The People vs. Cashmere

by Karen P. Williams

  Bitch, you don’t want it with me was the expression on my face. Then the look instantly faded when I realized I wasn’t that same temperamental girl who fought her way out of stuff, so I let it slide.

  I took the diversion to duck out of the store. Once I did, I ran down the other side of the street, giving myself distance from Black, his ho, and that store. But I knew I was in for some shit now. Like he said, once you a get a pimp, you married to the game.

  Instead of a movie, Demarco took me to this nice restaurant. He was spoiling me to the point that I never ate at home anymore. Afterwards he took me to the park, and we walked and fed bread to those greedy-ass ducks, something I had mentioned to him that me and Daddy used to do together when I was a kid. I guess he really did listen to me.

  “Here you go again.”

  “What?” I asked as we walked hand in hand through the park.

  “It’s like one minute we havin’ fun. Then you go and get depressed again.” He tapped me on my head. “Why won’t you let me in here?”

  I shook my head. “I’m cool, Demarco. I just miss my parents.” I smoothed the long sleeves on my dress, hoping he didn’t catch sight of them scars when the wind blew, ’cause some hadn’t faded.

  He nodded like he understood. “I just wish you would open up to me more.” Then he lightened the conversation. “Are you bipolar?”

  I shoved him. “No, fool!”

  When he tried to grab me, I playfully pushed him away until he gripped my waist and kissed me quickly. Then he broke the kiss. “Seriously, though, I shared my past with you. You can do the same. I’m only asking ’cause it seems like you have some unresolved issues, baby.”

  And you’d drop me like a bad-ass habit once I do. I shook my head. “I’m not ready.”

  To ward off any more questions, I kissed him, not the regular peck, but a tongue-action-filled kiss. His eyes grew wide, and he returned the kiss and slipped closer to me.

  Usually I slapped his hands away and said, “Back up, fool,” but this time I didn’t. I had been pushing him off for some months, so why not let him get a kiss? I slipped him the tongue and said, “Let’s go to your crib.”

  When I got to his lavish-ass house, and after all that damn kissing and rubbing, I freaked the fuck out and couldn’t do it, so I told him no. He didn’t trip either. Just laid with me and stroked my hair while I cried and went to sleep. But I did hear him mumble, “Why won’t this girl trust me enough to let me in?”

  I didn’t have an answer for him, nor did I have an answer for the question in my head that stopped him from making love to me. That question was: Could I do the shit without feeling dirty?

  The next morning, I was in a rush. I shook Demarco awake and reached for my clothes, but he pulled me back down next to him.

  “Boy, move,” I said in an irritated voice. “I have to go home and change so I can get to school. On time.”

  “Quit school.”

  “And do what?”

  “Stay here with me.”

  I looked at him like he was crazy.

  “I’m serious. Cashmere, you don’t ever have to go. You can stay here, and I’ll take care of you. I almost feel like the shit is my duty. To protect you. Make sure no one else does anything to hurt you.”

  “And what makes you think someone has done something to hurt me?”

  “I know someone has. And if I were your man, no one else will ever get the chance to. All you have to do is just be, Cashmere. Believe me when I say I’ll take care of the rest. I just want you here with me. I wanna keep you safe. Seems like someone ain’t done that for you in a long time.”

  I blushed at that and damn near shed tears. It was sweet to hear him say that.

  And for the first time, I looked down and noticed that the sleeves on one arm of my dress was pushed up to my elbows and his fingertips were running back and forth across my scars as he talked to me.

  I waved at Demarco before he drove away. It was still early, so I unlocked my door, stepped inside, set my purse down, and stepped back out to go get my mail. As soon as my feet touched my welcome rug, a bat swung forward and knocked me upside my head. I flew back into the door and gasped at the pain I felt in my head.

  Before I could see my attacker, they swung it again at my back. I crouched over then felt pressure in my chest as it connected with it also. I was too weak to move and hoped they were done with their assault. They swung again and hit me on the back side of my head.

  I screamed and slumped over. I moved my head an inch to see the person walk away. I got a glimpse of the gator shoes and the back of their profile. It was Black.

  I moaned and crawled back into my door. I tried to stand but collapsed on the floor. Then I felt myself slip slowly into unconsciousness. The last thing I remember was all the pain.

  The phone was ringing. That’s what got me. I touched my swollen head and felt dried blood in my hair. I dragged myself up to my feet and grabbed the phone. I winced at the pain in my chest and all over my body. “Hello?” I clutched the arm of my couch when I felt my legs tremble like they were gonna give out underneath me. My head continued to throb, so I winced again.

  It was Bev. “Cashmere, where you been, baby girl? You know we do our shopping for supplies every Monday.”

  “I—”

  “It’s not like you to call off. You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Then get your behind up here now. Someone is here to see you. And they said they not leaving the shop until they do.”

  The visitor was probably my aunt, but nevertheless, I was happy to see her. Maybe she wanted to apologize for what she had done. It was cool. Maybe I could confide in her about what just happened with Black. And she could advise me on what to do.

  I also needed to do something about the throbbing in my head. A little more blood was leaking out of it.

  “I’ll be there, Bev.”

  I went into the kitchen, dropped two Tylenol down my throat and chased them down with water. Then I held a cold cloth on my head to stop the blood.

  I walked into the salon out of breath. I’d paused a couple times during the walk ’cause I was still in a lot of pain. Once I walked further in the salon, nothing could prepare me for who I saw sitting back and staring at me. It was Mama!

  I grabbed a hold of one of the salon chairs to steady my balance.

  She smiled and stood her arms outstretched. “Hi, baby.”

  Baby? I stepped away from her and crossed my arms under my chest that was still sore.

  Bev was standing there too, but in all of this I didn’t notice her. She winked at me grabbed her purse. “I’ll leave you ladies alone. Cash, I gotta get those supplies. I’ll see you later, baby.”

  My eyes jumped back to Mama.

  Mama wrung her hands together. She looked the fucking same, maybe even better—No bags under her eyes, no war marks or scars like the ones I had on my wrist and hands.

  “You turned out so pretty, Cash.”

  Anger was pouring from me. I’m surprised I didn’t sprout horns. I winced again at the pain I was feeling. I tried to keep my face clear of any emotion, other than anger.

  “Would you believe, baby girl, that I had a hard-as-hell time trying to find you? I went to the last place I ever expected to go. Your aunt’s.” Mama clutched her chest and burst out laughing. “That damn woman is still bitter.”

  I didn’t laugh. In fact, I didn’t smile either.

  “I see Mama got a lot of making up to do.”

  Her hands were now shaking, and her eyes watered. Come to think of it, her whole body was much like mine.

  “Your aunt told me you worked here. She also told me about the other”—she cleared her throat, and a hand went to her chest again—“I went back to school, Cash. Decided to take up a trade. I do fingerprinting and background checks on criminals. Would you believe Mama works for the police department? And look”—she wiggled her left hand in front of me—“I’m engaged to a commissioner there.”
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  Still I didn’t respond.

  “Listen, I know you pissed at me. You probably hate me.” She stepped closer again and put her hand underneath my chin. “But, baby. I love you sooo much. And I’m sorry for what I did. If I hadn’t—if I hadn’t . . .”

  My eyes teared up again, and some tears slid right into the palm of her hand. I snatched my face away. I was breathing hard as well and my cheeks were popped out.

  She started sobbing, and her shoulders shook. She tried to touch me again.

  I snatched her hands off of me.

  She yelled out and continued crying.

  “I’m-so-sorry-Cashmere. About your Daddy and your sister.” Then she yanked open her purse. She pulled out a pen and a small notepad. “Here is my number and address. She laid the pad on a workstation and wrote something down, tore the piece off, and reached her hand out to place the paper in mine.

  I didn’t grab it, so the paper floated to the floor.

  I kept my hateful glare as she bent over to retrieve it and attempted to hand it back to me once again. I eyed her up and down, her expensive shoes, pants and top, her flawless makeup, nails, and hair. The old Mama before the accident. The one daddy couldn’t get enough of. Smelling good too.

  When she saw I wouldn’t reach for it, she laid the paper on the counter and reached out to stroke my cheek. “I love you, baby.”

  I pushed her hand away yet again.

  She nodded slowly. “If you need anything or want to talk, call me anytime, baby. I’m in a position where I can help you with pretty much anything, money, a place to stay, the law, anything.”

  She walked slowly out the salon. When she got to the exit, she paused and looked back at me. “I love you,” she whispered.

  And for a moment I was gonna let her walk away. Then I thought to myself, Naw, fuck that! “You love me Mama?”

  She turned to face me. “Yes, baby.”

  “You love me?”

  “Yes, with all—”

  “Hold the fuck up! You love me?”

  Mama started sobbing.

  “Did you love Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you left him to take care of himself so you can fuck another nigga in his house? Or did you love me when you left me and Desiree to take care of ourselves, huh? Auntie hate us ’cause of you! So we had to sell fuckin’ crack!”

  Her face crumbled.

  “And strip to take care of ourselves. And her husband wanted to fuck me. He tried to rape me. But Desiree fucked him because she just like you!”

  Her shoulders shook.

  “Then we got thrown out. The one person that I loved, Desiree, fucked ’cause she just like you! Then she sold both our souls to the devil. A pimp! I was a ho, Mama, ’cause of you. And ’cause Desiree was just like you, she cut the plug on Daddy. And, well, you know the rest. I went to jail for murdering—”

  “But, baby, I read the reports. It was an accident.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  She nodded as if she was waiting for this moment, like she expected it.

  “Now you wanna come back in my life? After all the shit you did to us?” My lips trembled like hers. “Now it’s only me. And you wanna come in here flashing a ring, talking about how good you got it. You the reason for all of this, you know that, right?”

  She nodded over and over, tears after tears pouring out of her eyes until they were red.

  I walked closer to her. “Do you have any idea how much I have suffered in my life?”

  She was silent.

  I stalked up to her. “Here’s how much I have suffered.” I pulled the sleeves up on my shirt so she could see the scars crisscrossed up and down my arms and hands.

  Her sobbing turned to bawling. She tried to hug me.

  I pulled away.

  “Get out, Mama!”

  “Baby, please.”

  “Get your ass out!”

  She pleaded with her eyes and she continued to call out my name as she exited the salon.

  Chapter 32

  I didn’t bother going to the police for what Black had done to me, and I stood Demarco up for his dinner date by not answering the phone when he called. And after that day, I continued to ignore his calls. He was the best thing that had happened to me, and I didn’t want him caught up in no shit on my damn account.

  I also told Bev that I had the stomach flu and that I needed some days off at the shop. Those were the magic words.

  “Yeah, baby, take a whole week,” she advised. “It’s no sense in getting all of us sick.”

  After I came back from the market carrying a bag of groceries, I found Demarco sitting on my steps. I gave him a mean look and tried to walk past him, which was kind of hard, him being so tall and all.

  He stood up quickly. “I been calling you.”

  No reply from me.

  “Cashmere.”

  “Move!”

  “Cashmere—”

  “Since when did I give you permission to pop up at my crib?” I sat my groceries down. “You seem to forget that I don’t belong to you. You ain’t my damn man, Demarco.”

  His jaw twitched as he stared down at me. “I know I’m not your man, but I was worried about you. You been missing from the shop too.”

  “Bev knows where I am. She the only one who needs to know, not you!”

  Why was I being to mean to him? Oh yeah, to push him away, so he wouldn’t get hurt. But it was so hard to do. ’Cause I felt like I loved him.

  “You need to stop keeping tabs on me.”

  I went up the steps and unlocked the door, and he followed after me into my house.

  “Damn! What?” I turned to face him.

  He just stared at me.

  “I’ll tell you what, Demarco—if I throw some pussy your way, will you leave me the fuck alone? ’Cause that’s probably all you want any damn way, right? It’s pretty much what all you dirty muthafuckas want.” I started throwing my clothes off until I stood in front of him in my underwear and bra, like I was in the old days with my tricks.

  But Demarco was nothing like any of my tricks. He was special to me. So special, I was willing to eject him from my life to make sure he never got hurt.

  He went from looking surprised to being disgusted as hell with me. That’s what his face said. Without another word, he turned his back on me and started walking toward the door.

  “Demarco!”

  He had his hands on the door handle. I grabbed him from behind and tugged at his arms, so he had no choice but to turn around and face me.

  “Here I am falling for you, and you think that’s all I want?”

  “Falling?”

  “If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you.” He started using his hands to wipe the tears off my face. “What’s going on in here, Cashmere? Baby, why won’t you tell me?”

  I wished I could, but I was too ashamed, so instead I kissed him.

  That kiss turned into another and another, until we were fully lip-locking, using our tongues to explore the insides of each other’s mouth. He had his fingers in my hair, and I had my fingers in his.

  Then he lifted me, so my legs were around his waist, and carried me to my bed, where he laid me flat on my back. He placed kisses all over my body. Even all those scars all over my hands and arms. I closed my eyes and moaned softly as his mouth covered one of my nipples, then the other, then both at the same time. He slid two fingers into my pussy, making me squirm.

  My head pushed into my pillow because of all the sensations I was feeling, Demarco grabbed up one of my thighs and placed kisses all over it before dipping between both of them to taste my pussy. I moaned louder when I felt his tongue there, swirling then sliding into me and pulling out, taking my juices with him.

  My legs started to shake, and cum leaked out, which he also licked up before rolling over and carrying me to my chair. He sat down on it and lifted me onto his lap so that I was riding him.

  I did it slowly, sliding down the length o
f his dick then pulling myself up, but once he started playing with my titties again, I increased the tempo, riding him faster and faster with each second that went by. His hands slid up and down my waist and he pulled my face down for a kiss. Then he kissed all over me again until I started moaning loudly and bucking on him faster and faster. I felt myself cuming just as he exploded into me.

  Once I did cum, I collapsed on his chest. He laughed and held me. So now I knew what making love felt like. And I didn’t feel dirty with Demarco, like I was a ho.

  But that little sweetness I felt vanished quickly when I realized that I had done exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. Fuck with him again. ’Cause I didn’t want him in no shit, and now he just might be.

  Things always had a way of going from really bad, to good, to really, really bad again. Case in point, somebody had vandalized the salon. I stepped around all the glass on the outside, the spray paint on the walls. I walked in a little further into the lobby area. Shit was fucked-up in there too—pictures broke, chairs thrown all over the place, the register thrown in the wall, and the letters BM, Black’s initials, the same initials Desiree had got tattooed on her neck spray painted all over the walls, over and over.

  I could hear Bev in her office on the phone yelling, probably calling the police. None of the other ladies were there, ’cause it was early.

  “Man, I can’t believe this shit!” Demarco stalked back into the room and whipped around in a blind circle, throwing his fist in the air.

  He didn’t see me though, ’cause I’d backed into a corner. Then the moment he turned his back to access another area of the damage, I ran out of the salon and down the street.

  The shit was my fault, plain and simple. I was breathing loudly and crying at the same time. I had got the salon caught up in some shit. If I had just stuck to the plan—stop answering Demarco’s calls and break it off with him for good—this shit would have never went down. But I felt like I loved him, wanted to be loved back, wanted to be looked at the way he looked at me, wanted my ugly scars to be kissed. He gave me all that and I fucked up.

  “Life’s gonna be hard as hell on you, baby girl.”