The People vs Cashmere
Karen Williams
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Dedications
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Here I go again y’all . . . Book number two! God is good to me. So many amazing things have been happening in my life and I owe it to prayer and Him. Of course I have to praise my family, my mom who is still crazy but supports me so much. I even got you to get your butt on the freeway for my book signings. I love you Banna. To my sister Crystal, I love you big sis even when you’re bossy because I know you’d give your arm, leg and hair on your head if I needed it. Thanks Adara for being the special girl you are. We’re a team and I’m so proud of the young woman you are becoming. Thanks for letting your mommy shine. Shouts of love to my adorable nieces Mikayla, the diva, and Madison, the little hellion. My nephew Omari. My cousins Donnie, Devin, Mu-Mu, Jabrez, keep in mind I am officially a Deputy Probation Officer now and you guys all not too young to be arrested. Thanks to Michael. Hey to my little God-daughter Lanaya, miss you. Love you Auntie Tammy, Uncle Noonie, Thanks Faye. And to my extended family, Addie Graham, Patricia, Bobby, Antoinette, The Perdomos and Kevin.
I once again thank my friends with the utmost sincerity. Lenzie you still haven’t helped me and you still haven’t bought Harlem On Lock! But you still got me laughing. Cheryl, Christina W for always listening. Christina T, for your wisdom, Linda, Ronisha RIP, Misty, Sewiaa, Janel Carla, Roxetta, Gina, Tina, Valerie Hoyt, Valeen, Valerie Sweet, Tara, Pearlean, Maxine, Jennifer, Barbara, Chanin Paige, Lexus, Candis, VI, Phillipo, Latonya, Shannon, Tymisha, Kimberly, thanks for always paying homage girl, Shanni thanks for everything. Vanilla thanks for teaching me the power of prayer!
Thanks to Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall staff who made an impact on my life, Salazar, Yates, Tate, Rodriguez, Rona Rogers, Reyes, Sampson, Tara Suttle, love you Ms. Suttle, Lydia Oates, Abadanca, Regalado, Mr. Taylor, you were a father figure to me and never even knew your impact. Thanks! Pickney, it’s a blessing to know the blessed, that’s you, Marcet, little Mrs. Davis, Wright, Placencia, Cassas, Tolliver, Rushing, Calcote, Mama Bush, Love, Ms. Harris, Long, Mr. Walker, thanks for the shoulder that day, Gaeta, Dickerson, Washington, Westcott. Thanks for believing in me!
Thanks to all the bookstores who supported me. Extra special thanks to Smiley’s Books. Candace and Lori, you really pumped my book. Thanks for all the love you showed. Thanks Chardine from Zarahas Book and Things, James and Eso Won Books, Marcus and James from Borders. Thanks to Divas of Literature, some funny and sophisticated ladies. Hey, Ki Ki! Hey Lady Scorpio! And also thanks to Dr. Mulligan, Yasmin Coleman, Apooo Books, Urban Reviews and Rhonda. Thanks to all the beauty salons and barbershops who supported me. Special thanks to Studio Six and to all the women who purchased my book. Shout out to Tiffany and Robin! Hey Robin what’s the secret to your banana pudding? Thank you for your belief in me Heads Up Hair Salon!
To Tysha, you have helped me in so many ways. I can’t wait to come out to Ohio and hang girl! And to Joylynn, did I tell you how incredibly flattered I am to be included in Even Sinners Still Have Souls Too? Thanks again.
To my fans, I just wanted to reserve a spot in my acknowledgment for you guys, my fans . . . Is it all right to say that? I know I’m little ole me but still . . . to say I have fans sounds so freakin’ good! And it’s true! So . . . to my fans: (Clearing my throat) You bought my book, you read my book, and you passed it on to someone else. To know I have your support means the world to me. Thank you again and again! Your kind words inspire me to keep on writing. And to my # 1 Fan Danika. See I told you I wasn’t going to forget about you.
To my man, Terry Graham. I never had a man believe in the power of me as you do. When I say I love you baby it’s an understatement. I love you to the highest capacity. I feel incredibly lucky to have you in my life. With you it seems as though there is nothing I can’t do. You’re my rock, my king. I love you baby.
To anyone out there with aspirations never let anyone break you down, laugh at your dreams or allow their fears of inadequacy to become yours. Use the haters as fuel to keep on going. And in the end, thank them like I’m doing here: (Clearing my throat) To all the haters out there from the bottom of my heart I thank you, I pray for you, you made me stronger, better . . . And as you can see I’m still shining.
Mama I made it!
Dedications
This book is dedicated to my little woman,
Adara, thanks for letting me shine. My mom for
your support and love.
My sister always willing to give even when you
don’t have. And, Terry, the absolute love of my
life, my Sugar Bear.
Chapter 1
I was cold, but it didn’t mean shit. And, most importantly, after the shit that just went down, I was mad and hurt at the same time. But it didn’t matter. Black had already warned me on what I had to do. I had to numb myself, and I didn’t want to be dumb like my sister Desiree, always getting blown on that coke, and shut her stupid ass, didn’t know what the niggas cut it with. Give me some Grey Goose and X, and I’m good. The problem was, despite how tight my clothes were, or how much makeup I piled on my face, my ass didn’t look no more than the age I really was. I’ll tell you more about that later.
“Aye, yo! Yo, buy me some Goose, nigga.” I strutted up to a nigga I saw smoking outside the liquor store on my block. The polish was chipped off my fingers, and two of my nails were cracked and bleeding from me trying to fight Black off of me. I had a busted lip, a bloody nose, and my side was killing me. I ran my finger through my wild hair and tossed a ten at him.
“All right, but, bitch, I’m keeping the change.”
“Go ahead.” I stood for a moment waiting.
“Cash? Bitch, what the fuck you doing?”
I didn’t bother responding to my sister Desiree as she ran down the block toward me.
She stepped in my face. “Bitch, you hear me talking to you?” She smelled like cum, dick, and balls.
“Yeah, bitch, I hear you.”
“No, I don’t think you do. You want Daddy to fuck you up again?”
My eyes traced the letters on her neck, pretty cursive writing. I knew I would be next, or it was another ass-whipping.
I pierced her with a look. It was her fault I was in the mess that I was in.
“Look, I said I heard you. I’m getting some drank then I’ll be there, damn. Hell, I just might fuck the nigga buying me the drink.”
“Whatever. But when you get fucked up this time, don’t say I didn’t tell your dumb ass. You’ll never be a ‘bottom bitch,’ if you don’t get your shit together.”
“In case you didn’t know, bitch, I don’t want to be a bottom ho. Fuck this shit, fuck these hoes, this track, and fuck—”
“Say it, ho. Disrespect Daddy.” She balled her left fist and held it inches from my face.
I bit off my last words, anger searing from my eyes. He ain’t Daddy. I knew where the fuck my daddy was. And since I was too weak to fight her ass, I kept quiet.
“Here.”
I turned my attention to the man behind me. I grabbed the bag from his hands, and with the quickness, slipped it from the bag, uncorked the top, and downed it like it was fucking Gatorade and I was on a bike trail.
My sister stalked off, yelling, “You a stupid bitch!”
I waited for her to make her turn before I followed to my stroll.
“You too pretty a ho for this bullshit, girl. I gives a fuck about you grinding all day. Get the fuck out there and make my money. And I don’t care if you have to be out there all night. Don’t come back till you do.” Black stomped me in the back of my head, making my ponytail slip from my head. It was all because I refused to sleep with a trick.
All the other hoes laughed, including my bitch-ass sister.
As I walked, I was getting dizzy with each step. My stomach was also churning. Which was probably due to the fact that I hadn’t eaten shit that whole day, and downed the Goose way too fast.
I paused, feeling my stomach doing flip-flops on my corner with the regular hoes. I heard them whispering, “Black fucked her up.”
I gripped my stomach just as the vomit flew from my mouth. When I heard siren and squad cars swoop up on us, I was too weak to even move as hoes flew everywhere. I continued to heave on the ground. When I heard the shuffle of feet and felt hands on me, and the cold steel of the cuffs on my wrist, I knew they were taking me to juvenile hall, and in that moment I didn’t give a shit.
I was lifted to my feet and assisted to the squad car. Once there, I stared at the cracker officer who was looking at me like I was a piece of shit. Like he wasn’t a piece of shit.
He shook his head at me in disgust. “Look at that nappy-headed nigger. She’s like a wild animal.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled.
“Fuck me? You nigger bitch!” he snarled, his pasty face turning red.
Despite the pain in my side and head, and the handcuffs chafing my skin, I managed a mock smile at his ass. “Naw, I take that back. Ain’t that the problem, Officer? I wouldn’t fuck you last week, and I still won’t fuck you this week. Don’t hate the player, punk bitch! Hate the muthafuckin’ game. I may be a ho, but this ho got standards. And this pussy you will never get, so take me to jail. I gives a fuck!”
The Taser gun he used on my ass hurt like hell. I felt like I was having a seizure as snot flew from my nose and I was drooling. I screamed like a wild woman, my eyes cooking, “Muthafucka! You didn’t have to do that shit. I wasn’t resisting arrest! That’s illegal use of force.”
He gripped the back of my hair. “Yeah? Well, I hope your black ass can prove it.”
I continued to whimper as pain pumped through me. The burning wouldn’t stop and there was no air from the window because he closed both doors of his squad car.
I was determined not to beg him, but damn, I sure wanted him to wash this shit out of my eyes. But he didn’t. And since I’d been in more pain when sprayed with pepper spray, I disregarded it, thinking it would go away. But the pain wouldn’t stop, and truth be told, I didn’t need to be arrested. I had never been. So I swallowed my pride and begged him.
“Okay, Officer, you want this pussy, come and get it.” I breathed deeply as snot slid down my face and everything was a blur.
He chuckled then got in the car, turned on the ignition, and drove down an alley. He stopped the car, jumped out, and pulled me out the back seat. The burning in my eyes was easing now, until it was nothing but a tiny sting and I could see . . . see this smirk on his pasty, white-ass face.
“A deal’s a deal. I want some of that black pudding. Been wanting some for a long time.” He grasped my hand and rubbed it against his dick.
I sighed, raised my dress, and bent over against the car, and let him have his way with me.
And I’ll bet you think I was a nasty bitch. Hell, I was, but it wasn’t always that way.
Chapter 2
The good old days three years earlier
“Desiree, hurry up. Mama and Daddy will be here soon.” I ran around the house making sure everything was tidy for the dinner that I’d slaved over to celebrate Daddy’s promotion.
“I’m coming, shit. I don’t know why you had to do this shit today of all days.”
I followed my sister’s yelling and found her puffing on a joint in the bathroom in her underwear. “Put that out. You know Daddy would have a fit, Desiree.” When she continued to puff, I yelled, “Desiree!”
“Cash!” she retorted back, after taking one last puff and grinding it out on the windowsill.
I was so happy for Daddy. He was such a hardworking man. He had been working for the trucking company for the past fifteen years. He worked sixteen-hour shifts four, sometimes five, times a week, so we had everything we needed, and to supplement the one-income household, ’cause our mom didn’t work. Mama had been home for as long as I could remember.
I felt so bad for Daddy sometimes because he worked some long-ass hours, so I made sure I always packed him a big lunch—a big jug of coffee with thick ham, bacon, tomato, lettuce, chicken salad or tuna sandwiches, fresh fruit, and his favorite snacks, like beef jerky and salty peanuts. He always gave me a big kiss before he smacked Mama in her mouth.
Sometimes they would be so into their kiss, they’d forget I was standing there. Then he’d whisper something to Mama, and they’d rush back upstairs. When he came back down, I’d say, “Oouuu, Daddy, you know you just nasty,” and he’d wink at me and be out the door.
Well, now Daddy would be promoted to supervisor, which meant he wouldn’t have to drive any big-ass trucks out of town. He would be home in bed at nights. Which I hoped would make Mama happy, and she would keep her ass in the house now.
See, Daddy worked straight through Friday-Monday shifts. Which was cool for my mom, because she never had to worry about Daddy finding about her ass backing that thang up in the club. And during the week, she would stay home and take care of all of us.
They had been married for over sixteen years. We lived in a spacious two-bedroom house in a nice neighborhood. But, don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t always so safe. When we’d moved here, it was so bad, prostitutes fucked in our backyard, drug addicts got high in our laundry room, and illegal immigrants slept in our garage.
Daddy tried to be nice about it at first. Then he went to the police station to get them to clean up the neighborhood, something they told him had to be a combined effort. So, shit, Daddy combined the effort by doing what the hell he knew. He would throw firecrackers in the garage and lock they ass inside, so they got popped by the firecrackers. If he caught a crackhead getting high in the laundry room, he would sneak to the door, and as soon as he got ready to step out, he was hosing they ass like cops did, yelling, “Get the hell off my property!” When he saw prostitutes in our backyard, he shot them in the leg, arm, and ass with his BB gun, and they would hobble away screaming.
When they saw Daddy wasn’t playing with them, they thought he was crazy as hell and stayed the fuck away from our house. A few other neighbors took notice of Daddy’s actions and banded together with him ’til all the addicts, gangstas, and immigrants were gone. Then it got so safe, you could sleep with the windows open. Hell, Daddy was a legend on our street.
Mama decked our house the hell out. Every six months she would get bored with the way the house looked. Then she would go whining to Daddy, throw some pussy his way, and he would feed her hands dollars and she would go out and buy new furniture. And although I appreciated everything my parents had done for me, I wished me and my sister had separate rooms.
Truth be tol
d, although we looked a lot alike, we were different, like night and day. We both had Mama’s mahogany-colored skin, and thanks to Daddy’s Creole ancestry, shiny, silky, black hair that hung to our shoulders. Lots of girls hated on us for that, which was fucking stupid to me, because we wore the same hairstyles they did. Besides, it was easier to grip coarse hair, and you could do more with it. In our case, you couldn’t put too much heat and shit, so to me it was more of a nuisance than a good thing. Desiree was named after our dad. I don’t know what I was named after.
Desiree inherited thin lips from who the hell knows, while I inherited Mama’s pout. We both had Mama’s nice nose, medium-sized and slightly pointed, and the shape of our faces had the same symmetry as Daddy’s. Blessed with high cheekbones, we both had straight pearly whites. I had Mama’s big ass, but Desiree got her big-ass titties.
Then the other thing that set us apart from other females was our chinky eyes, which Mama had too. She would brag and say she had Japanese in her family. But we knew her black ass was lying. We just had tight eyes, that’s all. But dudes said it made us look exotic, and my sister ate that shit right up.
We were almost the same height. I was five foot seven, and my sister was five foot nine. While I was a big-time square, Desiree was a party machine. She would sneak out and go to parties, dragging me with her sometimes. And when she was tired of leaving the house, she was sneaking guys in the house to her room and fucking the shit out of them, leaving me no choice but to place my pillow over my head.
“Get dressed!” I yelled.
Desiree pointed her free hand in my face. “No. You seem to forget who the big sister is.”
“Well, if you act like you are, then maybe—”
“What? Go ahead, bitch. How am I supposed to act like you? Please . . . you a fucking peon. You ain’t got shit going on.”
“What you got going on, but a loose pussy?”
The smack my sister gave me sent me falling backwards into the laundry hamper. She got like that when she was high.
The People vs. Cashmere Page 1