The House that Hustle Built, Part 1

by Nisa Santiago

  “You ain’t shit, bitch! Fuckin’ bring it, wit’ ya little ass!”

  Both ladies were instantly arrested.

  Cash watched on in horror seeing his fiancée and his mother thrown into the backseat of a squad car. The nightmare continued when the female officer told Cash and Pearla that they couldn’t kick out his parents. Apparently they had rights as tenants because they’d been there more than thirty days, and if they wanted them out, then they would have to go to landlord and tenant court. Pearla and Cash were dumbfounded by the news.

  Just like that, their dream home had turned into the house of horror.

  ***

  The next morning, Pearla and Momma Jones were released from jail. Cash was there to pick up Pearla, not his mother.

  It had been a long, long night. Pearla looked dazed and sick. Her hair was in disarray, her clothes were torn and dirty, and she didn’t know what to do anymore. Their money was low, and she was stuck with his parents. She wasn’t going to survive too long under the same roof as Momma Jones.

  “What fuckin’ rights do they have?” Pearla was fuckin’ furious.

  Cash helped her into the car. He didn’t know what to say. He’d made so many wrong decisions that he didn’t know what was right anymore.

  “Cash . . . Cash. . .” Momma Jones called out. “You not gonna take me home too?”

  Cash ignored his moms and shot her a dirty look. Momma Jones twisted up her lips and got into a cab.

  Pearla remained quiet during the ride home, thinking and crying. She leaned her head against the window and stared out the windshield.

  “We gonna be all right, baby,” Cash said. “They gonna fuckin’ leave our place. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

  It sounded good to hear, but Pearla wasn’t too sure. She sighed heavily and didn’t reply, choosing to remain silent.

  Cash drove up to their home and parked in the driveway. Pearla gazed at her beautiful home and didn’t know what to think. It started to feel like a prison. Everything was changing and not for the better.

  “C’mon, let’s go inside, and I’ll run you a nice bath and give you a massage,” he said.

  She managed a smile.

  They exited the car and walked toward the front door hand in hand. The second they were about to walk through the front door, two detectives seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Are you Pearla Baker?” one asked. He was a tall, white male with short, cropped hair who looked eager to carry out his job.

  “Who’s asking?” she replied nervously.

  “You’re under arrest for racketeering and fraud,” he said.

  Pearla was shocked. Immediately, they started to arrest her. Pushing Cash away, the detective grabbed Pearla’s arms behind her back and placed the iron bracelets around her wrists.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she hollered.

  The second detective started to read out her Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right—”

  “I know my fuckin’ rights!”

  Cash yelled, “Yo, is this fuckin’ necessary?”

  “Sir, please do not interfere,” the tall detective warned.

  Cash had to helplessly watch them usher Pearla to their unmarked car and take her back to jail when she was just released. He stood there stunned, not knowing what to do.

  ***

  During her arraignment, Pearla learned about all the details in her case. Cash was there front seat and talking to her lawyer. She was being charged with racketeering for green card marriage and fraud, which carried up to three years in prison and a huge fine toward restitution. Apparently, one of her girls, a bitch named Karen, took it upon herself to try and extort her arranged husband for more money. When he refused, and shit hit the fan, she went to the police and named Pearla as the one who’d set everything up.

  Pearla pleaded not guilty and was ready to take her case to trial. It was costly. With money dwindling fast, she didn’t know how she and Cash could stay above water.

  Thirty

  Several weeks after Pearla’s second arrest, the tension in the home was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Cash and Pearla both had open cases that, if convicted, could have them serving a few years in prison. It was a stressful time for them both.

  Momma Jones and Ray-Ray had turned their house into a pigsty. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, dirty clothes and junk everywhere, fast-food remnants scattered throughout the house, and company coming and going. Things continued to go missing, and it was always one thing after the next. Each time Pearla or Cash would start beefing, Momma Jones and Ray-Ray would threaten to call the cops, which always backed the couple down.

  With the two of them so busy trying to avoid incarceration and to keep their funds in order, they couldn’t risk catching another case.

  Cash’s parents had made it where the young couple didn’t want to live in their dream home anymore. It started to feel like they were the guests. There was constant arguing and disrespectful. But what hurt Cash the most was that Ray-Ray had changed. He was no longer the philosophical jokester. He’d become as mean, bitter, and vindictive as Momma Jones .

  ***

  Early one evening Cash pulled beside Petey Jay’s Audi R8 in the parking lot of the grocery store. Petey Jay wanted to meet with him to talk about more business, looking to borrow another $100K from him. However Cash grew leery of his friend. The two exited their high-end cars and greeted each other with hugs and the glad hands.

  “My nigga,” Petey Jay hollered, sounding excited to see Cash.

  Petey Jay looked fresh like a superstar in a black-and-green Gucci ensemble topped off with a platinum diamond necklace that sparkled in sync with the diamond-filled Rolex on his wrist.

  “What’s good, Petey?” Cash said dryly. “I see you ballin’ and shit.”

  “You know, nigga, I’m tryin’ to do my thing, come up like you and shit. You feel me?”

  “Yeah, I feel you,” Cash replied halfheartedly, eyeing Petey up and down.

  “Yo, I know Pearla gave you that forty-five K, right? Am I good for the hundred thousand? I got shit moving soon.”

  “Nigga, forty-five K is peanuts. Where’s the rest of it?”

  “I got it comin’, my nigga. I’m just sayin’, shit is crazy out here. We got hit in Harlem. Some niggas ran up in our stash house, disrespected us, and took our shit. But we lookin’ for these niggas. Believe me, it ain’t goin’ down like that,” Petey Jay said, fidgeting around while he talked.

  Cash knew it was a lie. He frowned and clenched his fists. Petey Jay was probably getting high off his own supply, or some other supply. Cash felt he was tweaking.

  “Yo, I heard about that shit that went down in Miami. Crazy, yo.”

  Cash scowled. “Fuck what went down in Miami. I gave you almost four hundred K, and I ain’t seen no real money come back yet, Petey.”

  “I got you covered, Cash. Yo, why would I be tryin’ to play you? I don’t even get down like that. C’mon, my nigga, we go way back. If it was like that, I wouldn’t even gave you the forty-five.”

  Cash felt like he was being played, especially with his friend wearing a Rolex and driving new shit. He realized how his friend did it. He’d never had any drug connect, and he’d never planned on turning a profit. Cash strongly felt Petey Jay took advantage of their friendship and lied. He took his nearly 400k, gave him back 45k, only to try and get another 100k, thinking he was some sucker or pussy. It was a fucked-up Ponzi scheme.

  Cash growled, “Yo, I want my fuckin’ money, Petey.”

  “I’m gonna get you ya money, nigga!”

  “Nah, I mean I want my fuckin’ money now. I ain’t playin’ no fuckin’ games wit’ you, nigga. Real talk!” Cash shouted heatedly.

  “Yo, why
you comin’ at me like I disrespected you?”

  “Because you are, nigga! You think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” Cash marched closer to Petey and got in his face, his 9mm tucked in his waistband.

  “Yo, Cash, you need to chill.”

  “Nah, fuck that chill shit, nigga!” Cash screamed out. “I want my fuckin’ money, Petey!”

  Cash wanted to punch his friend in his face, but they were in a public parking lot, and there were too many witnesses around. He had to calm down. There was already too much heat on him and his girl. He didn’t need to add any more fuel to a fire that was already raging.

  “You know what, I’m gonna see you, Petey, real soon. Best believe that, nigga,” Cash said coolly, stepping away from Petey and glaring at the man. He already had it in his mind that he was going to murder Petey Jay, soon.

  Cash jumped into his car and drove away, fuming. His friend was a dead man.

  ***

  Pearla and Poochie got into a heated argument about money. Poochie felt that Pearla wasn’t keeping her promises and blessing her with the money she felt she had earned.

  “Look, Pearla, I got fuckin’ bills that need to get paid,” Poochie whined.

  “Don’t we all?” Pearla screamed. “I got a fuckin’ case pending and they threatening that I do hard time, ma. I got the IRS up my ass and now I gotta take care of you too! A grown fuckin’ woman?”

  “Bitch, I earn mines. I ain’t Momma Jones or Ray-Ray. You ain’t never or will ever take care of a smart bitch like me.”

  Pearla rolled her eyes. She was spent.

  To add to the list of woes, word on the street was that someone had snitched on her to the IRS, and she speculated that it was Roark.

  ***

  With hell going on around them, Pearla and Cash needed a slice of heaven. Trying to escape all the drama surrounding them and the pressures of impending court cases, they decided to go out for another intimate dinner. This time they went to Odeon on West Broadway. The restaurant, with its old-school ambiance, made it a popular daily lunch spot for those below Canal, as well as the perfect place for a romantic dinner or a relaxed evening with friends.

  The place was semi-crowded, patrons enjoying the tasty food and the friendly service.

  “You’re beautiful,” Cash told Pearla, smiling and gazing at his queen in her watercolor dress.

  “Thank you.”

  Through the drama and chaos, the two of them continued to make time for each other. The atmosphere around them was settling. Pearla dined on the warm goat cheese salad, and Cash had the unbelievable BLT. They had a warm, stimulating conversation and wished the evening could linger on forever.

  “It’s gonna get better,” Cash told her.

  Pearla replied halfheartedly, “I know.”

  They talked about their criminal court cases. With both of them catching cases, they couldn’t really hustle in their respective fields, trying to keep a low profile until the fire was put out and the smoke cleared.

  They’d blown a few million dollars in a year or two and needed to recoup what they’d spent. Cash’s lawyer in Miami had prolonged the trial for months, and Pearla’s lawyer, Jonathan Gray, was attempting to do the same thing. Both attorneys were desperately trying to look for any technicalities to have their cases dismissed.

  The couple was now closer than ever as they went through their trials and tribulations.

  “Us against the world, baby,” Cash said, smiling. “And you know what? We gonna win.”

  Pearla chuckled. “I know.”

  They kissed lovingly.

  Dinner went on for two hours. Then they went for a walk in Central Park, despite the cold and snow on the ground. After that, they went for drinks at a local bar, and then it was home to make love.

  Their romantic and lovely night together came to a shocking end when they arrived home to find police at their home and their place shot up. There were bullet holes in the door and the windows were shot out.

  “What the fuck!” Pearla exclaimed. “Why does this keep happening to us?”

  Cash shook his head in exasperation. He was blindsided.

  Pearla suspected Poochie was the one behind the shooting. Her mother was a vindictive and evil bitch when she wanted to be. However, Cash felt it could be a number of people, not to mention Petey Jay.

  “I’ll kill ’em all before I let them hurt you,” Cash said.

  “I know you will, baby. I know you will.”

  Never did the couple think, after everything they’d done for family and friends, that they would do them so dirty. With so much going on, threats looming from everywhere and family bringing them down, they decided to move out of their house and into an apartment until they could legally force Momma Jones and Ray-Ray out.

  ***

  Flying back to New York from Miami, Cash smiled widely. He was ecstatic. His lawyer had pulled it off, and now he was a free man. He had just beaten his case in South Beach on a technicality. The surveillance tapes that had led to Cash’s arrest weren’t collected with a warrant; therefore, the evidence thrown out. It almost brought tears to Cash’s eyes. His lawyer was worth every damn penny.

  If someone could win the lotto twice, then it happened to Cash and Pearla, because Jonathan Gray had Pearla’s case dropped too because of lack of evidence. Karen wasn’t a reliable witness, with her extensive criminal history.

  The extra blessing came when Housing Court finally evicted Cash’s parents from their home.

  It was now time to get money again. Too much time had been wasted with litigations and drama. Now they had to work extra hard to regain the momentum they once had.

  But there was a problem—both their reputations had been tainted. The hood had started whispering about them. Rumors began to spread. How did they both beat their federal case? How were they able to walk away?

  To make matters worse, Petey Jay, who had gotten arrested in a drug sting, was telling everyone listening that Cash was a snitch, and that he had set him up. Petey Jay had gone to buy some recreational weed when five-O kicked open the door to a known stash house. There was more than three hundred pounds of kush, guns, and drug money. He’d fucked up big time.

  The couple, once admired and respected, were now hated and shunned by their peers.

  Pearla had to constantly defend herself and her reputation. Her bitches from the escort service turned their back on her, no longer remembering the exotic trips and shopping sprees, or when Cash would peel off thousands so they could have a good time.

  Cash was now being depicted as shady and untrustworthy. His reputation in Brooklyn had been trashed. Too much had gone down with him and Pearla, from everyone knowing that they cut Perez out of the insurance scheme before his sudden arrest at the chop shop, Jamie’s still unsolved murder, Petey Jay’s untimely arrest after Cash had threatened him, Roark putting Pearla on blast after feeling slighted by her, and their sudden freedom from two federal cases.

  Rage, anger, and feelings of betrayal coursed through so many hearts, it should have been no surprise that someone wanted them dead.

  Epilogue

  The pearl-white Benz came to a stop in front of the Jamaica Estates home. Cash and Pearla lingered for a moment, looking, reflecting on the past a little. The place looked peaceful and quiet. It was hard to believe that drama and hell went on inside for so long. Summer was flourishing in the area, and like the winter season, their problems seemed to fade for another pleasurable season to take place. It was a new beginning, and for them, it felt so good to breathe again.

  “This is it,” Cash said, smiling at his queen.

  They had arrived home after leaving a few weeks earlier. Pearla had rented a bungalow in Montauk, a block away from the beach, and the two just chilled.

  Pearla set her eyes at the front entrance. With all they had gone through, she wanted to go inside and take a n
ice, long hot bath.

  “You ready?” Cash asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Slowly, they stepped out of the car and approached the house. Before they stepped inside, they vowed to never make the same mistakes again after almost losing everything they’d worked so hard for. This time, they were going for bigger things—first, setting a goal to get one million or more and then retire from the game.

  Pearla had hired a tax attorney to straighten out her finances and deal with the IRS on her behalf, and their circle of friends had gotten much, much smaller.

  When they walked inside, it was a horror story. Cash’s parents didn’t leave peacefully and respectfully. They decided to vandalize the house, which they did by knocking many holes in the walls, smashing everything they could get their hands on, breaking mirrors, windows, ripping up carpets, smashing furniture, and stealing everything of value that wasn’t nailed down.

  “Those muthafuckas,” Cash uttered softly.

  They walked into the ransacked home and inspected the damage. From room to room, everything was destroyed, including clothes bleached and ripped.

  Cash could understand Momma Jones doing something like this, but not his father. Not Ray-Ray, the always genial and gregarious man who couldn’t hurt a fly, who liked to make people laugh, and always seemed contented with his life, no matter what he was going through.

  Cash looked around, at first looking despondent, maybe angry, but then he heard Pearla say, “You know what? I don’t care.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said I don’t care.”

  Cash right away adopted the same attitude. “You know what? I don’t care either.”

  Everything could be replaced. They were planning to rebuild anyway.

  During the course of the evening, Cash and Pearla straightened up in certain areas, including the bedroom, and fixed what they could, and then they focused on each other.

  After a long, stimulating shower together, the passionate lovemaking began on their bedroom floor, their comforter used as a mattress. A full moon hung heavy in the summer night sky. They ate Chinese food, drank champagne, and looked peaceful in the middle of the broken dishes, taped-up windows, and destroyed furniture.