chaguanas till the heat is off. And,” Effie added, “don’t worry about his reporting it to the police. When his wife comes back from vacation, what reason will he give her for going to court?”