The Coldest Winter Ever

by Sister Souljah

  The thing that stood out most about her were those eyes. She was staring right into me. She didn’t try to hide it or even look away when I looked at her. I wasn’t gonna stare back at her ’cause what was all this about anyway. She walked over toward me. As far as I’m concerned, she was standing way too close in my face. You know people need personal space. You’re not supposed to tell them that. They’re just supposed to know.

  First thing she said after long, uncomfortable moments of saying nothing, was, “You are so pretty.” I turned my head to look behind me. But I knew she was talking to me. What was I supposed to say in response to that? “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Long Island.” It just dropped out of my mouth. Less is better. I wasn’t gonna tell her all my business. There is no telling what Rashida had already told her, but I would fix that.

  “No, I meant what country?”

  “What?” I said, thinking to myself, What the hell is she talking about? We all come from right motherfucking here.

  “No, I was thinking maybe your family is from Panama or Trinidad, or one of the Islands maybe?”

  I gave her a one-word response, “Nah.” Then I continued to push for what I wanted. “Rashida said that you know my cousin, Midnight …”

  “Yeah.” She answered with one word. “Listen,” I said, “I don’t know what Rashida has told you. She doesn’t know me very well.” Rashida rolled, then cut, her eyes at me.

  “Anyway, you know how family moves around a lot. I grew up with Midnight. After he was about sixteen, we just lost track of one another. My mom doesn’t have long to live. I’d like Midnight to see her before she dies. He would hate himself if she died without him being able to say a few words. We were close like that. Well, anyway, Rashida mentioned that you know my cousin. She said you’d probably be able to give me his phone number or address.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your moms. Midnight calls me every now and then,” she said casually, “like maybe once a month. But I don’t call him or have his number.”

  “How about an address?” I pushed.

  “No, not even that,” she said, smiling politely. “Rashida said you need a place to stay?” she asked, still looking into my eyes. But my dad taught me how to have a poker face, so I put one on.

  “No, not really,” I answered her. Rashida exhaled, threw her hand up and said, “Winter!”

  “Winter,” Souljah repeated. “That’s a different kind of name.”

  “See, that’s what I was telling you. My friends call me Sasha, but Rashida wouldn’t know that.”

  “So Sasha, you’re not having any trouble like Rashida said?” Souljah asked, her eyes leaving my eyes and landing on my bedroom slippers.

  “It ain’t nothin’. Just some jealous girls at the place where I stay. They don’t matter though, ’cause in two months I’ll be eighteen and then I can get my own place.”

  After a pause, Souljah said, “The only problem is that in New York, beef between young sisters living in the same space can end up so many different ways. It could be a small thing. Or it could be murder. Jealousy is a dangerous emotion. Jealous people are usually so intensely dissatisfied with themselves that they have a burning desire to destroy anyone who has something they want, but feel they can’t have. You can stay here if you want. You don’t look like the type to stay too long. But since you are family with Midnight, I don’t mind letting you stay until he calls. Then you two can hook up and take it from there.”

  I liked the way she put it. So I agreed to stay. Rashida just said things all wrong all the time. She acted like she had one of those red flashing ambulance lights right over her head. She was always too eager.

  We went to the bedroom where I would stay. The place was real plain. But there was a big mirror and two comfortable-looking beds. “My sister, Lauren, stays in that bed,” Souljah said, pointing to the right side of the room. “Watch out for her. She’s a trickster. She should be home now. But she’s not, whatever.” Those were the last words I heard because I lay on the available bed in my clothes and twenty-seven hours of sleeplessness kicked in.

  Around midnight, my eyes reopened. For three brief seconds I tried to figure out where I was. It was the pink slippers on my feet that shook my memory into place. The quiet argument going on outside of my door got my blood going and I listened in.

  “I thought I told you if you were gonna go out and stay out overnight, you should call me.”

  “I didn’t know I was gonna stay out,” the unfamiliar voice shot back.

  “How does someone not know they’re going to stay out for two nights in a row? Now you explain that.”

  “I don’t really want to explain nothing. I just want to get some sleep.”

  “What you need to do is have some respect.”

  “You’re not my mother, you’re my sister.”

  “It doesn’t matter that I’m not your mother. I’m your sister, I’m the oldest and I take care of you. That’s enough reason for you to give me your respect.” Then she sucked her teeth.

  The door to the bedroom swung open, I jumped to sit up. She clicked the light on. I could tell she was surprised to see someone in her room by the look on her face. She closed the door back immediately.

  “Who’s that in my room? Or should I even bother to ask.”

  “Her name is Sasha. She’ll be staying for awhile.”

  “Well, what’s the deal?” she asked.

  “What deal?” Souljah responded.

  “The 411,” I heard her sister say.

  “Nothing, she’s cool,” I heard Souljah say. “She’s Midnight’s cousin.”

  “Ooooh ooooh ooooh,” the sister said, while I sat there wondering what all that meant.

  Tall and slim, the sister who was named Lauren looked like a brown China doll. She was the model-looking type of girl. I couldn’t call her a fashion model ’cause she had no fashion. She had nice hair, but with too much gel in it. She had cheap shoes—which I figured runs in her family—knock-off earrings, and a little Joyce Leslie–Sears–Lerner’s type of outfit. I always said it don’t mean shit if you don’t know what to do with it. She came and introduced herself. Her eyes bounced around the room while she talked. I guess she was checking to see if I messed with any of her shit.

  “So what are you in for?” Lauren asked.

  “What?”

  “What’s your problem. Everybody who stays with Souljah got some kind of problem. That’s the only kind of people she likes.”

  “Then what’s your problem,” I asked her.

  “My problem is that I’m related. And, of course, my problem is like everyone else’s problem, “cash flow.’ I work for Souljah answering the phone, when I’m here.”

  A soft knock at the door and then a push. “Sasha,” Souljah said, “my sister Lauren can tell you the house rules. She knows them, even though sometimes she doesn’t follow them. Tomorrow we can arrange to pick up your clothes.”

  “No, that’s alright. I’m gonna go shopping for some things tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you do have money?” Souljah asked.

  “A little something,” I said, smiling. Yeah, that’s right, I ain’t no charity case. I got my own loot, I was thinking to myself.

  A loud bell chimed throughout the house.

  “Could you get that?” Souljah asked, calling from the bathroom across the hall from our room. The shower was running. “Lauren, can you get the door for me?” she asked again.

  “Are you going out?” Lauren yelled back into the bathroom.

  “Yeah,” Souljah said. I watched as Lauren lay down on her bed.

  “Sasha, can you get the door please? I’m tired.” I knew her type. Everything was a test. I’d play her little game for a minute.

  When I got downstairs finally, I pulled back the curtain on the lightweight door. I couldn’t see the face ’cause the porch light was off. But the streetlight off to the side lit up the red Range Rover double-parked on the side of the money-green Benz
. The rims on this Rover were so hot I wanted to fuck the truck.

  “Are you gonna let me in or what.” Now I stood face to face with GS, one of the top hip-hop artists in the music industry. With one 2-karat diamond in his ear, my mouth hung open. Now, there’s not much shit that could surprise me, but right now I was stuck guarding the entrance to the door. Shocked, I could not move. I had seen all of the top artists in concert, even GS. Nobody could of convinced me that we would ever be standing one on one in the same house.

  “Souljah here?” The Guess jeans and fresh-out-the-Nike-box kicks looked good, but meant very little once I peeped the gold Rolex with the diamond bezel face.

  Now, honey just stepped over me like I was a roach. Or maybe he confused me with the maid. I watched his six-foot frame as it disappeared up the stairs. With my mouth wide open and my hands on my waist, you might have seen steam coming out of my ears had you been there.

  I checked how I just got played out in an expensive, but two-day dirty outfit and slippers. They knew who was at the door and they didn’t even warn me. Hell, everybody know how much first impressions mean. I didn’t even take a minute to brush my hair.

  It was right then that I realized how vexed I was that the bitches in the House of Success had raided my trunk. I was so happy that I had escaped with my loot and jewels that I wasn’t focused on the clothes. But now I stood there calculating the costs. Leaning against the second door, I outlined the shopping I would have to do in my head.

  It was obvious that there’s money in this house, I thought to myself. I wasn’t sure how I would get a piece of Souljah’s hustle. I was sure that I would. I knew she had to be some kind of con artist. Where did she get the money for this house, the Benz, and all that? Bigger question: Why would GS go out with someone like her, a girl who rocks skips and just wasn’t … just wasn’t fly? The answer must be because he hasn’t weighed his options. Someone like Souljah had access. She must have used those charity concerts to get in good with the stars. Well now I have access. Staying here wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. But like Souljah said, I wouldn’t be here long.

  I passed the happy couple on their way downstairs. She said “Peace.” I mumbled something back. Then I had to double right back and lock the door as they left.

  “So are you ready to hear the house rules?” Lauren asked, laying on the bed smoking a cigarette.

  “Yeah, give it to me,” I said unenthusiastically.

  “First rule is no smoking.” She started to laugh. “Souljah’s allergic to cigarettes. Plus she hates them. So I do it when she leaves, with the window open as you can see. She won’t be back for a few hours. I’ll spray this stuff,” she said, squirting cherry-aroma household spray. “Now when she gets back she’ll still ask me if I was smoking a cigarette even though our bedroom door is closed, the window open, and I sprayed this shit. Second rule is you can never stay in this house when no one else is home. You’ll either have to go out and do your own thing, come with me, or leave out with Souljah. Oh, and you can’t have a key. Those are Doc’s rules.”

  “Who’s Doc?”

  “She’s the doctor who owns this house. She runs her medical practice on the first floor. You probably didn’t notice it because her office has a separate lobby and a separate entrance. She has a lot of expensive stuff, equipment and all that. So she’s real strict about the key situation. I have one,” she said, shaking her small set of keys. “Next rule. You can’t bring nobody to this house. The only strangers who are allowed in are the patients who come in the side door and Souljah’s students on Thursday and Sunday nights. Now the men’s group meets on Thursday nights. It’s for men only. We can’t even stay back here in our room.”

  “What about Souljah, where does she go?”

  “She’s the teacher. She stays with the men. The women’s group is Sunday night. Souljah will want you to attend the womanhood meetings.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Lauren was calm. She just said, “Yeah, I know, right. Well she won’t force you into a meeting. But she expects anyone she’s dealing with to at least give it a try. They ain’t that bad. I go just for the laughs. As far as food goes, this is the deal. I don’t cook. Blimpie’s is right on the corner, pizza, McDonald’s, and there’s this good Jamaican spot on the avenue. Souljah cooks good, but she’s always on a diet. When there’s food here you can eat it. Souljah will share almost everything. Other than that, just expect her to try to get your life together whether you like it or want to or not. Don’t try to stop her. It’s in her blood.

  “Now the benefits is the reason I bother at all. Souljah’s VIP, she gets invited to everything, concerts, parties, dinners—she knows everybody. The thing is, unless she has a special reason she really doesn’t go. So we get to use the invites and meet everybody who’s anybody.”

  “Like GS?” I had to throw it in.

  “Yeah, he’s a fine ass, ain’t he.”

  “That was him at the door,” I said, hoping she would throw in some more information since she had already been so helpful.

  “Yeah, I figured it was him,” Lauren said casually. “Them two is weird.” I started laughing. Somehow or another, I was excited. Even though I appeared to be cool on the outside, the energy was just shooting every which way in my body. My mind was like a tape recorder, catching every word. I had always went to all the big shows, read the magazines, grown up on hip-hop. But I had never been on the inside. As I really thought about it, on the inside is where I needed to be. And if these people didn’t know how to take advantage of an opportunity, it would be their loss because I didn’t intend to miss a beat.

  “What’s so weird about them?” I tried to seem half interested.

  “Now figure, that dude can get any girl he wants. He comes here a few times a week, talks to Souljah for hours. Two, three o’clock in the morning, you get up to go to the bathroom, them two is laughing, talking, and whatnot. He picks her up and takes her out. On her birthday he was in here cooking for her.”

  “You lying!” I blurted out.

  “No, seriously. He’ll do anything for her. But …” She stopped talking.

  “But what?” I pushed, revealing my desire to know.

  “She ain’t fucked him. He’s not even her man or nothing.”

  “You’re killing me,” I said.

  “Killing you? It’s killing me!”

  “Well, what’s the deal?” I asked.

  Lauren said, “He’s not gay. I know girls he fucked before. But check how his man liked Souljah. He caught beef with his man for liking her. But she ain’t his girl, ain’t giving him no pussy, nothing.”

  “Maybe she’s lying to you about it,” I told her.

  “Nah, if there’s one thing I know, it’s my sister. She had a few bad relationships in the past. Now her legs is Krazy Glued shut. Funny thing is, she got more niggas coming and calling since she stopped fucking. Now you go figure.”

  One thing she said made my mind wander. It was the statement about past bad relationships. I wondered if Midnight was one of them. I wanted to ask, but I knew it was too soon to seem so interested. I figured I wouldn’t have to be that nosy to put this puzzle together. The way her sister just volunteered information, it would only be a short time until I could see the whole picture. Me and Lauren just clicked. The way she was just cool like that I knew we would kick it together.

  Back in a Benz. Things couldn’t have been better. Doc drove us to go shopping. She was the first black female doctor I had ever seen up close. Everything she had was high quality. She looked young, acted young, and didn’t even get snobby about being a brain surgeon.

  When we’d go into a store, she whipped out her gold card. When her wallet flipped open, I peeped she had platinum cards, Diners Club, the works. She was picking clothes and accessories for herself out of the top-line designer sections of the store. There were items only a professional shopper like myself would have the eye to select. When I seen how she’d just run everything on the card, I thought
to myself, It’s like she’s not even paying money for it. I needed one of those plastic cards so I could walk out of the store with bundles of stuff in my hands. I grabbed every credit application in sight.

  While me and Doc shopped, Souljah would lean on anything and read her book. Her sister Lauren was playing me so close it was annoying. I could tell she was a sponge just trying to soak up my flavor. She watched what clothes I selected. Even stuff I just picked up, looked at, and placed back on the rack. When I put something down, she would pick it up. Her eyes would be bulging as she looked at the price tag. I never liked shopping with a couple thousand dollars to spend while your partner only had a hundred and fifty. The person just keeps giving you the “buy me something” look. And y’all know I ain’t buying nobody shit. What was the icing on the cake was I bought a red leather Coach bag. It was a perfect match for the red Range Rover I seen last night. After following me around the whole afternoon without buying nothing, Lauren went and bought the same exact bag I purchased. Shit like that is unforgivable. But, I told myself, she’s not a shopper. She’s definitely no competition. So I checked what she did and let it go.

  Before I knew it, my hands were heavy with packages, but the yellow envelope taped to the bottom of the pocketbook was light. I only had five hundred dollars left to my name. Doc had challenged me to floss. I couldn’t let her go on a shopping spree for herself with me sitting back looking like the pauper. Plus if you have a Benz, you ought to be able to fill it with packages from Bloomingdale’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Nordstrom, and whatnot.

  It all fit into my plan anyway. I would reverse last night’s scene of embarrassment with the messy clothes and slippers. GS would never catch me off guard again. The next time he ran into me, he wouldn’t even know I was the same girl who answered the door.