Mama Ruby (21 page)

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Authors: Mary Monroe

BOOK: Mama Ruby
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“That’s it! That’s it!” Maureen hollered, shaking her fist at Cat Fish. Cat Fish jumped back and let go of Marielle’s girdle so fast, Marielle stumbled and almost fell to the floor. “I ain’t goin’ to stand for no more of your foolishness. You got till mornin’ to pack your shit and get out of my house!”
All three of the prostitutes gasped. Cat Fish had gasped so hard, she choked on some air. Marielle had to slap her on the back to help her catch her breath before she could speak again.
“But—but, Miss Mo’reen, I’m a
white
woman. You can’t fire me on account of a colored woman! It ain’t fittin’!” Cat Fish shrieked, turning to the other two women for support. “Fat Fanny, Marielle, y’all say somethin’!”
“See there! I told you this was goin’ to happen if you didn’t behave yourself,” Marielle yelled, shaking a finger in Cat Fish’s stunned face.
“Me, I ain’t got nothin’ to say. I got them three kids to feed, so I can’t be put out on the street, and I sure don’t want to live with my mama, or go back to my ex. Cat Fish, honey, you started cookin’ your own goose from the day them colored girls moved in, and tonight you burned yourself. And don’t you forget to return my bustier before you leave!” Fat Fanny hollered.
Just then, Ruby entered the room. There was a huge smile on her face. Viola was in her arms with a smile on her little face that was almost as big as Ruby’s.
“Fat Fanny,” Ruby began, looking around the room wondering why everybody was so quiet. “Uh, I just wanted to bring the baby in so you can give her some sugar before I put her to bed.” She felt the chill in the room, but knew it had nothing to do with her. She held her breath and didn’t acknowledge the chill, and she kept her smile in place.
“Miss Mo’reen, there’s a man in a white suit at the bottom of the stairs waitin’ to speak to you,” Ruby continued. “He’s right horny and cute, and itchin’ for some female attention. He even pinched my butt when I walked by just now.” Ruby tried to look serious but it was hard for her not to keep smiling, especially after that cute man had pinched her butt.
Cat Fish’s jaw dropped open so wide, you could see the back of her long tongue. “Miss Mo’reen, I will sure enough get up out of your place! Now that I know you got white men comin’ here that’s got so little shame, they’d tetch a booger bear like
Ruby
on her butt—I wouldn’t stay here if you paid me in gold!”
CHAPTER 39
T
HERE WAS NO END IN SIGHT FOR THE WAR
.
THOUSANDS OF
young, and not so young, men from various parts of the country were dying thousands of miles away from their homes and their loved ones. Some had come home missing a limb or two. But as long as that missing limb wasn’t the one between their legs, they made their way to the brothels.
One night, a week after Cat Fish’s departure, one of those ex-military men entered the house, grinning like he was ready to fuck the world. There were three fingers missing from his right hand and a black patch covering his missing right eye. He was new in town and had been referred by a friend. He was a small man with a big sexual appetite, and he didn’t let his missing fingers, or his missing eye, slow him down. However, he was most interested in one type of female: virgins.
“A virgin? You came here lookin’ for a virgin?” Maureen gave the man an incredulous look. She was tempted to feel his forehead to make sure he wasn’t sick and didn’t know what he was saying. “Sir, this is a WHOREHOUSE, not a convent. You ain’t goin’ to find no virgin in here,” Maureen laughed. “Now if you don’t mind some low quality virgin poontang, you might want to take a ride out to the bayou and cut a deal with one of them swamp men. Most of them got at least four or five real young daughters that might suit your needs.”
“That ain’t what I want to spend my hard earned money on,” the man said, looking around the parlor, smiling. His name was Dobie Boyle. His family tree included two judges, a senator, several lawyers, and a beauty queen. He had devoted the last twenty of his forty-five years to a military career. He sniffed when Othella pranced in. “She’s a pretty piece for a colored gal.”
“And she’s been busted more than a drunk driver,” Maureen said, shaking her head. “You could probably slide your whole fist up in her.”
“Well, you find me a nice clean virgin, and I will pay you four times what you normally charge. As long as she ain’t still in diapers and still has her own teeth, I don’t care how young or how old she is.”
“Oh? Are you that liberal?” Maureen asked, her eyes wide with anticipation. She was so determined to procure this man a virgin, she was already counting her finder’s fee.
Dobie wasted no time replying. “I am more liberal than that, my dear. I don’t care how fat she is or what color she is. As long as her cherry is still in place, I don’t care. I want me some fresh pussy, and that’s that. I got plenty of it over there in Germany. As soon as those fräuleins laid eyes on us American soldiers, they practically served us their cherries on a platter. I guess you could say those gals ruined me for life, because I am right spoiled now.”
“Oh, I know all about them European gals. Me bein’ from Ireland and all, though I no longer speak with a brogue.” Maureen paused and let out a coquettish chuckle. She was glad to see that Dobie had such an eager look on his face. “I had a gal from Paris workin’ for me last year for a few months. She suddenly got religion and took off. Now I can’t help you if you insist on havin’ a foreign gal, at least not tonight. But I might be able to locate you somethin’ close, say a Creole or a Cajun?”
“No problem. The lady could be from Mars for all I care,” Dobie replied, nodding and licking his thin lips. He hadn’t even had a drink yet, and his breath was already as foul as cow dung. Every time he spoke, Maureen had to lean her head back and hold her breath to keep from gagging on the fumes floating out of his mouth. But she’d dealt with a lot worse. Bad breath was nothing compared to some of the other things her girls had to put up with. Last night, Marielle had been with a highly intoxicated man who’d lost control of his bowels right after he’d climaxed while he was still on top of her. She’d been so upset that Maureen dismissed her for the night. She had helped her clean herself off, and let her keep all of the money that she’d made for the whole week. But Ruby had been even more upset because she had to clean up the mess in the bedroom. Maureen had given Ruby the rest of the night off, too, and she still wanted to do something nice for Ruby because as far as she was concerned, Ruby had been traumatized by that gruesome episode as much as Marielle.
“You sure you don’t care what she looks like?”
“Maureen, I am serious. I do not care about that. I keep my eye closed durin’ the whole session anyway. I always did. It adds a bit of mystery to the act,” Dobie said with a wink.
“And her size and color don’t matter, you say?”
“That’s what I said. Nor does her age.” Dobie stopped talking for a moment, and scratched the side of his neck. “Hold on. Let me back up. I need to clarify one thing some more, though: no babies and no hags. She’s got to be at least thirteen. And no offense, but I don’t want some old crone in your age group. Forty-five is as old as I’ll accept. As long as she’s never been touched.”
Maureen wanted to laugh and then show this persnickety fool the way out. Finding a teenage virgin was not that far-fetched, but did he seriously think that he’d find a forty-five-year-old virgin anywhere in New Orleans?
“I get it. Well, I’ll see what I can do for you, sir. Now don’t you move until I come back, hear?” Maureen gave Dobie a thoughtful look before she rose from her settee and shuffled across the floor to Othella. “Is Ruby still fresh?” she asked, whispering in Othella’s ear with a hopeful look on her face. While she awaited Othella’s response, she glanced at the man she’d left sitting on the settee, who was dying to bust open a virgin. She smiled, nodded, and waved at him. He smiled, nodded, and waved back. The way he kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, Maureen knew that his dick was on fire, and that she didn’t have much time to get this man into bed with a virgin.
“What? What do you mean by that?” Othella asked, her heart thumping. She had been very cautious since Maureen had fired Cat Fish. She was still worried that if that racist bitch came back to make another fuss, Maureen might fire her, too. “Uh, do you mean is Ruby clean?”
“I know the girl is clean, but that ain’t what I meant. She is fifteen, and I know how frisky you colored gals are when you get that age. Y’all drop your drawers and spread your legs earlier in life than regular folks. But Ruby bein’ a preacher’s girl, and bein’ a little on the heavy side and a little plain, I figured she might not have crossed that bridge yet. Is she still a virgin? She sure enough looks and acts like one. And I hope you say she is, because there is a whole bunch of money at stake.”
Othella was momentarily speechless. She didn’t know where this conversation was coming from, or where it was going. The most important thing to her was, she didn’t want to disappoint the madam. She knew that as long as Maureen was happy with her, she and Ruby would have a place to stay. “Yes, ma’am, she sure is still a virgin. But let me tell you right now, she can’t wait to get herself busted,” Othella lied. The hungry look on Maureen’s face puzzled and frightened Othella at the same time. “But bein’ a preacher’s daughter, Ruby is right shy when it comes to things like, uh, you know . . . Before you approach her about it, let me put a bug in her ear first. She’s real mentally limited. But I got her trained so good, she’ll do anything I tell her to do.”
“Good! You go hunt her up, and do that right now then,” Maureen commanded.
Othella sprinted across the floor toward the kitchen, weaving her way through the crowd squeezed into the parlor. She almost knocked down Fat Fanny and the man that she was buttering up.
As soon as Othella reached the kitchen and swung open the door, she almost gagged on the smell of boiled pig ears and cabbage greens, the same meal they’d had the day before. She didn’t have time to complain, but she would later on. “Where is Ruby at?” she asked Mazel.
“I don’t know where that lazy heifer at. Them same dishes been sittin’ in that sink for two hours,” Mazel snarled, chewing on a toothpick. “She probably off somewhere nursin’ that white woman’s baby like she always do when she supposed to be helpin’ me.”
“Miss Mo’reen need her in the parlor straightaway,” Othella reported.
“For what?” Mazel asked, hand on her hip. “Since when do Miss Mo’reen want the help up in there ’round all them fancy peckerwoods? Especially Ruby with her musty, rusty, dusty self. What done happened in that parlor this time? Another one of them clumsy oxes done wasted a highball on the floor, and Miss Mo’reen want Ruby to sop it up, or what?”
“Never mind all that. If you do see Ruby before I do, send her to me. I’m goin’ to wait for her in the parlor by the piano man,” Othella said.
Othella left the kitchen, but she didn’t return to the parlor. Instead, she galloped upstairs and checked every room that was not occupied, but Ruby was nowhere to be found. Othella returned to the parlor and saw the impatient look on Maureen’s face. She skittered back into the kitchen, ignoring Mazel, who was still fussing about the dishes in the sink, and ran out the back door.
Othella found Ruby sitting on a stump in the backyard, serenading Viola with a lullaby that Ruby had made up herself. The baby was cooing like she was in heaven. There was just enough light coming from the moon and the dim coal oil lamp on the back porch steps for Othella to see the ecstatic look on Ruby’s face.
“Ruby Jean!” Othella called, almost out of breath. Ruby didn’t notice Othella right away. Othella had to call her name again and snap her fingers.
“What?” Ruby said gruffly, clutching the baby like she was afraid Othella was going to snatch her out of her arms.
“Remember that trick with the chicken blood in a capsule?” Othella asked with an anxious look on her face. She had worked up a sweat from running around looking for Ruby. She wiped some of it off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“What? What about that trick?” Ruby asked, wiping a few drops of sweat off Othella’s chin with the tip of her finger.
“We might have to use it on one of Miss Mo’reen’s new tricks tonight. He’s out there in the parlor, ready to mount a goat as long as it’s a virgin.”
“Well, there is plenty of chicken blood available,” Ruby snickered, nodding toward the three chicken coops that Maureen kept at the end of the backyard next to the toolshed. “But you ain’t got to kill no chicken tonight to get no blood. There’s plenty of blood in a bowl in the icebox, with them three chickens that I helped that lazy-ass Mazel cut up this evenin’ in case somebody wants a snack later.”
“Ruby, you need to come with me,” Othella said, holding her hands out to Ruby. “Now give me that baby. I’ll take her to Mazel, or I’ll put her to bed myself—which is where she should be now anyway. I swear to God, you spoilin’ this child. Come on!”
“You ain’t makin’ no sense,” Ruby commented, handing the baby to Othella.
“You need to get to your room and get them capsules, and we got plenty of alum for a tightenin’ up douche. I’ll bring that bowl of bloody raw chicken to you so you can drain enough blood to go in one of them capsules.”
Ruby chuckled. “That’s fine with me. My sister told me that all you got to do is slide it up in you, and when the man sticks his pecker in, it’ll bust open right away. Then all you have to do is lay there and moan and hump. After he pulls out, tell him what a Romeo he is. That’s all you got to do.”
Othella shook her head. “Uh-uh, honey. That’s all
you
got to do.”

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