Trinity went back to the house immediately. She could barely contain her anger with Maggie and her excitement at being the one to deliver the news to Armando and Rock. She burst through the front door and, with intended drama, swaggered into the room where the men sat. Hearing her loud footsteps approaching, the men stopped talking. They looked over when Trinity stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips tightly together, revealing her annoyance.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Armando asked, irritated by the interruption.
“Your bitch, Maggie, she’s playin’ all of us. A john I was wit’ tonight told me that he wanted regular sex, and she told him she only gives hand jobs. Ain’t no wonder why the ho is meetin’ her quota and stealing customers from the rest of us,” she fumed.
Armando watched Trinity closely, trying to gauge if this was a jealous rage or if she was speaking the truth. With that in mind, he tested her. “Well, I’ll look into the matter. But I best not find out that you’re lying to make yourself look good,” he hedged.
“I ain’t no mother fuckin’ liar. I’m telling ya what the man told me. I think Maggie’s the one who’s lyin’ to ya. She thinks she’s better than all of us, including you and Rock. I suggest you go find out for yourself,” she stated.
It was unacceptable for the girls to talk to the men in the house that way. Armando realized Trinity’s outburst could only be fueled by truth. Still, he had to make sure Trinity didn’t overstep her bounds. He stood, walked over to doorway, and grabbed a handful of her hair. “Don’t you worry. I’ll check it out. Let me be clear with you, though. Don’t ya ever talk to me that way again.” Then he shoved the side of her head into the doorjamb.
Once Trinity came to her senses, she left the house and went back out to the street. She began to gossip to the other prostitutes about Maggie. “Yeah, I told Armando exactly what that nasty slut is doin’. She’s gonna be sorry…thinks she’s better than the rest of us…thinks she pretty, too. Fuck that ho bag!”
The other hookers weren’t any more inclined to feel sympathy for Maggie. She was a stunningly beautiful young girl, and they’d all smoldered with jealously watching the johns swarm to her like flies on shit. They hated her for that because it meant they all had to work harder to make their nightly quotas.
A few hours later, Rock stopped at the house to check with his men. Armando repeated the story Trinity had told him. “You get one of our guys she doesn’t know out there to see what she’s really doing. Get back to me, ’cause I wanna know right away,” Rock instructed, boiling with rage at the possibility that Maggie was duping him.
A few hours later, a man approached Maggie on the street. “Hey, honey, you need a date?” Maggie asked enticingly.
“Yeah, how much for regular?” he asked, avoiding all niceties.
“I only do hand jobs. Fifteen bucks,” she stated and batted her long eyelashes at him.
“Only do hand jobs? What kinda whore are you?” he pressed.
“Look, baby, that’s what I do, OK? My man, he wants me to keep it simple,” she replied.
“Well, your man is damn fool then. Just forget it. I ain’t interested in no hand job,” he told her and drove off.
Later that night, it began to snow heavily, and the wind whipped through the streets. Little white clouds shot out of Maggie’s nose and mouth every time she exhaled into the bitterly cold air. There were practically no cars on the streets, and the foot traffic had nearly come to a halt. Just after two in the morning, with several inches of snow on the ground, Maggie climbed the broken-down steps of the row house that she secretly called the house of whores, slipping and sliding in boots with five-inch heels.
Once inside, the heat of the house hit her ice-cold bare legs and ass, which made her feel as if there were bugs crawling under the surface of her skin. She leaned over and scratched her legs, causing red blotches to appear. Quickly, she went over to the corner where she kept her clothes and put on an oversized hooded sweatshirt she had found in the trash on Kensington Avenue. It hung just below her thighs. Then she pulled on two mismatched socks and a pair of canvas sneakers. Pulling the thin cotton blanket over herself, she settled in to sleep. She was dreaming when the men lifted her from the mattress and stood her upright. Her eyes bolted open, and the first person she saw was Armando.
To her right, Rock leaned on the banister of the stairs. Armando stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Word on the street is that you’re only givin’ hand jobs. Is that true?” he asked.
“No! I don’t know who told you that, but it’s a lie. I swear,” Maggie choked out, as she began to tremble.
“Oh, OK. So then my man, Jeremy, over here,” Armando said, looking to his left as a man stepped into the room, “he’s lyin’ to me. That’s what you’re tellin’ me, right?” he asked in a belittling tone.
Maggie looked at the man. She recognized him. He was the one she had told that same night that she only gave hand jobs. Fuck, shit, balls, Maggie thought. I’m busted.
She looked to Rock, who had been so nice to her, but he just held a steady gaze, showing no sign of pity. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she struggled to put together a cohesive sentence as panic gripped her. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed through uncontrollable sobs.
“Nah, you ain’t really sorry,” Armando told her. “But you gonna be.”
Armando pushed her back down on the mattress. By now, all of the other prostitutes were huddled on the other mattresses, watching with anticipation. Trinity had a smile plastered across her face, waiting for Maggie to get what she deserved.
Armando towered over Maggie, looking like Blunderbore, the giant in “Jack and the Beanstalk.” She thought he might trample her to death. She didn’t know what he was going to do and wished one of the other girls would say or do something to help her. Instead, they sat by, entertained by the drama.
Armando finally spoke. “Jeremy, here. He works for Rock. We heard what you were doing and thought we’d check it out ourselves.”
Maggie looked over at Trinity, who sat perched on a mattress victoriously. Then she turned back to Armando. “It was a mistake, Armando. I’m still new at this,” she wailed, trying to play on sympathy that he didn’t have for her.
Armando turned to Jeremy. “Go ahead, my brother. Take what’s yours.”
Jeremy dropped his jeans and was on top of Maggie in seconds. The other girls watched as she fought and flailed her arms and legs, trying to push Jeremy off. Then she felt the blade that Jeremy laid against her throat. “You best stop fightin’ and make me feel wanted, or I’ll slice you up like a watermelon,” he threatened.
Maggie believed he would do just that, so she stopped fighting and pretended to participate. When he was finished, he climbed off of her and left the house. She quickly sat up on the mattress, traumatized and embarrassed that Jeremy had just taken advantage of her in front of so many people, especially the other prostitutes.
Rock approached her on the mattress. “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he chanted. “We can’t tolerate liars in our little family. It costs a lot of money to keep you warm and dry, living in this house. Nobody takes advantage of my generosity. Ya see, that’s what you did. Ya took advantage of me,” he continued, bending down to rub her cheek gently.
At his soft touch, Maggie began to beg. “Please, Rock. I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. I swear.”
Rock smiled into her terrorized face. “No, baby. I’m certain it won’t happen again. Ya know, I haven’t mentioned recently how happy Seth is. I mean, Thelma can be a little overbearing at times, but all in all, I think he’s adjusted to his new momma pretty well. When he does act up, Thelma puts him in line. Now, if you were to do anything like this again or try to run, well then, that would really piss off me and Thelma, and we’d probably have to kill Seth just to get even with ya.”
Just hearing Seth’s name was comforting to Maggie. He was still alive; at least that was something. “I swear I won’t do anything to piss you off again,” she promised.
“No, I’m sure you won’t,” Rock said gently. “I have to go home. Armando’s gonna deal with all of this now. So, just remember what I told you—that is, if you don’t want to put Seth in harm’s way.”
As soon as Rock left the house, Armando commanded her to stand up. Still dressed in the clothes she had changed into, he told her follow him. They stood just inside the front door, and he slowly opened it.
The cold from outside rushed in on Maggie and Armando. They both stood watching the blizzard outside. The snow was heavy, and there was no visibility. Maggie couldn’t even see the houses across the street. “Quite a snowstorm we’re havin’ tonight. See, like Rock just said, it costs a lot of money to keep you. Now that we know you weren’t earnin’ your keep, you’re gonna have to stay outside tonight,” he told her.
Maggie seized the doorknob. “But it’s a blizzard out there. I’ll die in the snow.” She wept, gripped with fear.
“Yep, you just might. But I’m thinking you’re a pretty clever girl. I mean, you managed to fool us for a pretty long time. So, now you’ll have to figure this one out,” he stated and pushed her toward the open door.
Maggie hobbled, her steps tentative, wondering if she’d get an even worse punishment if she were to stay in the house of whores. As Armando pushed her over the threshold, she clung to him. Fed up, he shoved her. She plummeted hard onto the cold steps and slid down the icy cement on her stomach.
By the time she landed on the bottom step, she was covered in snow. She sat up slowly, her eyes darting up and down the street. Where would she go?
Then she looked up at Armando, still standing in the doorway, her eyes pleading for mercy. He watched her for a moment, as if he might let her back into the house. Then he turned and shut the door behind him. The sound of the deadbolt being thrown was all she could hear in the silence of the cold, wet night.