The Coldest Winter Ever (37 page)

It just so happens that time is not on your side. It seems you want me to care about your feelings and your family. Yet and still, in your line of work you don’t care about anyone’s feelings or family. What makes your momma so important when you would sell crack to someone else’s momma?

If I dared to love you, my momma, my family, my life would be in jeopardy. It is only a matter of time before you will pay for your wrongdoings. To every action there is a reaction. When it comes back to you, the depth of your tragedy will be even greater than the wrongs you perpetrated. How do I know? It is the law of nature. It applies to every human being. Because I love myself, my family, and have worked very hard to do the right thing in my life, I don’t want to be standing next to you when the walls come tumbling down. And they will tumble.

It’s ironic that a young male who had so much more than some young blacks in America, a father, a country, a culture, would end up in the same low-life business that killed his mother, with the same attitude that murdered his father. So you say it’s about your survival huh? If that were true, you would of quit after you accumulated some loot. Maybe started a little legit business, rescued your sister. But no. The money is in your blood. The money is your God. It’s all about the Benjamins. So call it what it is. In life people make choices. We pay for every little choice we make. You traded everyone else’s life for yours. I traded my life for everyone else’s. We don’t belong together.

Drugs is a government game, Bilal. A way to rob us of our best black men, our army. Everyone who plays the game loses. Then they get you right back where we started, in slavery! Then they get to say “This time you did it to yourself.” I won’t play that game.

SS

February 1994

Souljah,

It’s been a long time. Every man moves at his own pace. I’m free to call you now, on your terms. Now there is no reason you shouldn’t accept my calls.

Midnight

The Holiday Inn maid woke me up. It was not her knocking at the door. It was her knocking and me not hearing her. Then she used her key to let herself in. My body was stretched across the bed, with envelopes and papers everywhere. When my eyes opened they attempted to adjust. Before I could get a clear reading on everything she asked in a Chinese accent, “You checky out now or stay one more night?”

“Damn, what time is it?”

“Twelve. Check-out time,” she used as few words as possible. I got up, walked to the dresser, and picked up the DO NOT DISTURB sign. Placing it on the outside knob, I glanced over at her. Without speaking she got my point: Get the fuck out.

Right now the daylight was my friend. I needed to use every
minute constructively. Not wanting to sleep in the same place twice, I showered, packed my stuff up and bounced.

The bus system was easy. It stopped right in front of the Holiday Inn. It was weird riding a bus that had stops on the freeway but it was also convenient. The mall was only a four-mile ride.

Seated in the food court I put my plan together piece by piece like a puzzle. After arranging all the letters by dates, I realized the most recent one Midnight mailed to Souljah was postmarked from Silver Spring, Maryland. All the other letters he sent her were mailed from either Brooklyn or Manhattan.

After purchasing a phone card, I asked the operator how I could call information in Silver Spring. “Can I have the number for Bilal Odé,” I asked.

“How are you spelling that? We have no such listing, ma’am. Are you sure about the spelling?” I slammed the phone down.

Passing the American Airlines ticket counter located right inside the mall, I asked the woman behind the table the price for a ticket to Silver Spring, Maryland.

“The closest airport to Silver Spring is Baltimore. When would you like to fly, ma’am?” The question was so simple, yet so crazy. I had never flown anywhere in my life.

“Now,” I blurted out. The airline lady laughed.

“You would be leaving out of Newark Airport I presume?”

“How far is that from here?”

“You can take public transportation from this mall to the airport. It should take about an hour, calculating the stops and all. The earliest flight I could get you on would be leaving today at 5:15 P.M., arriving in Baltimore, Maryland, at 7 P.M. this evening. Is this round trip?” she asked.

“No, one way.”

“With one day’s notice, one way will be three hundred twenty dollars and ninety-seven cents, tax included.”

“I’ll be back,” I mumbled.

I figured the bus had to be cheaper. All I had was a hundred thirty dollars and change. I would also need money once I arrived. The bottom line is I would need much more money, regardless. I would need money to stay and money to go. If I traveled to Maryland it would probably take me a few days to track Midnight down. From the sound of Silver Spring, it was a small town. I’d check the obvious places that
no one could avoid; the supermarket, the barber, the mall. I’d even go to the post office, the party spots, and ask around. I was sure Midnight had an apartment by now. Some place that was laced with all the finer things in life.

He would allow me to stay there with him. I had no doubt in my mind about that. Circumstances were different now. When he left I had places to stay or so he believed. Now I had no one to turn to but him. Santiaga needed him. Like Midnight said in his letters, “A man has his loyalty.”

After a short shuttle bus ride, I arrived at the Greyhound ticket counter. I was given a schedule for travel to Maryland. The woman quoted a price of sixty-five dollars one way, which was only eight dollars cheaper than the round-trip bus ticket. Don’t ask me to figure it out. Next to the Greyhound counter was a bus line called Peter Pan. A little Mexican guy handing out coupons called my attention to the place. “Twenty-five dollars round trip,” the old lady with the I-smoked-too-many-cigarettes deep voice stated.

“I’ll take it,” I responded with no hesitation.

“Let me tell you now, sweetie, this ticket is a special rate. It’s nonrefundable.”

“I said I’ll take it.”

I didn’t know what Maryland had in store for me. I did know that in exactly one hour, I’d be out of town. I cut across to the deli and grabbed a seltzer and ordered a sandwich for the road trip. The woman said it was almost a five-hour ride with the stops included. At the magazine stand I picked up one fashion magazine,
Cosmopolitan,
and a pack of butterscotch Life Savers. I don’t know whether my stomach was rumbling from hunger or from the excitement of knowing I was gonna see Midnight.

I was falling in love all over again after reading Midnight’s letters. He was right to make it clear that a man has to make his own choices, handle his business and whatnot. She was trying to take a good man and turn him into a broke punk, some type of poetic philosopher who’s of no use to anyone. I’m sure that by the time he got his finger on the pulse of what was going down in Maryland, he had set up his operation and was watching it grow. I approximated about almost a year had been gone. I bet his connections were ripe.

The bus rolled in fifteen minutes early. I grabbed all my stuff to board. The driver swung open the doors. As I lifted my foot to get on
the driver said, “We’re not leaving until the scheduled departure time.” Aggravated, I stood outside in the cold wind rather than drag all my stuff back into the heated station.

The noise was little. Then it got a little bit bigger. I looked left, then right. No one else was close by so it had to be me. Unzipping my Nike bag I pushed clothes every which way. Hidden on the inside of a pair of my lingerie was a beeper. Oh shit. Oh shit! It’s Bullet. Damn, what does he want? With five minutes left to boarding time I debated. Call him now? Call him later? I gathered my bags and rushed into the station only to find that all three pay phones were occupied. Peeping a businessman with a cheap suit holding a cell phone I rushed over to him. “Excuse me, mister. Can I use your phone? It’s an emergency.” He was reluctant but I gave him the little girl help-me look, nervously licking my lips. Still no answer from him so I repeated myself. “Please, sir. That’s my bus right there. It leaves in five minutes. I just need to make one call.” He handed the cell phone to me. My eyes bounded from the beeper to the phone buttons punching out the phone number. I pressed SEND and took a long deep breath. When Bullet got on he line I had to be cool, not pressed.

“What’s up, baby?” I asked softly, immediately noting the aggravation in the businessman’s face.

“Winter. Happy Birthday, girl. You official now?” Bullet was hyper and happy.

Oh shit, I forgot it was my birthday. That’s a first. “Thanks,” I said, still playing it cool.

“I’m coming to get you. Where you at?”

“I’m in Jersey.”

“What you doing all the way over there?” he asked.

“I just came out here to do a little shopping. You know how I do it.”

“Well, get something sexy. Last year this time it was all about you driving me. This year your man got everything under control. We done elevated. What you know about a birthday in Key West.”

The owner of the cell phone said, “Miss, I need my phone back.”

“Who that? Who the fuck is that? I know you ain’t with no nigga. Oh, a nigga taking you shopping. That ain’t nothing. Whatever he got I could double it. Shit, I could triple it. I’m caked up, Winter. Stop fucking with those small-timers. Who is that?”

“He ain’t nobody,” I said coolly.

“You damn right he ain’t nobody. Tell that nigga to bounce. Tell him.” Bullet was all the way gone with anger so I decided to play him. The phone owner’s face grew red with anger as well.

“Bounce, nigga,” I said to the white man.

“What?” He questioned me with his veins popping out of his neck. “Give me my phone.” The owner grabbed for his cell phone.

Jumping back from his reach I told Bullet, “I told him to bounce. Did you hear me?”

“Good,” Bullet said. But the man was demanding his phone back. “Oh, what? Is he beefing? Is the nigga beefing? Tell that nigga he better be gone by the time I get there or he’s a dead man.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll bounce before my man gets here,” I told the white guy.

The confused phone owner warned me, “I’m gonna get security. I’m gonna call the police.”

“Pick me up at Nordstrom on Route 4 in Jersey, right over the GW Bridge. I’ll be on the northside entrance.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m on the way.”

“Bullet, one more thing. Where’s Key West?”

“That’s Florida baby. Don’t worry about it.”

I followed quickly behind the irate man. I handed him his phone before he could alert the authorities, who were nowhere to be found in this little bus station. Thanks was all I said to the man, with a polite half-smile.

Quickly I jetted out of the bus station. I jumped on the mall shuttle, jumped out at Victoria’s Secret and dropped my last yard on some sexy lingerie. I jetted to the north entrance of Nordstrom and waited.

Standing with only one hundred dollars’ worth of Victoria’s Secret goodies, my Nike bag, and the red leather Coach bag, my mouth hung open. Then I checked myself as Bullet rolled around in a cream-colored Lexus coupe. All my juices everywhere in my body leaked out with excitement.

It took great concentration for me not to just jump out of my skin and go buck, dance naked on the hood of the car or something. The warmth in the car made the winter cold seem like a crude prank. I checked out every inch of the interior. Yet I knew I had to chill like I ride in one of these whips every day. My father had a car like this. But this was the new model. As my ass fit into the soft grooves of the
leather seat, Bullet leaned over two inches from my face. “Where that nigga at?”

“He’s been gone,” I told him, going right along with it. Bullet threw the car into reverse and raced backward to the corner of the building. He peered out the tinted windows down the sidewalk lining Nordstrom. Then he shifted into drive and raced to the opposite corner, checking down the street. My imaginary lover was nowhere to be found.

“You know you mine’s now,” he said, like I was a trophy or an expensive piece of jewelry. His lips were wet, teeth white, and haircut fresh like his barber trimmed it on the drive over here. It had been a year since I took a real good look at him. I don’t know if it was his Armani leather coat or if his body was even more buffed than when I saw him last. This nigga Bullet thought he had to fight to make me his girl. I’d let him believe it, too. Little did he know, I was his when he pulled the whip around the bend.

Bullet made me throw my Nike bag and all of its contents in the garbage. He said he didn’t want me wearing nothing no other nigga bought. He could take care of his girl with no problem. I didn’t have no arguments. After a twenty-five minute drive, we parked the coupe in the airport parking lot and boarded American Airlines. We sat in the first-class section with the executives. Sipping champagne and listening to hits on his CD Walkman, we felt good all the way to Key West.

Sunshine, heat, and palm trees, a dramatic departure from my life twelve hours ago. To say I was gassed would not be enough. It wasn’t so much the scenery, although I seen a hundred types of trees I never seen before! It was the balls of the whole thing. This is the type of life I saw myself having, leaving town with no permission, warning, or limitations. This whole matter was what made Bullet so damn sexy to me at that moment. He was making the rules, maybe even breaking the rules. He was the shot-caller. A man who can only react to life could never have me. A man with excuses about why he couldn’t make anything happen his way could only win pity, but never respect.

The airport limo delivered us to our Key West, Florida, villa. The beach was a short walk away. The most noticeable thing about the villa was that everything inside was white and clean. No dingy color, not eggshell, not cream-colored, but a crisp white, seemingly freshly painted place with ceramic tiled floors. We only explored the villa once over for about ten minutes. Next thing I know a driver was taking us shopping.