La Familia

by Paradise Gomez

  I lingered by the window for a moment, hearing the counting machine go off in the background. It was always good to hear them count thousands of dollars that most times added up to hundreds of thousands of dollars. I smiled. A bitch came a long way; look at me now. I was running things, almost second in charge. I became a hustler, a businesswoman overnight, and was ready to open up my own record label if the money kept pouring in like this.

  I exhaled and heard my cell phone ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Paco calling, one of Rico’s henchman. I answered and before I could say a word, Paco hollered, “Sammy, Rico just got knocked by the feds. Hurry up and shut down shop!”

  “What?” I uttered.

  “Shut everything the fuck down, now!” he shouted.

  I didn’t have time to ask questions. I hung up and ordered Saint and Romeo to shut down everything, letting them know that Rico just got caught up with the feds. They jumped from their chairs and knew the routine. Everything went to the bathroom and we had to flush seven kilos of cocaine, pills, and weed, and dump everything down the trash chute. We erased any criminal files or evidence from the computers by pouring bleach and acid on the equipment. We all went scrambling around the apartment like chickens with their heads cut off. We didn’t know if the feds were coming for us, and if so, how soon they’d be showing up.

  I ran to the window and gazed outside. I didn’t see anything outside, but it was hard to see anything from fourteen floors up. We had to hurry and make our exit. I didn’t want to see jail. I ran to the bedroom and collected cash, over $100,000, and a few important items and ran out. The apartment was in chaos, everything destroyed, and the entire product flushed and gone. It was heartbreaking to lose that kind of money, but we had to. We got rid of automatic weapons and wiped the place down in record time and we left like we were never there in the first place, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

  I separated myself from Saint and Romeo and hurried to my Benz parked on the corner. I jumped inside, started the ignition, and took a deep breath. Rico was locked up, so I wondered who else the feds were coming for next. I sped away to my spot a few miles away from here. It was time to lay low and see what was going down. Just like that, everything was gone and I didn’t know what to do at the moment. I was pregnant and really nervous.

  I walked into the visiting area of Rikers Island with my heart beating rapidly. It’d been one month since Rico’s incarceration. He was remanded, bail denied because of his long criminal record, and the DA was trying to take his head and hit him with so many indictments that I lost count. They labeled Rico as a murderous and dangerous kingpin and he was going to be charged with the RICO act. I was heartbroken. They didn’t come for me, not yet anyway. The feds had been investigating Rico for over a year now and a snitch and an informant helped put him away. Their identities were still a mystery. The feds made sure to keep their identification a secret, because whoever they were, they were dead men.

  I followed a half dozen women into the large and grungy visiting area, where there were about two dozen women and inmates socializing under the watchful eyes of a half dozen corrections officers strategically positioned everywhere in the room. I had to see Rico. He was asking for me. The DA was trying to give him life in prison, but if he took a plea then he was looking at twenty-five years. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Rico was hardcore and he knew the risks. He wasn’t bitching out and trying to snitch on anyone else.

  I sat down where the CO pointed, at a small, round table that looked fit for a kindergarten class, with two chairs and nothing in between us but space and air. I was dressed regular in a T-shirt and jeans and black Nikes, and my hair was pulled back into a long ponytail. I didn’t want to stand out. I was nervous that they were going to know everything about me and keep me. I knew I wasn’t off the feds’ radar yet; they were still investigating his crew and still making arrests. I just had to keep cool and keep a low profile. With it being December, and Christmas approaching, I was two months pregnant and showing.

  I sat and waited for Rico to emerge into the room. Next to me was this black couple holding hands across the table and touching, and fondling each other discreetly. They kissed until the guard had to warn them that there was no excessive affection during visits. He had to warn them numerous times until he threatened the visit was going to be cut short if it happened again.

  I waited. The streets were talking, people were hungry, and it was becoming ugly out there. With Rico locked up there was a void in the drug game that was sparking up a war. Everybody wanted to get paid and bullets were flying and bodies were dropping. I stayed away from Edenwald for several weeks, getting my mind right. It was so scary out there that even hardcore killers were walking around like there were eggshells on the ground. Every step taken could be someone’s last.

  Rico finally made his way into the room with an expressionless look. He was clad in an orange jumpsuit with DOC printed on the back in black, bold letters, and he was still looking good. His cornrows were longer and freshly done and he moved through the visiting room with a sense of power about him. He had respect and his reputation preceded him. He focused his attention on me and didn’t even smile.

  I stood up and gave him a strong and passionate hug. I didn’t want to let him go, but there wasn’t any long and affectionate contact like that. I released my arms from around him and pulled away.

  “You look good, Sammy,” he said.

  “You look good too,” I replied.

  We took our seats opposite each other. Rico leaned over and started talking. It wasn’t a long visit and he didn’t want to waste any time with nonsense like casual talk.

  “I’m hearing things, Sammy,” he said.

  “What you hearing?” I asked.

  “Things are falling apart out there, getting ugly. I leave you in charge and they say you ain’t been around to handle things. What’s goin’ on?”

  I was kind of upset that he didn’t acknowledge the baby that was growing in my stomach. He acted like he didn’t care; the streets were more important than his unborn child growing inside of me.

  “Things been too hot for anyone to do anything, Rico,” I replied. “What I’m supposed to do?”

  “You supposed to be out there representin’ fo’ me, Sammy, not hiding and being a fuckin’ bitch,” he spat. “I’m the one locked up, so you do whatever to keep this organization going.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You made a lot of money because of me. You invested in your music career, got shit off the ground for yourself, and now you wanna give up and run. I made you!”

  “And I have other important things to think about, like our baby inside of me. I don’t want our child to be born in a fuckin’ prison, and I don’t wanna get shot down while I’m pregnant,” I hissed. “Do you fuckin’ care, Rico?”

  He leaned in closer to me and scowled. “You tryin’ to abandon me, Sammy?”

  “I’m not leaving you, Rico. I just need time to think about things,” I told him.

  “You better think right and fast, and you better not fuckin’ leave me, Sammy. I might be locked down in here, but I own you,” he threatened. “Esto no es un juego.”

  “Own me?” I frowned heavily. “Nobody fuckin’ owns me, Rico.”

  “You think I don’t? I’m nobody to fuck around wit’. I’m as dangerous in here as I was out there. And I’m not gonna be forgotten, Sammy,” he growled without due consideration for me.

  “You crazy, Rico. I’m nobody’s slave. And you got the fuckin’ audacity to come at me when I’m carrying your baby inside of me. The doctors say I’m havin’ ya son,” I chided. “Even though it’s too early to tell right now.”

  “My son.” He smirked.

  “Yes.” I tried to keep the tears from falling. I quickly wiped my eyes. Being pregnant made me emotional, and I hated being emotional and going through these different conditions.

  “They found Macky’s body the other day,” he said to me
in a low voice, changing the subject.

  “I thought you took care of that.”

  “I thought so too, but the Thompson brothers didn’t do that good of a job as I thought they would. But guess what, you fuckin’ cross me and you’ll be in here wit’ me. Remember, you were the one who killed him, ya fingerprints are still on the gun. It only takes one phone call and ya life is over,” he threatened me.

  I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say or do. He was blackmailing me. I was tricked, bamboozled, and he had this planned all along.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I can and I will. I don’t give a fuck, Sammy. I’ma let you have my son, but when the time comes and I need somethin’ from you, you better jump and fuckin’ do it. You understand?”

  I didn’t respond. I was just shocked and stupid. This muthafucka didn’t change one damn bit. He was selfish and still about business.

  “I’m talkin’ to you, bitch!”

  “I understand,” I replied faintly. The tears fell from my eyes and I wanted to disappear.

  “And another thing, you have a contract on ya head,” he mentioned.

  “What?”

  “That bitch Angie, she’s fuckin’ gangsta, and she really wants you dead. They green-lighted the hit on you, but I used my influence to stop it. Ya gonna be the mother of my son, and I can’t be havin’ that shit happening, so thank me,” he said smugly.

  “Thank you?” I said incredulously.

  “Ya fuckin’ welcome.”

  I wanted to rush out that room and throw up. Rico locked eyes with me and I was sitting in front of the devil himself. The muthafucka was devious and evil. I hated him. I couldn’t say anything else to him. This visit was over. I removed myself from the chair, indicating to the guard that I was done. I hurried to the exit. Once I was outside in the open, I dropped to my knees in tears and started to throw up. I felt trapped and fuckin’ angry. I had nowhere to go and Rico had a leash around my neck with this murder.

  Epilogue

  Mouse

  January 22

  I lay spent in the hospital bed after giving birth to a baby girl, who was seven pounds and eleven ounces. She was so beautiful and the most precious thing I ever held in my life. I was a proud mother. I spent fifteen hours in labor pushing out my daughter and it was the most agonizing and unbearable pain that I ever felt in my life. But it was all worth it in the end. I named my daughter Eliza and she was going to be somebody special, my angel, because I needed an angel in my life when shit was turning out to be fuckin’ hell for me.

  The feds raided Rico’s house early in the morning with me inside. They took me in for questioning, and the feds didn’t have anything on me and with my condition, I was released, but the damage had already been done. They seized everything, cars, money, the house, and I was left homeless and scared. I had to go move in with Meme; she had room for me in her two-bedroom apartment.

  Rico found out where I was staying and he would send his goons to visit me, or intimidate me. He was incarcerated hundreds of miles away and still was dangerous. He had taken a plea deal a few months back, receiving twenty-five years in a federal prison. He wanted me to bring him his daughter, but she was still a newborn and that trip upstate was just too much for me too soon. I was scared of him. It seemed like he always had eyes on me. He knew where I was staying or going. I wanted him out of my life, I didn’t care if I did have his daughter. He was bad news and dangerous. I never went to go see him while he was in Rikers Island. I didn’t want anything to do with him, but he wanted everything to do with me.

  My life was different and becoming harder. The money and the luxury was all gone, like yesterday. I felt it was never coming back. I was stuck staying from one friend’s place to another, now with a baby attached to my hips. I was nineteen and becoming my worst nightmare: a single Latino mother with no job, no schooling, and broke. I thought my life was going to be better when I got with Rico, but it only got worse. He was a fraudulent muthafucka. He brought me down so far that I couldn’t even see the top anymore. I cried almost every night after giving birth, and if it weren’t for the precious angle I held in my arms I probably would have committed suicide. The dreams I once had about having a family, living like the Cosbys, it didn’t come true for people like me. We seemed to always be stuck with hell and lies. And my music career was gone. Who wanted to sign a single, fat Latino mother with a troubling past and having more baggage than a grocery store? I always made wrong choices growing up, but dealing with a monster and having his seed, it was a painful feeling. I loved my daughter to death, don’t get it twisted, but I loathed her father. I wished I could have seen clearly last year like I did now. I would have acted so differently and wouldn’t be stuck under the thumb of Rico and maybe have gotten a record deal. But I was blinded by his fraudulent charisma, the big dick and sex, along with the luxury he was giving me. Now my life was a nightmare. But the worst of it all was I didn’t have Sammy in my life anymore. I didn’t have my best friend to have my back and help me through difficult situations like she always did. Now I was completely alone, and thinking, where the fuck do I go from here?

  Sammy

  July 16

  I gave birth to Rico’s son at five in the morning. It was nineteen hours of pain and agony. I just wanted this fuckin’ baby out of me so badly that I started crying like a baby myself. I was hurting and shit felt so uncomfortable and awkward for me with my legs spread, I was cursing and crying, the doctors and nurses gathered around me and watching my pussy stretch like it was a rubber band. I pushed and pushed until I finally gave birth to my son. He was six pounds and eleven ounces. He was a healthy and beautiful baby boy. When they placed him into my arms, I already felt the connection. I already felt like a mother to him. He had the biggest and brightest brown eyes. He was so small, fragile, and innocent. I loved him already, despite who his fuckin’ father was.

  Rico had received a twenty-five year prison sentence in January and he was locked away in Attica. I reluctantly went to see him a few times after his threats against me. I still had money in accounts and the feds didn’t come after me, which was a blessing. But I was still trapped in a prison. I had to make sure Rico’s commissary was well taken care of and when he was sent upstate, I would send him clothes, magazines, books, and other things. My music was put on hold, and everything just stopped for me.

  I still had Macky’s murder lingering over my head. The hip-hop world was stunned by his gruesome death. When they found the body it was so badly decomposed that he needed a closed-casket funeral. The family put out an award for any information and arrests about his death. It was haunting me. The man was a fuckin’ monster and he was still taunting me from the fuckin’ grave. I wanted to leave town with my baby, but I didn’t know anywhere else but the Bronx. And with Rico being the devil muthafucka he was, he wanted me to stay in the Bronx and be his eyes and ears on the streets. Everything went from sugar to shit for me so fast that within the blink of an eye I was changing into something I hated: his personal bitch under his command. And if he could fuck me whenever he wanted, he would be taking the pussy. But his incarceration prevented that from happening.

  But what hurt the most was seeing Search on TV, doing his thing, doing it big. He was attending music awards ceremonies, was on the radio a few times, doing interviews in magazines and whatnot. He was managing this new female rap group who called themselves Promise. They were from the Bronx too, and they weren’t as good as Mouse and me. But they were shining, taking over where we left off, and I wanted to cry. It was supposed to be us out there on stage, being on MTV, doing articles in Vibe and The Source magazine. I was starting to hate my life, and if it weren’t for my son, I think I would have killed myself.

  I regretted every decision I made last year, from my fight with Mouse to fucking Rico and hustling for him again. Everything that glittered damn sure wasn’t gold, and I learned that the hard way. I wasn’t thinking. I was caught up in the hype and now look at me becoming an
other statistic: a single Latino mother with her child’s father incarcerated. I wasn’t meant to live this way. I was on my way into becoming a superstar, I was so close, making the right connections, and now I was under Rico’s thumb. He wasn’t the only one in a prison.

  Now I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Search always proclaimed that he had a reason for his sudden departure to ATL, and why he couldn’t take me. But Rico was brainwashing me, putting shit into my head about Search, and then with Macky attacking me, it all fell perfectly into place. I treated Search like shit and never apologized for it. I never got to hear his side of the story and being in the position that I was, I regretted it with every bone in my body. He was always good to me. He always believed in me. Now I looked at his life and mines, and I went in the wrong direction while he went soaring in the right direction without me. The gangs, the violence, Rico, the money, it caused a devastating detour in my life and the only thing I could do was cry and cry. The decisions you make in the past can definitely affect your future. And I let easy money seduce me and a smooth talker persuade me. I felt alone. And the worst of it was I didn’t have Mouse to talk to and have my back.

  But now if I was to get a second chance with Search, my music, and being a better woman, I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes twice, best believe that. But I didn’t know what my future looked like. It seemed dark. I felt so defeated and used. I felt angry and betrayed. I wanted everything and now I ended up with almost nothing but a beautiful son I had to nurse.

  I sat in my room nursing my baby boy with the milk coming from my breast. I was being discharged from the hospital with him today and I wanted to go home and be alone. I was staying back at my mother’s apartment. She was getting worse every day and I felt she didn’t have that much time left on this earth. She was so skinny and frail, like a broomstick. I knew she was going to be proud to see her grandson and hold him in her last days. It was the only thing I could do for her, my one gift or blessing she could receive from me.