“Nothing. Just checking you out.” She handed Red a glass of fruit punch and sat across from her in the cream chaise longue. “What’s up with you and Bacon?”
Bingo! Instantly, Red knew Kera had read her letter and was wondering how to play this. If she told Kera that she was shiesting Bacon, how would she look? If she lied, and played like everything was all good after Kera had read the letter, what would she say? What could she do?
Just as Red was about to get the shit going, her doorbell rang. She sprang from the couch and sprinted toward the wooden door.
“Who is it?” Red screamed through the door as she threw both hands up in disgust. Just when she thought she was living in the cut, it seemed as if everybody and their mama knew where her crib was. Bacon had gone out of his way to have a place where he could rest his head in peace from niggas in the hood. A place where he could go to sleep and have his family live without the threat of danger.
Obviously, Red had let one bitch too many drop by the crib and now her shit was on blast. She knew that sooner, rather than later, she would have to leave her gracious abode. It was only a matter of time before Bacon became aware of the news that his crib was Grand Central Station.
“Who is it?” Red screamed again, knowing she could easily peek through the window on the side of the door.
“Sasha,” a voice answered with an edge of irritation.
Red opened the door. Sasha stood there with a smirk on her face. She turned to wave good-bye to her driver. Red looked at the driver and cursed inwardly. Another muthafucka with my address, she thought.
“Hey, girl,” Red said as she turned to walk back to the great room.
Sasha followed and spoke to Kera as soon as she saw her. “Whud up, ho?” Her voice remained flat and her tone cold.
“You got it, bitch,” Kera replied dryly.
“Red, why you actin’ like you didn’t know I was coming over here? Had me screaming through the door like I’m crazy and shit.”
“Girl, ’cause I can do that. Y’all better recognize. Dis my house,” Red reminded her. “No girl, seriously. It just feels like Grand Central Station today. If one more person rings my bell, I think I will scream.”
“Well, what’s good, ma?” Sasha asked.
“Shit, after that running I just did, a bitch is hungry. Let’s take this meeting to the kitchen, and Sasha, I know you don’t have your dirty-ass shoes on my carpet. You know better than that.”
Sasha looked over at Kera, who was barefoot and smirking at her like she was a kid getting in trouble from Momma. Without even looking back, Red walked out, knowing that Sasha was taking off her shoes and that the two would follow behind her.
Red padded barefoot across the plush carpet until she reached the hardwood floors in her kitchen. She began removing pots from underneath the kitchen cabinet to prepare a meal. From where she stood she could see Sasha and Kera as they sat on the sofa in the great room adjacent to the open kitchen. They were close enough that she could tell they were talking, but far enough not to hear their actual words. Red knew that the bitches were up to something and she was going to use whatever she had to ensure her plan went as expected.
“Sistas, I got a problem,” Red said slowly and softly, almost like a whisper, to no one in particular. She looked on as Sasha and Kera entered the kitchen, curiosities piqued and ears perked. Her plan was beginning to work. Bewildered, both girls looked at each other, but said nothing, taking a seat next to the counter where Red was cutting up some lettuce. “Let’s not all be concerned at the same damn time,” Red said sarcastically, still looking down.
Sasha shrugged. “I can’t believe you got a problem that you can’t solve.”
Kera sat quietly on the bar stool, rubbing her stomach. She wondered what the prima donna’s problem could possibly be.
Red paused for dramatic effect and heaved a deep sigh. “Okay. I know you all know that Bacon left me the house and everything.”
The girls listened closely for more details. Kera was hoping for all the details, as she had never really known how Red got the house in the first damn place. As the pots came to a boil, filling the kitchen with an aroma of spices, Red knew that now was the perfect time to give the two a foolproof explanation for the letter that she suspected Kera had read.
“Well, it’s really not completely paid for and . . . um . . .” Red paused for a minute after telling the lie to allow her words to sink in.
“Say what?” Kera asked in disbelief.
“I need to keep up with the mortgage or I will lose the house,” Red blurted out. She couldn’t help but notice the sneers of satisfaction spread over her so-called friends’ faces. Realizing that she saw their smirks, they turned their mouths upside down to fake looks of concern and empathy for their girl.
The room fell silent. The two looked at Red, whose head hung low like she was holding back tears. Inside, Kera was thrilled with the thought of Red losing her home. She wondered where the bitch would stay and if she would be reduced to living in the projects, like the rest of them.
“So, what are you saying? You, the Puerto Rican Kay Chancellor, behind on the rent?” Sasha emphasized each word with gusto.
“Homes have mortgages,” Kera corrected.
Red silently laughed as she watched Sasha fight the urge to turn around and spit in Kera’s face. Sasha had told Red she thought Kera was a dumb ass for getting knocked up by Terry’s man. The drama behind that rumor was the topic of discussion on every set and in every beauty salon, but Red kept that information to herself. Kera and Sasha became cordial by default on the strength of Red.
Sasha’s relationship with Red was a little different than Kera’s. Sasha was somewhat of a top bitch herself. Her man, Catfish, and Red’s man, Bacon, were partners in the streets. During their good times, the four of them would take trips to Jamaica or Cancún and eat filet mignon and caviar. They all hated the caviar but bought it anyway because they could.
Catfish was so black that his skin looked like silk. At the same time, his mouth resembled a punch bowl. His teeth were bucked from years of sucking his thumb and his thin mustache was similar to the whiskers on a catfish. To add to the image, he had big beady eyes—and his left eye had the nerve to be lazy.
Niggas couldn’t even call Sasha a gold digger. Any woman willing to endure Catfish earned every dime. Due to Catfish’s reputation, Sasha had a good amount of respect from the streets. Niggas viewed her as a soldier, something that was heard of but rarely ever seen. When Bacon and Catfish were out of town for days or months at a time, from the outside looking in, Sasha never crept around.
Initially, Red looked to Sasha for direction on how to hold her man down, but Red soon got hip to the schemes that Sasha played on Catfish. Once Red went along with a secret or two for Sasha, they began cosigning for each other, one lie after another. They became close with the mutual understanding that one hand washed the other and both hands washed the face.
After three years of living the lavish life, Catfish’s stash got low. To her credit, though, Sasha didn’t vanish on him . . . completely. She just let the rope get a little longer, doing for him when she could and, more often than not, when she wanted to. Sasha still had her trick game going. She was pretty, no doubt. Sasha was a chocolate sister who wore a pixie cut so that she could always wear sunglasses on her head. Sun or no sun, Sasha kept some designer shades with her.
Although Sasha was older, Red was far wiser than her years revealed. There wasn’t much to it; Red was in her prime fighting shape. Sasha was a contender, true enough, but she could do nothing with Red at this point in the game.
“So how far behind are you on the mortgage?” Sasha enunciated each word perfectly.
“Three, and next month, they start the foreclosure proceedings. If I don’t do something, I can lose the house.” Red turned her back to the duo. “That is, if I don’t pay the past due amount and start keeping up the bills.” Red sat down on the bar stool in front of the open range, put her head in her hands and
began to cry.
Kera walked over to Red and attempted to embrace her. Her mouth opened wide as if to say, “Oh, my God!”
“Girl, that is awful! What happened to the stash he left?” Sasha asked, looking over at Red with fake concern.
Red couldn’t believe her ears when she heard Sasha ask that. Sasha was biting the bait, because her ego wouldn’t allow her to believe that Red would try to play her.
“Please, you’ve seen Red’s lifestyle of the rich and famous.” Kera smirked.
Red held her tongue. She knew that in order to pull this off, she had to allow the girls some amount of gloating. It was cool for her, though. She planned to set things up right.
“Yeah, we all know Bacon left some dough. I mean, but how long does that last? Shit, I dress to impress, no secret there. Between my car note and our”—Red pointed to each of the girls—“lifestyle, we’re just about broke. Remember our cruise, and the magnums of Cristal at the clubs on Friday nights?”
Both girls nodded, recalling the cruise through the Virgin Islands. They had no choice but to feel twinges of guilt, but not for long.
“Okay, so whatchu gon’ do?” Sasha asked.
“I was wondering if either of you wanted to be my roommate. You know, move in here. Live together and make it work. I mean, you could move in in what, a month?”
The idea of them living in Red’s plush crib turned her misfortune into their opportunity. Kera’s mind began to work. I could take the bedroom on the left side of the hallway, she fantasized. I could raise my baby in a nice home. “Girl, I’m wit’ it. I can move in today. Shit, I need a place to live,” Kera blurted out.
Red had hoped like hell Kera would be the last to speak, if at all. But of course, being the freeloading bum she was, Kera jumped at the offer instantly. There was no way that Sasha was going to let Kera save the day, and besides, Red knew damn well Sasha had always wanted to get up in her crib.
Red knew she had to fake excitement since she was supposed to be in desperate need of their help. She already knew that Kera wanted to be all up under her. Although she didn’t show any excitement, Red also knew that Sasha wanted to be close to her, especially since Sasha could no longer afford Catfish’s place, which Red thought was da bomb.
Red turned away and smiled inwardly. She’d played it just right. Red had found out from Bacon that Sasha was living pillar to post and tricking out of control. She also knew that Sasha was living on her last stacks left by Catfish before he went to prison on the same murder charge that landed Bacon in jail; through the grapevine, she heard that Sasha was trying to sell his spot to any hustling nigga she knew with big dough, all to no avail. Sasha had tried to go the land contract route, which meant someone—or a nigga on the street—had to come up with some dough to give her. The days of assumable mortgages were gone.
Catfish had pimped the crib out, spending at least $50,000 on upgrades. There was no way someone was going to cough up all that dough when the market value was much less. Sasha would have had to sell the loft for a loss. With Red’s real estate background she had the solution to Sasha’s problem and was about to offer it. Sasha was what was known in the industry as upside down on her loan, which meant that she owed more than what the loft was worth.
“Red, I can’t move in. I got a place.” Sasha turned her palms up to the ceiling in an indecisive motion.
“Yeah, I know, but what I was wondering was, if you were still selling it?” Red looked Sasha dead in the eye.
“Can’t sell it.” Sasha went on to explain her situation. “Been tryin’, ’cause the note is kicking my ass, girl. I pay like three thousand a month. I’m tired of doing it. Catfish said he didn’t really care what I did. If I could get some money, fine. My main thing is getting it out of my name and saving my credit at the same time.”
“Yeah, niggas put shit in your name and then they go to jail, leaving you holding the bag,” Kera added in her two cents.
“Sasha, I’m gon’ help you figure it out, I promise. I think I might know someone who would be interested.” Red smiled to hide her true intentions.
Red moved closer to Sasha and handed her a glass of wine. Two new roommates were more than enough. Red couldn’t imagine having more than that. Besides, if her plan worked, it would be short-term rather than long-term.
“Ladies, it’ll be fun living together.” Red reached out for a group hug. “What we need to do is lay down the rules.”
“Wait! Damn! What is the amount of the rent—I mean, mortgage?” Kera corrected herself with a nervous look at Sasha. “I mean how we gon’ split it and who gon’ get what room?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s this important,” Sasha added.
“The mortgage is thirty-two hundred. Because it’s my house, I’ll have the largest room. Also, since I’m the only one with a car, the garage will be no issue. I think it’s fair that you guys pay fifteen hundred each, all utilities included.”
“Bitch, please! Fifteen hundred dollars with what? My looks?” Kera flipped her hand and ricocheted her head back on her neck.
“Look,” Red explained, “that includes all utilities and the furnishing.”
“Do we get to have visitors?” Sasha asked. “Overnight guests?”
“For that price, yeah. ’Cause you paying the cost to be the boss. But you some chinky-ass bitches.”
“What the fuck is chinky?” Kera asked, rolling her neck.
“Cheap and stingy,” Red responded.
“I don’t have that type of dough,” Kera confessed.
Red had to think. She knew that Kera—rather, the non-pregnant Kera—could get money. But now Red wasn’t sure how much Kera’s stock was worth. However, Red knew that Kera was good for being a reliable cohort in crime and she was going to set up just for that.
“Kera, what can you pay? What can you put into the pot?” Red asked.
“I know I’ll have some stamps. I mean, I juice a couple niggas here and there, but it will be work coming up with that type of money. Especially with my belly getting bigger and bigger.”
“Honey, that’s what this is all about,” Red confirmed. “All of us doing what we gotta do to make it. You got to pay to play. Look, y’all can have overnights but don’t OD, and you know I don’t do traffic. Niggas comin’ through, fuckin’ up the shit I worked for.”
“Schemed for.” Kera smirked.
“What-the-fuck-ever, bitch. Look, both of you just give me a grand a month but utilities are not going to be included.”
Red looked on as the wheels seemed to be spinning in Sasha’s head. She could tell Sasha was considering the reduction in her monthly expenses. Sasha and Kera looked at each other and then both nodded their heads.
Kera reached out to shake Red’s hand. “Deal, ho.”
“Deal, bitch.” Red squeezed Kera’s hand in return.
“Deal, ho.” Sasha shook Red’s hand next.
Red finalized the agreement. “Deal, bitch! You ladies get the keys when you pay your first month’s rent, plus same deposit. Sasha, don’t even worry about your place. You just be packed and let me work on that problem.”
Red had gone to real estate school for six weeks the summer after she graduated from high school. With her Realtor’s license, she was able to make her own hours and do some really good deals that brought a nice profit. After the first year, she decided that working, whether it be for a couple of hours a week or not, was not for her.
She liked being in control, not having to depend on anyone but herself. And the way she saw it, tricking was just like selling real estate. She had a possible buyer who was interested in what she had to offer and it was her job to convince him that he had to have it—all of it. Before long, the guy signed on the dotted line and she had walked away with his cash and, in some cases, his heart. Red robbed most of her victims blind: she left her victims tricked out of whatever it was that she wanted or needed at the time. She prided herself on being ten times smarter than anyone around her. She thought five step
s ahead and always had a backup plan.
Her real estate license was current so at any time, she could go back to working anywhere in the state of Michigan. She also had connections with a title company and a Realtor’s office, so it always looked like she had a broker and things were right with the paperwork.
Red ordered her new roommates to set out the fine china in the formal dining room while she put the finishing touches on dinner. She lit the three-tiered candelabra and the girls sat down for a delicious meal of shrimp scampi with pasta and salad. For added pleasure, they sipped on Merlot. Red grabbed the radio remote and the sounds of Mary J. Blige filled the air. Each of the ladies loved the home’s ambience, and felt good that they would have one another to lean on.
CHAPTER 4
Turned Out
Brooklyn, New York (1995)
For the longest time Red felt that she had life all figured out. But at the tender age of fifteen, who could really know anything? The Puerto Rican Day parade was something that Red always looked forward to during her summer vacations to New York. Years back, her mother, Julia, had followed Red’s father to the Motor City for his chance to work on the assembly line at the General Motors plant. Her father had been stressed and unemployed. Detroit was going to be the land of milk and honey for the young couple.
Unfortunately, after the move, Julia missed her family and her roots and hated her new surroundings. The city had more Middle Easterners in its midst than Puerto Ricans, and she was always mistaken for a Mexican. People figured if she spoke Spanish, then she was a mexicana. This infuriated Julia greatly, which was one of the main reasons why she went to New York every chance she got.
For as long as Red could remember her parents spent most of their time arguing and fighting. Red’s mother finally became fed up. Her husband never did get on at the factory plant and instead worked a series of low-paying, menial jobs. First, he started out cutting lawns and then became a short-order cook at a diner where he got fired for stealing money from the waitresses’ tip jar. Then he began talk of starting his own business.
The Dirty Red Series Page 4
