“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 sorr
y, 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.
The driveway to my house was blocked off. It wasn’t a regular police car—you know, the kind with the siren—it was one of them cars like the D.T. drives, undercover. I pulled to the side of the road. I climbed the winding driveway leading up to our home.
“Excuse me, Officer, this is my house and—”
“This house and all the belongings inside are now the property of the federal government. No one is allowed on the property unless he is an agent of the federal government.”
“Who are you?”
“The FBI,” he said with authority and a puffed out chest.
“Explain this to me,” I said, carefully. “How is it that you people can take people’s property, steal their house, and not even allow a woman to get her clothes out or her baby sister’s bottles?” I was going for sympathy. I had no wins running up against the glock.
“In America, miss, all material items purchased with illegal money made from illegal actions and transactions are subject to seizure. Now if you want something in there all you gotta do is bring some pay stubs from your job and prove you have a legitimate occupation. If those items inside the house are within the boundary of your earnings and you can prove it to the judge, you can get them back. You can pick up the necessary paperwork from the precinct or have your lawyer call us up and we’ll send it to him.”
I wanted to spit in his face but for now it wouldn’t be smart. The only thing to do now was go straight to Santiaga’s lawyer. Otherwise all these cocksuckers would give me this official talk and send me away empty-handed. I would get the lawyer involved on my mother’s behalf as well. As the LeCar maxed out at sixty miles per hour, my mind calculated the value of everything in my bedroom—jewelry, clothes, shoes, electronics, TV, etcetera. Hats off to the motherfucking police, I thought to myself. They had the best hustle in town. They were the real criminals.
Goldstein’s office was plush. The chairs were buttery leather, the walls walnut. The windows looked out onto the outlines of the city. I wasn’t surprised. It was my father’s style to be affiliated with the big-timers. I sat down in the big chair. It was reserved for clients and positioned directly in front of the attorney’s chair. I kept thinking that this chair was the hot seat. It got you all impressed. Then just as you started to feel all comfortable, the lawyer would demand a minimum of ten grand just to peek at your case.
“So you are Santiaga’s daughter, beautiful, beautiful?” He smiled like a gentleman. “Where is your mother? I thought I told you to bring your mother.”
“She’s locked up.” His left eyebrow raised up. He reached to his desk and grabbed one of those legal pads and listened to my whole story. He didn’t interrupt me once. Only the lines on his forehead answered. Every now and then he’d scribble on the pad.
“Well now, you’ve got about five different matters here. Your father, that’s one. Your mother, that’s two. Your sisters, that’s three. You want me to look into the matter of your house, that’s four. The cars, that’s five. It’s going to take a lot of manpower to get this job done.”
I could feel him setting me up for the kill, fattening me up like a pig before the slaughter. He just wanted the bacon. “Right. Santiaga says, use the key.” He repeated my message from Santiaga to himself. Then he muttered something like power of attorney. He found the paper he was looking for in the file. He smiled, told me he’d get to work on all these matters. He would use the key and let me know what else was needed. He asked for my phone number and address.
“Haven’t you been listening? I have no address. I’ll be drifting. I’ll call you.”
“By the way,” he said as I was stepping out of the door, “how old are you?”
“Seventeen, why?”
“Because my best bet is that the Bureau of Child Welfare will be looking to pick you up as well.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, but according to the law, the state is your temporary guardian until you turn eighteen years old. You are a minor. Not to worry,” he said smiling again, “we’ll just need to get ahold of your mother to get around this mess. My office will be the meeting point. When I get your mother, I’ll bring her here or at least you can check in periodically with one of my secretaries and they will be able to tell you where to meet her.”
7
Between the money that I took out of my mother’s pocketbook, plus my own cash, I had a total of $1,480, a diamond necklace, a diamond bracelet, diamond earrings, and the clothes on my back.
If there hadn’t been a flashing pink sign that read DINER, when I walked out of Goldstein’s office, I wouldn’t’ve remembered to eat. I had been three days without thinking about food. I had a chance to eat but I kept trying to get my head to think of answers to all these situations. Soon as something clicked into place something else popped out of order. Making a plan was complicated. When would my moms get out? What fee would the lawyer charge? I couldn’t come up with a good plan because I couldn’t relax. I was cool on the outside, but inside I wa
s in a state of panic. Normally I’d be plotting on a party. Now I was plotting on survival, something Santiaga always took care of for me. If nothing else was clear, the fact that I had to take care of myself was. The girls were little and cute. Somebody would give them shit for the time being. I, on the other hand, would have to get mines myself.
I wasn’t sure if I could go back to Brooklyn yet either. I tried not to get paranoid and start thinking there was a hit on me or something crazy. Out of respect for Santiaga and my moms, I decided to wait. Besides, Brooklyn represented too many unanswered questions for now. Aunt Laurie would be vexed because we never called her back about Uncle Steve. By now she would’ve found out Santiaga got knocked too. Everybody would be expecting our family to roll out the dough, bankroll everybody’s situation like normal. We were no longer in the position to get down like that ’cause money had to go toward our own problems, especially Santiaga’s case. I wasn’t about to put myself in the position of having to borrow shit from them either. I could see them tryna flip attitude on me something lovely. Bowing down was not something I do.
I knew I could always chill at Natalie’s. Her moms wouldn’t give a damn and probably wouldn’t even know I was there. But the shit Natalie pulled with Bullet had me looking at her like she couldn’t be trusted. Realistically Natalie was a lifeline. She had information. What I could do, I decided, was play her. Get to know what I needed to know. Tell her as little as possible and even throw her a curve ball now and then. I definitely wasn’t gonna give her the pleasure of feeling like now me and her was on the same level. I would focus on the loochie, the cash, the loot, and just how I was going to make it.
I picked over my cheeseburger deluxe for an hour and a half before I came up with a plan. The impatient waitress tried to clear me out of the diner by exhaling real loud like I was taking up too much space for the amount of money I was spending. The key to getting back on top was Midnight. He had the fifty thousand dollars Santiaga told me about. Even though it was Santiaga’s money and I didn’t know how much of it he would need toward legal fees, there would be no harm in me getting my hands on the dough. I was not in jail so I might as well be useful. The smart thing to do would be to flip the cash. Invest it and double it at least. Then I could deliver the fifty grand to the lawyer and have a nice piece of change to set myself up as well.
The Coldest Winter Ever Page 9