Dirty Money Honey

by Nisa Santiago

  “I’m not looking at you. I’m looking past you.” I rose up. I was actually looking at a familiar face, the girls from Neiman Marcus and the casinos. “But we could get it on and poppin’ and take this outside.”

  “Oh, you don’t want to take this outside because, I promise you, if I get up, I’ll slaughter your silly ass. I’m nice wit’ mines.”

  In one swift movement, I grabbed the chick up out of her seat and body-slammed her on the dirty wooden floor. Her lace-front wig dangled in my hands as I began stomping her guts out with my six-inch stilettos.

  “One of y’all bitches jump in this fight and touch my daughter, and I’ll put a donut hole in ya head!” Luther flashed his pistol, and the other three women backed off.

  I whipped on the bigmouth mercilessly until the bartender Pete click-clacked his shotgun. That sound alone was intimidating. Pete called his bouncers to throw out the wolf pack, and Luther and I resumed where we left off.

  “Damn, girl! You still got it.”

  I didn’t respond to Luther because I was too heated and still in war mode.“How’s my face?” I asked, breathing heavily.

  “Your face?” Luther replied. “You should be concerned about your knuckles.”

  I could feel a stinging coming from the back of my neck. I passed my hand back there and then looked at it and was relieved when I didn’t see any blood.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Luther. I grabbed my bag and walked off to the bathroom, where I pulled out my small mirror, and with the mirror that was already on the bathroom wall, I was able to examine the back of my neck, where I saw a huge welt, but there was no blood.

  I would’ve exchanged getting scratched on the back of my neck for dishing out a beatdown any day of the week. So after confirming that I had only been scratched, I felt better and returned to where Luther was sitting.

  “Listen, Pete, I’m sorry about that little altercation,” I said to him.

  “It’s all good. Actually, I think that bitch who got her ass beat is more sorry than you are right now.” Pete laughed and gave Luther a pound.

  “They come in here a lot?” I asked.

  Pete curled up his bottom lip as he thought for a moment.“Actually, no, they don’t. I don’t really remember ever seeing them before. I might have seen the bleach-blonde once or twice before.”

  I nodded my head to him, and then Luther reminded me again that I still had my hand game intact.

  “At least for another ten years,” I bragged. “I’m only twenty-five. She couldn’t fuck with me in my sleep.”

  “You get your hand game from my side of the family. Back in my day, your aunts use to terrorize a whole neighborhood.”

  I chuckled because I had grown up hearing the stories.“And where did you get that pistol?”

  “Oh, this here?” Luther patted his waist. “This belong to that young girl Chief had to dispose of. Couldn’t let a good thing like this go to waste.”

  “You know what I’m about to say before I even say it.”

  “That this gun could either be dirty, or registered to a murdered girl. Either way, I’m a dumb muthafucka for carrying it.”

  I looked past Luther. “Daddy, give me a minute, OK.”

  I walked over to the two women that I’d been consistently seeing. I wasn’t sure why, but my sixth sense told me to. “Excuse me.”

  They both looked up.

  “My name is Honey, and I’ve been seeing you two around a lot.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been seeing you too. Real recognize real. We loved your work in Neiman Marcus.”

  I smiled.

  “This is Blythe, and my name is Tee-Tee. We put in work too.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, we do all types of get-money schemes to make a living,” Blythe said.

  “We was about to jump in and kick some ass, had any of those bum-ass bitches tried to jump you,” Tee-Tee added. “But we saw you and your father had that under control.”

  “Oh, no doubt. But good looking-out. Hey, why don’t I get y’all numbers? I might have something that could be a quick come-up. I don’t have all the particulars, but I’ll fill y’all in once I know for sure.”

  The women both gave me their contacts, and with that, Luther and I left. It was late, and I was exhausted from the beatdown, which sucked all the energy right out of me.

  Chapter 5

  I adjusted my stiff neck from side to side, and ran my right hand across the blackjack table before pulling each card from the Shuffle Master dispenser one by one. I had a packed table of six players hell-bent on bankrupting the house. All the players looked at their hands, just barely peering at their cards. They were definitely pros. One player hit the table, a sign he wanted another card. He then gestured his hand toward the right, which meant he was staying with the hand he was dealt. I topped off each player with additional cards until they were satisfied with their hands. All of the players decided to stand, which was a good move because everyone was showing a seventeen and better. And as the dealer, I was showing a six, which meant I had to take a hit and there was a good chance that I would bust and everybody would win.

  “No. Wait. You know what? I changed my mind. Hit me, sweetie,” an old lady sitting at the end of the table said to me, her voice cracking from old age. She was chain-smoking cigarettes and downing shots of liquor and her wrinkled skin told me that she was close to eighty years old and probably blowing her Social Security check at my table.

  “Ma’am, are you sure?” I asked.

  “Granny, what the hell are you doing?”a young muscle-bound Italian dude said to the old lady. “You’re showing an eight.”

  “I’m not your granny! Sonny boy, if you call me that again I’ll pop you good!” the feisty old white lady yelled. She smacked the palm of her right hand on the table and demanded that I hit her with another card.

  I was trying my hardest not to laugh, trying to keep it professional, and managed to hold it together. I pulled another card from the deck and laid it down in front of the old lady.“Ten!” I yelled and quickly scooped up the old lady’s chips because she had just bust with a twenty-eight.

  I turned over my card that wasn’t exposed, and it was a Queen, which meant that I now had a sixteen. Had the old lady not taken that hit, her Ten would have been my Ten, and as the dealer, I would have bust and everyone at the table would have won.

  I pulled the next card from the deck to hit my hand, and low and behold, it was a Five.“Twenty-one,” I shouted.

  I did a clean sweep and picked up all the players’ cards and then chips. The old lady didn’t seem like she too much cared, because she had only wagered twenty-five dollars on that hand. As for all of the other players, all that cash just went to the house. At least eight thousand dollars.

  I thought about one player who’d just lost five of the eight grand. Imagine what a whole family could do with five thousand dollars. And he certainly had a family, at least a wife. His shiny gold band said so. I’d been watching people lose and lose some more for the past year. Sometimes they just hung their heads and headed home. Others drowned their misery in the bar, only to come back hours later and try again.

  “Muthafucka!” the young Italian dude yelled out after realizing that he’d lost all of his money, thanks to the old lady.

  One of the other frustrated players at the table said, “This old bitch has to be working for the casino.”

  I chuckled and shook my head no.

  Another player said, “Granny, can you please step aside and give your seat to someone else?”

  “I’m not your goddamn granny! My money is just as good as yours, and if you’re so afraid of losing your money, then what are you doing here? This is a casino. Haven’t you ever heard that scared money don’t make money?” the old lady said emphatically. She reac
hed into her pocketbook and pulled out two hundred and fifty dollars in chips and placed them in front of her to let me know that she was ready for more action.

  I let out a little bit of laughter. I couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, and you think it’s funny, Honey?” the muscle-bound dude asked me, after reading my name tag.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said to all of the players. But they were way too frustrated to play another hand with the old lady, and they all got up and went to find another table to play at.

  Just at that moment I spotted my brother from way across the room. He’d just come in, with Big Meech and Delano trailing not far behind. Cinnamon was holding Meech’s arm tight, and I could see everyone was scanning the room. When our eyes locked, I could see Chief was about to do exactly what I told him not to. Seconds later the whole crew bought in at my table and began playing alongside Granny.

  I was grooming a bunch of imbeciles. I guess the warning “Don’t come to my table while I’m on duty” didn’t register with any of them.

  Soon the old lady’s luck did a one eighty, and she began playing her hot streak until she was ready to tap out. She stood up and announced, “This beautiful young lady will take good care of you.” She began collecting her chips. “I just killed ’em for five hundred dollars.” Granny then tossed me a twenty-five-dollar chip as a tip. She gave me a wink. “That’s for you. Buy yourself something nice.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said.

  She leaned in and said to me, “My strategy works every time. I always win right after flushing out all the pussies.”

  “Woaaaow!” I laughed.

  Granny was the quintessential old-school gambler with an addiction. I was sure she was a regular at most casinos. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give her anymore of my time or attention because I had Chief and his boys to attend to.

  At first, no one said a thing. They just all played along like we were strangers.

  When Granny finally moved on, Chief said, “Yo, you better start doin’ something with those cards, so we can all eat.”

  I smirked.

  “It’s hotter than Satan’s balls, in a casino. Don’t you know that we’re constantly watched by the cameras?” Before Chief could move, I added. “And don’t look up, dummy. If you do, I promise you that Bradley, our head of security, will peep that and have five goons from the back follow you out to your car, take your license plate number, and God only knows what else.”

  “I wish a nigga would try to raise up on me!” Chief began to get animated. “These my eyes. They can’t stop me from looking.”

  Big Meech began looking around nervously. “Chief, man, lower your voice. You makin’ us hot.”

  “That’s all, Honey,” Chief said defiantly. “All she had to do was hit us off with twenty-one so we could have some club money to blow, but even that was too much. If she ain’t the one giving orders, she ain’t down. All she care about is herself.”

  “You are more girl than me.” I was aggravated. “It’s never easy with you, is it?” Although I knew better, I stopped shuffling the deck to argue with Chief over bullshit.

  “Honey, is everything all right?” Alonzo, my immediate supervisor, asked, the faint sound of a walkie-talkie in the distance.

  I looked up to see Bradley glaring at the table, ready to pounce if I gave him the word. “Yeah, everything is OK. These gentlemen were just asking what they could get into while in Vegas. They wanted to see the sights. I told them I only know blackjack.”

  Sternly, Alonzo said, “Either play or keep it moving. This ain’t no travel agency.”

  You could see agitation written on everyone’s face. They all wanted to scream on Alonzo but fortunately thought wisely.

  “Yo, money, since you the boss and shit, why don’t you get one of them fine cocktail shorties over here to hit us off with some of them free drinks they passing out?” Big Meech said. “Chief, what a nigga want?”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot drinks is free up in this bitch. Get me some of that VSOP on the rocks,” Chief replied.

  “Word! Yo make that two of those, and bring us two Bacardi and Coke on the rocks,” Big Meech said to Alonzo.

  Alonzo looked like he wanted to flip the fuck out, but he remained calm and composed.“You’re just going to have to play, and the waitresses will make their way over to you eventually,” Alonzo said.

  “Eventually?” Big Meech asked. “What does that mean? We thirsty now! Ain’t you a shot-caller? A pit boss or something like that? Get on that Secret Service mic that y’all got and get niggas some drinks.”

  Thankfully Big Meech went into his pocket and pulled out two hundred dollars, and I was able to give him some chips so that he looked like a real blackjack player and not just a black ghetto buffoon. Alonzo backed off, and we were able to play about four hands.

  The cocktail waitress eventually did make it to my table, and she gave Chief and everyone drinks that she already had on her tray.

  “Yeah, this what the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” Big Meech said as he took two drinks from the tray.

  Chief took a drink and then started flirting with the cocktail waitress.“Ma, where you from? Venezuela or something like that? You just look all good, and tropical and shit.”

  The waitress smiled and shook her head.“I’m from New Jersey.”

  “Word? Brick City? You ain’t from Newark, are you?”

  She shook her head no.

  “But I’m saying, where are your parents from? Because all that thick tropicalness you got going on, they don’t grow that out in Jersey.”

  “My parents are from Peru. I’m Peruvian,” the waitress replied. She was obviously waiting for a tip, but it was a tip that never came.

  I was thoroughly embarrassed and pissed off all at the same time, and I wanted them all to just leave.

  Chief must have been able to read my mind, because he was preparing to get up and leave the table. Just as he was getting up, he said, “Yo, y’all heard about Dré? He got married last week to Olivia from a hundred and thirty-fifth. Yo, that chick is bad as hell.”

  My stomach dropped at the mere mention of my ex and the same chick I’d busted him eating out, but I couldn’t give Chief the satisfaction of a reaction.

  Within seconds, everyone scattered and a new batch of players began to fill in the empty seats.

  “Next time you got a table full of wise guys, you alert somebody. I spot losers like that a mile away.” Alonzo ran his hand slowly down the crease of my back. A little too slowly. “In fact, when you get off, come and find me so I can walk you to your car. You can never be too careful. One of those punks could be lying in wait for you.”

  I smiled appreciatively. “Oh, thank you. But I’m meeting a friend tonight when I get off, so I’ll be fine.”

  Alonzo seemed like he wanted to press the issue but knew his behavior was bordering on sexual harassment.“OK, that’s good. Later.”

  “Bye.” I looked back up to see Bradley was still there watching.

  ***

  I wouldn’t say I had a hard day at work, but my interest was surely piqued. Why had Bradley lingered? That one little gesture, however small, was enough to have my mind racing. I didn’t want to overthink the situation, because that’s when you mess up. But I couldn’t afford to overlook the smallest detail. With the heist only days away, my mind had to perform at its full potential, which was hard to do, with Chief and his nursery of knuckleheads providing me with distraction after distraction.

  My telephone began to vibrate just as I walked into the ladies’ room to change my clothes. He was right on time.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “I’ll be out in five minutes. I’m just changing out of this stuffy uniform. Are you out front?”

  “Yeah, I’m out front. About six cars from the entrance. You�
�ll see me.”

  “Just make sure no one else does,” I warned.

  “I’m straight.”

  “OK, five minutes.”

  “Take your time. We got all night,” he said, and blew a kiss through the phone.

  ***

  The pale-green colored, skintight cold-shoulder dress by the Kardashian sisters’ new line, Dash, looked painted on. The raw silk material hugged my every curve. Being five feet tall, I couldn’t be caught dead in less than six-inch heels. The green and yellowish-gold color heels accented my smooth, honey-brown complexion. I think I came out my mother’s womb in stilettos. I had a shoe fetish that kept my bank account on zero.

  As I pranced through the hotel making my way to the exit, I saw a flurry of events—a Detroit pimp in a white fur hat, pinstripe suit, and red gators working the floor with his three prostitutes; at least two professional jostlers that I was aware of (God only knows how many more were littered through each casino); a stable of athletes, from NBA to NFL, throwing large sums of money on not only the games but the women as well.

  What I didn’t like seeing was Natasha engrossed at the roulette table and looking like she’d been there all night. Her clothes looked disheveled and in disarray, and you could see the dark circles under her eyes from a mile away. Her brittle, bleach-blonde hair looked dirty and lifeless. Her body language was that of someone who was defeated but refused to be beaten. Her shoulders hunched over, her eyes were intently focused on the game. She was truly an addict and hadn’t taken my warning seriously at all. I made a note to myself to speak with her once again about getting help. At the rate she was going, she was going to blow all her heist money right back at the very casino she ripped off.

  Las Vegas is certainly a city that never sleeps. New York has nothing on this little town. Sin City, I thought.

  I exited the entrance to my left and immediately spotted Brian, who was hunched down low in his dark blue Ford Mustang, a blue, fitted NY Yankees cap on his head. When he saw me, he rose up, slightly.