by Erica Hilton
“Ya respect yourself? If ya fuckin don’t, then these muthafuckin’ young niggas won’t,” he continued to ramble on.
He fixed Chanel a plate and served it to her at the table. It was the first time in a long while that someone had cooked and brought her a plate of food at home. Chanel couldn’t help but to beam and relish the moment. She didn’t want it to end.
Butch continued his talk about life and respect and how she needed to be careful in the streets. He also took a plate to Claire in her bedroom, but she refused, claiming she wasn’t hungry.
For two weeks, a sober Butch surprisingly tried to be a father to his girls and fight the urges to drink. He was cooking and talking, or lecturing, and he also was becoming overbearing and overprotective. He would call his daughters’ cell phones to ask when they were coming home, and he would sometimes meet them at the elevator like he was a concerned and doting father.
Charlie didn’t care for his fatherly attitude and somewhat resented him, and Claire felt the same way. They both felt that it was too late for his fatherly love and words of wisdom. All their lives, Butch had been a selfish drunk, and a mean, cranky, and abusive father when sober. For them, it was too late for a change.
Chanel wanted it to be true—to be real and lasting. She liked who he was trying to become—someone different. She hoped and prayed that her father wouldn’t touch a drop of alcohol and that he’d continue to treat her like his little girl. For her, it wasn’t too late to be loved by her father. For her, it was a new beginning with the year coming to an end and a new one about to start. For her, there was no better way to bring in the new year than with her father’s love.
Chapter Seventeen
This Christmas Day was a direct contrast to the one they’d had last year. There were no extravagant gifts from Charlie. In fact, the Browns hadn’t heard or seen Charlie for several weeks, but she was home today. Butch wasn’t a drunk and dancing fool, and there was no Christmas tree. Christmas Day was dry like a desert. It came and it went. That same dryness and cheerless mood continued into New Year’s Eve. There was no party, no crowd of people crammed into the Browns’ apartment having a good time, and no Bacardi making a small fortune from selling food and liquor.
It was January, and Butch was still sober and unemployed, and Bacardi was just unemployed. Claire was a disgrace who even failed to kill herself, and she was the laughingstock of the projects. Without God around, Charlie had fallen into the slumps of poverty with her family. She still had a few nice things to boast for the New Year, but that way of life was becoming only a memory. Her cash was really low. She wasn’t much of a stick-up kid without God and Fingers in her corner, so she was reduced to petty crimes like shoplifting and minor scams to get by.
Chanel simply minded her business. She went to school, the library, and home, and she occupied her time by studying and hanging out with Mecca in Harlem on the weekends. Her hopes of seeing or hearing from Mateo had faded. It was a new year, and she figured she should let the past stay in the past.
It was a cold Friday evening with the city feeling like Antarctica. The wind chill felt like it had dropped to -70 degrees. Chanel took warmth and comfort inside her bedroom. She occupied one end of the room, and Claire had the other. They said nothing to each other. Chanel was reading a book and Claire had her headphones on listening to music.
Her sister had gotten better. The psychiatric observation that Bacardi put her in helped somewhat, but Claire still had her issues to deal with.
It was too cold to go outside, so everyone was inside doing something. Butch was in his bedroom watching TV, and Charlie and Bacardi were hanging out in the living room smoking a blunt together and talking shit.
It was a regular day for everyone, or so it appeared. Chanel was grateful that the house was quiet. The January weather was making it impossible for her to escape to anywhere else—especially to Harlem. She was stuck indoors until it got a bit warmer and the ice melted.
So, the sudden knock at the door surprised her and everyone else. They were rapid knocks that echoed through the apartment. No one had any idea who it was. Who could be visiting them on such a frigid evening?
Bacardi jumped up from the couch with the blunt in her hand. She cursed, “Who the fuck knocking at my door? You expecting company, Charlie?”
“In this cold? Nah.”
Bacardi walked to the door looking like she belonged in an old hoochie mama movie, wearing curlers in her hair and a colorful robe that could blind the blind. She swung the door open and saw two niggas standing in front of her. She had never seen them before, but by the way they were dressed, she could tell that they were some money niggas. One was wearing a mink jacket, and he was really fuckin’ handsome. Bacardi sized him up quickly, seeing the Rolex around his wrist, the clean Timberland boots, fresh haircut, and she even peeped the .45 tucked in his waist. The second nigga wore an expensive leather jacket, jewelry that glimmered, and stylish jeans and boots that looked costly. Both men were Hispanic.
Who these Spanish niggas here to see? she wondered. She figured they were there to see Charlie. She figured that Charlie had come through for the family and probably met the next money nigga to leach off of while God was in jail.
“Hello, ma’am,” said the nigga with the mink coat.
Ma’am? Bacardi thought. She wasn’t that old.
“My name is Mateo, and this is my boy Pyro. Is Chanel home?”
Bacardi’s mouth dropped open. Chanel? Bacardi couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“You mean Charlie?” she wanted to correct him.
“Nah, Chanel. She a dark skin beauty with long hair and a beautiful smile,” Mateo said.
Bacardi was blown away. She quickly ushered the men into the living room and told them to make themselves at home.
Charlie was shocked too. She sat there staring into the faces of the two well dressed Hispanic men who were now crowding her living room.
“Shit!” Charlie muttered in admiration of them. Chanel? How? Why?
Bacardi sweetly called out Chanel’s name. Her youngest daughter had some explaining to do. She wasn’t mad, just shocked that Chanel was able to attract two fine niggas like Mateo and Pyro.
Hearing Bacardi call her name, Chanel meekly walked out her bedroom expecting her evening to go from calm to chaotic. Bacardi never called her name unless it was some trouble coming her way. Chanel expected her mother to riff and rant about something to her—some wrong she had done.
Chanel slowly traveled down the hallway and could see her mother standing at the edge of the hallway with her eyes zeroed in on her like she was the warden and Chanel was an inmate taking her final walk to the death penalty. Bacardi always had this uncomfortable look toward her youngest.
But when Chanel walked into the living room and saw Mateo and Pyro standing in her home, she had no idea what to think or what to say. She was stunned. Was she dreaming? But then she saw his pearly white smile and heard him say, “Hey, beautiful.”
Mateo didn’t get the greeting he thought he would get.
“What the fuck you doing here?” Chanel chided. “It’s been how fuckin’ long since I saw you?”
She stood there standoffish. She hadn’t heard from or seen Mateo since that day he’d dropped her off in August. It was January.
“What’s that, five months?” she added.
“I can explain.”
“I don’t wanna hear your excuse.”
“Chanel, what the fuck is wrong wit’ you?” Bacardi exclaimed.
“This isn’t your business, Ma,” Chanel snapped at her.
Bacardi twitched and the corners of mouth turned downwards into a frown. Did her daughter just talk back at her?
“I know you’re upset, and you have the right to be. It’s been a while since I saw you,” said Mateo coolly.
“Every day, I waited for you and waited fo
r you . . . but not a single phone call, no visit, no text, nothing!” Chanel exclaimed.
“Well, if you don’t want him, shit, I’ll take him,” Charlie uttered.
Charlie moved closer to Mateo and placed her hand against his chest, wanting to feel his muscles. But Mateo quickly shut her down and slapped her hand away. He made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her. Her next move was to Pyro, but Charlie got the same reaction—the cold shoulder.
When Claire entered the room, she too was taken aback by Chanel’s handsome company. Mateo and Pyro were definitely eye-candy.
“Can we talk?” Mateo asked Chanel.
“No, not right now.”
Bacardi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Chanel crazy? A nigga like Mateo wanted her daughter’s attention and she was treating him like he was some kind of STD.
“Chanel, why don’t you talk to the man? He came out in the damn cold to see you,” Bacardi said.
“No. I’m not just something for you to play with, and then get bored, and then come back to it when you want,” said Chanel. “I got feelings, Mateo.”
“It’s not even like that,” he said. “Let me make it up to you and take you out to dinner.”
“It’s too cold outside.”
He chuckled. Chanel was being stubborn, but he liked that about her. Shit, most females would have given in and surrendered themselves to him once they saw him standing in their home—like her sisters. Chanel was different. He liked different.
“Damn, Chanel, that’s why you don’t get dick now,” Charlie rudely said.
Mateo cut his eyes at the sister. He wasn’t too pleased by her comment. Both her sisters were red, pretty, and took after their father, and Chanel took after her mother. Now he understood why she wanted to dye her hair. She was a black beauty and Mateo loved a dark skinned woman.
“This ain’t about sex,” Mateo announced. “Chanel’s too special to be treated like a hoodrat. She’s a queen and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I fucked up. So I’m here to show her that I won’t make that mistake twice.”
The sisters didn’t like to hear that. They started to envy Chanel.
Mateo smiled at Chanel and he wanted her to forgive him, but Chanel was still being stubborn. She was still angry.
“Mateo, let’s just go. Give her some time,” Pyro said.
Mateo looked hesitant to leave, but he knew his friend was right. Chanel needed some time, and he didn’t like how her family was all in their business.
“I’ll be back, Chanel. Just think about us,” he said.
She turned from him and marched back to her room. Mateo wasn’t upset. He loved how feisty she was. She did love him and that was why she was so upset.
Mateo pivoted and walked out the front door. Bacardi looked at him like he was a million dollars walking out the door. She wanted to try and pimp her other two daughters onto him and his friend, but they both made it clear that they weren’t interested.
Pyro smiled and uttered, “It was nice meeting y’all,” and he made his exit behind Mateo.
When the door closed behind them, Bacardi turned and shouted, “Chanel, what the fuck is wrong wit’ your foolish ass!”
“I told you she’s a stupid bitch,” Charlie chimed.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Mateo parked his Range Rover on the Brooklyn Street and climbed out into cold air that matched yesterday’s brutal weather. This time he was alone. He wanted to give talking to Chanel another shot. Yesterday was a shock to her, and she was upset. He had been gone without an explanation for quite some time, and he understood that. Today, he came with some flowers for her along with his stubbornness. He wasn’t going to give up on Chanel. He wanted her back in his life.
He stood under Chanel’s apartment window and called her cell phone. She answered, and before she could hang up on him, he uttered, “You gonna have me freeze to death. Cuz I’m gonna wait out here all day until I get to see you alone.”
Chanel hung up on him. She went to the living room window and there he was, standing outside her apartment window dressed in the same mink jacket and clutching a bouquet of expensive flowers that looked like they were ready to freeze and turn to ice. The winter day was no place for flowers, but Mateo didn’t care. He wanted to impress her.
Bacardi gazed out the window too, and seeing Mateo standing in the winter cold holding flowers for her youngest daughter was the best thing she could see at that moment—along with the pearl white Range that was parked behind him.
Damn-it, her youngest daughter done hit the jackpot. In her eyes, Mateo was a keeper. But seeing Chanel’s reaction, how she appeared stubborn and standoffish to the man’s advances, Bacardi had seen enough. That bitch was about to ruin a good thing coming.
Bacardi spun around to face her daughter. “Are you a stupid bitch or what? This nigga out there in the cold waitin’ fo’ you to see him, and you in here looking like we don’t need his help. Ya a stubborn little bitch wit’ hurt feelings.”
Chanel stood there in silence.
Bacardi angrily continued with, “You either go out there with him or you can get the fuck out my house! We all up in here struggling and starvin’, and maybe that nigga can help out. You need to fuckin’ pull ya weight around here, Chanel. Now get dressed and go handle ya man.”
Chanel sighed. She wasn’t about to go against Bacardi, not because she was scared, but she felt her mother was right. She was being stubborn, and she didn’t want to lose Mateo. Yesterday, she didn’t give him a chance to explain. She gave him the cold shoulder because he’d hurt her deeply. But if he were to leave and disappear for good this time, Chanel knew his absence was going to hurt more the second time around.
She went to the window and hollered at him, “Just give me five minutes.”
He smiled.
She marched into her bedroom and threw on something that was appropriate for the cold outside. In her thick winter coat and snow boots, she went out the door and took the stairs down to the lobby. Even in the lobby, she could feel the cold air from outside. She went through the doors and it felt like she got hit in the face by a brick. She bundled up inside her coat and trekked toward Mateo. He kept his eyes on her with a bright smile.
“I’m glad I could change your mind,” he said.
She sighed. “So, are we just gonna stand out here and freeze to death?”
Mateo handed her the dying flowers and escorted her to his ride and opened the passenger door for her. She climbed inside. Being inside his vehicle again felt soothing to her and brought about some nostalgia.
Mateo got behind the wheel and sat there for a moment. His eyes lingered on Chanel, manifesting his feelings.
“Are we just gonna sit here with you looking at me, or did you have someplace in mind?” she said.
“You hungry?”
“I can get something to eat.”
Mateo put the car in gear and drove off. Moving farther away from the projects, he glanced at Chanel and said, “I know I owe you an explanation for my sudden disappearing act for a few months.”
“You do.”
“I’m sorry.”
Chanel sat in silence and simply looked at him. She was ready to hear what he had to say to her.
He sighed and uttered, “I had a girlfriend—”
“Girlfriend?” she uttered in disbelief.
“Yes. Her name is Nikki. Right after I dropped you off that day, I went to see her and she told me she was pregnant.”
Chanel could feel the sickness of jealousy and betrayal swimming around in her stomach. Mecca had warned her that he had other women, but she didn’t want to believe her. She wanted to be Mateo’s one true love. Truth was, she was still young and vulnerable to his charm. But hearing “girlfriend” and “pregnant” was thrusting her into pain and envy.
“Anyway, she lied to me about the pregnancy. She had found out about you and threatened to abort my child if I continued to see you. And I believed her. I wanted to be a father, so I sacrificed our relationship for fatherhood,” he proclaimed.
Chanel took a deep breath. She didn’t know what to think. She wanted to believe him.
Mateo added, “I wanted to have a baby, and since you were new in my life, I felt that it was best to let you go. But, Chanel, believe me when I say that I thought about you every day. And it hurt me to cut you off so suddenly over a lie that I wanted to believe. Nikki was never pregnant. She said that to keep me in her life and to get rid of you. I realized the mistake I made in December and her lie nearly tore me apart. It took me weeks to get myself together . . . to move out and move on.”
She looked at him and asked, “So she’s no longer in your life?”
His expression was reassuring, and he said, “She’s gone from my life, I promise you that—and everyone else. I only want to be with you, Chanel. I want to give this thing we have a chance.”
Chanel wanted to pout and frown. She wanted to stay upset with him, but she couldn’t. Hearing the explanation about his long absence, and then hearing his pledge to be with her and only her to give their relationship a try, she smiled.
“So, what do you say? You want this? Because I do,” he said.
“Yes. I want this, Mateo. I always wanted this.”
At the next red light, the two leaned closer to each other and kissed passionately. It was a kiss that could melt the ice outside and turn the cold into summer.
“Damn, I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too.”
They kissed again. Chanel didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to kiss him forever, hoping that the red light never turned green again. She was happy again.
“You still hungry?” he asked.
She chuckled. “I am. You have a lot of making up to do, and that starts with feeding me.”
He laughed too. “A’ight. Your wish is my command.”