The Coldest Winter Ever

by Sister Souljah

  “I don’t really think of it that way. I look at it as when I meet the man for me I’ll know it; I’ll feel it and he will too. But even when I feel it and know it, I’ll wait and watch for a good while. But if you like GS, give it your best shot if that’s what you really want.”

  As she sat down on the round bed in her bra and panties under the dim light, my mind raced to figure out the riddles she was speaking in. She was like the kid around the block who you’d get all pumped up to fight. You’d take off your earrings, necklace, pull back your hair, and Vaseline your face. You’d give her your best punch, then she wouldn’t hit you back. It just took the fun out of everything.

  “So what’s up with the digits?” I asked, on my way out of her bedroom door.

  “What digits?”

  “Oh, I thought maybe you’d hook a girlfriend up with GS’s phone number?”

  “Come on now. I’m nice, but I’m not stupid. If you want to hook up with GS you’ll have to work it out on your own, between the two of you.”

  The next afternoon I worked on Lauren. I needed her to get in touch with Frankie. He would know how to hook me up with GS. I had thought about it and the idea of going on tour with him was getting me all worked up. I mean, I’m realistic. The nigga don’t have to marry me straight off. We could just travel, spend his money, and enjoy our fame. The other chicks didn’t matter as long as I controlled his pockets. Once I got on the road I would be unstoppable. I’d be out of this prison, have access to the dough, and I’d be meeting real, not broke down ghetto girls or chicks in turbans, or philosophers or wannabees. I would learn the game, whatever the game was, ’cause I was a fast learner. Right about now I was giving GS the benefit of the doubt. OK, I shouldn’t have played up to him in this house where he couldn’t act natural. I should’ve waited, set the scene and the mood. But I was gonna give him a second chance to make the smartest move of his life.

  “I don’t want to talk to Frankie. I already told you that.” That was Lauren’s response to my pushing her.

  “C’mon. Just do me a solid. Girl, you know I would do it for you.” I sensed that maybe she was reluctant to get GS’s phone number from Frankie because of her sister. I tried to put Lauren at ease.

  “Look, Souljah told me to go for mine with GS.”

  “No she didn’t,” she said with disbelief.

  “Yes she did. Last night we was up talking.”

  “When? She never told me to go for mine with GS.” Lauren’s words were laced with jealousy.

  “Whatever, Lauren. Look, are you gonna do this or not?”

  “What makes you think Frankie’s gonna give me GS’s number anyway?” she asked me.

  “If he’s GS’s bodyguard, he should be right there with him. He could just pass him the phone. All I need is five minutes. Five minutes and I know I could persuade GS of some things.”

  “Alright, but Frankie is an asshole. He’s on his own dick too hard. But I’ll do it. Go in Souljah’s room and pick up her phone. I’ll call him on this phone. You listen and write down the number if we can get him to give it to us.”

  Lauren got Frankie on the phone.

  “Frankie! What’s up, baby?”

  “Who dis?”

  “Dis Lauren.”

  “Lauren from New York or Lauren from Philly?”

  “Lauren with the chinky eyes and the sweet New York pussy!”

  “Ah shit. I know that’s right. Damn, you miss a nigga already, huh?”

  “Well, you know how it be.”

  “What you got on right now?”

  “Nothing but a black leather belt around my waist to spank your bad ass with.”

  “Yeah, this my freak. Like to tie a nigga up and all that.”

  “So where you headed?” Lauren asked.

  “North Carolina. We got a show there tonight. You should’ve called me yesterday. I’da brought your ass with me.”

  “Where GS at?”

  “What you asking for that nigga for.”

  “I’m not asking for him.”

  “Sounds like you was asking for him to me.”

  “Nah.” She denied it.

  “We on the tour bus. That nigga’s in the plane riding first class.”

  “Oh. Well where are y’all staying at down in Cackalacki?”

  “Some of us will be at the Hyatt Regency. Others of us will be at the fucking Best Western, ain’t that right, dogs.” Everybody started laughing. I could hear male voices in the background through the phone.

  “Well which hotel are you stayin’ at?”

  “Why? You coming to see me? Don’t surprise a brother, let me know.”

  “Maybe. Are you staying with GS?” I asked him.

  “There you go again. Tony, tell this little freak how much we hate bitches using us to get to GS.”

  “Yo, this is Tony. Why you tryna play my man?”

  “Put Frankie back on the phone,” Lauren said in an aggravated tone.

  “Well, who do you want to talk to, Frankie or GS?” Tony teased.

  “I want to talk to Frankie.”

  “Are you sure?” Frankie asked, back on the phone. “Make that little noise you was making the other night.”

  Lauren started moaning on the phone. She sounded like a cross between a snake and an owl. But Frankie loved it.

  “Now you remember who you wit?” Frankie asked.

  “I was asking for a friend,” Lauren said.

  “Oh, dogs, she’s asking about GS for her friend.” They all started laughing wild. We could hear them loud and clear.

  “Oh, so your friend want to get stretched out by GS? She got any friends? If we hook her up with “G,’ she gotta serve the rest of us too … or bring some freaks with her.”

  I ran back into the bedroom to coach Lauren on what to say. “Tell him to set up the meeting. We’ll meet them down there,” I told her.

  “In North Carolina?” Lauren asked me, whispering.

  “Why not?” I asked, rushing her to set it up.

  “You got money to go to North Carolina?” Lauren asked sarcastically.

  “No, but I can get some. I’m going to see my mother today. She got some money for me,” I lied.

  “Yo, Lauren, is Shorty there with you?” Frankie asked.

  “Yeah, it’s Sasha. You know from the party the other night at GS’s house?”

  “The one who won the pageant?” Frankie guessed.

  “What is he saying, what is he saying?” I asked Lauren. She didn’t answer, so I ran back to Souljah’s room and picked up the other phone.

  “Lauren, between you and me, if she’s fiending for the dick, it’s Tony she should be talking to. He’s the one who fucked her. Ain’t that right, dog?”

  “Who that?” Tony’s voice asked from the distance.

  “You remember that little freak we played switch with the other night out at the Alpine video shoot?”

  “Do I remember? Tell that bitch I love her.” Lauren dropped the phone. Within a second she was standing in Souljah’s room looking in my face, feeling sorry for me. I held the phone to my ear, frozen in position. “Yeah, baby, this is Tony. I know you thought I was GS. But the good news is now I don’t have to explain to you what good dick you would’ve been missing. Fuck that nigga “G,’ what you need to do is come get with me.” They all laughed at his cheap rhyme.

  “You lying motherfucker!” I screamed on him.

  “Alright then. When you came in the room I was on the bed waiting in the dark. You couldn’t even find the light. You started knocking shit over. You tried to suck a sip out of my Cristal bottle but I had already drank it all. But here’s the hook. You got long pretty legs, big titties like cantaloupes, a small tight waist, and you love to go horseback riding!” They all started cracking up. “I love you! I love you, girl! Let’s do it again.”

  Vendetta is the word, except it isn’t strong enough.

  That afternoon, while Lauren worked in Doc’s office, I sat and talked with her. That convers
ation cost her three hundred dollars, because that’s how much I lifted from Doc’s strongbox without Lauren even knowing it. Seems like everybody around here got something to prove. But these bitches were not going to outsmart Winter Santiaga.

  The next day was the AIDS benefit. I had forgotten all about that bullshit. My nerves were shot. I promised myself I wouldn’t sit through one more meeting or speech, nada! But the pressure was on. Souljah was bossing everyone around, rehearsing Lauren about how to place the volunteers, security, etcetera.

  Dressed in red and white, the colors for all workers from the woman hood class, me, Lauren, and Souljah were on our way out the door. Doc’s voice stopped us. “Souljah, I’m sorry. I can’t make it to the benefit. Not having a secretary has left me in a bad position.” Souljah looked disappointed. “But here’s a check for a thousand dollars to support the wonderful work that you’re doing.” Souljah gave her a hug and kiss. I’m thinking, see, it ain’t no sweat for her to just throw away a thousand dollars.

  “One more thing,” Doc said, “I need Lauren’s help today. I know how much you need her, but right now I don’t have anybody else.” Now after Doc gave a thousand dollars what could Souljah say? Lauren turned on the heels of her cheap shoes and went back into the house.

  “Well, you been around for months,” Souljah said to me. “You know how important this benefit is to me. I’ll need your help today. Do you think you can handle it?”

  At the church Souljah went into the back with the important people. At 5 P.M., hundreds of ticket-buyers started to file in one by one. By six, the crowd was so big they had to open the second balcony. Girls from the womanhood class in red skirts and white blouses stood against the wall every couple of feet. They were ushers and security. More girls lined the wall on the now packed balcony.

  Up on stage, Souljah was seated at a long table with doctors, dignitaries, and other stuffed shirts. And among all of this bulging crowd, in their haste, they somehow left me at one of the three doors to collect money!

  I was amazed at this crowd of people I had never seen. Ladies with big church hats, men in suits with brims, Volvos, and Benzes. Even the young people had on suits and dresses. No sneakers to be found, not even a pair of baggy jeans. And definitely no hats—there was an old man who stood at the entrance and reminded each boy to remove his hat. More surprising, however, was the flow of twenty-dollar bills piling up in my basket as I sat behind the table collecting on one side and two other girls, one of whom was Rashida, sat behind the table on the other side. I began to separate the ones, fives, tens, and twenties, and turned all the dollar bills in the right direction the way Daddy showed me to do.

  When the preacher said, “Let us bow our heads and pray,” everyone bowed. I gently grabbed a stack of twenties, tens, and fives. I was not greedy. I left at least half in the basket. It was only a two-step motion dropping the bills into my red Coach bag, the one I had purchased to match GS’s jeep. When heads raised from prayer I was my calm, courteous self. I resumed taking funds from the latecomers and stragglers.

  Setting myself up for a flawless getaway, I told Rashida, who was always ripe for the sucker role, that I had a terrible stomachache. To gain her complete trust I asked her to hold my money basket while I went to the bathroom.

  The bathroom was situated in the back of the church by the stage. I walked slowly and confidently to the back, checking on the ushers like I was the manager or something. It was so easy to give them orders and watch them follow. Just a little bit of authority in my voice and I had them all jumping. In the bathroom overly helpful ladies chatted with each other.

  “What a lovely church.”

  “Oh, are you a member?”

  “No.”

  “I am. Yes, our pastor is the best. How do you like our stained glass windows, aren’t they beautiful?”

  “This place is huge, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, it seats at least fifteen hundred people.”

  The “fifteen hundred people” sounded the loudest in my ear as I stood behind the door counting my new riches. Fifteen dollars a person times fifteen hundred people? Without paper I calculated twenty-two and a half thousand dollars. Seven thousand of them were in my bag. My heart started to beat fast. The small space in the toilet seemed to get even smaller. My scalp busted a sweat. A couple of deep breaths and I was OK. Hell, aren’t the benefits to raise money for those who need it? Why did people with AIDS need the money when they were just going to die anyway? I rolled the money up and placed it in rubber bands that I usually use for my hair.

  In my boldness, I walked to the front of the elevated stage. As soon as Souljah spotted me she leaned over and asked, “What’s the matter? Are you OK?”

  In the baby voice, the one I had watched Lauren use so effectively, I said, “My stomach’s going crazy. I just threw up in the bathroom. My mouth tastes so nasty. I’m so sorry.”

  With a face full of concern, she responded, “You’ve done a lot to help out. I have a check for you for all the work you’ve done for me when Lauren wasn’t around.” Just then a young, suited man was at the podium introducing Souljah.

  “Go to the house,” she said. “I have some baking soda, Kaopectate, and Pepto-Bismol upstairs in the medicine cabinet. Whichever you prefer. Lay down for a while. You’ll feel better soon.” In an unusual move she planted a kiss on my cheek. As I looked up at her in surprise, she smiled and said, “In all the commotion I forgot to tell you that I spoke to Bilal this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “Bilal. Midnight!” she repeated. “Your cousin.”

  Gagging for air and holding my stomach, I said, “Oh, Midnight.”

  “We’ll talk,” she shouted over the crowd’s applause. She gestured goodbye with her hand, then stepped to the podium.

  A track star couldn’t have been faster than me. My legs were carrying my body swiftly toward the house that was a little more than a few blocks away.

  I rang the bell. It took about five minutes for Lauren to answer the door. Even though I had my poker face on, my forehead was sweating too much for a winter afternoon.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “How did it go? It can’t be over so soon?”

  “No, it just got started.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I got some serious stomach pains out of nowhere.”

  “Did you tell Souljah you were leaving the church?”

  “Yeah we talked. She sent me home to get some medicine. She said I should get it from upstairs in the medicine cabinet.”

  “Do you want to see Doc?”

  “No, I’m just going to take some of the Kaopectate and head back to the church to help out.”

  “Oh,” she said suspiciously.

  Upstairs I ran into Souljah’s bedroom. I took the key off of her jewelry box which was right on top of her cluttered dresser. I opened the file cabinet and flipped feverishly through the files. I had to check each one for the first name Bilal. I didn’t know his last name. Finally I got to “Bilal Odé.” I grabbed the folder. I snatched the New York Times off of Souljah’s bed and placed the folder and all of its contents in between the pages to conceal it.

  In Lauren’s room I grabbed my empty Nike luggage bag and placed inside it everything that absolutely could not be left here. I surveyed Lauren’s dresser for my belongings, saw my beeper, and threw it in the Nike bag. Out of nervousness I checked my red Coach bag again. No problem. My money was still there. I grabbed a roll of twenties, peeled off two of them, and slid them into my red leather jacket pocket for easy access. I opened the small drawer on the bureau and collected my diamond necklace, my bracelet, and my earrings. I put them into my red bag. My lipstick, hair comb, brush, and, of course, my box cutter were the last to go in. I double-checked everything. With my hands full, I stepped lightly down the five flights of stairs; I was so excited to be leaving this place forever.

  Panic racked my body when I hit the landing approaching the last flight of stairs. I was st
aring down at Lauren, who was standing at the front door, paying what appeared to be a delivery man. There must’ve been twenty medium-sized boxes covering the foyer floor.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Lauren asked.

  “Yeah, back to the church.” Without saying anything Lauren’s eyes dropped down to my Nike bag. “Oh yeah, I didn’t get a chance to see my mother yesterday. She was pretty upset so I’m going to see her right after the benefit finishes.”

  “Oh,” she said suspiciously. “Well, can you help me out with these boxes before you leave? They’re Doc’s medical supplies.”

  With my hands full I looked at all twenty or so boxes. I was hoping when Lauren saw in my face that I really didn’t want to do it she would say never mind. But she didn’t. I was leery about acting different than normal. So I agreed to help.

  “Come on. Put all that stuff down. Four hands will be better than two.” I kept checking the clock as we moved the boxes the short distance from the foyer through the big wooden doors into the office. The final destination was the supply closet. No matter what, I kept sweating. Even my palms were sweating now. My heart was pounding so fast I swore Lauren could hear it. I reassured myself I was being ridiculous.

  As soon as we finished I picked up all my stuff. As casually as I could I said, “Alright Lauren. I’ll see you either late tonight or tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure, thanks,” she said. “See you.”

  Outside, the cabdriver asked, “Where are you headed to?”

  For seconds, nothing would come out of my mouth. I did not know. “To a hotel,” I finally said.

  “What hotel?”

  “The Marriott in New Jersey, right over the bridge and off the highway.”

  “In Jersey?” he repeated. “That’s gonna cost you thirty-five dollars.”

  “No problem.” But he still didn’t move the cab. I reached into my pocket and gave him one of my twenties to get him to start driving. As I looked to my right I saw Lauren’s face disappear as the window curtain being held by her hand dropped back into place. We pulled off.

  When I opened the file tucked inside the New York Times, the first thing that fell out were old newspaper clippings. The first article I picked up had a picture of my father and our house in Long Island. The second paragraph mentioned me by name as well as my mother. “Fucking bitch Souljah,” I mumbled. She knew who I was all along. But the fact of the matter is I got the last laugh. She would never be able to prove I took that money. She had too many people collecting it and no system to account for who had what. As I checked further into the file, there were letters in opened envelopes and loose papers. Some letters were from Midnight to Souljah. The papers were copies of letters from Souljah to Midnight. There would be no more secrets. I was going to look through everything and read every word. Most importantly, I would soon discover, I hoped, where Midnight lays his head at night.