The Coldest Winter Ever (11 page)

I found Mama in her room. She had busted open a new pack of cigarettes and was going at it. “What do you think about a sale?” I asked her. “We sell all this stuff in the house to generate some cash flow.”

“I want to talk to your father,” she said.

“Seriously, Momma, what do you say?”

“I want to see what your father says. Whatever he wants to do that’s what I’ll do.”

“But Mommy we gotta make plans like Santiaga ain’t here ’cause he’s not.”

“You tryna say he ain’t coming back?” she asked like a crazy woman.

“No, I’m trying to say maybe if we put our heads together we can have some ideas ready for Santiaga. We can go see him tomorrow. I’ll know by the morning time exactly where he is.” The idea of seeing Santiaga delighted Mommy, who was starting to seem like an impostor to me.

“What we gonna do with the kids, they too much trouble to be tryna walk and travel back and forth with,” she asked, worried about everything.

“Magdalena will watch them,” I told her.

“Oh you think so. Lately, she been acting kind of funny,” Momma said.

At nine o’clock the next morning I was on the phone line tryna locate Santiaga. I slid Magdalena an extra twenty dollars and told her to baby-sit while me and Mommy took care of some business. She looked like she thought about rolling her eyes at me. She put the extra money in her pocket. We found out which jail Santiaga was being held at. Then we went to find out the cost of bail so we could pull the money together somehow. The court clerk smirked when he punched in the case numbers for Santiaga on his computer.

With some strange look of pleasure he pronounced, “The judge has denied bail because of the extremity of the charges. He’ll be sent out to Riker’s Thursday. You can visit him there.”

My mother’s face saddened with disappointment. As we turned to walk away her tears started flowing.

When we got home, Magdalena complained about the phone ringing, ringing, ringing. We thanked her for her patience and sent her home for the evening. The good thing was that in two days we would be able to talk to Santiaga. He would help us decide how to move. My mind was still tryna put things together. I asked my mother whose name the house was in and if it was a monthly cost or was it paid for in full. She told me it was paid for ’cause that’s how Santiaga does things, but she never saw the paperwork because it wasn’t her concern.

This time when I picked up the telephone, it was Natalie. “Girl what’s going on? It’s like a ghost town over here in BK.”
Everybody’s getting locked up,
I thought to myself. Whoever heard of a person who just starts talking before she even says hello, before she’s even sure if she’s talking to the right person?

“Who got knocked?” I asked, playing it off. She rattled off a list of familiar names, Daddy’s workers, bodyguards, and all of my uncles. Then she said, “I heard Midnight got picked up earlier tonight.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I said, almost mumbling.

“Yep, Asia saw the cops cuffing him over in front of Moe’s bar.” I wondered if Natalie had heard about Santiaga and was she just waiting for me to say something. “Yeah, Bullet told me about Midnight, too,” Natalie said.

“How’s Bullet doing?” I asked.

“He’s alright. His girl just had a baby. It’s a boy, eight pounds, six ounces, big huh?”

“His girl! Natalie you didn’t tell me he had a girl.”

“Like you would’ve cared. Don’t try to get new on me, Winter.”

“That’s not the point. I’m just saying you suppose to have my back. You suppose to let me know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to fill you in like you be filling me in, right!” Natalie said, getting loud with me. I really didn’t have time for Natalie’s attention games so I told her I had to go.

“The policia,” Magdalena said, peeking her head into my room without knocking on my bedroom door. “You motha is in the shower.” I jumped up, threw on some pants and a shirt, and headed downstairs.

“Good morning, ma’am. We’d like to speak to Mrs. Santiaga please. We want to ask her some questions.”

I put my hands on my hips and asked if they had a warrant. As soon as they said no I got ready to say Momma’s not home. Then Mama came out of nowhere wrapped in a towel. Her hair was wet, her eyes wild, and her mouth twisted. “What is it now?” she asked.

“We want to ask you some questions.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then get the fuck out of my house. I’ve had enough of you all for one week.”

“Ma’am, we just wanted to ask you some questions about your husband. Under the RICO laws, you could also be charged if you were aware of or in any way connected to the distribution of narcotics. We would like you to cooperate with us. It will be better for you.”

“Get the fuck out,” she yelled. “Do you see a lawyer in here? How you gonna ask me some questions without my lawyer present. Do I look like a fool to you?”

“You’re right. You’re entitled to have a lawyer present,” his partner chimed in. “But you know we could easily get a warrant under these circumstances, ma’am. Or you could just cooperate.”

“Winter,” Momma commanded, “close the damn door.”

Momma was renewed on Thursday morning. She picked out her best outfit and was gonna take Santiaga by storm at Riker’s Island. She asked me to help her with her makeup. I tried to make the best of the situation and put it on as nicely as I could. I brushed her hair back and used the same wig that worked for her the day we went shopping. Momma pulled out her perfume, the expensive shit that was thick like
syrup. She dabbed it on in a small amount. When you have good stuff, she once told me, you don’t have to pile it on. She looked fine, at least compared to the last few days when she let herself go in ways I had never seen before. She handed me the Visine. I dropped two drops in each of her eyes. I reminded her to take off her heels, put them in her pocketbook and wear flat shoes since we had to walk to the bus stop. She protested.

“We should take a cab to Riker’s,” she said.

“We should really save our money, ’cause we’re running low,” I warned.

“We’ll save it some other day. Today we’re going to see Santiaga.”

“Yes, we have a warrant and we’re gonna run you down for questioning,” announced the same cops from yesterday. They arrived when me and Momma were leaving. As we opened the door to go see Daddy, we were confronted by the two cops.

“Am I under arrest?” my mother asked sarcastically.

“If that’s what we need to have a civil conversation with you.” Momma handed me her pocketbook. Unwilling to cooperate with the police, she stuck out her wrists as if to say “take me.” The police read Mamma her rights, cuffed her, and put her in the car. Magdalena and the girls watched in horror from the kitchen. I stood there shocked and watched them take my mother away. On the way out the smart-ass cop’s partner paused, turned around, and hollered to me standing in the doorway.

“By the way, how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” my sister Porsche blurted out. “And where are you taking my mother?”

“How ’bout you, little girl? How old are you?”

“Eight,” she said, snotty and proud.

Their lights flashed as they sped away.

I took out a twenty, handed it to Magdalena, collected my things, and made fast tracks in my Nikes headed to the bus stop.

Santiaga walked into the room accompanied by a corrections officer. His body was tight and his face serious. He still maintained his powerful presence. He had a way of looking good, even in those jail greens that hung on him like a leisure suit. I smiled when I saw him, he smiled back. “Where’s your mother, downstairs?” he asked.

“No, she wasn’t feeling good. She had to take two of those pills and they knocked her out cold. You know, only something
that
dramatic could keep her away.” I had practiced this answer the whole trip to Riker’s, no sense in adding to Santiaga’s problems.

“And my girls?”

“They’re fine. You know they miss you and all, but they’re tough, they’ll do alright.”

“Maybe,” he smiled. “Porsche has seven years in the projects under her belt, she’s tough. Mercedes and Lexy, now they been sheltered. They’re straight up suburban kids.” I laughed but wanted to hurry on to the business.

“Daddy, tomorrow I’m going to see your lawyer. I’m gonna find out everything. What do you need me to tell him?”

“I been talking to him on the phone every chance I get,” he said. “He’ll want to talk money. He don’t have to worry about that though. I got money.”

“Daddy, they raided the safe at the house. They took a hundred and fifty grand.” He held his hand up to keep me from talking.

“Just get ahold of Midnight. He got fifty dollars of mine.” I was sure that this was a code for fifty thousand dollars. “He’ll take care of everything. Just let him know I said it’s that time.”

“Daddy, someone said Midnight got picked up, too. I don’t know if it’s true. But that’s what I heard.” Daddy’s eyebrows knitted together as if Midnight’s arrest was somehow not what he had planned for.

After a short pause he said, “He’ll be out soon. They got nothing on him. He’s clean. I kept him that way. Just chill, and wait for him. He’ll come through. He always does. Meanwhile tell Goldstein I said “use the key.’ That’ll be a deposit on his fee.”

“Daddy, Uncle Steve got picked up, and Harry, Van, and Ron.”

“I know. I seen all them. Driguez, Pizzaz, they all in here. It’s like being at home.” He smiled, I’m sure more for my benefit than anything. “They just tryna shake my niggas up, scare somebody until they sing. You know what I mean. I’m alright Winter, don’t worry about me. It’s Momma you gotta look after. After that bullet, she’s delicate. She don’t know it, but she is.”

“About the house, Santiaga, I think we should sell it. You know, so we’ll have some money flow.”

“I like your mind,” he said. “Tell Goldstein. Tell him I said sell it. Winter, you gotta be tough. It’s time. Remember everything I taught
you. Keep your ears open. Follow the directions I gave you to the letter, and just play your hand close to your chest.” We said that last line together. I had heard it so many times. I had never really thought about how important it was, but it was sinking in now.

“Tell your mother I want to see her one week from today on Thursday. Tell her I said pull herself together and get down here on Thursday in her best shit so I can show her off.”

Magdalena had her stuff packed and at the door when I reached home. Her face was serious and fed up.

“What’s up?”

“That’s it.” She rubbed her hands together. “Finished.”

“What is it? You want more money?” I asked her. “I’ll give you more money. I was gonna pay you on Friday. That’s tomorrow, payday. Hell, I tipped you every day this week!”

“It’s not the money Ms. Winter. But I do need my pay for up until today.”

“Magdalena,” I pleaded, “come on, girl, you know I need you. My father’s gone. My mother’s gone. It’s just me and the kids. If you leave me, I won’t have anybody to help me with the kids.”

Magdalena busted out crying. “There is no kids.”

Her words hit me one by one. Each word in slow motion. “No kids.” I lost my composure. The tears burst out. “No kids?! What the fuck do you mean, Magdalena.” I grabbed her shaking her shoulders uncontrollably. “Where are my sisters? What the fuck do you mean no kids? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

“The BCW people came and said they were sent by the police. They said they had to take the kids ’cause there is no adult in the house.”

“What are you talking about, Magdalena? You’re an adult!”

“But Ms. Winter I had to tell them I no responsible. I have to leave at 7 P.M. this evening. They had de papers from the gobernment. They took ’em. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried. Then the horn honked, the signal from her son who picked her up every night in that raggedy 1970-something car.

As she held her hand out to be paid, I yelled, “You bitch! You couldn’t cover for me, you couldn’t just cover for me.” My voice echoed in the middle of this huge empty house. “I ain’t giving you shit,” I screamed, throwing a vase at her as she rushed out the door.

Every step I took around the house sounded like it was magnified by a microphone. I could hear my own heart beating in my chest and in my ears. I started hearing shit I never heard before, noises and heating systems and water dripping. I was stranded without a ride, without a family member. I was out in the fucking woods.

Just then Sterling, my old sugar daddy, became the most important person in the world. I ran upstairs, pulled my jewelery box out, looked for his number and called him. I had to calm down first. The worst thing I could do was make Sterling think I needed him. Then he would try and turn the tables.

“Sterling, this is me, Winter. It’s funny how you just came to mind. I was sitting here by the fire with my panties on, and I thought damn, I miss Sterling. Do you think you want to see me, ’cause I definitely want to see you.”

“Winter,” he said apologetically, “I have company right now.” A tear dropped from my eyes. I cleared my throat to bring the strength back into my voice.

“Who’s there with you?” He answered with silence. “Is she better than me Sterling? You know how good I can make you feel and I’m really needing you tonight, right now.”

“OK,” he said. “Give me a couple of hours. I’ll pick you up at eleven.” I packed my overnight bag. My money was running low, so I dropped my diamond bracelet, earrings, and necklace in my bag, too. If needed that was as good as money to me. I ran around the house turning on all the lights, TVs, and radios to convince myself I wasn’t alone until my ride came.

If I fucked Sterling that night I didn’t know it. It didn’t matter. My mind was on vacation. Apparently Sterling was so stupid that just my sweet face was enough to make him do whatever I wanted. The next day I convinced him to let me drop him at work and use his car. I promised to pick him up later that night. The idea of him seeing me two nights in a row was enough bait for him.

I putt-putted in the LeCar back to the house in Long Island, hoping that my mother would be released and I could meet up with her. At some point she’d figure out she had to cooperate even if all she said was I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. Then they would release her. Hell, she was completely innocent. I hated to think of her in jail, especially with her being so fragile. Since when does spending your
husband’s money become a crime? If it were, more than half of all women in the whole county would be locked down. If she wasn’t at the house by the time I got there, I’d swing by the precinct. The way I figured, they’d just try to shake her up. Try to get her to give evidence against Santiaga, which she would never do. I’d pick up my Moms. Then we would track down the girls.