Free The Education of a Very Young Madam by Ma-Ling Lee

of one of his "girls," at least that's who he told me she was. Later I found out she was his wife. She instantly saw me as competition and wasn't very nice to me when she found out I'd be staying for a while. Andre told her to find me some clothes to wear, and she returned with the most hideous outfits, which made me look awful. Andre bought her a diamond ring to smooth things over, but it didn't really work. She hated having me there, and it showed. Pretty soon Andre came to get me and took me to a new place. It was a two-bedroom condo in a gated community outside of Boston. It was big and beautiful, and I felt safe there. It was our new home.
    Andre became my whole world after that. When I moved in with him, I realized I didn't know anything. I mean, really nothing. I'd been on my own, off and on, for a couple of years at that point, but still, I was pathetic. Andre took me in, but more important, he taught me how to live. He started with the basics, showing me how to make myself breakfast and, as long as I was at it, how to make some for him too. He showed me how to clean up after myself, how to take care of myself, and eventually, he showed me how to cook more complicated things than toast and cereal. Every man needs a strong woman behind him, and every player needs a wife. I fulfilled that role for him. I knew instinctively that he was going to mold me into the perfect girl, and I was the perfect age for him to do so.
    Andre knew how to do a lot of things. He was an all-around businessman. He ran a few girls, and he owned a few aboveboard businesses, like a barbershop in Boston, but the way he made most of his cash was by dealing drugs. He was real good with money, so after I had mastered the art of a clean kitchen, he started to teach me basic economics.
    The other thing that Andre taught me about was respect. I didn't have any at the time, but if I was going to survive, he told me I needed to learn how to get some. If it hadn't been for Andre showing me how, who knows where I'd be today.
    In the world we lived in, there were really only two ways to gain respect. The first was money: people respect you if you have cash to spend. When we'd go out, Andre always made a show of spending lots of money. The clothes he wore, the cars he drove, the liquor he drank—it was always intentionally expensive and everyone noticed. And it was the same for me. I became his prize, so I had to look good. I got leather and suede pants, gator boots, and after thirty days of being together, a gorgeous full-length mink coat with a fox lining; after sixty days together, I got a rock for my finger worth thousands.
    The second way to gain respect was through violence: people respect you if they fear you. Andre most often chose to gain respect by spending money, but violence—or the threat of violence—was really a more effective way, and he knew just when and how to use that method too. Andre wasn't afraid of using violence to get what he wanted; people knew not to mess with him, and pretty soon, they learned that he wouldn't tolerate them messing with me either. One night when we were out with his friends, I was complaining about something and one of his acquaintances called me a bitch. Andre gave the guy an icy stare.
    "You got that backwards," he said calmly and quietly. "You're the bitch."
    Andre then whispered something to the guy next to him, who nodded and immediately left us. Meanwhile, the guy who'd called me a bitch tried to explain himself, giving reasons for saying what he said. As if that made any difference.
    Pretty soon Andre's partner (back then he called all his sidekicks "partners") came back with a can of dog food and handed it to him.
    "Now who's the bitch?" Andre asked, pulling back the tab on the can and holding it out toward the guy who had disrespected me.
    It was obvious to all of us that Andre wouldn't hesitate to hurt this guy if he didn't do what Andre was asking. The guy knew if he didn't take that can of dog food,