Rude Boy USA (23 page)

Word of Edina’s sudden and shocking demise spread around New York City and the other boroughs. Jose spotted the
New York Post
and handed Ben the paper. Edina’s story made the front page of all local newspapers and headed the local news broadcast for the next four days because of the gruesome details.

“Hey, check this out. Did you hear about that lady who got chopped up? She must have pissed somebody off. Don’t nobody do that unless they really mad? You can just shoot ’em and get dat shit out of the way, but chopping them up takes work. I wouldn’t take time and do that shit,” Jose said to Ben.

“No. What lady?” Ben asked.

“Look.” Jose handed him the paper, and Ben stared at the front page for thirty seconds. “Da fuck, you look like you saw a ghost or something. You know her?” Jose said.

“No. No, I don’t. It’s just fascinating to me,” Ben answered. He sat down on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and continued to read the story on the inside of the paper. The story mentioned that before she was murdered, she reported a robbery to the police. They already had a description of the suspect, and they were trying to locate him.

“You’ve been looking at that too long. Don’t get any ideas; I’ll fuck you up. Ain’t nobody cutting me,” Jose said. Ben looked at him, grinned, and shook his head. Jose went out for the day, leaving Ben in the apartment by himself. He continued to read the story.

Twenty minutes after Jose left, someone began knocking on the door. When Ben asked who it was, a female answered. He got up, opened the door, and saw this petite young brown girl with deep, wavy hair tied back into a bun. She had on a scarf, a tight V-neck T-shirt that showed her ample chest, and flared jeans. She asked for Jose. Ben told her that she had just missed him. She insisted on coming in and waiting for him to return. She identified herself as Brenda, Jose’s girlfriend. Ben remembered seeing her briefly when he first met Jose. She had looked a bit younger then, and Ben had not realized they were dating. Brenda remembered Ben’s face, and once she learned that he had moved in with Jose, she decided to pay a visit to check him out. Brenda recalled that he had dressed well and worn expensive jewelry during the brief moment she saw him. He had looked like a high-powered executive back then.

Brenda walked past Ben and sat down on the couch. Ben closed the door behind her and walked to the kitchen with the newspaper in his hand. Brenda commented on how disorderly the apartment was. Ben suggested that she could clean it herself if she were not satisfied. “How long have you known Jose?” Ben asked her.

“Long enough,” Brenda answered.

“You look young,” Ben said.

“I’m legal. That’s what’s important,” she said.

“Not sure if I believe you,” he replied.

Before Ben moved in, Brenda had become accustomed to showing up at the apartment anytime she wanted. She was seventeen years old and barely out of high school. She would turn eighteen soon, and she had no plans to attend college. She could not afford tuition. She lived with her mother and four siblings. The family survived on welfare. She felt that she did not have a place in the small apartment that was filled with her full family, so she sought validation from the outside. Brenda met Jose when she was in her third year of high school. Brenda saw him on the street one afternoon on her way home from school. She noticed that he was part of a crew. She knew that if she became the girlfriend of a leader, it would make her part of the crew by default, and he would take care of her. Brenda attached herself to any man she thought had money. Many girls were part of the Ghetto Brothers, but they had their separate name and their own jackets. The Wildflowers, they called themselves. They became her surrogate family.

Brenda was a flirty girl. Just because she was dating Jose, it did not mean that she had stopped looking for what else was out there. “You got money, white boy? You look like you do,” Brenda asked Ben as she sat on the couch.

“What would make you think that? Look where I live. I live in a basement in the South Bronx. Moneyed people don’t live here on purpose,” he answered.

“You look clean. You could be one of those people who come here to hide out. A lot of you move here after you fuck up somewhere else. They don’t look for the white boys in the hood, not here at least. The cops too busy beating our ass to notice y’all,” Brenda said. Ben looked at her. “Nah.” She got up and went to the kitchen, where Ben was fixing himself a sandwich while still reading the paper. “You don’t look like you are from around here. The guys from here are rough. You are sexy. You smell good,” she said while checking him out.

“Thanks. I don’t look like I used to,” Ben said.

“I see that. Skinnier, but I like that shit,” she said. Ben had a feeling that Brenda was putting the moves on him. He resisted because she was Jose’s girl and he had no reason to disrespect him.

“I don’t know when he’s coming back,” Ben said. He wanted to encourage her to go, but it seemed like she had no plans to leave.

Brenda reminded him of Celia in her height and shape. She had a delicate way about her like Celia, but Brenda was more aggressive, urbaner, and not as refined. “Do you act this way toward everyone you meet?” Ben asked her.

“Nope. Just sexy motherfuckers.” Brenda walked closer to Ben, put her hand on his crotch, and began to rub it. “Oh, you are not like other white boys,” she said. He moved her hand away. Her actions made him nervous, but he had not touched a woman since Celia.

“I don’t think this is OK. Jose may come back at any minute,” Ben said to her.

“He won’t know unless you tell him,” Brenda said.

“What do you want? Money?” Ben asked.

“I didn’t ask for any, but if you are offering, I am not gonna say no,” Brenda replied. She unzipped his pants, knelt down, and began to suck him off. Brenda put in the work, and both were into it so much that they had sex on the kitchen floor with no rubber. When they finished, Brenda put on her clothes. Ben watched her as she went into his wallet and pulled out the cash. She promised to come back. She kissed him, got up, and vacated the apartment, leaving Ben on the kitchen floor with no pants or underwear on.

Ben lay there in utter confusion.
What just happened?
He thought. For a brief moment, he felt as if he had been taken advantage of, but he did not know how to mentally process the feeling. He was used to making the moves, being the aggressor of women. Ben collected his thoughts, and soon after, he had to get to work. If Brenda could smell him out, who knew who else could find him?

Ben realized it was time to change his look. In a short amount of time, he dropped thirty pounds and became gaunt. He had replaced proper meals with weed, alcohol, and heroin. His looks were fading away fast. He was paler than before. His teeth were not as pristine as they had been. Also, he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. The nicotine began to stain his teeth, and his voice became raspy. His skin, which had once been smooth despite the scar, became blotchy. He had not decided whether to grow his neatly
cropped hair into a long bob or to get rid of it altogether. He thought growing it out would take too long.

Ben got up, went to the bathroom, and began shaving his head, light beard, sideburns, and mustache with an electric razor. He also reshaped his eyebrows and cut lines in them. He now resembled a skinhead. Ben felt that this would help him blend in with the Puerto Ricans in the neighborhood so he would not be a target. He left the apartment and went to a tattoo parlor to get a couple of the images on his neck, just to throw off anyone who could identify him on the street. His old clothes had become too large for him because of the weight loss. He tossed the sharp suits and sweaters that he used to wear at Chimera in a bag and opted for articles of clothing that blended in with the area. His new clothes consisted of a skull cap, gang leather jacket, and sunglasses instead. He purchased Dr. Marten boots and T-shirts and jeans. He put the bag of clothes on the street in hopes that one of the homeless would find the bag and make use of them. Since it was winter, the weather was still cool, so he was able to go out and about and continue his drug deals undisturbed for the time being.

After some time in Jamaica, Celia called her mother. She had wired home some money, and she wanted to see if it had arrived. Agnes was angry with her. By then several people had already contacted Agnes regarding her daughter’s whereabouts,
and she had no answer to give them. This was an irresponsible move by Celia, according to her, and she demanded an explanation for her behavior. “Where are you?” Agnes asked.

“I’m in Jamaica, Momma. I needed a break,” Celia answered.

“You’re all the way in Jamaica? You could not tell me this? People are calling here asking for you, and here I am thinking everything is normal and you are at home working. Someone called your father looking for you. He called me back asking where you were. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to tell him that I didn’t know? It makes me look like a bad parent,” Agnes said.

“I’m so sorry. A lot is going on. I can’t explain it all right now, but I needed to get away. Please don’t make yourself sick with worry. I’m OK. I’m better than ever, actually,” Celia said.

“When are you coming home?” Agnes asked.

“It won’t be for a while. I have some things to figure out,” Celia said.

“A while? You’re on vacation? How are you paying for this with so much time away from work?” her mother asked.

“I made good money. I am not with them anymore,” Celia answered.

“You were fired? Again?” her mother asked.

“No, I quit this time. Wait, what do you mean ‘fired again’?” Celia said.

“This is your mother you are talking to. I know more than you think I know. People talk around here. I knew you
were in that club with the ears, the skimpy outfits, and the tail. I was disappointed at first, but then I stopped worrying about it. You’re a grown woman. It was an honest living. I was more worried about your safety. There are crazy people out there who go to places like that and prey on the girls. I didn’t want you hurt. No matter how old you get, you’re still my child. I was glad when you changed jobs again,” Agnes said. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“I might stay here. We have relatives here, and they are very nice. I like the atmosphere,” Celia said.

“I don’t know, little girl. On the news, they are saying that Jamaica and Cuba are allies, and that is not good. Castro is no good. I see the violence. It’s not safe there,” Agnes told her.

“Mom, there’s violence at home. You live right in the middle of it. As far as socialism is concerned, it is not good according to the news because it doesn’t serve the best interest of America. America can’t make money off of the new system here. It’s not like other places, where their people would be slaves or depressed. Jamaica wants to be an independent country. Their structure doesn’t exclude poor people. No one has to suffer. Look at the Bronx. Look at Harlem. The children there are in bad shape with low-quality education and resources. Do you think the way things are being run there are any better? It favors the wealthy. At least here I will be given the tools to help people. Manley doesn’t want his residents to go without food or proper education. He’s going to change all of that. Back home you can get those things only if you are well off. Jamaica is going to be the model for the future. Once I get my degree, I may
teach at one of the new schools they are building. It is going to take some time, and that is why I am here. I want to fight the good fight with them. I feel like a different and better person now. When everything is settled, I will bring you here too,” Celia told her mother.

“I am fine where I am. I don’t know about this. I feel you are rushing things. Think about it. I hope you are making proper decisions,” Agnes told her.

“Momma, you worked so hard your whole life. You worked for the church; you worked as a maid. Don’t you want to go to a paradise where you can retire and relax? I am looking for a home, and we can share it,” Celia said.

“I am OK where I am. I’ve been here my whole life, and this is what I know,” Agnes answered, before quickly changing the subject. “Did you meet any guys yet? You’re aging.”

“Mom…I met a lot of men here, and I am not rushing,” Celia answered.

“Good. I’m glad you are finally growing up. You were never good with your decision making when it comes to men. Don’t get into bed with them so soon. Go for the guy who waits for you,” Agnes told her.

“OK,” Celia answered.

“Hurry up and return home so these people can stop calling me asking for you. Either that or you tell them yourself. Do you want me to tell them?” Agnes asked.

“No, Mom! Don’t do it. Rose also knows where I am. Don’t tell them anything. Not even Jerome. Please promise me that you won’t do it?” Celia said.

“Oh, so you tell your friends where you are before your mother, and you want me to lie to your friends? Fine. I won’t tell them, but I deserve updates. You owe me at least that, young lady. Have some respect,” Agnes told her.

“OK, Momma, I’m sorry,” Celia answered.

“Jerome’s baby is coming soon; you know,” Agnes said.