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Black Street Novel-- How Ruby Got There

Black Street Novel-- How Ruby Got There

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This novella is the story of black street prostitute Ruby, her life & times set in the early 1970's in Oakland, California. Her street adventures, pain & victories. It is a true to life tale seen thru the author's own eyes. Ruby's life is contrasted by her contemporary Betty's life, a Do-Rite sistah.
This novella is the story of black street prostitute Ruby, her life & times set in the early 1970's in Oakland, California. Her street adventures, pain & victories. It is a true to life tale seen thru the author's own eyes. Ruby's life is contrasted by her contemporary Betty's life, a Do-Rite sistah.

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Published by: Red Jordan Arobateau on Jun 11, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Black Street Novel-- How Ruby Got ThereAll material copyrighted by Red Jordan Arobateau. 2007.Excerpts from his Black Street Novella, How Ruby Got There, found in hiscollection Stories From The Dance Of Life Vol. 3. Copyright 1977. This book inits entirety may be found on Lulu.com, Amazon.com. & in Kindle Electronic Books.How Ruby Got There People always talking about the whore problem. Or tricks talking about howthey doing to do this & that and blop de blip with a ‘ho.But never think about the fact that a ‘ho is a woman too. A person who hasfeelings, chances, aspirations, dreams. --The only difference between her & asquare woman is that she sharing her body with many others. Trading each orificein order to get money, just as a worker gives up the muscles of their arms or thebraincells in their skull on a job. Both work up a sweat. I do not encourageprostitution. I support my sisters not to become whores, but I love you whoeveryou are, despite this obstacle. ‘Hoin’ is an economic sickness of a nation aswell as a decayed moral value of the tricks, johns, vice cops, pimps, madams,misdemeanor court judges-- and hos! The two are hand in hand Ugly Twins, wearingthe same tired dress.--- Siamese twins. In fact they are Quadruplets. SiameseQuadruplets. Do not try to separate them. They cannot be pulled apart. Each isinterdependent upon the other.-- But only one catches the blame! It cannot besaid that ‘Aw, Ruby she wuz just no good from the day she dropped out the wound;she grew up and become a ‘ho.” Or shrug her off as having a basic corrupt naturebecause it just isn’t true anymore for her then for any of us. Her honger bothfor material goods, for physical contact and out of emotional dependency; and herlack of access to a well-paying legitimate job was strong motives in putting herout in the street corner. Although she is partially to blame for her owndownfall. The decaying moral value actually was AmeriKKKa which does not feedit’s poorest children, while continuing to tantalize them with images of THE GOODLIFE on TV; and, Ruby, poor Ruby, swallowed the lie of material goods like agullible fish, hook, line, and sinker. Tonight she was out there amid the red &green party lights. San Francisco’s whore stroll beneath blinking bar ads. At 15she had sold herself into prostitution to get a more delicious food to eat thensimple grits with no butter, and some nice clothes--store bought fancy-- and notused shit from the free box inside the charity church, or somebody else’s tiredrags from the Second Hand Thrift. And to get out from under her Bossy Momma andBerating Father. It was either this or get pregnant and get on welfare. Ruby hadthus chose to be self supporting.-- A ‘Sporten’ Lady.’ It was either of thesechoices--or, to remain at home enduring her parents, while diligently studying herschoolbooks, apply herself to a job, and slowly climb up rungs of the legitimatesocial order-- like Betty, a girl of similar status did. The idea of attempting toenter the labor market as a legal worker did not cross her mind. She had no jobskills anyway and could barely read. There are low economic jobs for suchpeople-- but Ruby had a lazy streak as well, sadly, which you will see.Tonight Ruby stood in a cluster of girls. Beside her, Valerie, a young whitewoman of 17 surveyed the streets with a cold stare. Purple eyeshadow under hereye lids. Squad cars of the police lurked in the shadows. On Turk street was nocrime, but mostly cars speeding & ‘hos. Ruby chomped gum. Wore a 3/4 lengthleather coat and a purse slung over her shoulder. CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP. She spoke
to another hooker, a black girl her own age; “Shit, ain’t nothin’ out tonight-- ‘ntomorrow’s a holiday.”“‘Dey all out of town for the weekend.” The other hooker replied.Mentally Ruby reached into the bottom of her purse--no money was there tofind. Her feet were sore from standing, but she was patient. This was theopportunity of her lifetime. At least Jones--her pimp-- had so promised. Redtraffic lights blinked on & flooded them in a pool of pink.“They ought to put up a detour sign on Geary Boulevard and steer the suckersdown here.” The white girl said, using her imagination. It was the smartestthing she’d said allnight.Disgusted, Ruby jerked her head towards a theater marquee indicating it’syellow bulb advertisement for a pornographic movie HOT WHORE! Which depicted onscreen a prostitute nymphomaniac who gave pussy away free. Ruby grumbled; “Theyalways showin’ a ‘ho’s ass free fuckin’ as if we didn’t have nothin’ betta’ todo.” What followed was the most intelligent statement she’d made all week: “Weought to git us a ‘ho union.” Too bad these girls never followed thru with thatflash of an idea.“I think I been hoo-dooed.” Lamented another black sister. “I ain’t made‘nare a dime and Ah been standen’ on Turk street fo fo’ hours.”When Ruby sauntered in at dawn this following morning, there was Jonessitting back on the bed looking at her from under his wide brimmed suede hat; asnarl on his face. He’d let himself into the tiny motel room with his key, tho hedidn’t live there. The room was 10 by 20 feet. A bathroom adjoining. Radiatorsizzed against the wall. The double bed had housed only one occupant for the last8 months-- Ruby. This was her hideaway.Sir Marshall Jones glowered at her, a lean brown man in a pink satin suitand boots with 5 inch thick soles.“YO’ DID A GOOD JOB OF DRANKIN’ WHISKEY DOWN ON THE STROLL BITCH!”“Ohhh Marshall, dem girls lies! Dem girls lies ‘bout me! I wasn’t offlollagagin’ I been worken’ steady all nite!”“HOW MUCH DID YO’ BRANG ME!”“$120.”“$120! Huh.”Sir Marshall growled, rising up quickly off the bed, with the uncoiling jerkof a taunt spring. One lean brown hand extended, snatched the moist roll ofgreenbacks Ruby was producing from under her ebony armpit--where she’d kept it hidfor the journey home.‘So, he know everythang’ Ah done las’ night!-- Damn! Right down to thatcap of Coke!’ Like all pimps Marshall had his drug-paid spies checking up on hiswomen since he couldn’t be there in person.As he counted the greenbacks the black girl stood by the closet kicking her
shoes off. She was so tired. Her gaze rested in her man’s crotch, that bulge inthe pink fabric--his dick-- quite apparent. Marshall was hung like a horse. Howshe longed to rest her head there in it’s soft, meaty nest, while he massaged herscalp, her feet, then his big hands drifting to her big ebony titties feeling themand squeezing, as he casually unbuttoned her blouse, where they were stuffed intoher brassiere and slowly bent to put his full lips upon her nipples and suck,feeling the tickle of his mustache, and drift into a Cocaine high--surely he’dgive her some from that drug dealing he did on the side-- treating her ears tothe sounds of hit songs on her music box, while feeling his big dick harden in hiscrotch, ready to use her pussy, to please himself, in due time.But her man had no time to lay his pretty self down on the satin sheets. Hewas finer then they were! And had important stuff to do!Sir Marshall was appeased as he thumbed thru the roll. Carefully separatingout the Twenties, ten’s, five’s, placing them in descending order, putting themright side up all faced the same direction then stuffing them into his alreadyoverstuffed optimistically oversized wallet.He did a good job of brainwashing her.“Yo’ so stupid! STUPID! If it wasn’t fo’ me you’d be NOTHIN’! If itwasn’t fo’ me and my people checking up on yo’ you been done drank it up andsnorted up the few fonky dollars you got!” He glared evily.He began to cue her in.“YO’ SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT ME $220 ‘STEAD OF JUS’ A BILL TWENTY!YO’ BE HAPPY TO TURN ONE FONKY TRICK FO’ TWENTY, LET THE HARD JONESEN’ JOHNTALK YOU DOWN FROM FIFTY WHICH YO’ SHOULD BE GETTEN’, DEN’ GO BLASÉ UP THATTWENTY DOWN TO $2 FONKY DOLLAS AND SIT ON YO’ FAT ASS ALLNIGHT IN DOWN TO PEEWEES!YO’ SHOULD BE HAPPY I’S YO’ MAN! I’S MAKEN’ YO’ WORK BITCH! WORK FO’ BOTHOF US!-- YO’ LAZY TIRED BITCH, YO’ JEST’ LIK’ YO’ MAMMY! HAPPY WIF’ WELFARE CHUMPCHANGE! WANT TURN A $20 DATE ‘DEN LAY UP BLASÉIN’ OFF IN THE COFFEE SHOP DE WHOLEREST OF DE NIGHT!”When Ruby left her first man, she crossed over the bridge and went to workin Oakland, for another pimp.At that time, the early 1970’s, all the dregs-- the hypes, the dawgs, theuglies worked lower San Pablo Avenue. The Stars worked MacArthur Blvd. And thebest Hollywood Stars worked MacArthur and Broadway. Her near-sighted pimp madethe first mistake. He put Ruby out down on the gutter, when she had StarQuality.--The brains and style to make it with the Stars.She figured it was ‘cause she was dark in color and had nappy hair under herwig. But in reality it was because she was underage. And he knew she was wildenough to cause too much of a commotion up on the nicer blocks.The young lady was discontent. She went in the S.O.C.I.A.L. C.L.U.B. fora smoke and coffee. Jittering music rocked to the rafters of the rickety racketyshack. A lower-class dive owned by poor folks eking out their livelihood frompennies & nickels pushed across the counter by brown & black fingers for sodas,

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