Satin Nights

by Karen E. Quinones Miller

  And of course, Tamika, the last and the sweetest of the Four Musketeers. Little Tamika . . . Regina shook herself slightly as if to wake herself up. Why was she getting so sentimental about her friends all of a sudden? she wondered. She pushed her drink away from her. Three apple martinis obviously exceeded her limit.

  “So, Puddin’, what’s this big news you made us come down here for?” Yvonne asked after the waiter brought Puddin’ and Regina their food. “You finally get a job?”

  “Yeah, right. That’ll be the day,” Puddin’ answered with a mouthful of food.

  “Oh, she already told me,” Regina said nonchalantly. “She killed a man yesterday. And right in front of his grandkids.”

  “Oh please, I already know about all that. Puddin’ called me last night after it happened.”

  “She did?” Regina was surprised. Usually, she or Tamika was the first person Puddin’ turned to, since she knew Yvonne always had a lecture prepared.

  “Yeah, she had to. The heifer had my car,” Yvonne said dryly.

  “What? You didn’t tell me that,” Regina said as she slapped Puddin’s hand. “I thought you had Jimmy’s car.”

  “Naw, I dropped that cheap-ass mofo.”

  “Oh really?” Regina raised her eyebrow. “So then, that’s not his platinum card you flashed, huh?”

  “Puddin’ got a platinum card?” Yvonne said in astonishment. “Now, ain’t that some shit? Here I am an executive assistant in the NBA public relations department and I only have a gold card, and you ain’t never worked a fucking day in your life and you’re pushing platinum? Shit!” Yvonne downed her drink and signaled for the waiter. “I’d like another one, please,” she said when he strolled over.

  “What I wanna know is whose platinum card,” Regina said with a chuckle. “She won’t let me see the name on it.”

  “Oh really?” Yvonne put her hand out in front of Puddin’. “Okay, chickie, unass the damn card.”

  “Fuck you,” Puddin’ said with a wave of her hand.

  “Look, don’t make me and Regina jack you up in this place,” Yvonne said as she moved her chair closer to Puddin’s. “Hand it over.”

  Puddin’ chuckled and shook her head at Yvonne, then looked at Regina. “Why come all of a sudden girlfriend’s thinking she can thump? Which reminds me, I almost had to give someone else a beat-down yesterday.”

  “Yeah, who?” Yvonne asked.

  “The old man’s daughter. The one that got killed.”

  “What?” Regina’s jaw dropped. “You killed her father, and then you were gonna give her a beat-down?”

  “I ain’t kill him. The car killed him. And when I got out the car to see if he was okay, this bitch came flying at me screaming and shit. I ain’t know who she was, so I decked her.”

  “God damn it, Puddin’,” Yvonne said in a hoarse voice, “why did you have to hit her? Was she threatening you or something? Did she hit you?”

  “No, but she came flying out on me, and like I said, I ain’t know who she was. For all I know, she was gonna hit me. And you know me, I ain’t waiting around for someone else to throw the first punch. Fuck that. Sometimes that’s the only punch thrown.”

  “You are such a mess.” Regina shook her head. “The man’s dead, his three grandkids are on the sidewalk next to him crying, and then you beat up their mother.”

  “I ain’t say I beat her up,” Puddin’ said in a hurt voice. “I only hit her once. And I ain’t even had my roll of pennies in my hand.”

  “But why did you have to hit her at all?” Yvonne broke in. “You know, all kidding aside, you’re too old for this fighting shit.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Regina nodded. “Here you are thirty-one years old, and you’re still fighting in the street. You need to get ahold of yourself. Show some self-control.”

  “I agree,” Yvonne added. “I’m not saying you should let someone hit on you, but you didn’t know if that woman was going to do that. She was just hysterical because her father was killed. And rightfully so. Wouldn’t you be in the same situation?”

  “Yeah, well, she got in the wrong person’s face,” Puddin’ grumbled. “It wasn’t like I aimed the car at the man. It just happened. And I ain’t gonna let no bitch just scream on me like that.”

  “Puddin’, do me a favor,” Regina said with a sigh. “In the future, just try to show some self-control. Take at least a couple of deep breaths before you swing on someone, okay?”

  “You expect me to flip my script this late in my life? Yeah, right.” Puddin’ snorted.

  “It’s supposed to be about evolvement,” Regina said as she finished her martini. “It’s never too late for us to work on our shortcomings, you know.”

  “Oh?” Yvonne grinned at Regina. “Does that mean you’re going to work on yours?”

  Regina raised her left eyebrow. “What shortcomings do you suggest I have, dearie?”

  “Your crazy-ass need to get revenge anytime you think someone’s done you wrong, sweetie,” Yvonne said smugly. “We don’t call you the Queen of the Get Back for nothing.”

  “I don’t consider that a shortcoming,” Regina retorted. “I’d be stupid to let someone think they can fuck over me and get away with it.”

  “It’s the lengths you go to get back at them that makes it so ridiculous, Gina,” Yvonne said lightly.

  Regina tossed her head. “Yeah, well, when people fuck me over with their actions, they can’t very well complain about the extent of my fucking reaction.”

  Yvonne winked at Puddin’. “Ever notice, when Regina gets put on the spot, she starts sounding like you?” Puddin’ laughed in response.

  “Ah, fuck you and go to hell,” Regina sneered.

  “All I’m saying is that if you want Puddin’ to take her two breaths before kicking somebody’s ass, you should take a couple before you go after someone.”

  Regina glared at her friends for a moment, then waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Okay, I’m game. Puddin’, if you start controlling your temper, I’ll start controlling mine. Deal?”

  “Yeah, well, fuck it, okay. Deal.” Puddin’ shrugged. “I’ll at least try.”

  The two women reached over the table and shook hands.

  “And back to the original subject, Puddin’. Whose card is it?” Yvonne demanded.

  Puddin’s grin grew wider as she slightly raised from the chair and pulled the card out, then threw it on the table. “Check it out.”

  Regina reached for the card, but Yvonne was quicker.

  “Who the hell is Leslie Cranston?” she asked as she peered at the card.

  “Leslie Cranston?” Regina ran through the file cabinet in her mind but came up empty. “Is that someone we know?”

  “Yeah, if you listen to the radio,” Puddin’ said nonchalantly. “Ever heard of Rob-Cee? Well, that’s Leslie.”

  “What?” Yvonne hooted. “That gangsta mofo’s real name is Leslie? I don’t believe it. Why his mama do some shit like that?”

  “I got a better question.” Regina started waving her finger in the air. “What the fuck are you doing with his card? And does he know you have it?”

  “Oh, calm down. He’s still passed out from all that coke we was sniffing this morning. The wimp can’t hang,” Puddin’ said with a laugh. “I’m timing it just right. Dude told the hotel to give him a wake-up call at seven, and it ain’t even five yet. I’ll have this card back in his wallet before he even knows I lifted it.”

  Regina’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You stole his card?”

  “Borrowed it,” Puddin’ answered. “It’s no big deal. He don’t probably even look at his credit card bills. And it’s not like I went out shopping. I’m just taking my best friends out for lunch and drinks.”

  Regina shook her head and looked at Yvonne. “I already told her I’m leaving before she pays the bill.”

  “Ditto,” Yvonne said with a nod. “But I still want to hear the big news Puddin’ dragged us out here for.”


  Puddin’s face fell. “Well, it was big news. Real big news. But it ain’t shit now.”

  “What do you mean?” Regina asked.

  “Well, I found out this morning I picked the winning six numbers for the Mega Millions Lottery last night—”

  “What!” Regina and Yvonne said at the same time.

  “Yeah,” Puddin’ said simply.

  “Girl. You’re rich!” Yvonne started pounding Puddin’ on the back. “What was it worth? Fifty million? One hundred million?”

  “Oh, Puddin’, this is just so damn great!” Regina’s shoulders were wiggling with excitement. “You’re a millionaire.”

  “And I want my cut!” Yvonne all but shouted.

  “Same here,” Regina added.

  Puddin’ pushed Yvonne’s hand away. “Well, ya’ll can get a cut of the twenty-five bucks I got in my pocket, ’cause that’s all that I got.”

  “Not for long,” Yvonne said as she grabbed her pocketbook. “We’ll come with you to take the ticket to Albany. That’s where it’s gotta be validated, right? Come on, let’s get outta here and drive up there right now. We can spend the night at a hotel and get to the Lottery Commission in the morning.”

  “I think you’d better slow your roll, Yvonne,” Regina said as she noticed the crestfallen look on Puddin’s face.

  “Yeah, you can just back that shit up. All the way up,” Puddin’ said with a sigh. “Like I said, I picked all the right numbers for the Mega Millions, but I didn’t realize until after I told you guys to meet me here that I played the New York Lotto. I ain’t win shit.”

  Regina sank back in her chair. “You’ve just got to be kidding.” She paused for a moment and then let out a deep sigh. “That’s some real tough shit.”

  “Aw, man, Puddin’. You got us all excited for nothing.” Yvonne sucked her teeth.

  “How excited do you think I was?” Puddin’ took another sip of her drink. “And how the fuck do you think I felt when I found out how I fucked up? I ain’t wanna cancel on you guys after I made such a big deal about you coming out here, so I decided we should all just go ahead and have some food and some martinis and have a good time.”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Regina said. She reached over and patted Puddin’ on her shoulder.

  “Damn. What a bummer,” Yvonne said as she let her head loll on the back of her chair.

  “Man, I had it all planned what I was gonna do with that damn money. The Four Musketeers were about to come off big-time. I was gonna buy you your own magazine, Gina, so you wouldn’ta had to write for anybody but yourself. And I was gonna pay for Tamika’s medical school. Then I was gonna buy you a husband, Yvonne.”

  “Thanks, heifer,” Yvonne said, not bothering to raise her head.

  “Well, I’m doing quite well with my freelancing, and with the alimony and child support from Charles I’m more than okay,” Regina said. “And David’s doing pretty well in his new law practice, so I’m sure he’ll be able to pay Tamika’s school bills. And with the raise Yvonne just got with her job promotion, she should be able to buy her own man.”

  “Thanks, skank,” Yvonne said.

  “Yeah, but still, it woulda been nice,” Puddin’ said sullenly.

  “What were you going to buy yourself?” Regina asked gently.

  “Me? I was gonna buy Harlem. Or a whole fucking block of it. A whole block of brownstones, and I was gonna move all my friends in and let them live rent-free.”

  “And that’s it?” Yvonne asked.

  “Yeah, that and a cocaine farm in South America and a private jet with a pilot to bring me fresh stash every week.”

  “You’re ill.” Regina giggled.

  “Yeah, I woulda been one ill-assed millionaire. Better than being an ill-assed broke bitch,” Puddin’ said with a shrug.

  Regina sneaked a peek at her watch and saw it was almost five-thirty. She really needed to get home soon and start work on some of those magazine articles. She figured she’d stay another half hour or so to make sure Puddin’ was all right, then say her polite good-byes.

  “You know what I’ma do tomorrow night?” Puddin’ said suddenly.

  “What?” Regina asked.

  “I’ma go to that Usher concert and after-party with Rob-Cee, and then I’ma drop his ass and hook up with Usher.”

  “Oh really?” Regina said with a smile. “And what makes you think youngblood’s gonna go for the hookup? You’re at least five or six years older than him.”

  “What’s age got to do with it?” Puddin’ chuckled. “My shit is tight. And remember, he was fucking around with that chick from TLC for the longest, and she was older than him, too. If he went for her, I know he’s gonna ape-wild over me. All I gots to do is meet him, and Rob-Cee is my ticket do just that.”

  “Okay, well, you go do that tomorrow, sweetie,” Yvonne said. She straightened herself up in her chair and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “But come spend the night over at my place tonight. The kids are over at my mother’s, and I don’t have anything to do.”

  “You got any coke?” Puddin’ said with a grin.

  “You know I don’t do that shit anymore.”

  “You got any reefer, then?”

  “Yeah, I got enough for a couple of joints.”

  “Yeah, all right, then, I might do that.” Puddin’ shrugged and then looked at Regina. “You know she’s only doing this ’cause she thinks I’m depressed or some shit, right? Mother Yvonne to the rescue.”

  “Now, see, I’m just doing it because I’d thought we—,” Yvonne started.

  “I’m only teasing,” Puddin’ interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, that’s cool. I could use a break from Rob-Cee, anyway. Just drop me off at his hotel when we leave here so I can slip this card back in his shit, and we’ll head uptown.”

  “Why don’t you let me pick up the tab this time?” Yvonne asked.

  “Because I’m the one that asked you and Regina out,” Puddin’ answered.

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “Regina, could you please tell Mother Yvonne to shut up before I kick her ass?”

  “Come on, Yvonne.” Regina got up from the table. “Let’s wait outside while Puddin’ commits larceny.”

  It was drizzling outside, and Regina started to pull the hood of her bomber jacket over her head but changed her mind. She needed to get a perm, anyway, so the rain wasn’t going to do any damage. She grimaced as she saw Yvonne pull a gold cigarette case out of her pocketbook.

  “Girl, you’ve been quitting for ten years now and haven’t missed a day smoking yet.” Regina snatched the cigarette out of Yvonne’s mouth before she could light it. “And don’t think I’m not going to tell Mama Tee you’re out here trying to smoke right out in the street. She’ll lose her Trinidadian mind.”

  “Here we are, thirty-odd years old, and you’re still threatening to tattle on me to my mother,” Yvonne said with a smile.

  Regina broke the cigarette in half, and seeing no trash can in close proximity, put it in her pocket.

  “Guess who’s moving to New York?” Yvonne said, looking straight ahead as if the traffic on 57th Street was fascinating to her.

  “Who?”

  “Robert.”

  “Robert who?” Regina said suspiciously.

  “That Robert.”

  “Shit.”

  “He called me last week. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d have a fit, but he broke up with his wife a couple of months ago, and he’s got a job with the Bronx District Attorney’s Office.”

  “And you’re going to start going out with him again, right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  And you haven’t said that you’re not, Regina thought grimly. Yvonne’s relationship with Robert had almost broken up their friendship five years before, and it had taken nearly two years for Yvonne to stop crying over the relationship, which had been fucked-up from the start. He had lied to her about not being married; he had her move to Philadelphia to be
close to him, then ignored her; and he fully kicked her to the curb when he got tired of her.

  “But whether I see him or not, I want you to know I’m in control. He’s out of my system, and I’m not going to let myself get caught up like that again, okay?” Yvonne said, still looking straight ahead.

  “Whatever, Yvonne.” Regina shrugged. “Whatever.”

  chapter two

  What had been a gentle shower when she left the restaurant had turned into a downpour by the time she got out of the taxi on the corner of 119th and Lenox Avenue. It was only seven o’clock, but it was already getting dark as Regina stepped into the corner bodega.

  “Buenas noches, Pepe. Cómo estás?” Regina addressed the wizened old man partially covered by the supposedly bulletproof Plexiglas surrounding the cash register area.

  “Bien, chachi,” Pepe answered with an almost toothless grin. “Y tú?”

  Pepe, like most of the Puerto Ricans who owned bodegas in Harlem, spoke perfect English, but since he’d been around long enough to remember her father, who was originally from San Juan, Regina always greeted him in Spanish, though their conversation would quickly switch to English, since Regina’s Spanish was spotty at best.

  “Can I get a Revlon perm kit?” Regina asked as she snapped open her pocketbook to take out her purse. “Mild, please.”

  Pepe turned around in the partition and looked at a shelf. “No Revlon. We got Ultra Sheen, though. Want it?”

  Regina nodded and handed him a twenty. “So what number played today?” She didn’t really care, but she knew that Pepe, like many of the old-timers in Harlem, still followed the numbers game fanatically, even though most of the younger people, like Puddin’, had long switched over to the legal lottery.

  “Five two seven, chachi.” He motioned her to come close to the opening in the partition and told her in a low voice, “I hit for five dollars.”

  “Straight?” Regina whistled. “What’s that? Three thousand dollars?”