A Glimpse of ESMERALDA: A Harlem Creole Madam

He thought, “So this is what Sam was talkin bout. A country girl, prim and proper. I’ll try not to rattle her too much. Just want to have a little fun.”

Red walked in and said, “Now that’s what I’m talkin bout boy! Where did you find this piece of cheesecake?”

Samuel, somewhat embarrassed, said, “Pops, what are you doing here? Damn. Are you following me? Jean, this dude is my father, believe it or not. Pops, this is the girl I mentioned last month. Jean Jacobson.”

Jean thought, "Did he just call me cheesecake? And Samuel was discussing me with his parents?”

Jean was startled because she had not imagined Samuel to be from the streets. She had noticed an edginess about him but assumed most boys from Harlem had it. In fact, most of the boys from America’s urban cities walking the campus of Howard had it.

She was very polite, as a Carolina girl would be, and said, “Glad to meet you, sir.”

Red said, “No ‘sir’ here gerrol!  You would do well up in these here streets. Boy, move over and give ya pops some room. Now baby-girl, tell me about yourself. Where ya from?”

Jean whispered, “Man, these negros don’t waste any time!”

She said, “You know Sam, I didn’t expect to meet the family this soon. Maybe we should hookup later. I’ll be here for the entire weekend.”

Samuel, now upset with his father, said, “Pops, I cannot believe you’re pulling this old-ass routine. She’s obviously not from these streets and your rap ain’t gonna work.”

Red said, “Oh relax son. I ain’t gonna snatch from ya. It’s obvious she’s proper bred and acts far more your speed than mine. But little high-yella, if you ever get interested, let me know.” 

Jean, starting to feel dreadful, looked at Samuel, then stood, apologized, and looked for the exit.

She said, “Samuel, we can try this again another time. You’ve got my number at the hotel, and I’ve given you my number on campus so you can contact me next week. But I believe I’d better be going now. I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

Before Sam could speak his father said, “Little girl, relax. I was just funnin. You two carry on and I’ll catch up with you later.”

However, it was too late. Jean was no longer in the same mood that brought her uptown. As she attempted to walk to the exit, Red grabbed her by the arm.

She stopped for a moment, then said very slowly, “Don’t you ever put your fucking paws on me again. And who the fuck you callin ‘high-yellow', you white lookin nigga! I’ve heard of niggers like you. Only a low-life pimp would ruin his son’s day. I rarely even go out with light-skinned boys, you know ‘opposites attract’ kind of thing, but your son was so nice. Then you come along.”

Completely startled, Red said, “Bitch, don’t you piss and spit at me! I’ll knock the shit outta ya!”

Before Sam could intervene, Jean, now truly riled, leaned into the much taller man, their faces almost touching. As her words flowed, the pimp suddenly grew paler and paler.

She whispered softly but slowly into his ear, “Mo-ther fuc-ker! I AIN’T one of your hoes. You don’t know who you fuckin with, do you? My people are from these here streets. Years ago. Probably before you were even born. My great-granny, even though she’s old as fuck, would kill your dumb-ass with-out even stepping into the city. All I’ve got to do is give her a call. My mother, hea-ven-for-bid, would be on the next plane flying to get here and fuck-you-up! In seven years, your dick would just dis-a-pear! Why? Because you fuckin with one of ‘Esmeralda’s kids’ now fool!”