The House that Hustle Built, Part 1

by Nisa Santiago

“He’s doing only six months. It’s not like he’s doing life.”

  Roark said, “But you had to buy your own ring.”

  “It’s my choice. Y’all acting like y’all not happy for me. What’s up? Cash loves me, and I love him.”

  Roark and Jamie looked at each other like they knew a big secret that Pearla didn’t know. They thought she was playing herself, getting engaged to a nigga while he was in jail and she had to buy her own ring. Who does that?

  Pearla was obsessed with marrying Cash despite the naysayers. In her eyes, it was probably jealousy, because she’d snagged a fine man like Cash and they hadn’t.

  “I want y’all to be my bridesmaids.”

  “Bridesmaids?”

  “Yes.”

  “When is the wedding?”

  “We don’t have a date, but it will be soon. So, will y’all be my bridesmaids?” she asked again, smiling.

  Reluctantly, they accepted.

  Pearla was thrilled.

  ***

  Momma Jones strutted across the street in her tight miniskirt, worn-out heels, and a halter top so tight and revealing her tits looked like they were trying to jump out of her shirt. It was just after midnight, and she was turning tricks in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, walking in the middle of the street and flagging down cars.

  She had heard about her son’s arrest, but it didn’t bother her. In fact, she had smirked when she heard he’d been arrested for stealing cars and was serving time on Rikers Island. She’d said to herself then, “Nigga thinks he’s better than me and gets locked up. Serves him right.”

  She stood on the corner longing to make some money tonight and get high. She was willing to do anything for the right price. Her body was a trick’s canvas. They could paint any sexual desire they wanted on her—anal, have her swallow come, suck on balls, fuck on the hood of a car, or even group sex. If they were paying, she did it.

  She walked into the street and tried to flag down a red minivan. As it slowed down, Momma Jones hurried toward the driver’s side, and the window slid down.

  “Hey, sweetie, you lookin’ for a date?” she asked with a wide smile.

  “Yeah. How much?” the driver asked. He was an older black man with a graying beard and a meek demeanor about him.

  “What you lookin’ for?”

  “A blowjob.”

  “That’s twenty.”

  He smiled. “Get in.”

  Momma Jones didn’t hesitate. She strutted around toward the passenger side and climbed inside. She was ready to go.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “I know a place. It’s quiet and private, and there I can suck your dick and make you come until you lose weight,” she lightheartedly said.

  “That sounds like the perfect plan,” he replied, chuckling.

  “Let’s go.”

  The man didn’t budge. He simply looked at Momma Jones and feigned a smile. The way he looked at her, Momma Jones immediately knew something was wrong. And then there it was, her worst nightmare—the badge. He was vice, and this was going to be her second arrest this month.

  “Yeah, it don’t look too good for you,” the cop said, shooting a smug look her way.

  She sighed heavily and looked deflated. “Fuck me!”

  “Not in a million years.”

  ***

  The person Momma Jones least expected to bail her out was Pearla, especially after the way she’d treated her when Cash had brought her around. The bail was high. Momma Jones was lucky she had bail, with this being her second arrest for prostitution in one month. The judge was lenient, but he gave her a stern warning. The next time she was arrested for prostitution, she was going to have to do some time.

  But what she really needed was a detox program. Drugs were eating away her life.

  Momma Jones and Pearla walked away from the courthouse being distant toward each other. Momma Jones looked a hot mess. She glared at Pearla. “Don’t expect any fuckin’ favors from me. I didn’t ask you to come bail me out.”

  Pearla chuckled. Is she serious? I can’t believe this bitch is serious.

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Cash. He asked me to. Don’t you see, your son really loves you, and look at you, you’re a disgrace to him.”

  “Bitch, who are you to judge me? Like you God Almighty. Bitch, I know what you are.”

  “What am I?”

  “You a leech—that’s what you are. You see a good thing, and you latch yourself to it, draining it dry.”

  Pearla had to laugh at that one. It was funny to her. “I’m a leech?”

  “Yes, and my son is a good thing, a pretty boy making money, and you see a good thing and wanna take from him.”

  “Wow.”

  Cash’s mother was delusional. She lived in her own world and had a distorted version of the truth. Pearla swallowed her contempt for the woman, though she was rude and disrespectful, and helped her out anyway, as a favor for her man.

  ***

  Now Cash’s father, Ray-Ray, he was delight to be around. He was such a sweetheart; a really nice guy. Pearla constantly looked after him and kept him posted about his son. Like Cash, she would have long and meaningful talks with him. He made her laugh, like Cash did. He complimented her and called her beautiful, like Cash always did.

  Pearla wondered, For a man to be so smart and wise, why is his own life so fucked up?

  “You’re going to be my daughter-in-law. I always wanted a daughter, and a beautiful daughter too,” he said to Pearla. “Welcome to the family.”

  Pearla beamed. Why couldn’t his mother be more like his father?

  A month after Cash’s incarceration, Pearla was out in the streets, keeping her word and holding him down in jail. She was proving herself to be that ride-or-die bitch for her man.

  Nineteen

  With fall approaching, it meant Cash’s release was soon coming. Pearla couldn’t wait. He was scheduled to be released sometime the end of October. By then, she would have everything set up for him. Despite his absence, the summer had been good to Pearla. Money, money, money, it was all she was making—becoming a boss bitch. She drowned herself with Chanel, Gucci, Fendi and many other hot designers, along with the other finer things in life. She’d upgraded her Benz and was driving around town like an A-list celebrity.

  Chica was going around the hood talking shit about Pearla, but Pearla wasn’t worried. She thought Chica, like Perez, was all bark with no bite. She had relocated to an even better neighborhood, and no one knew her address. She didn’t shit where she ate. She became introverted, choosing to keeping her circle tight. She remained close friends with Jamie and Roark, and only they knew her location and her business.

  Pearla and Roark rode into Brownsville styling in Pearla’s gleaming silver S-Class Benz with chrome rims and a slight tint on the windows. In fact, Pearla’s vanity plates read She-Boss.

  She came to a stop on Ray-Ray’s block. She was there to give him a few dollars. He definitely needed it. As usual, Ray-Ray was lingering in front of the liquor store, smiling and cracking jokes, opening the door to the store for patrons and entertaining.

  Pearla stepped out of her car looking like a diva with her black lace Manolo Blahnik heels, stylish halter top, and designer jeans so expensive they looked like they were dripping in diamonds. Roark too, looked really good.

  When Ray-Ray saw his favorite girl approaching, he smiled so big, his ears felt like they would implode. He looked a little drunk.

  As the two girls walked his way, Ray-Ray clapped his hands together excitedly. “Hey now. How good it is to see my son’s two favorite girlfriends!”

  What? Pearla thought. His son’s two favorite girlfriends?

  At first, Pearla was going to write it off as a drunk talking and foolishness coming from an old man, but when she looked over at Roark,
she saw guilt on her friend’s face. Pearla planned on getting to the bottom of things.

  Pearla had a talk with Ray-Ray and gave him some money, but they didn’t stay long. What he had said was lingering in her mind, and Roark was too quiet all of a sudden and looked too guilty about something. She knew if her friend could teleport, she would be gone in a heartbeat.

  They walked back to her Benz and got in. Pearla turned up. “What the fuck was Ray-Ray talking about back there?”

  Roark looked nervous and scared for a moment. She was definitely hiding something. Ray-Ray had inadvertently spilled the truth about something going on.

  “Bitch, don’t fuckin’ play stupid with me. Let me know something. You’re my friend, Roark. Talk, bitch, because I swear, if you don’t, it’s going be hell up in this car. Are you fuckin’ Cash?”

  Roark sadly looked into her friend’s eyes and came out with it. “I used to.”

  Pearla was in shock. She couldn’t believe it.

  “Let me explain,” Roark said.

  “Bitch, what is there to explain?”

  “It happened way before you two even got together. It wasn’t even a relationship with him, just sex. Way before you and me became friends.”

  Pearla was seething. She knew her man was a male whore, but damn! He’d fucked Roark too? Her stomach churned with sickness, knowing her man had dipped his dick into a friend of hers.

  “But we haven’t done anything in so long, Pearla. I swear to you, I don’t fuck with him anymore.”

  No matter what came out of Roark’s mouth, how she dressed it up, or rueful she looked, it didn’t change a thing. She had fucked Cash. It didn’t matter if it happened last year or yesterday. The thought was still sickening.

  “But I know he loves you, Pearla. What we had was a long time ago, and I don’t want him anymore. I swear to you, I’ve been over him.”

  Pearla heard her talking, but she wasn’t listening. The only thing she could remember was Roark being against her dating Cash and giving her warnings about him. She could be lying, Pearla thought. Every bitch wanted Cash. For all she knew, it could be a ruse to try and get him back.

  “Pearla, I know he’s yours, and believe me, I would never go there again. I respect you too much, and you’re my best friend. I don’t want him anymore. It was a long time ago.”

  Her blood boiling to a breaking point, Pearla glared at Roark and threw a hard punch to her left jaw that sent her head flying back. “Bitch, shut the fuck up!” she screamed.

  Pearla hit her again in the same place, even harder. “Get the fuck out my car, bitch!”

  Roark knew not to protest. She clenched her left jaw and slowly made her exit from the car, tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Pearla.”

  “Fuck your sorry, bitch!”

  Pearla didn’t want to hear her apologies. Even though it’d happened before she met Cash, it still was painful. Why did she have to be so in love with this man? She was very aware of his past and was afraid to ask him how many women he’d actually been with.

  Her tears fell, and her mind started to spin. She needed to go. She brought the engine to life and sped away, leaving Roark standing on the sidewalk crying with a bruised cheekbone and hurt feelings.

  ***

  Pearla had been to Rikers Island over a dozen times to see Cash since he’d gotten himself locked up. She’d looked forward to every visit, but this time she was ambivalent. She needed to hear it from him. She sat in the visiting room trying to hold back her tears. She knew seeing her man again after finding out about him and Roark was going to bring about a flood of emotions. Her heart beat rapidly like an African symphony. She tried to keep her composure, but it was so hard.

  Every visit before this one, she came dressed nicely, looking like eye candy for her big daddy, but today she was there in regular jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she barely wore any makeup. This wasn’t a social visit; this was going to be more like an interrogation.

  Cash was ushered into the room clad in his ugly, orange prison jumpsuit. When he saw Pearla, he smiled widely, but she didn’t return the smile. Walking toward her, he right away knew something was wrong.

  Pearla remained seated, no hugs or kisses like usual, just aloofness.

  Cash sat opposite her. “What’s goin’ on, Pearla? Everything okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

  “No, everything is not okay,” she returned firmly.

  “Why the look?”

  “Did you fuck my friend?”

  Cash had that Oh shit! look on his face. “Let me explain,” he started.

  She started crying, unable to hold back the tears. “What is there to explain, Cash? You are such a fuckin’ whore!”

  “Yeah, I fucked her, baby. I’m sorry. She didn’t mean anything to me. It just happened. I know she was your best friend, but I cut the bitch off when I got really serious with you,” he said.

  His statement brought Pearla into sudden confusion. “What?” She realized he wasn’t talking about the past but the present. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Jamie. How did you find out? Did she tell you?”

  Pearla felt so betrayed and crushed on so many levels. The tears pouring out from her eyes could have left a small puddle around her feet.

  Cash tried to console her, but she pushed him away and violently smacked him so hard, the sound of her hand crashing against his face echoed throughout the room.

  “Fuck you!” she screamed. “I fuckin’ hate you! How could you do me like this? I fuckin’ loved you, nigga! You fucked that bitch?” She pushed herself away from the table and abruptly stood up.

  By now, guards were hurrying their way.

  She spat on Cash. “Stay the fuck away from me!” she screamed and stormed toward the exit.

  Cash sat there looking like he had lost his best friend. There was nothing he could say or do.

  Twenty

  Pearla cried all day. She locked herself away in her bedroom wishing there was some easy way to take the pain away. She felt hurt and betrayed, especially by both of her friends. Roark had fucked Cash in the past, and Jamie fucked him while they were together. Damn! It felt like a conspiracy against her. She didn’t want to talk to or see anybody. She needed some time alone. Being in love was a bitch, and Pearla was deeply in love. It was hard not to think about Cash. Even though she was still pissed at him and hurt, she was ready to forgive him for his infidelity before she forgave her own friends.

  She realized that being locked away in her bedroom and listening to Mary J. Blige albums wasn’t going to cut it. Life still went on, and hustling never died out. But before she could move forward, she had to handle her business. She felt Jamie punked her, smiling in her face while stabbing her in the back. At least Roark’s affair with Cash had happened a long time ago, but there was no excuse for Jamie. She was Pearla’s friend, and friends don’t fuck each other’s man. There was no way she was about to let it go and not confront that snake bitch.

  Pearla left her apartment on a mission. She jumped into her S-Class and headed to the old neighborhood in search of Jamie. She wanted to physically hurt that bitch, put her in the hospital. Jamie had the audacity to fuck her man while she put her on and had that bitch getting money out there. She drove her car hurriedly into the East New York hood and went looking for Jamie at locations she was known to frequent.

  An hour went by, and there was still no sign of Jamie. She patrolled the area like a squad car, slowly riding down the blocks and looking out her window. All eyes were on the S-Class with the She-Boss license plate. She tried calling Jamie’s phone, but she wasn’t picking up. It was like Jamie was deliberately sending her calls to voice mail, probably knowing it was on.

  Pearla made a right onto Pitkin Avenue, and bam, there she was, coming out of the corner bodega across the st
reet from the housing project with another girl. She stopped the car suddenly at the curb and jumped out of her Benz like she was police.

  Jamie stood there looking at Pearla coming her way. The way Pearla was approaching her, she knew it was something serious.

  Pearla got up in Jamie’s face. “You fucked Cash, you slut bitch?”

  “Bitch, what?”

  “Bitch, you fuckin’ heard me!” Pearla shouted. “Cash told me every gotdamn thing about you and him. You were my friend, Jamie. I looked out for you, had you getting money out here and everything,”

  “Bitch, I don’t fuckin’ need you. I got money, bitch!” Jamie scowled, ready to go to war with her best friend. “And besides, bitch, Cash don’t want you anyway. He’s using you. I love him more than you ever will. He ain’t about to marry you.”

  Pearla had heard enough. She lashed out at Jamie like Mayweather, striking her with a two-piece combination, causing her to stagger. Jamie, however, refused to go down so easily.

  They duked it out with a crowd gathering around the fight. There was hair-pulling and blows raining down, but as the fighting intensified between them, Pearla and Jamie kept feeling themselves being pulled away from each other.

  Some fool was trying to break it up, saying, “Yo, y’all friends. Y’all shouldn’t be fighting, especially over some nigga.”

  “Get off me!” Pearla screamed. “Get the fuck off me! I’m gonna fuck that bitch up!”

  “Fuck you, bitch!”

  They quickly broke away and ran smack into each other—hair was in disarray, with jewelry and weave flying everywhere, along with clothing being torn and private areas being somewhat exposed. Jamie was tough, but Pearla was even tougher.

  Once again, the two were separated from each other.

  “I’ma kill you, bitch!” Jamie yelled.

  Pearla wasn’t worried at all. Her former friend hadn’t seen the last of her. She grabbed her things off the sidewalk and walked to her car, shouting, “That’s my nigga you fuckin’ with!”

  “Bitch, how do my pussy taste?”

  “Bitch, I got the ring.”