“I owe you one,” I told her.
“Paper, envelope, stamp, delivery, and my time,” she said quietly pulling down each of her pretty fingers as she counted out my debt.
“What do you want from me?” I asked her.
“Meet me here at the library every day for the next seven days during rec.”
“For what?” I asked her.
“You’ll say it’s for math tutoring. Between you and me, though, you gonna have to get your shit together if you wanna get up with us Diamond Needles. Riot saw something in you. But for me, I won’t let you get away with no little kid tricks. You wanna walk and move with the big girls? You grown? You better act like it, mamasita.” She strutted away. I watched her.
I was thinking she probably would’ve told me to come here to the library every day for a week even if I didn’t ask to borrow the paper and envelope.
The guard came through. I had my eyes on Lina as he uncuffed my ankles.
“Get up,” the guard said. I stood.
It all made sense to me. Lina number 2, I thought to myself. The name of our crew is the Diamond Needles. That rocks, I thought to myself. Sounds beautiful.
I pictured Lina standing beside Riot. She made Riot look more good. Girls love to have pretty friends. That way, one day we could all walk down the street together knowing that there was no reason for any of us to feel jealous, cause we was all doing it with our original styles, flair, and finesse. Each girl in our group having plenty of options. Hmpp . . . I would’ve picked Lina, too, definitely.
I didn’t know if Lina would really mail the letter for me. I figured out not to trust even one mouth moving. It didn’t matter, I told myself. Showing up at the library instead of rec was nothing to me. While I was wearing the red jumper, I couldn’t do shit at rec anyway, just be cuffed and stuck.
Late that same night, I laid close to Siri thinking about Riot.
Riot must be smart, I thought. Yeah, she told me her story. But, it seems she had already known my story. Maybe she chose me cause she read the words “$100-million-dollar empire” in the news article. Or maybe she knew other things that were written in the newspapers about my family and maybe even about me. But I knew for sure that nothing in a newspaper could be trusted. Unless you are a part of someone’s life every day or even just with them most of the time, you will never really know what they have and had, what happened with them and how they really are, what they do, why they do it that way and what they feel.
Chapter 6
“Hables?” Lina asked me when I showed up for my “math tutoring.”
“Huh?” I answered back.
“Tu eres Santiaga, si? No Hables?” she said.
“What?” I said. Then she understood to speak fucking English. “I ain’t Spanish,” I told her.
“I’m not Spanish, either,” Lina said. Her faced was relaxed. Her body was still, but her eyes were revealing her fierceness. “Yo soy una Boriqua, Puerto Ricano! Don’t forget it,” she said to me. But how could I remember something I didn’t understand in the first place? “I can see why these young chicks wanna punch you in your face,” Lina said. “You come off all wrong.” She spoke calmly, but I could tell she was working hard to hold back her temper. “Maybe you won’t be happy till you got a buck-fifty on your face? I know one girl up here who didn’t know how to shut her mouth, so someone sliced her face open with a razor. What would you do if that happened to you?”
“I’d cut her back,” I said. “As long as the one who sliced my face was walking around with her face sliced open, too, I would wear my scar. I wouldn’t complain,” I said honestly, then shrugged my shoulders like I do when I don’t have nothing else to say.
“You stupid, stupid little girl.” She said it softly but it was heartfelt. I didn’t let Lina see that she hurted my feelings, but she did. I hated to be put down. I hated for anyone to play me like I’m dumb. I hated that I could tell that she really believed that I was stupid. I hated that I liked Lina a lot, and she either couldn’t tell or didn’t care. I hated that now Lina thought I was fighting cause I was a stuck-up, little, stupid bitch, and not because I was defending myself. I’m ten. Lina is either fifteen or sixteen. She is in the beige-tan jail jumper. Why was she coming so hard for me?
Tears bubbled up, then streamed down my face. She got up and came back with a tissue. It was the second time, on our second day of meeting, that she wiped my tears for me, while I was red, my wrist controlled on a short chain, ankles cuffed to the chair. After she did that, I was feeling hate and love towards her, and I was confused.
“Don’t you know that when you are pretty, everybody expects you to be stupid?” Lina asked me.
She was seated back close to me, pretending to be tutoring me in math. Her question repeated in my mind: Don’t you know that when you’re pretty everyone expects you to be stupid? I sat thinking. Lina is saying that she thinks I’m pretty. That mixed my feelings up for her even more.
“A girl should never be stupid unless she is pretending to be stupid to save her own life,” Lina said.
“I’m not stupid,” I said confidently.
“How does a stupid person know that she’s stupid?” Lina asked me.
I didn’t answer.
“Exactly,” Lina said, as if I had actually answered her question.
“Exactly what?” I asked.
“If you are stupid, you would be too stupid to know it,” she said without smiling or laughing. I still didn’t say nothing.
“When you meet someone who is on your side, start off by introducing yourself. That’s what smart people do,” Lina said.
“That’s not really smart—if I am just meeting someone, how would I know if they are on my side or not? Why would I tell them my name?” I asked, and I meant it. I was looking at Lina, waiting for her to answer.
“I meant . . .,” Lina started to say. “Whatever! I introduced myself to you. I told you I was Lina, number 2, the Diamond Needles. You knew then that I was on your side.”
“Okay. I’m Porsche L. Santiaga. I’m ten. I like music. I like to dance. I don’t like to fight. I don’t start fights with anyone. But I will fight anybody who starts a fight with me, even if I don’t think I can win. I’m pretty. Lina, you’re pretty, too, so you know how it is. These ugly bitches got us surrounded.”
We both laughed. I exhaled a lot, and then felt easier with Butterscotch Lina, who I had thought had no smile.
“I like your haircut,” I said to Lina suddenly. “Did you cut it yourself?” I asked.
“No, we have a salon in Building A. My girl JinJah cut it. She’s Diamond Needle, number 9,” Lina said.
“She has a jail job?” I asked, all surprised.
“All Diamond Needles got a hustle. The hair hustle is the biggest payday. But chica, I get mines done for free. Me and JinJah in the same clique. So we take care of each other.” Lina put her fingers in her hair, stroking through the soft black-black half curls, stopping at her neck where it was still silky but cut low and clean.
“And these aren’t ‘jail jobs.’ You young, but don’t forget. We’re in prison, not jail. We’re convicted, not on trial. We’re on lockdown, viewed as violent and a threat to society.”
I knew all of that, but it sounded even worser when Lina said it all out loud.
“To make it in here you gotta start off by choosing the right family. The family with the right connections,” she said.
“Like how Riot chose you?” I asked her.
“That’s not how it happened,” she said, still calm and cool. “But it’s true, with our clique, girls have to be chosen by either me or Riot. It’s the only way to get up with us.”
“JinJah number 9 can’t choose nobody? And numbers three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, after they in the Diamond Needles, they can’t bring nobody in who they choose?”
“No. Nunca,” Lina said.
“Nunca?” I repeated.
“Never,” Lina translated.
I sat th
inking for some seconds. I knew now that Lina didn’t choose me. I wondered if that meant she didn’t approve? Maybe she disagreed with Riot’s choice.
“What if Riot wants someone in, and you don’t?” I asked.
“Confianza,” Lina said. “Between me and Riot, there is trust. We don’t argue. We trust each other’s choices. We know that if either of us chooses the wrong person, both of us will suffer, then fail. Riot and me always say, ‘If you tell on me, you tell on yourself.’ So we don’t worry. Everyone we deal with has something to lose, something to gain, and something to protect. Riot wouldn’t have chosen you if you didn’t have something to lose, something to gain, and something to protect.”
Lina’s lesson went on like that. It was more heavy than being in math, science, or English class. I found myself doing way more thinking. Lina placed her words carefully. It seemed like every other sentence from her was laced with a threat and a challenge.
Lina told me, “There are 528 inmates locked down here as of today. In one second that number could increase or decrease. There are twenty-nine gangs in here. In twenty-eight of the crews, you gotta get ‘jumped in’ to get down with them. That means you gotta get your ass beat by the whole crew. Maybe they’ll fuck up your face or shove a broom in your little pussy or tight asshole. Like that ain’t enough, you could get ordered to do something dumb, hurt yourself or someone else you don’t got no beef with. Then, your time here on lockdown doubles or triples up,” Lina said, like she was disgusted. She was leaning forward in her chair, one hand pressing down on her leg and the other on her hip.
“All that shit is retarded. We don’t get down like that. We’re pretty, and we’re smart. We make moves that the dumb ones can’t figure out. We money girls,” she said, and she was definitely speaking my language now.
“What if one of them twenty-eight other gangs decide they don’t like the Diamond Needles girls? What if one Diamond Needle girl gets jumped? Do the rest of our clique supposed to let that slide just cause we supposed to be smarter and prettier than everybody else who’s locked up in here same as us?” I asked.
“No, we pay any bitch back, but not the way they expect. We run this prison. The Diamond Needles are in all the right places. Everything runs through us or by us. Every Diamond Needle girl is in a power position. Since we got the power, and we make the money, we get the respect. If anyone crosses us, we don’t beat ’em with our fist. Why should we fuck ourselves up? We outsmart ’em. We squeeze ’em.”
“Squeeze ’em,” I repeated.
“Squeeze ’em,” she repeated.
Each day with Lina brought a new lesson, a new assignment, and a new understanding. I ain’t slow, so I caught on and caught up. There were seven days of lessons. Lesson one was trust, followed by silence, loyalty, friendship, teamwork, style, and method.
On the last day of my seven lessons, Lina said to me, “Being la bambina mas joven, the youngest of the Diamond Needles clique, is a double-edged position. The older girls will feel even more protective over you. They might try and spoil you. Some might even expect less from you. On the other hand, since you are the youngest, you have to show all of your big sisters the most respect, answer to all the members, and you’ll follow the most amount of instructions.”
Lina also told me not to milk the “baby thing.” If I wanted to be equal, I should work hard and earn my status.
I noticed Lina called the other Diamonds her sisters, while Riot called me and Siri her sons. I didn’t think on it too long; family is family.
Even though the seventh lesson completed my training, I wanted to stay close with Lina. I liked her. She was smart and pretty, serious but still fun. She was warm if you got to know her and cold if you didn’t.
For me, style and method were the hardest lessons of all. For style, I had to use manners I wasn’t used to using. I had to introduce myself to each of the Diamond Needles separately. I had to remember their names and numbers. I had to learn their likes, dislikes, and requests, and be on call to help anyone on our team at anytime that I could.
I had to give each Diamond Needle a “tribute,” or gift. The gift giving wasn’t so bad. I understood that in here you couldn’t get something for nothing. Plus I still had my candy hustle going. I dreamed up an idea that I would put in motion immediately. I’d make some little packets in arts ’n crafts. Siri would decorate them. I’d put in assorted candies, and that would be my gift. For people on the outside that might not sound like shit, but in here a little sugar was hard to obtain and could take me far.
For method, Lina explained, “You have to be disciplined enough to follow a plan of action. You have to think with all of your girls in mind and not only yourself. You have to respond to all communications as quickly as possible. You have to make sure you don’t mess up or interrupt what the DN is trying to achieve.”
“What are we doing first?” I asked her.
“It’s your first thing, but to us is just one more thing we’re doing, in the middle of doing everything else,” she said. I seen that Lina liked to remind me that I was the young one. We were the last ones to be chosen, Siri and me. It seemed like she thought that I was the most likely to fuck up.
Out of loyalty to Riot, and respecting the DN code of silence, I wasn’t telling Lina that I chose Siri to be in the Diamond Needles, and that Riot approved it. Lina believed that only she and Riot could choose members. But having Siri in the gang was a condition of my hooking up with dem.
“So what am I doing first?” I corrected myself for Lina.
“You’re not going to fight with anyone else,” she said, with the most mean look on her serious face since me and her first met. “You are going to let us handle the Cha-Cha beef. You are going to make it to the Festival de la Familia . . .,” she said, speaking Spanish again. Then she said in English, “The Annual Family Festival, which no prisoner can attend if they have even one violent episode ninety days prior to the festival date, which is on Saturday July 20, 1996.”
“Okay, but . . .,” I started saying.
“You been locked down here for almost three years. You missed two festivals cause of fighting. The third one is coming up in four and a half months,” she said.
“Cha-Cha is fucking crazy. You think I can schedule my fights with her? Whenever she flips out, she flips out and fucks with me. So I fight her.”
“Are you smarter than her or is she smarter than you?” Lina asked me.
“You already know,” I said swiftly. “Or Riot would’ve chosen Cha-Cha for the Diamond Needles instead of me,” I said confidently.
“Good, then do as I say. Stop allowing her to deal you the same hand every time. Cha-Cha is controlling you. If she keeps you fighting, she keeps you from having any privileges,” Lina said.
“She loses her privileges, too,” I answered back swiftly.
“So what? She’s nobody. She’s ignorant. She don’t make real moves. She doesn’t make money. She don’t have no organized team. She don’t do nothing but keep the trouble brewing,” Lina said, her temper showing only through her pretty eyes. “Porsche, you have to make everyone believe that you have changed, by changing your method of reacting and doing things. Even if you haven’t really changed on the inside, like your feelings and stuff, you have to make them believe that you have,” Lina said, and I felt at that moment that that was what she had done. On the inside she was angry and boiling like me. For some reason, she saw or learned a benefit to convincing others that she wasn’t.
“Santiaga,” Lina said, calling me by my last name. I liked the way it sounded coming from her lips, so different than from the warden’s. “Make customers, not war,” Lina said, sounding like my poppa.
“The festival is the only time of year where, for four hours and fifteen minutes, we can roam freely on the yard and mix with other people who aren’t locked down like us. Some of us get only one day a year for a family member to travel all the way up here to visit us. Or, it’s our only chance to see somebody we really like, n
ot through a glass, or dirty bulletproof plastic or over a bullshit phone, or through a fence or gate. Not sitting in a small room without the chance to even touch or hug. Some girls got business on the yard on festival day. There are always competitions and prizes, good shit that can be won and sold. We Diamond Needles are all about our business and opportunities, and once a year the festival is an opportunity for us to each do something different, earn something extra, and see somebody special. You, too, Santiaga!”
Lina had me open. It was not because of no fucking festival, though. I just liked her and the feeling coming from her and the way she made me feel, like she believed in something. More than that, she made me feel like, even though she doubted me, she loved me. Of course she loved me. She sat and spoke to me and listened to me when I spoke. She taught me things I needed to know and gave me things she didn’t have to give. When she got mad at something I said, she didn’t give up or abandon me. She took the time to explain herself and her meaning. Even though I knew Lina wouldn’t say so, she knew I was smart enough even though I was young. She wouldn’t have wasted her time if she wasn’t sure I was capable.
The last question I asked her before parting, “You say all the Diamond Needles have a hustle. What’s yours, Lina?”
“Data,” she said. I thought she was speaking in Spanish again.
“Data is information. It’s the most important hustle, not only in here, but in total el mundo, the whole world.”
Chapter 7
Two months later, I’m on the yard. Been in a baby blue jumper with no red interruptions, no fights, no lockdown at the bottom. Authorities are shocked at my turnaround. Instead of them leaving me alone for not fighting no more, they look me over more closer. They wouldn’t get nothing new on me. I’m determined.
Getting ganged up was the best thing that happened to me since I was separated from my real family. Don’t get me wrong. Prison is prison, not fun or a fucking picnic. But being connected eased some of my stresses. I wasn’t silly enough to think my piece of peace would go on for the whole stretch of my stay, but even a brief break from the pressure was welcomed. It felt good to know I was not affiliated with just any group, but with the sharpest girls on the yard.
A Deeper Love Inside: The Porsche Santiaga Story Page 5
