The Coldest Winter Ever (6 page)

When we got to downtown Brooklyn, I asked Midnight where he was headed. He was turning right, our old neighborhood was to the left.

“I said I would tell you,” he said. Minutes later Midnight pulled over, put on his emergency blinkers, and ask me to get out. Puzzled, I got out. He came around to my side. He didn’t let the girls get out.

I said, “I know we ain’t leaving them in the car.”

“Come here, I got to tell you something.” He put his arm around me and looked me dead in the eyes, “Your mother is in the hospital. She’s been shot.”

My whole mind went blank. It was like someone took an eraser, the type they clean the blackboard with in school, and just wiped everything out. One second later my mouth was screaming. My mind was blank. My body was cold. Midnight’s arms were around me, hugging me, embracing me, and trying to hide my face and tears from the girls. They had their faces glued to the window, saying something like, “Oooh, Winter’s kissing Midnight. We gonna tell Mommy.” My body was stiff, my mind wouldn’t think. I felt out of control. What do I do? What do I do now?

“Is she okay? Is she gonna … Is she gonna …” Midnight held me tighter, firmer, almost as if to demand with his body that I get it together.

“She was shot in the face. I don’t know how she is. Santiaga is upstairs with her now. I’ll watch your sisters. You go upstairs and check on the situation with her now. Vega will take you up on the elevator,” he said, nodding in the direction of one of Daddy’s men stationed in the main lobby door of the hospital.

“You come with me?” I begged him.

“No, this is my position. We don’t want the little ones to know nothing yet.”

Upstairs Santiaga looked like a madman. His face was dark with sadness. When he looked at me, I could swear that I saw tears, something I could honestly say I never seen in his eyes before. He hugged me hard, strong, and warm. As he laid his head on top of my head, his voice whispered, “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.”

“What happened, Daddy? Is she okay?”

“She’s going to be alright. They’re operating on her now,” he said flatly. “I should have just gotten her the car,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t of hesitated.”

“What happened?” I repeated.

“I never should’ve let her ride with me today. I knew better than that. What a stupid mistake. What a stupid fucking mistake. Them motherfuckers is gonna feel it. Violation.” He grabbed my face with both hands. “They’ll take care of your mother,” he said, using his eyes to point out his men stationed in the waiting room. “You take the children and stay with Midnight.”

“Where are you going, Daddy? Can I see Ma?” My words hit his back. He walked out the door.

The doctors, nurses, attendants—hell, it took the entire hospital it seemed like to hold me back. I wanted to see my mother. They kept telling me, “She’s on the operating table. She’ll be in intensive care later. Contamination, infection, blah, blah, blah.” Pizzaz and Driguez, two more of Daddy’s workers, were standing near the operating room doors. They was tryna look casual but it’s hard for two big black niggas from the streets to look casual in a hospital. It ain’t like somebody was gonna mistake them for doctors or nothing.

My mind started to clear up as I sat and sat and sat. It dawned on me to call Natalie. If something went down around our way she would definitely know a little about it. Natalie’s voice was apologetic, she said sorry so many times you’d think she pulled the trigger. I didn’t have to say nothing. Natalie just rambled on. “I know it was them niggas from the C building on the other side. They been tryna blow up around our way for some time now. On the low they’ve been shaking niggas down, looting, and terrorizing everybody. They got their little operation going on but, damn, to blast Santiaga’s woman in the face. That’s some raw unnecessary shit! The way I figure it, there are enough crackheads around here for everybody to get money. But they’ll learn. They young boys anyway. They’ll catch it. Santiaga will set them straight. It’s gonna be a blood storm in Brooklyn tonight!” She acted excited, like she was watching a heavyweight fight at Madison Square Garden or something.

“Where you at?” Natalie questioned.

“The hospital,” I mumbled back.

“Where are the kids, with the housekeeper?”

“Nah, they downstairs with Midnight.”

“Midnight! What’s he doing there?” she intruded, then continued on. “Oh it’s
like that
now, huh. Oh, that’s your man now’n shit?” I hung up.

Driguez motioned to me to come toward him. Discreetly he leans toward me, saying, “I’m taking you downstairs now. You won’t be able to see your mother until tomorrow. Midnight is waiting downstairs in the front. You’ll leave with him.”

“What exactly happened?” I asked. I got no response.

“Drop the kids off at Aunt Laurie’s house,” I told Midnight from the passenger seat. “I want to go check on some stuff.” He looked at me with complete defiance, told me that he already had the plans from Santiaga and I should just sit back and do as I’m told. “Just let me make one stop then,” I said, figuring I needed to be on my Brooklyn block where the shit was jumping off at. I needed to be with my girls ready to do whatever we had to do.

“That’s the problem with all you women,” Midnight said dryly, like he was forty years old instead of twenty-two. “Nobody can tell y’all shit. You never want to listen. Never want to follow instructions. Then when shit goes down, all the fuck you can do is cry.”

We crossed the state line into New Jersey. Midnight pulled into the Marriott Hotel parking lot. As many times as I had thought about me and Midnight’s hot bodies all twisted up on some crisp clean cold new white hotel sheets, I never imagined that we would be here under these circumstances.

“We’re gonna stay here tonight,” he said. A big smile spread across my lips. “No, this is serious,” he spit, as though my delight was somehow illegal. “I’ll check in for all of us. Most likely nobody will ask, but if they do, we’re one family renting a suite, last name Cooper.”

“Cooper, is that your last name?” I asked.

“See,” he said. “You don’t even know my name. Remember that.”
Humph,
I thought to myself,
is that supposed to be some kind of fucking answer or something?

The suite was immaculate, top-of-the-line. I couldn’t of asked for more if I was on a honeymoon. There was one king-sized bed and a living room with a couch with a pull-out bed inside. Each room had its own television. The bathroom was huge marble down and looked brand new. I stepped in there, took a deep breath and figured maybe after the kids went to sleep we could room-service some Cristal and sip it while we took a bubble bath together in the Jacuzzi. I needed something to relieve all my pressure and why not get with the man I always wanted.

“You four can take this bed,” Midnight said, pointing to the bedroom.
“I’ll sleep in the living room. We’ll be here for the next three days, so get comfortable, and chill. You three, don’t make a mess,” he said with a certain joking tenderness that must be reserved only for children.

“Three days!” I hollered with my hand on my hips. “Can I talk to you a minute, please?” I pointed toward the living room. He rejected my order, turned the television to the Disney Channel for my sleepy sisters and then came into the living room at his own pace.

“What is this shit about three days? I have one dress with me, the one I’m wearing. The three little bears have no clothes and already have spilled shit all over themselves. My mother’s in the hospital. I want to see her. I need to know what’s going on. I’m not down with this
Mission Impossible
shit. And, as for that shit you were talking in the car about women crying when shit breaks down, that’s bullshit! I’m a fighter. I’ve held heat before and I know how to use it. I can cut a bitch with my razor so fast and so clean she wouldn’t even know what happened until she bled to death. The problem with you, Midnight, is you think you know every goddamn thing. What you’re not understanding is that I can help. I can be your right-hand man. Just let me know what’s up, what’s going on?”

Nothing moved except Midnight’s jawbone, something Mama said was a definite sign of a man’s anger. He reached in his back pocket, pulled out a stack of bills. “First thing in the morning I’ll take you out to get some clothes. Don’t worry. I realize you’re a high maintenance bitch. Gotta keep you up in the style you’re accustomed to. How many fighters do you know find themselves in the middle of the goddamn war and all the fuck they think about is fashion and the clothes on their back. Hell no, you won’t ever be my right-hand man.”

I was impressed with the big stack of bills and excited about going shopping. I wondered if this was his money or if Santiaga had given it to him and he knew all along that he had orders to take me shopping. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Maybe he was using his own money, but knew Santiaga would pay him back.

“Okay, one last question,” I pushed, knowing I was aggravating him yet enjoying the attention. “What clothes are we going to wear out to go shopping in the morning when all of our stuff is dirty? … Never mind. I know—the laundry service.”

As I pushed 8 to call down to the laundry room he put his finger on the phone, disconnecting my call. With a muscular hand on my
shoulder, he said sarcastically, “Think like you come from the projects. Take your clothes off and wash them in the sink. Hang ’em up by the heater to dry. You know how to wash clothes, don’t you? The laundry service is closed now. It’s almost midnight.”

After stripping the three bears and tossing their clothes in the sink, I put them under the sheets and blankets. I talked to them about the things we were going to do tomorrow and assured them that everything was okay. They knocked out to sleep one by one like clockwork. I slipped off my dress and stood checking myself out in the bathroom mirror. Thank God I listened to Mamma’s advice about always have nice clean sexy underwear. If I was a tackhead, I could of got caught out here with some beat-up drawers on my ass, with a shit stain and a big old hole in ’em. Just the thought cracked me up. I peeled off my panties, undid my bra, and put them in the sink. I stepped in the shower and let the warm water turn hotter, steaming my whole body from the tension of my crazy day.

My mind was downloading slowly. What about Momma? What would her face look like now? Would she have to get plastic surgery? Would her face be temporarily disfigured? What would Santiaga think about her face? Of course he would make sure she would get the best medical treatment and everything. How long would she stay in the hospital? Oh, my God. Would I become a professional baby-sitter, getting stuck with my little sisters? Santiaga would definitely have to hire the housekeeper full time instead of part time to help watch the kids. What about Midnight? What was his beef with the world? Or was it that he just liked pissing on my world? For once Mamma was wrong. She told me that Midnight wanted me. She told me that only his fear of Santiaga stood in the way. But that was not what I saw in his eyes, fear. He never seemed fearful of anything or anyone. He just straight seems disinterested in me. Now he and I were forced together for three days, like being stuck on a deserted island. If I was the last woman on earth, would Midnight turn me down? What the hell could he be thinking?

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed two towels, wrapped one around my wet hair and the other around my body. I swerved into the living room where Midnight had positioned himself in front of the TV. His dress shirt was open. Underneath he was wearing one of those crisp white undershirts. I could see his gun on his waist, half-tucked in his pants. My eyes slid down his legs, I could see another gun he held near
his ankle. The blackness, the guns, his muscle structure, that white shirt, those white teeth, and his unfiltered anger was so seductive I had to try again to get with him. “Do you want me to wash your clothes? I’m getting good at it now.”

“No that’s okay,” he said, without even taking so much as a look at me. I stepped over and into the chair opposite him.

“I’m tired,” I said, stretching my arms slowly above my head.

“Go to bed then,” he answered cruelly, as if he didn’t want to be bothered. I picked up my legs and placed them on the arm of my chair. I was now going to become the freshly showered, hair-wrapped, body-wrapped-in-a-towel Ivory girl. I started playing games with my legs, repositioning them, opening them slowly, closing them slowly. I was making it possible for him to see the hairs on my pussy, if he only wanted to. When I got excited enough, my juices would start to flow, releasing the scent of a willing pussy, definitely something he wouldn’t be able to fight.

“Are you a homosexual, Midnight? ’Cause if you are, that’s cool. To each his own and all that good shit.”

He laughed a rare laugh and, without turning around, he said, “Go to bed little girl.”

“Little girl! Do these look like little girl titties to you?” I stood up and released the towel, dropping it to the floor. I wanted him to see my 34Ds so he could take back his insult. I wanted him to see my whole body. He stayed stiff like a mummy, unaffected by my nakedness—and I mean I was butt naked, standing in the middle of a hotel suite which was designed for fucking.

Midnight leaned up, grabbed the remote, and started surfing channels.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said finally, like a father would. I sucked my teeth, picked up my towel, and returned to the bathroom.

I washed, rinsed, and twisted the clothes as if they were the source of my anger, laying each piece out to dry separately, some by the heater, some on the shower curtain. I tiptoed into the bedroom, not wanting to wake my sisters. I grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and sat my bare ass in the comfortable chair next to the bedroom window, where I slept.

In the morning, I used the hotel blow-dryer, conveniently situated on the bathroom wall, to finish drying the damp clothes. I slid into my dress, hating the idea of repeating yesterday’s fashion. Without a
proper cleaning, the clothes were stiff and rough like cardboard. Brushing my hair into a French bun, I heard Midnight talking. I pushed open the door connecting to the living room. He abruptly ended a conversation he had been having on his cell phone.