A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (19 page)

“M
a’am, can you tell me your name?” repeated the short, pudgy Henrico County police officer. Rachida stared straight ahead in a daze. The officer snapped his chubby fingers in her face, but all she could think about was her friend’s body on the other side of the hotel room door lying in a pool of blood with a gunshot wound to her head.

“Ma’am, what’s your name? How do you know the victim?” The police officer’s voice echoed in Rachida’s ear, but her mouth couldn’t form a response. The only person in the world who she’d considered family was now dead. Three years ago, Rachida was an eighteen-year-old runaway from Greensboro, North Carolina, homeless and alone on the streets of Richmond, Virginia, until she met Abie, her now-deceased best friend.

They’d met while Rachida sat on the curb outside the Greyhound bus station on The Boulevard. Abie was there to pick up her boyfriend, Scoot, who used the Greyhound bus as his method
of transport for his heroin re-up in New York. Rachida noticed Abie right away with her long legs, double Ds, and extremely tight skirt that left nothing to the imagination. Abie’s coal-black wavy hair was waist length, and her skin reminded Rachida of a brand-new copper penny. Rachida couldn’t tell what nationality Abie was, but she knew that girl was mixed. Abie spotted Rachida when she pulled up in the Greyhound parking lot driving a souped-up Cadillac Escalade. She parked the car illegally in a handicap parking space. It was ninety degrees outside, but that didn’t stop her from rocking a pair of thigh-high stiletto boots. She moved her oversized sunglasses from her eyes to the top of her head before beckoning to Rachida. Rachida turned her head, looking toward the street, thinking that Abie couldn’t possibly be talking to her, with her disheveled hair and dirty T-shirt and jeans.

“You! C’mere a sec!” Abie yelled. Rachida pointed to herself, mouthing “Me?”

“Yeah, you, c’mere.” Rachida stood up, ran her hands over her messy ponytail, and walked toward Abie.

“Can you do me a favor? Twenty dollars if you watch this truck for me for one minute. I just have to run in real quick. And don’t try nothing slick.” Abie smiled and rushed into the bus station, not giving Rachida a chance to accept or decline. The bass from the music inside the Cadillac vibrated under her worn Reeboks as she glanced in the tinted windows at her own reflection. She was actually a pretty girl underneath the dirt, with huge light brown eyes and long eyelashes. Her lips were full and exotic, and were complemented by high cheekbones and small freckles.
How did she know I wasn’t a thief?
she thought to herself. She was just sitting in front of the station trying to figure out her next move when Abie blew her way. She hoped Abie would keep her word about the twenty dollars because she hadn’t eaten in almost two days. As
promised, Abie quickly returned with a tall, light-skinned brother sporting shoulder-length cornrows, baggy jean shorts, and a white T.

“See, this is the shit I’m talkin’ ’bout. How you gon go all the way to New York and lose your goddamn cell phone? That’s just stupid, Scoot.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a fucking kid, yo. I told you I was in the middle of a situation I had to get out of real quick. The phone was prepaid anyway, so why you trippin’?”

“Why am I trippin’? I’m trippin’ because this bus was two hours late and I had clients. I’ve been calling you for two hours to see where you were when I could’ve been making money.”

“Abie, man, just get in the truck, damn! You be on some bullshit sometimes. How much you lose today? I’ll double that shit. It ain’t that fuckin’ serious. You bringing too much attention to me and shit.” Abie stopped in her tracks and turned to face Scoot.

“Bringing too much attention to you? Oh, now I’m a fucking distraction?”

Scoot sighed heavily before opening the cargo door and placing a duffel bag inside. He reached the driver’s-side door, where Rachida was standing, unsure if she should ask for the twenty dollars or not.

“Get the fuck from my truck, you crackhead bitch,” Scoot said.

“Don’t talk to her like that. I told her to watch the truck so I could go inside to find your ass.”

“How you gon get a crackhead to watch my shit? Is you crazy?” Scoot asked, pushing Rachida out of the way so he could get in.

“Shut the fuck up, Scoot, and just get in the car.” Rachida headed back to her spot on the curb to take a seat beside her garbage bag.
So much for the twenty dollars
, she thought to herself.

“Hey, wait! I got your twenty!” Abie yelled. Rachida breathed a
sigh of relief as Abie dug her neatly manicured fingers into her tight pocket, fishing out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Here you go. What you doing on the curb anyway?” Abie said.

“Thanks. Got nowhere else to go. Trying to come up with a plan, I guess.”

Abie stood back and studied Rachida for a moment. Abie knew that with a bath, the right clothes, and makeup, Rachida would be perfect for the business.

“You need a job?” Abie asked, putting her fingers in Rachida’s hair. “This yo’ real hair?”

“Yes, I need a job, but why you all up in my hair?” Rachida asked, jerking her head away.

“Look, how long you gon be out here?” Abie asked.

“Until whenever.”

“You not on drugs, are you?” Abie asked, pulling at Rachida’s arms, inspecting them for track marks.

“Hell, no, I ain’t on drugs.”

“You sure? You don’t snort or no shit like that?”

“No, I ain’t on no drugs.”

“Okay, I think you’ll work out. My Uncle Brick will be over here in about twenty minutes. He’ll be driving a black Mercedes S550. I have to go with this nigga right now to get straight but Uncle Brick will take you to my house. We’ll talk then, okay?”

“Okay, I guess, but what kind of job?”

“Don’t worry about all that. I’ll fill you in later. Just go to the house, get a bath and some food, make yourself at home, and I’ll be there in an hour. Oh, I’m Abie, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Rachida.”

“Aight, Rachida. Trust me. I got you.” Abie hopped in the Escalade and Scoot sped away, leaving Rachida in the dust. She held the twenty up in the air, looking through it, making sure it was real. She was going to buy herself a hot dog and Big Gulp from the
7-Eleven about half a mile away. She squinted, almost angry that the sun had to be so hot. She eased inside the lobby of the station with her garbage bag of belongings in tow. She’d been warned earlier by the clerk that loitering was not allowed, so she did her best to blend in with a family heading inside. The musty, moldy smell reminded her of the homeless shelter she’d slept in countless nights before leaving North Carolina. The ladies’ restroom smelled even worse. She turned on the water and washed her face, using a damp paper towel to clean her breasts, under her arms, and around her neck to cool off. The image in the mirror looked unfamiliar to her. Once a star cheerleader in high school, Rachida was now a runaway who had escaped rape and brutal beatings by her mother’s alcoholic boyfriend. Since her mother didn’t believe her, she’d taken matters into her own hands and stolen her mother’s gold earrings, pawning them and buying a one-way ticket to Virginia. Why Virginia? She really didn’t know. It just happened to be the next state away, plus the earring money wouldn’t take her very far. Once in Virginia, she was hoping to find a job and a place of her own and eventually go back to school.

Leaving the restroom and hurrying through the lobby, Rachida stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the shiny Mercedes Benz that was parked in front. A man who looked like an NFL linebacker exited the car and walked toward Rachida.

“You Rachida?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Uncle Brick. Abie sent me for you. You ready?” Rachida looked up at this six-foot-four-inch giant with gentle eyes, a bald head, and a full beard. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, and was dressed in a Polo shirt and plaid shorts.

“Wait. She didn’t tell me anything about the job. Do you know what it is?” Rachida asked. Uncle Brick smiled.

“Abie does this all the time. Always trying to rescue stray puppies.”

“You calling me a dog?” Rachida yelled.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, Abie can explain everything to you when she gets home. In the meantime, you can come back to the house, get something to eat, a hot shower, and clean clothes. You can get off the street. If the job isn’t for you, you’re free to go on your way. Abie has a soft spot for homeless girls, and she invites them to the house all the time. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Rachida crossed her arms, upset at being referred to as homeless and a stray puppy, although in actuality, that’s what she was.

“That all sounds good, but I don’t know you and I don’t know Abie.”

Uncle Brick studied Rachida for a moment before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” Rachida yelled, just as Uncle Brick had thought she would. “You sure you’re not some crazy killer or something?” she asked.

“Rachida, I understand your hesitation. But I have no reason to hurt you. My job is to protect Abie and the other girls.”

He saw the look of concern on Rachida’s face. He took out his cell phone and handed it to her.

“Here. You take this and keep it until we get to the house. If anything happens, you can dial 911. How’s that?” Rachida grabbed the phone from Uncle Brick’s huge hand and smiled at him. The sun was getting hotter by the second, and she could definitely use a shower, fresh clothes, and food. She held the phone tightly and followed her instinct to go with Uncle Brick. Abie had been nice to Rachida, so Rachida didn’t think Abie would go through the trouble of sending someone to hurt her. After staring at the phone and making a mental note of where the talk button was, she agreed to go with Uncle Brick. He took the garbage bag from her other hand and put it in the trunk of his car.

Ne-Yo’s melodic voice filled the car on the long drive to Abie’s
house. Rachida took in the sights of the unfamiliar city and watched as the scenery began to change from the city to small dirt roads, farmhouses, and an abundance of maple trees. Her eyes grew wide as they pulled up in front of the estate. Seeing the other women on the lawn and front porch put her nerves at ease.

Abie and Rachida hit it off immediately. The pain from the abuse they’d both suffered in their former lives seemed to seal their bond. It was easy for them to talk to each other, and the fact that they shared a room brought them closer. When Abie felt that Rachida was comfortable taking on work, Abie helped her with the transition into the business. That’s how Abie was—she took all the new girls under her wing and taught them the ropes, especially since the madam relied on Abie to bring new women into the business. But the relationship between Abie and Rachida was different. They became best friends. That was three years ago. Now Abie was dead and Rachida was left to pick up the pieces.

Almost three years to the day that Abie had come into Rachida’s life, she left it. Even at two-thirty in the morning, the summer heat stifled the Richmond air.

“Ma’am, we really need you to help us out here. If you don’t tell us what happened, we can’t get justice for your friend in there.” Rachida wiped the tears from her face. She was standing on the balcony of the Red Roof Inn, and the flashing blue lights from the police cars were making her nauseous.
What the hell was Abie doing at the Red Roof Inn anyway?
Rachida thought.

“Her name is Abie Thornton. She’s my sister,” Rachida lied. She knew the officer would want to know her relation to Abie, and she couldn’t tell him they were prostitutes. Just like Rachida, Abie was a runaway with no known family members, at least none that Rachida knew of. The officer flipped through a small notepad and scribbled some notes. Rachida watched as several other cops tried to control the crowd that was forming. They placed yellow
tape around the perimeter of the crime scene to keep it from getting contaminated.

“What was Abie doing here?” the pudgy officer asked Rachida.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

The crime-scene investigators arrived and pushed their way past Rachida and the cop. The door opened and Rachida caught another glimpse of Abie’s naked lifeless body lying near the door. Before she knew it, Rachida had purged herself of the waffle and eggs she’d just eaten an hour earlier. Her body trembled as her tears flowed.

“Why would somebody do this? Why?” Rachida cried. The officer put one arm around her shoulder to keep her weak legs from giving out beneath her. After making her way down the steps, she tugged at her skintight minidress to keep it from rising. The officer led her to a cluster of police cars. The scene was chaotic, with hotel guests standing outside their rooms trying to figure out what had happened. The people behind the police tape pointed and stared at Rachida, whispering about her, wondering who was dead and whether she’d had anything to do with it.

“Come on, have a seat in here for a minute,” the officer said, opening the rear door of his car. Rachida sat in the back, looking around. She’d never been in a cop car before and it felt strange to her. She tried her best not to look at any of the people in the crowd. Instead, she focused on what was happening upstairs in front of room 308. The door was propped open while CSIs snapped pictures of Abie’s body.

The pudgy policeman talked with another cop, giving Rachida time to make a phone call. She dialed several numbers on her cell phone before finally reaching someone.

“Uncle Brick. It’s ’Chida. I need you to come get me. Abie’s dead! She’s dead, Uncle Brick! Somebody killed her!”

“What! What do you mean? Abie? No! No! No! Where are you?” Uncle Brick asked.

“The Red Roof Inn on Laburnum, right across from the Waffle House.”

“What happened? Have you called the madam yet?”

“I tried but she didn’t answer. I tried Scoot too but it went straight to voice mail.”

“What about the police?”

“The police are here. I’m sitting in a cop car now.”

“Stay there, ’Chida. Don’t let them take you to the station. I’m on my way.”