I stood at the window of my penthouse, looking out at the busy congested street three stories below me. At that moment, I would have given anything to have any one of their lives. I hated mine.
I looked around my gilded cage and blew out a frustrated breath. If my mother was alive to see this place she would be so proud. To my late mother, nothing was more important than money and wealth. She was a prostitute all her life so it was understandable to me why she felt that way. She never amassed what I did. Every trick she ever turned in her whole life couldn't amount to what I had sitting in my bank account right now.
There was a time when I turned seventeen and she tried to turn me into a dried up replica of her. She threatened me with death if I didn't open my legs up and help pay our rent. I was beyond livid with her. I ran away and lived on the streets for a year before I had had enough of hiding from dirty old and young perverts and starving. She welcomed me home with hugs and kisses as if she was the most loving mother on earth. I had picked up enough street smarts to know bullshit when I heard it so her act was nothing more than an act. I let it slide because I was hungry but I kept my eye on her. I wasn't stupid.
However, to my surprise, things were normal and quiet. I even went to night classes and received my GED. I even half forgave my momma and we became friends. My trust was in her was slowly being rebuilt.
One day, my mother came to me and said, "Layla, I think it's time for you to learn about the birds and bees. It's time for you to become a woman."
I was immediately up on my feet. I couldn't believe that I let myself relax. I couldn't believe that she was ready to shoot down any faith that I had in her. My heart turned to stone and I narrowed my eyes at her. If I had to, I would beat her ass like she was a random bitch in the streets.
"Oh come on, Layla. No one is going to touch you...unless you want them too." She giggled and I heard a knock on the door.
A tall man came in through the door wearing dark shades and a baseball cap. He wore a basketball jersey, baggy jeans, and pure white brand new looking tennis shoes. His cologne filled the air and he smiled at me.
"This is T, Layla...a good friend of mine." No sooner than she introduced T, another knock sounded at the door. I was getting very nervous.
"Come in, come in!" She ushered two more people into our tiny living roomβanother man and a woman. I had seen both around the neighborhood. The older woman waved at me and smiled. The man with her nodded and kept his eyes on me; raking me from head to toe with his leering looks.
I was disgusted and I turned away.
"Don't worry, ya'll. She's just a little stiff and scared of her own shadow. Don't pay her no mind."
I was pissed off. How dare she tell them that? I was no punk bitch and she knew it. I was about to tell her so when I heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking. I looked up to find the barrel of a forty-five staring right back at me. I swallowed the bile that slowly made its way up from my stomach to my mouth.