The Coldest Winter Ever (5 page)

“Yes Daddy,” I responded softly and turned to go to my room. There was no doubt in my mind that it was time to spark an L.

Luckily I had copped a nickel bag earlier in Brooklyn. I went to the linen closet and grabbed a couple of towels. I closed my door, pulled out my pack of incense. My mind shouted,
Hell no, the incense is a dead giveaway!
I went to my bedroom window, opened it, and decided I’d let the breeze in to whisk the smoke out. Sitting down on the bed, I pulled off my shoes. I opened my shirt, unsnapped my bra to let my titties breathe. I slipped on my slippers, walked to my dresser draw, stuck my hand underneath my folded blouses, and pulled out my philly blunt. I cracked it open, took the tobacco out, flushed it down the toilet. I put the weed in, wrapped it, licked it, and stuck it under my nose as a teaser to my appetite. Yes, I needed to relieve my tension. I’m backed up sexually, stuck in the suburbs, and my dream lover is a mummy.

Just as I went to position the towel to jam up the space in the door my moms knocked and without hesitation pushed open the door gently. I got up, threw the towel on the bed to cover up the blunt I had laying there.

“Hey Mommy,” I said, trying to act casual. I checked her face. You could always tell when Santiaga was upset because it showed on my mother’s face.

“Your father really went off when I told him you were spending the night in Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, we talked,” I said, hoping to avoid two speeches in one night.

“I tried to get him to loosen up but you know how that goes,” she admitted.

“Ooh, that’s a fly design you got,” I said, checking her freshly sculpted, painted, and immaculate nails. “Where did you get that done?”

“A little shop about fifteen minutes away. Santiaga took me.”

“What else did you get? Don’t be holding out on me. I know you got something else.”

“Ah, just a little dress for me to rock tonight at my party,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied disinterested.

“I know, that’s how I’m starting to feel about the parties, too. I just need to get my whip so I can get in, out, and around.”

“When do you think you’ll get it?”

“If I have it my way, and I always do, I’ll get it next weekend.” She smiled confidently.

“Yeah, but the way Santiaga was talking, even after you get it, we ain’t allowed in Brooklyn! Now you know that’s crazy.”

“He’s just protective and sometimes he overdoes it. But, girl, we can sneak!” she said, smiling. Her mahogany skin was glowing in my dimmed light. Mommy was pretty alright. A definite advantage to having babies at a young age. You get to chill with your moms like she’s your sister or something. Fuck all those old stiff bastards complaining about teenage pregnancy, this and that. Me and my moms could party together. Nobody would ever know that she was my moms. I got some shit in my closet that looks better on her than it does on me. I know some niggas from around my way in Brooklyn who’d rather fuck her than me. Now they’d never admit it. It would be suicidal. Santiaga would … Oh yeah! Just the thought of Daddy snapped me back into reality.

“Sneak to Brooklyn,” I laughed. “Santiaga runs Brooklyn. There’s no sneaking in and out of his territory! Hell, he beeped Midnight at a club and had him bring me home, embarrassed the shit out of me. How did he know I was there?”

“Well, you know Big Moe got to answer to Santiaga,” Moms said,
being vague. “Speaking of Midnight, I’ll bet you liked riding in his car,” she smiled knowingly.

“What?” I played it off. She laid back on my bed, rolled over, and started tickling me like I was a little girl or something. Hitting all of my secret spots, I cracked up with laughter.

“Midnight’s cool,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t front on me little hooker,” she said, like she was really one of my girlfriends. “I see the way you look at him.”

“When?” I asked.

“When? Okay when you were thirteen, when you were fourteen, when you were fifteen, when you were sixteen,” she laughed. “He’s a good catch, though. A good man, loyal, paid, strong.”

“He don’t like me, though,” I said, admitting something I would never tell one of my girlfriends.

“It’s not that,” she said. “Midnight just likes life. Santiaga would squeeze the life out of him.”

“I wish that were the truth! No, I’m saying I wish it was that he was just scared of Santiaga. I’m saying that he straight up don’t like me at all, period, as a woman! He talks cold, says very little. He didn’t even try to be nice to me on the way home.”

“Trust me, there is no way he don’t like my baby. You’re young, fine. You got everything a girl could want, pretty hair, beautiful eyes, clothing, jewels. It’s got to be Santiaga standing in the way.”

“So when do you think Santiaga will stop standing in my way?”

“Who knows,” she said, exasperated.

My mother got up and headed toward the door. As she stepped out of my room she leaned her head back in and smiled, “And don’t light that joint in the house. That will really make Santiaga snap.”

Damn, I thought to myself. It seems like the both of them know everything. But nobody was gonna stop me from getting my buzz on. I crawled outside of my window, sat on my little slanted side of the roof and puffed my lah in the spring breeze and moonlight. After the feeling of “no worries” came over me, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and drifted into the night …

We were all seated in the family room. Santiaga was playing chess against himself. My mother was flipping through her hundreds of album covers, her collection. My sisters were all glued to the television watching the cartoon network. I was reclining in a chair, redoing one
of my fingernails, when the doorbell rang. Santiaga answered. When the door opened, he stood face-to-face with Midnight.

Midnight looked Santiaga dead in the eye and said, “We need to talk.” Santiaga led him into the den. I jumped off the reclining chair and tiptoed to the den door, plastering my ear against the side of the wall. Midnight told Santiaga slowly and respectfully, “I know you love your daughter, and so do I.” Santiaga’s face first held a look of surprise, then grew vexed. He remained cool. As he leaned forward about to speak, Midnight quickly went on.

“I know what I need to do as a man. I’ve been working on it for a long time and now I’m ready. I wanted you to be sure that I’m for real, that my love for your daughter is for real.” Midnight reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an elegant black velvet ring box. He cracked it open and the 2-karat diamond sparkled. My nosy eyes beamed in on the stone. “I want to marry Winter,” Midnight said firmly. “I’ll surround her with the finest things in life, like she deserves, like you always have. My finances are solid, stashed away, ready. Maybe we’ll buy a house up here. Live next door to you.”

Santiaga smiled at the idea of keeping me within arm’s reach. My insides screamed.
Hell no! Not here!
My heart interrupted and said
OK, anywhere, you fine ass, paid motherfucker!
Santiaga said, “Winter is young.”

“Yes,” Midnight said sternly. “Young and beautiful. Like your wife was when you two married.” Santiaga checked Midnight’s face to make sure that Midnight meant no ill by his comment. Then Midnight took control.

“I respect you as a man, Santiaga. I always have. I value your business and have served you well. But I’m my own man and this is what I want. So what do you say, what’s up?”

Santiaga embraced Midnight. As Midnight’s face pressed against Santiaga’s shoulder he looked at me and said with that masculine authority that made me hot, “Pack your stuff, Shorty. It’s me and you from here on out.”

Excited, but not wanting to appear desperate, I threw my hand on my hip and said, “Let’s see what you have there.” Midnight opened the box and took out the ring. As he placed it on my finger …

The phone rang, jerking me out of my sleep, ruining my dream. If only it could have rung after the love scene.

I snatched the telephone as my sleepy eyes checked the digital on my dresser. “Six o’clock in the fucking morning. What do you want?” It was Natalie. She laughed, “My long distance is working! Hey-ey wake up, hooker! So what happened? Where did you go? Did you get it? How was it? Was it small? Was it big?” She fired questions like bullets.

My mind was still sleepy. I needed enough energy to get my lies straight ’cause I was definitely about to tell some lies. “We went out for a late night/early morning breakfast.”

“Where?” she demanded.

“He took me to one of those big fancy diners out in Queens. He had steak and eggs with potatoes. I had the shrimp and fries.”

“Shrimp and fries! That’s not breakfast food.”

“Girl you know I don’t eat breakfast!”

“Anyway,” Natalie screamed. “Get to the good part.” Before I could even start talking, she was filling in the blanks for herself.

“Oh, my God. Wait until Tasia finds out about this. It’s on now!” Now Natalie bringing that hoe Tasia’s name up only gave me fuel.

“After breakfast me and Midnight got back in the car. He took me to one of those lookout spots by the river. He started kissing me. Girl, his lips were so big and warm. He started rubbing my titties with those big-ass strong hands. Girl, I thought I was gonna explode. He started taking off my shirt and that’s when I went Brooklyn on his ass!”

“What?!” she screamed. “What happened?”

“I told the nigga: “Look, don’t try to play me out. If I’ma take off my clothes, you gonna take off yours, too. You want to see my body? Oh well it’s all here. But, I want to see your body, too!’ ”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes! I did,” I said.

“So what happened?”

“He took off his shirt and said, “Now, you take off yours.’ So I did. He took off his pants and said, “Now you take off yours.’ So I did.”

“Oh shit!” Natalie was going ballistic. “Then what?”

“He took off his draws and said, “Now take off yours.’”

“Did you?”

“I damn sure did! Girl, I looked at his big-ass black balls laying against that soft white leather car seat and that was it. We got busy!”

“Was anybody looking?”

“Hell no! I don’t know! We weren’t worrying about that. After that wild sex we just chilled butt naked. Him in his seat butt naked. Me in my seat butt naked puffing lah!”

“Get out of here. You lying!” Natalie screamed.

“Uh-uh girl, that’s for real. I made sure my sweat sunk into the car leather just to let every other bitch know
I was there.
The next bitch that gets into that car is gonna smell me all over!” We both laughed.

The next weekend came so swiftly. It was twelve noon when I woke up. It was my mother’s voice. She was going off about how she was not spending one more day caught up in the house.

Where was her fucking car? She wanted to know. “Today is the day! Today is the day my fucking Benz is supposed to be parked outside of my bedroom window with a big red ribbon on it. Where is it?” she demanded. The tone of my mother’s voice was rare. I could hardly say I ever remember it being this rough. All I could think is here go two Concord jets about to have a head-on collision.

My three little sisters came running into my room, stuffing their little bodies under the covers with me. I expected to hear Santiaga yell back but he didn’t. Instead my mother just continued blowing her cool and doing something she told me not to do. She was making it clear who the boss was. A real woman was not supposed to do that. A bad bitch controlled without the man ever knowing that he was being dominated. A bad bitch was so slick that she made him think he was calling the shots while she planted the seeds and was the owner of all his thoughts. Not today. My moms told Santiaga she didn’t want to hear no shit. He was going out with her today, her birthday, to buy that car. She was leaving with him, she instructed. After his business was transacted, Santiaga was to buy that car she had been holding her breath for. She wasn’t interested in no other presents no matter what they were. Through the walls I could hear the bass in Santiaga’s voice, but not his exact words. The next loud sound I heard was the door slamming. From the silence, I knew that both of them were gone. As my mother had said last week, she always had her way.

Saturday evening the stars fell down, six minutes after six. Six hours after their argument. I remember it clearly. That was the time
the phone rang. “Winter, get the kids ready, I’m coming to pick you up.” I didn’t recognize the slow, steady voice.

“What? Who is this?”

“This is Midnight. Listen, your father asked me to pick all of you up and bring you out here.”

“Oh, you’re becoming a regular little taxi driver, huh?”

“This is serious,” he said. “I’ll be there in two hours.” Click! Damn, should I beep Santiaga? This had never happened before. Then I thought to myself, Midnight can be trusted. I got the three little girls ready and two hours later we waited anxiously at the door.

My eight-year-old sister wanted to fight me for the front seat of Midnight’s Acura. I told her to take her little ass in the back with the twins. I wondered what would make her think she could ride in the front seat with my man. Hell, she probably already had a crush on him. Little girls start getting horny at a younger age every year.

“Where we going?” I asked. My heart was filled with all kinds of feelings.

“We have to rush. Just get in. I’ll tell you when we get there. It’s not for little girls to know.”

Midnight tried to fill up the empty space with the radio. Other than the music, we rode in complete silence while one of my sisters tried to peel the last bits of sticky paper off her Now and Later candies in the back.
Oh God!
I thought to myself,
I hope she don’t suck the candy and leave it stuck to the side of the seat like she normally does.
I imagined Midnight pulling over and throwing all of us out on the expressway for messing up his leather interior. I laughed to myself.

Just then the aggravating voice of Sister Souljah leaped out of the radio and started choking me: “The Ancient African elders believed that what you sow, you reap. If you do something positive, something positive will come back to you. If you consciously do negative things, then negativity will rule your life.” I sucked my teeth and thought,
Why don’t that bitch just move to Africa?
She’s always talking some African mumbo jumbo. Somebody should stick a bone in her nose and a plate in her lip, maybe then she’d feel at home and shut the fuck up. I made myself laugh, thinking,
Them damn Africans must of been some fucked up niggas. If they believed doing something positive caused positive things to happen why are their asses all fucked up bald-headed, naked, starving, stinking, and the whole nine. They must of been doing some foul shit!! Hell, that bitch don’t know, she just be talking to talk.