thigh.
Jada sat zoned out for a while, somewhere far away in her mind again. He watched her come down slowly, unaware, it seemed, of how perfect her body was. He gave her space until she was composed enough to go home. She never mentioned what had occurred. She simply washed herself off and fixed her clothes, and Charlie sent her on her way, knowing that she had what it took. She was young, and pretty, and had some tight pussy and a crack habit. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he turned her out.
6
STORMY WEATHER
Jada finally knew she was a crackhead, even though she hated the thought of it. She had always been the street-smart one—the tougher one of Edna’s daughters. Now she was someone weak enough to submit to an addiction. She was disappointed in herself and felt guilty for all that she had done. But that guilt didn’t outweigh the hunger she had to get high. Charlie was having sex with her on a regular basis, giving her drugs each time she came to see him. He dominated her, and seemed to enjoy making her feel good. She no longer had to go upstairs to cop. She got all that she needed right from Mr. Charlie’s wrinkled hands. She was his sex toy, doing whatever he wanted. Part of her felt comforted by her relationship with him. He was a father figure, and she was even turned on by the thought of calling him Mr. Charlie while she fucked him.
In between her highs, Charlie taught her things. Mostly about sex. He made her feel beautiful—too beautiful for the young gangsta wannabes she hung around. She began to recognize game, because Charlie taught her what he knew. Those conversations felt privileged to Jada. Like Charlie was letting her in on the ground floor of Hustlers, Inc. She learned how to get what she wanted from men of any age. Mr. Charlie taught her what to say, how to dress. He was schooling her, telling her how to hold her liquor when she drank, how to roll a dutch properly. He told her that he was going to make her the baddest bitch ever. He would show her how to be every man’s fantasy. Soon nothing a nigga saidsounded as good as it used to. Jada recognized their game, and she shot them down left and right. Only Charlie was getting it at that point. He seemed genuinely interested in her. She thought he was the only one who understood her.
Charlie introduced her to the art of oral sex, to all kinds of different positions. He showed her how to work her hips when she rode him. Jada felt like he was teaching her how to be his woman, grooming her to keep him happy. She would have done just about anything to keep old Charlie happy, because old Charlie was keeping her high. And she liked it like that.
He was also showing Jada how to survive in the mean streets. He taught her how to navigate all kinds of situations, and how to protect herself. He gave her a knife and showed her how to stash a razor without being detected. He taught her how to get what she wanted out of the men she came in contact with. Jada felt like a grown-up in his presence, and Mr. Charlie fed into that. When he spoke, she listened, and he knew she was like putty in his hands.
With her eighteenth birthday drawing near, Mr. Charlie was carrying on a physical relationship with both Jada and her mother. In her mind, usually in the midst of her drug-induced fog, Jada felt that she was getting back at her mother somehow. She convinced herself that what she was doing with Mr. Charlie was payback for her mother letting her and Ava down. It was revenge for the fact that Edna had failed her daughters when they needed her most. It was her way of rationalizing what she knew was wrong, so that she could continue to be selfish.
He continued to visit her mother periodically, bringing her money, giving her attention. But Edna was blind to the winks Charlie would toss Jada’s way, to the way he would touch Jada’s ass when her mother’s back was turned. Their secret was theirs alone. Until the day it came crashing down.
It was a Sunday
Jada sat zoned out for a while, somewhere far away in her mind again. He watched her come down slowly, unaware, it seemed, of how perfect her body was. He gave her space until she was composed enough to go home. She never mentioned what had occurred. She simply washed herself off and fixed her clothes, and Charlie sent her on her way, knowing that she had what it took. She was young, and pretty, and had some tight pussy and a crack habit. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he turned her out.
6
STORMY WEATHER
Jada finally knew she was a crackhead, even though she hated the thought of it. She had always been the street-smart one—the tougher one of Edna’s daughters. Now she was someone weak enough to submit to an addiction. She was disappointed in herself and felt guilty for all that she had done. But that guilt didn’t outweigh the hunger she had to get high. Charlie was having sex with her on a regular basis, giving her drugs each time she came to see him. He dominated her, and seemed to enjoy making her feel good. She no longer had to go upstairs to cop. She got all that she needed right from Mr. Charlie’s wrinkled hands. She was his sex toy, doing whatever he wanted. Part of her felt comforted by her relationship with him. He was a father figure, and she was even turned on by the thought of calling him Mr. Charlie while she fucked him.
In between her highs, Charlie taught her things. Mostly about sex. He made her feel beautiful—too beautiful for the young gangsta wannabes she hung around. She began to recognize game, because Charlie taught her what he knew. Those conversations felt privileged to Jada. Like Charlie was letting her in on the ground floor of Hustlers, Inc. She learned how to get what she wanted from men of any age. Mr. Charlie taught her what to say, how to dress. He was schooling her, telling her how to hold her liquor when she drank, how to roll a dutch properly. He told her that he was going to make her the baddest bitch ever. He would show her how to be every man’s fantasy. Soon nothing a nigga saidsounded as good as it used to. Jada recognized their game, and she shot them down left and right. Only Charlie was getting it at that point. He seemed genuinely interested in her. She thought he was the only one who understood her.
Charlie introduced her to the art of oral sex, to all kinds of different positions. He showed her how to work her hips when she rode him. Jada felt like he was teaching her how to be his woman, grooming her to keep him happy. She would have done just about anything to keep old Charlie happy, because old Charlie was keeping her high. And she liked it like that.
He was also showing Jada how to survive in the mean streets. He taught her how to navigate all kinds of situations, and how to protect herself. He gave her a knife and showed her how to stash a razor without being detected. He taught her how to get what she wanted out of the men she came in contact with. Jada felt like a grown-up in his presence, and Mr. Charlie fed into that. When he spoke, she listened, and he knew she was like putty in his hands.
With her eighteenth birthday drawing near, Mr. Charlie was carrying on a physical relationship with both Jada and her mother. In her mind, usually in the midst of her drug-induced fog, Jada felt that she was getting back at her mother somehow. She convinced herself that what she was doing with Mr. Charlie was payback for her mother letting her and Ava down. It was revenge for the fact that Edna had failed her daughters when they needed her most. It was her way of rationalizing what she knew was wrong, so that she could continue to be selfish.
He continued to visit her mother periodically, bringing her money, giving her attention. But Edna was blind to the winks Charlie would toss Jada’s way, to the way he would touch Jada’s ass when her mother’s back was turned. Their secret was theirs alone. Until the day it came crashing down.
It was a Sunday
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