The Coldest Winter Ever (13 page)

My mother glanced at the big-armed security police stationed in the corner of the room. She looked at me and said, “This is unbelievable.” Thinking of the time she spent in jail, she said in a polite yet aggravated voice, “Can I have your business card, miss? I’ll give you a call and let you know what I want to do.”

“Give us a call soon. We need to locate Winter. Should I put you on the family shelter waiting list in the meanwhile?”

My mother lowered her eyes. “Yes. But I believe you’ll be seeing me in court very soon. I need to get my girls back right away.”

In Goldstein’s office my mother went off. Goldstein had the confidence of a well-paid elderly gentleman. He let her rattle on and remained courteous.

“Let’s separate the matters,” he said calmly. “First of all, we’re operating with a nut of fifty thousand dollars. This is what I retrieved from Santiaga’s safety-deposit box. The real money is in his bank accounts. But his bank accounts are all frozen. His business records have all been siezed. None of that money will be accessible until after
the case is closed. Depending upon the way things unfold, that may never be attainable. Given these circumstances that’s a small nut. Deduct seventy-five hundred dollars for Ms. Santiaga’s case.”

“Seventy-five hundred dollars for what?” my mother screamed.

“For getting all of the charges against you dismissed, Ms. Santiaga. That wasn’t easy. I had to really lean on the prosecutor in Long Island. You could be doing six months to a year and a half right now. I’d say your freedom is well worth your money. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“But I didn’t resist arrest. I didn’t assault no officer. How could I have assaulted them when I was already handcuffed?”

“Be that as it may, I took care of everything. My fee is seventy-five hundred dollars. The case for your children will require a retainer of three thousand. That’s a discount. Family court is a messy matter. It’s time-consuming. If the matter drags out, then you’ll receive my bill with the additional particulars. As far as Mr. Santiaga is concerned, I’ll need a retainer of fifty thousand dollars just to get involved. This is a big, big, case. He’s looking at years on top of years and possibly even life. A lot will depend on whether these cases get separated or not. There are several codefendants. Some of these cases can drag on and on. It’s a little early to discuss, however, if we go into appeals we’re looking at another major set of expenses. You need to be prepared for that. It all depends on how far Santiaga wants to take it.”

“So what exactly is my father being charged with?” I interrupted. The lawyer surrendered one of the folders in Santiaga’s file. There were ten sheets of green papers issued by the courts.

“The answer to my question,” I said. “What is he charged with?”

“Everything. You name it. Santiaga is being accused of it, conspiracy, murder, weapons, money laundering, tax evasion …”

It was ridiculous to me. People don’t understand Santiaga’s world. It’s business. Nobody kept a drug dealer’s business in check but the dealer himself and the team he set up. There has to be punishment for those within the team who test too much and step out of line. There has to be punishment for outsiders who attack the business. Violations have to be responded to; otherwise the business don’t flow correctly and people try to take advantage. They shouldn’t be able to barge into our business and force their rules on us. Not when Santiaga knew his workers better than anybody from the outside. Everybody in this game understood what he was dealing with.
Nobody forced them into this business. They understood the risks. Besides, the drug dealers helped America to be rich. If it wasn’t for us, who would buy the fly cars, butter leathers, and the jewelry? We put so much money into circulation. More than them little nickel-and-dime–paying taxpayers. We employed half the men in the ghetto. Nobody else gave them jobs. So why be a player hater?

It was sixty thousand five hundred dollars that had to go to the lawyer up front. Goldstein already had fifty thousand. Soon as I track Midnight I’d locate the loot and deliver the ten thousand five hundred to Goldstein. I’d have thirty-nine thousand five hundred to push around and double. Daddy said Midnight would be released. I’d offer him a partnership since he already knew the business. He’d go for it as long as he got his cut. Momma and Goldstein were closing out their talk. Momma was asking if she could arrange to see the girls at the places they were being held. Goldstein promised to look into the matter.

On the way out I asked Momma, “How was last night at Aunt Laurie’s?”

“It’s as cool as can be expected. She keeps asking if Santiaga had any money put away for a rainy day. She wants me to know that it’s raining and she needs the cash.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her shit. I just looked at her like this.” Momma made a real ugly face and rolled her eyes into her head. I laughed. Momma was becoming a real comedian. “After I made this face she knew the deal. Don’t ask me for shit!” Momma said.

I never mentioned to Momma that Santiaga told me about Midnight having some money set aside. I don’t know why I didn’t, I just didn’t.

After repeatedly beeping Midnight, he finally answered my page:

“Who’s this?” A shock wave shot through my body.

“Winter.”

“What do you want?”

“Santiaga …”

“Where do you want me to meet you for dinner?” he asked strangely. “I’m in Manhattan. I can meet you on 34th and 8th tonight at eight. We can go any place you want from there.”

When I hung up I began piecing together a cute little story to tell
Sterling so he wouldn’t have a fit about me going out tonight without him. Then I picked up a new skirt suit to rock for dinner.

The cold air stung my face. The wind was whipping the pleats on my wool miniskirt, offering a free peep show to anybody who was looking. I was feeling a little more relaxed in the new suit, though. I knew my money was real tight, but this suit was an investment. If I could walk Midnight into my corner, we could regroup, create a new hustle, and land on our feet like cats.

Whatever Midnight decided to do
would
affect my father and even my own life. But I wasn’t about to give him the impression that I was desperate. I wasn’t stupid enough to go and try to get my hustle on without the input of a
real player.
Midnight knew the ins and outs. Plus he knew my father was loyal to him and he could duplicate Santiaga’s style of running things. In fact Santiaga could somehow counsel him from the inside. Santiaga had stayed on top for so long that Midnight, in the few years of working for him, had to have learned the secrets to his business. I knew at first me and him would have to squash any beef we had in the past, even though I never understood what the problem was anyway. He acted like me wanting to get with him was a crime. As serious as things were now, I was sure he would see that me and him gotta work together otherwise some lowlifes were gonna be happy to watch us sink down to their level. I promised myself not to piss him off. I was gonna stick to business.

“Don’t talk business over the phone.” Midnight had rolled up to the curb and dashed open the window. He didn’t even get out of the car. He didn’t even say hello, peace, or what’s up. “You called about the money, right? Well, I’ll have it for you Monday morning. Where do you want me to drop it?”

“I thought we was going for dinner,” I said nicely, bugging out on the way he was treating me.

“That was just something to say to keep you from running your mouth on the phone. There’s a lot of brothers in jail today because they or some silly girlfriend don’t know how to shut up over the phone. I knew what you wanted, I’ll take care of it. Meet me Monday at 1:30 P.M. on the pier outside of Louie’s restaurant at the South Street Seaport.” He pressed a button and the window closed tight. As his wheels started to roll, I kicked his car with my foot.

“Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. Who the fuck do you think you are?” He hit the brakes, reversed, and the passenger window rolled down.

“Are you crazy? The last thing you want to do is make a scene.”

“Well, I’m gonna make a movie if you don’t show me some respect.”

“Respect,” he laughed. “What you know about that? I saw your naked ass on that videotape sipping champagne with Bullet. Who’da ever known that Santiaga’s daughter was sipping bubbly with a nigga who’s a worker for the other side! While your daddy was being raided by the feds you were having drinks butt naked with the enemy.” His words pierced me like knives. I was tongue-tied. I had been part of a setup. My mind tried to reject any blame. I would never do anything to hurt Poppa. My chest was heated up. My mouth cranked up and said whatever came to mind.

“Yeah, I was with Bullet. So what! You gotta problem with that?”

“I spent the night in jail behind your stupid shit. That’s right! Slick Kid brought the video to Big Moe’s to celebrate how much of a fool some small-timer like him made of Santiaga’s daughter. He showed the video on the bar TV at Moes! Our spot! Where we used to run shit. I’m chillin’ in the back room doing what I’m s’pose to be doing, when Moe comes to the back to tell me what’s going on. I come out to the bar area, blowing my cover. Here I’m the only nigga on the team who ain’t got pinched by the feds. They ain’t got nothing on me, but I gotta sit in the pen for two nights for beating the shit out of a little broke-ass nigga ’cause you a
stupid bitch.
Back off my ride. I’ll bring your money on Monday.” He pulled off.

Furious wasn’t enough to describe the intensity of my feeling. Below the anger my thoughts played dodge ball. I ran to the nearest telephone and gave Natalie a call. She picked up. Her usually bold voice was quieted by sleepiness.

“Yeah?”

“What’s up with your man Slick Kid?”

“Oh, forget him. I’m not messing with him anymore. He’s ridiculous.”

“So you know that he’s running around showing niggas my ass on the videotape.”

“Don’t take it personal. My ass is in the tape, too. Why sweat it? We in shape. Niggas can’t lie and say they saw some cellulite or stretch

marks or nothing like that. Our shit was tight. I should thank the fool. You know how much dick I got sweating me now? His ass was straight up tryna dis me and I flipped it on him, ha ha, now niggas checking for
me!”

Natalie’s calm ran against my fury. “So why you didn’t tell me Bullet was down with them other niggas around the way?”

“Oh that. Bullet’s cool. He’s getting a little name for himself. He’s pulling in the loot. It’s just a money thing with him. He ain’t got nothing personal against you or your family. He’s cool peeps. He really like you. I mean for real for real.”

“Yeah, with a wife and a newborn baby?!”

“What? Oh, I didn’t tell you? Remember Patches from around our way? You know how all the boys in his family got that big hairy black stain on the side of they face that they be saying is a birthmark? Well Saria had that baby and it had a big-ass black hairy mole like Patches. Now Saria swearing up and down that it’s still Bullet’s baby, it’s a miracle or something. Bullet’s grandmother talking ’bout there’s no way her fine-ass grandson gave birth to an ugly little something like that kid. Now Bullet’s looking like a fool. He’s all caught out there, filled Saria’s house up with Toys “R” Us stuff for the kid ’n all that. He’s standing in the waiting room with the cigars and champagne when Patches, Jr., slid right out. I overheard Saria talking to her girl Fatimah who be kicking it with Monica saying even though Patches is
ugly
he
can
eat a mean pussy! That’s why Saria kept seeing him on the side. When she got pregnant, she just told Bullet it was his kid ’cause Patches is broke as hell. She
knew
Bullet was a good guy who would support the baby. Now I saw Bullet today. He said as soon as Saria heals, he’s gonna go upside her head. He said he knew she was a hoe. He just want to be a man about it and represent for the baby that Saria swore up and down was his.”

“Damn!” It was all I could say. Natalie had a way of mixing up and confusing any conversation.

“Oh, I seen your mother back around our way. She’s like a whole ’nother person! I heard she was supposed to get some kind of surgery to fix her face.”

“Yeah she’ll be alright.” I hated to think of my mother walking around all crazy like.

“Sorry about your father.” I knew I needed to hang up. Natalie was just being a nosy-ass digging for more shit to talk about.

“Oh, Natalie, I gotta go. The cops over there about to throw a ticket on my Benz.” I slammed down the phone.

A winter white outfit was gonna make me feel alright. The color white for me was like a new beginning. I was standing outside of Bloomingdale’s at 10 A.M. Monday morning when the doors opened up. My meeting with Midnight would happen in a couple of hours. I hoped that time might have cooled Midnight down, making him more reasonable and receptive toward my business deal. My moms was definitely right. There had to be some love in Midnight’s heart for me. He fought Slick Kid for me! What other reason would he have had to beat Slick’s ass? He went to jail for me, defending my name.

My Nicole Miller dress was not that expensive. It was the shoes and the bag that sent the bill soaring. I took a chance at a new hair-shop, at least it was new to me. Those girls from the Dominican Republic hooked my hair up lovely! It was a silky long wrap, China-style, blunt cut.

At 1 P.M., the South Street Seaport was alive. Glasses were clinking, spoons, knives, and forks in action as the lunch crowd flowed in and out. The restaurant was in the open air. You could feel and smell the breeze coming off the East River. I fit right in with the well-paid executive lunch crowd, sporting my diamond necklace, bracelet, and earrings. When Midnight walked in the room, everything around him seemed to slow down. He had the presence and body of an NBA player. He was perfectly in control. The hostess led him to his seat and handed menus to both of us. The busboy filled our glasses.

“I told you to meet me on the pier outside of the restaurant. You have a hard time following directions.”

“I was hungry so I stepped in.” His bad mood was ruining my outlook.