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The other four returned to huddle near me and gawked at me like I was a zoo display. They said nothing, just blew clouds of smoke in my face. I was willing to bet none of these girls were older than sixteen, yet each one looked about forty.
“Who’s Cleo?” I broke the silence and hoped it didn’t make me sound like a cop. I had crossed my arms over my chest and was pretending to be cold.
The two skinny Latinas looked at each other and said nothing, but each wore a grim expression. The white girl shuffled uneasily. The chatty black girl was my in, that much was clear. I stared at her, and she folded faster than a lawn chair.
“She used to be wit us, ya know?” the black girl said. One of the Latinas snarled when the girl started to speak, but it did nothing to stop the newly opened fount of knowledge. “It was like you said, yeah? She was here, she got picked up, but she did come back. Only she wasn’t right. ”
“Wasn’t right how?”
“Veda. You shut your fucking mouth. ”
Veda ignored her. “What it matter now, Misty, huh? Cleo dead, ain’t she? What da fuck it matter now?”
I needed to be clear on what Veda had said. “She’s dead?”
“Yeah, fuck man. Yeah. ”
“But she was alive when she came back to you guys?” I asked.
“She got dropped off in this like, limo. She got out and she was like, staggering, ya know? Like she was drunk?” Veda pantomimed the weaving and bobbing of a woman under the influence, then abruptly stopped and pretended to smoke again. “Cleo ain’t no dummy. She knows you don’t drink when you wit a john. Dat shit get you killed. ” Veda shook her head, heaving a solemn sigh as she pointed her cigarette at me for emphasis. This was the knowledge of world-weary teenaged prostitutes.
“But she was alive?”
“Fuck, girl, you deaf?” Misty said, but she didn’t seem hell-bent on putting an end to my questions anymore, so I would take what I could get.
“It was weird, yeah?” Veda continued, looking from me to the other girls, who each nodded seriously. “Like, she was babbling some shit in a weird language. Like you see on dem Jesus shows where the guy touches their heads and shit?” Veda mimicked this by acting out a faith healing on the skinny white girl. The girl giggled when Veda touched her forehead and dramatically announced, “You be healed, bitch!”
“She was speaking in tongues?”
“What da fuck else she gonna speak with?” Veda rolled her eyes. I saw no reason to explain, so I let her go on.
“Anyway. ” Veda was enjoying being the center of attention even for such a small group. Her voice had begun to bubble with enthusiasm. I suppose being around Yolanda must have limited her opportunities to be noticed. “She went home after that an da next day Yolanda goes to check on her, right? ’Cause Raymond would be right fucking pissed if Cleo missed a night, ya know?”
I nodded as if I knew the full extent of their pimp’s wrath.
“And?”
“And Cleo was dead. ”
“Dead how?”
“Fuuuuuck, Blondie, you ask a lot of questions. ”
“I’ve been told that before. ”
“Yolanda said it looked like she’d been dead for days,” Misty interjected, looking for her own chance to be the group’s source of knowledge. “Said she was all pale and shit, and looked like she had no blood in her. ”
I felt the blood drain from my own face. I knew all too well where this was going. “Did you have her buried?”
“Do we look like we can afford to pay for a funeral?” This obvious point had been brought up by the previously silent white girl, who had recovered from her faith healing enough to resume smoking.
“Did someone bury her?” My heart was pounding.
Misty looked guilty, turning away from Veda, who appeared ill at ease upon hearing the question.
“No. ”
“No?”
