The House that Hustle Built, Part 1

by Nisa Santiago

  Cash quickly turned his attention to the voice. It came from a younger man in the room. He was six feet tall with dark, slick black hair, a lean body, and a narrow face. He had intense eyes and was heavily tattooed.

  “Yeah, I’m Cash,” he replied coolly.

  “Have seat.” The man motioned to the chair near his desk. “Let’s talk.”

  Cash walked over. The bearded Russians at the round table fleetingly looked his way and then went on with their business. Cash took a seat opposite Adrian. Being there with the Russians was a chess move for him. Pearla had convinced him that checkers was no longer his forte.

  “I hear you good car thief,” Adrian said in his thick, Russian accent.

  “I’m one of the best.”

  “Good. Because I have job for you.” Adrian took a seat behind his desk. He removed some pictures from his desk and tossed glossy pictures of high-end cars—Maseratis, Maybachs, Range Rovers—in front of Cash. “I’m willing to pay top dollar for these cars,” he said. “Can you deliver?”

  Cash stared at the pricey cars and thought he might be in a little over his head. But his ego started to do the talking. The money he could make from the Russians would be phenomenal. He picked up the photo with the Range Rover, looked at it briefly, then dropped it back on the desk. He looked Adrian squarely in the eyes and said with confidence, “Yeah, I can deliver. This is what I do—steal cars.”

  Adrian smiled. “Good to hear. You and me, we can do good business together.”

  “I’m lookin’ forward to it,” Cash replied, grinning.

  “Have drink?” Adrian suggested.

  “Fuck it! Why not?”

  Adrian poured Cash a glass of Russian vodka, and then himself. Both men stood up, raised their glasses toward each other, and toasted.

  “To business,” Adrian said.

  “To business,” Cash repeated.

  They both downed their drinks.

  Adrian said, “Another?”

  Cash smiled.

  His meeting with the Russians went smoothly. Everything seemed good. Now the only problem was, he had to figure out where to get the cars.

  ***

  The one person Cash thought could and would help him out with his newfound hustle with the Russians was the woman who was in love with him. She’d persuaded him to push forward on his own, but now that he was asking for her help, it felt like she was shunning him.

  “You want me to fuckin’ hold your hand for the rest of your life, Cash?” she said to him. “Who got the big dick, you or me?”

  “What?”

  “You’re a grown man, Cash. Figure it out your damn self. I can’t always help you out.”

  “But these Russians are serious.”

  “So you need to become more serious.”

  Pearla spun around on her six-hundred-dollar heels and marched out of the room. She had her hands full with various moneymaking businesses and her girls, and she needed a man who could make his own decisions and hold his own.

  Cash stood there, frowning. It was hard to hear, but he knew she was right. He walked to the window and gazed outside, contemplating his next chess move. “Fuck it!” he uttered, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  He was determined to find the way. Besides, he was a master car thief. What could possibly go wrong?

  Seventeen

  It was 3 a.m. when Pearla’s phone chimed loudly in the dark, quiet bedroom like an alarm going off. Pearla was sleeping hard. She turned her back to the ringing phone, ignoring it. Whoever was calling would get the hint real soon. It had been a long day, and she’d only had three hours of sleep so far. She cursed the ratchet object for coming alive during a time when everything needed to be dead silent.

  Her phone rang again. She turned in her sleep, only to find that Cash wasn’t in bed with her. It wasn’t unusual for him not to be home around this hour. He was a car thief, so the early morning hours were the perfect time to carry out his craft.

  Pearla lifted herself from the bed, sitting erect and staring at the time. She cursed for being awake. She needed her beauty sleep and rest. Tomorrow was going to be another long day for her, starting at eight in the morning. She heaved a sigh and glanced at her cell phone, which had finally stopped ringing.

  Half an hour later, just as she was about to fall asleep again, her cell phone buzzed loudly in the room. Annoyed, she snatched up her phone and answered the call.

  She got the shock of her life when she heard, “You have a collect call from Cash.”

  Pearla couldn’t believe it. Cash had gotten himself locked up.

  ***

  Pearla hurried toward Cash’s arraignment at the criminal courthouse in downtown Brooklyn, her mind spinning with so many things. What charges did he have against him? How did he get caught? How did he fuck up something that he was a professional at? She yearned to see her boo again. She wanted him back home, in bed with her, making sweet passionate love to her. He couldn’t do that locked away in some jail cell, so she was determined to get her man out.

  At 9 a.m., she was at the criminal courthouse in downtown Brooklyn. The line was long. Everyone was waiting to enter the building, go through the metal detectors, and either see a loved one or go through their own trials and tribulations with the justice system. She couldn’t believe it had come to this.

  Getting through security was a long, drawn-out process. Over three dozen folks were moving through three active security stations, where everything came out the pockets and into the plastic tub and through the scanning machine.

  An hour later, she was in one of the many trial rooms where the morning arraignments were taking place. She sat in the middle of the long pew among so many other people and waited patiently for Cash’s docket number to be called. It was really busy—so many criminals, so many cases.

  One by one, docket numbers were called, and each defendant went in front of a judge with or without a lawyer.

  Another hour went by, still no Cash. Two hours. Then three. As Pearla sat, uncomfortably, for a brief fleeting moment she thought if she’d made the right decision choosing Cash over Hassan?

  Right before lunch, the bailiff announced in the court, “Docket Number 5430544, Cash Combs.”

  Pearla perked up and trained her eyes on the entrance through which they ushered the inmates. She yearned to see her boyfriend. She just wanted to run over to him and hug him and assure her man that everything was going to be okay.

  Cash came walking into the trial area, his hands shackled with iron bracelets. He was still in his street attire. For a brief second, Cash and Pearla smiled at each other. His appearance was in disarray. He looked tired and withdrawn. It had been a long twenty-four hours for him.

  It was his first appearance in court. He was to face the judge and be advised of the charges against him. He had a court-appointed attorney for now, but Pearla was hoping to hire him a real lawyer.

  The attorney representing the State read out the charges against Cash. “The defendant is being charged under Section 154A, for grand theft auto, a felony,” he announced.

  Cash stood in front of the judge stoically, his court-appointed lawyer doing all the talking for him. Today, he only had to put in a plea of guilty or not guilty. Even though he was guilty as sin, he didn’t want to be railroaded by the judicial system. If found guilty, he was looking at maybe a fine and a sentence ranging from one to five years. He was advised to plead guilty, and maybe his court-appointed lawyer could knock the charge down to joyriding, which carried a lesser punishment.

  Pearla looked on teary eyed. Either way, it didn’t look good for her man. There was a chance he might have to do some time.

  “How do you plead?” the judge asked Cash.

  Cash glanced back at Pearla. The look on his face said she wasn’t about to like his decision. He happened to smile and then turned
back around to face the judge.

  “I plead guilty, Your Honor,” Cash replied.

  After being made aware of his rights, he was taken back into custody.

  Pearla didn’t wait a second longer in the courtroom. Once Cash was out of her sight, she removed herself from the scene quickly. Her eyes were watery. She didn’t know what to do at the moment. Now she needed to talk to the lawyer. It was his sentencing she was truly worried about.

  ***

  Pearla got off the Rikers Island bus with the other females and waited in the long screening line with everyone else, mostly females, black and Hispanic, and a sprinkle of white people. It’d been two weeks since she’d last seen Cash. She couldn’t wait to see and talk to her man again. She was devastated with his arrest. Life still went on, but her pussy ached for his touch.

  In the morning, she went from one correctional building to the next, moving through multiple metal detectors, being scanned a handful of times by overzealous corrections officers and made to feel like she was an inmate herself.

  But it was worth it to see Cash, who was being detained in the GMDC building. He was fortunate not to get a lengthy sentence. His lawyer was able to get him the minimum because this was his first offense, and the judge had sentenced him to six months. He was to do his time on Rikers Island. It wasn’t a long time, but it was a long enough absence from the love of her life.

  Pearla walked into the visiting area behind a handful of other young ladies anticipating to see a boyfriend, a brother, or their father. The room was packed; almost every small chair and table was occupied. It looked like confusion in one room, but everything was controlled by the corrections officers strategically placed around the room, watching everything and everyone.

  Pearla was directed where to sit—near the back, against a brick wall, where she nestled uncomfortably with the other inmates and visitors. She took a seat facing the entrance and waited for her boo to come through the door.

  Ten minutes later, five inmates were ushered into the room in single file. Cash was the first one on line. Pearla couldn’t help smiling, seeing her man for the first time in two weeks. Rikers Island didn’t change him; he still looked like a pretty boy. She was hoping that he wasn’t having a hard time in jail because of his looks.

  Clad in an orange prison jumpsuit with D.O.C. printed on the back in black letters, Cash looked around the room. The C.O. pointed to where Pearla was seated, and a huge smile splashed across his face. He didn’t hesitate to walk over, longing to wrap his baby into his arms and passionately greet her.

  Seeing Cash coming her way, a teary-eyed Pearla stood up and greeted him with open arms. “Oh my God! Baby, I missed you so much,” she said, her voice cracking.

  She and Cash hugged each other like they didn’t want to let each other go. The guards had to sternly remind them there was no long display of public affection during visits. The two quickly took their seats opposite of each other, holding hands across the table.

  “You look really good, baby.”

  “And you look good yourself. How are they treating you in here?”

  “It definitely ain’t home, but I’m good. You know I’m gonna be good anywhere I’m at. I’m Cash, baby—legal tender anywhere I go. I’m temporarily down, but you know, baby, when I get out, it’s on. This ain’t gonna hold me back.”

  “I hear you, baby. I love that talk in you. Damn! If you wasn’t locked down, you could definitely get this pussy.”

  “Keep it warm and tight for me for six months, baby, and when I get out, it’s on.”

  Pearla chuckled, gazing into his eyes. He seemed like his normal self and started talking like they were out on a date. He was still lively and humorous.

  “What happened?” Pearla asked, referring to the night of his arrest.

  “I fucked up.”

  “How?”

  “I just got sloppy that night—rushed things. Didn’t plan it out properly. I was hot-wiring this Range Rover, went at it alone when I shouldn’t have. Police rolled up on me, literally caught me red-handed.”

  “At least you got six months.”

  “But that’s still a long time without you.”

  She smiled. “It is.”

  “You think you can manage?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “I know you don’t,” he joked.

  “You lucky I love you.”

  “And I love you too.”

  The two shared an intimate laugh and continued holding hands across the table.

  Cash turned a little serious. He looked at his woman and said, “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What is it, baby? You know I got you.”

  “That’s why I’m with you.” He grinned.

  “So talk to me.”

  “It’s my pops. I need you to look out for him while I’m in here.”

  “Consider it done,” she said without hesitation.

  “Another thing. . .”

  “What?”

  “And if you got it in you, my moms too.”

  Pearla had met Momma Jones once, and it was a very rude and unpleasant meeting. Within five minutes of Pearla meeting the woman, it was about to turn out ugly, until Cash separated them.

  Cash read Pearla’s look. “I know,” he said. “She’s a hard woman—”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  “And your mother ain’t,” he countered.

  “Point taken.”

  “I’m just saying, no matter what they are, who they are, they still family, right?”

  Pearla sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Cash knew he had nothing to worry about. Pearla would keep her promise. He didn’t know what he would do without her in his life. At first, it’d started out as a bet, but then it transitioned into real love for him. Pearla was like no other woman he’d been with. When he was around her, he felt good, he was always smiling. Though he cheated on her with her best friend and got blowjobs from different woman, he felt like he had to make it right by her.

  With their visit winding down, Cash gripped her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. She gazed back.

  “Baby, you know I love you, right?” he started.

  “I love you too,” she said.

  He decided to not beat around the bush and came out with it. “What I’m sayin’—marry me.”

  “What?”

  “I said marry me,” he repeated. “I want you to marry me.”

  “Cash, are you sure?”

  “I never been so sure in my life,” he said with conviction.

  The smile on Pearla’s face already revealed her answer. “Yes!” she said excitedly.

  The two leaned toward each other across the table and kissed fervently. It took a guard to remind them again about the rules for them to stop.

  Pearla was happy. What other bitch could get a player like Cash to marry them? She felt only she could pull it off and change him into a one-woman man.

  “The visit’s over,” the correction officer told them in a gruff tone, towering over the couple with an unsmiling expression.

  Cash looked up at the overzealous guard and wanted to smack him for being disrespectful to him and his girl. But he could only hold in his contempt and think about his future. He only had six months to serve and didn’t want to chance it by doing something stupid.

  They stood up. Pearla hugged and kissed her man lovingly, not wanting to depart from him, but their time had expired.

  As she separated herself from Cash and walked toward the exit, she was flooded with so many emotions. Her eyes became watery. Her heart felt like it was about to rip from her chest. She felt alone without him, but she had to stay strong and continue living and continue hustling.

  ***

  Cash and several other inmates were being ushered out of the visiting r
oom and back into lockup. He was in the middle of the line, quiet, thinking about Pearla, missing her deeply, and knowing she loved him so much that she would do anything for him.

  There was some regret about his affair with Jamie. The more he thought about it, the more he wished it didn’t happen. But it was hard to resist that pussy and her body. He was a weak man that night. And a few other nights. He was hoping it never got out to Pearla, knowing she would be devastated if she ever found out about it.

  While waiting on line, he all of a sudden heard one inmate say to him, “Yo, that’s ya bitch?”

  “What?” Cash replied with a scowl.

  “I’m sayin’, that’s ya bitch in the visiting room, the petite bitch wit’ the pretty fuckin’ eyes?” the inmate continued.

  “What about her?”

  “I’m sayin’, she used to fuck wit’ my nigga Hassan. What ya pretty ass doin’ wit’ that bitch? Yeah, I heard she suck a nice dick and got that good pus—”

  Cash didn’t allow him to finish. In a heartbeat, he swung madly, punching the man in the face repeatedly, dropping him to his knees with a bloody lip and swollen eye. He yelled, “Nigga, don’t you ever fuckin’ disrespect her or me like that!”

  Guards hurried over and quickly defused the melee.

  Why the inmate said what he said, Cash had no idea, but the damage had already been done. His violent outburst caused him some time in the bing and maybe some extended time on his sentence. But no matter the consequences he faced, no one was going to disrespect him or Pearla while he was around.

  Eighteen

  I’m getting married,” Pearla hollered excitedly to Roark and Jamie.

  “What?” they both replied simultaneously, not believing their ears.

  “To Cash?” Jamie asked, looking in doubt.

  “Yes, to Cash. Who else?” Pearla held up her diamond engagement ring, an 18k solid white gold and diamond she went out and purchased herself to boast to her friends about.

  “Pearla, you’re still a young woman,” Roark said.

  “And?”

  “He’s in jail,” Jamie chimed.