Black Beauty

by Erica Hilton

  “I talked to my lawyer the other day,” Mateo said.

  “Oh word? And what he talking about?”

  “I just ran some paperwork by him . . . told him that we opened an escrow account to get this sale completed. Going through this neutral third party is taking longer than I expected.”

  Pyro laughed. “You know how it is. Legit money is slow money.”

  “Tell me about it. But he ran the title search and obtained title insurance,” said Mateo.

  “And how did that go?”

  “Everything came back legit.”

  “How much do we already got invested into these properties? Remind me,” said Pyro.

  Mateo sighed. “Too much.”

  “Well, we needed this.”

  “I know,” Mateo replied. “But Alex assured me that there will be no red tape with this deal.”

  “For what we’re paying that fool, shit better go smoother than a Jamba Juice.”

  Mateo agreed.

  Alex Mont was their experienced real estate attorney who had fifteen years in the business. He was expensive, but for Mateo and Pyro, he was well worth it. They needed a professional legal opinion on their closing documents. It was a lot of paperwork and a lot of red tape that many well-educated folks couldn’t comprehend. Alex Mont knew where to look for potential problems in their paperwork. Doing a title search and obtaining title insurance was something that gave them a peace of mind and a legal safeguard, so when they bought their property, no one else could try to claim it as their own.

  “So what happened the other day with Chanel?” Pyro asked him out of the blue. “Y’all ain’t say shit once you were back in the car.”

  “I had to get my woman out of the madhouse. You saw that nigga her sister got living up in there.”

  “I saw dude, and he looks like a grimy nigga.”

  “And he got the nerve to call himself God,” Mateo said.

  “God?” Pyro chuckled.

  “Yeah, cornball nigga staying with his girlfriend’s parents in the projects,” Mateo said.

  “Now that’s some pathetic shit.”

  “Tell me about it. But Chanel good, though . . . moved her in and she loves the place, even though it’s temporary.”

  “So you’re ready to go through with buying that condo?”

  “Yeah, it’s gonna be my wedding gift to her.”

  “She’s a lucky woman.”

  “Nah, I’m the lucky one,” Mateo corrected.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re happy with her.”

  “I am.”

  The two men finished their meal, left the waitress a nice tip, and left the diner with full bellies.

  From Long Island, they traveled to the Bronx to Spanish Fly Barbershop, where they got haircuts from Bolo and talked shit. Although Bolo was a heavy buyer from them, he was also a good friend who they grew up with.

  While cutting Mateo’s hair, Bolo joked, “So, when are the wolves of Wall Street gonna make their first million? If y’all haven’t already.”

  Mateo and Pyro laughed.

  “So tell us, what we need to invest in to make money like y’all?” one of the barbers asked.

  “Municipal bonds, stocks, cryptocurrency, real estate, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera . . .” Pyro joked.

  Mateo and Pyro were like the investment gurus of the Bronx, but everyone also knew that their primary income came from weed sales.

  “Nah, but on the real, Bolo, we ain’t doing shit you can’t do. We’ve been sittin’ in here for years schooling you, yet you ain’t get in. What you waiting on?” Mateo asked.

  Bolo shrugged. “Investing is a rich man’s hobby.”

  “See that’s where you’re wrong. Do you see a rich nigga in your chair?”

  Bolo looked at Mateo with a side eye. “Yes! You got a helluva lot more cash than most of us.”

  “We built up to that. You don’t gotta go big. Buy what’s called odd lots. It’s where you buy less than a hundred shares. Take this challenge. For one year save all your tip money and once a month buy three or four shares of a stock, whatever you can afford. Nike, Twitter, Amazon, mix in some Municipal bonds and cryptocurrency. One year from now we’ll discuss your portfolio and how it’s grown.”

  “My tip money, huh?” Bolo gave him a look of skepticism.

  “Only your tip money. Don’t go investing your rent and car note cash.”

  Bolo smiled. “It’s on. I’m in.”

  Pyro patted Bolo on the back and then added, “Mateo’s bill for investment advice will be in the mail.”

  All three men laughed and gave each other dap. Today was a good day.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Charlie felt like she’d traded places with her baby sister. It felt like she was now the one living in squalor with no respect and nothing to her name. Seeing Chanel in those red bottoms and witnessing Mateo drive her off into the sunset in a pearl white Range Rover sent Charlie past her breaking point.

  Mateo had money to burn, while God was shacking up with her in her mama’s place, and she had seen better days. It wasn’t fair.

  Chanel’s birthday was two weeks away, and Charlie cringed at the thought of what Mateo would get her for her birthday. He’d already spoiled her with jewelry, a car, a diamond engagement ring, clothes, and money. What else could he give Chanel? A baby?

  Charlie lounged on her bed smoking a cigarette. She sighed deeply. She needed some action again before she died from boredom or broke-assness. As she lay there, it occurred to her. It was like a light bulb came on over her head—like a crystal clear dream.

  When God came into the bedroom, Charlie stared at him like she was ready to tell him the truth about life.

  “You got another cigarette, babe?” he asked.

  She tossed him her dwindling pack and said, “God, we need to talk. I got another lick for us.”

  God removed a few cigarettes from the pack for later and placed one between his lips and lit up. He took a few drags and said, “What you mean?”

  “We need to start gettin’ this money again, nigga. You know I don’t like being fuckin’ broke.”

  “Like I do! Whatever happened to that other mofo you had lined up?”

  Charlie had forgotten her lie. “Who?”

  “Forget it. I’m already on it, Charlie. I’m scouting niggas out now.”

  “Not fast enough. But no worries, because I always come through. I already got someone we can hit up.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “My little sister and her man. They can get got,” she said.

  He took another drag and raised his eyebrow. “You serious?”

  “Yes! Like fuckin’ cancer, nigga.”

  God chuckled. “You my bitch fo’ real, Charlie. Damn, I fuckin’ love you.”

  She grinned. “So, I guess you down wit’ it?”

  “Charlie, you and I think so alike it’s fuckin’ scary. Fingers and I was already plotting on that bitch-ass nigga. He holdin’ too much money and weight to keep it all for himself.”

  “Fo’ real?”

  “Fo’ real, shorty. I’m hungry to go after those fools, especially after he come up in here all smug and shit. Yo, you know that nigga dog food for us, and we gonna eat that nigga for everything he got,” God exclaimed.

  Hearing her man talk like that turned Charlie on. She couldn’t stop beaming. She felt a surge of power flood her body like a dam breaking open. She wanted to be back on top, and if Chanel was the next sacrificial lamb then so fucking be it.

  “Yo, let’s get this fuckin’ money,” God said.

  ***

  Chanel couldn’t believe that this was her home. It was neat, quiet, spacious, and it was comfortable. Most importantly, she didn’t have to share it with her evil sisters and her wicked mother. The two-be
droom, two-bathroom apartment in the Bronx with pre-war details and a 9-to-5 elevator attendant was a far cry from her family’s project apartment in Brooklyn.

  For an hour, Chanel danced around the entire apartment in her panties and bra. She laughed and smiled like a kid in a toy store, wide-eyed with excitement. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

  Mateo kept a very tidy place, one of the many things she loved about him. Still, it definitely needed a woman’s touch, and she couldn’t wait to add a piece of her personality to the apartment.

  Chanel was able to stretch out on the couch and watch a full movie in peace. She added her culinary touch to the kitchen, making the apartment come alive with her delicious cooking. She took lingering, warm bubble baths and listened to her favorite songs through the pimped out system.

  It was paradise. It was what she always wanted; something she could call her own. But most of her excitement came from knowing she was flying to Hawaii in two weeks and getting married to the man she loved.

  For the moment, Mateo was out of town on business, so she had to hold down the fort. She wanted to invite Mecca over for a girls night of junk food eating, movie watching, and girl talk. Mateo was explicit that no one could know where they lived, but she trusted Mecca to come over to keep her company. Unfortunately, Mecca had to cancel on her because she had a date. Chanel wasn’t upset; she wanted her friend to find love too. She wanted her friend to be happy.

  Enjoying her Saturday afternoon, Chanel snacked on cookies and peanut butter and took pleasure in lounging in the bedroom and watching a few Netflix movies. When her cell phone rang, she was surprised to see it was Charlie. Why is she calling me?

  She answered the call with some reluctance, asking fretfully, “Is everything okay at home?”

  “Yeah, things are fine,” said Charlie. “We miss you, Chanel.”

  “Y’all miss me?” Chanel replied with skepticism. Or do y’all miss picking on me?

  “I’m not gonna lie, Chanel. It’s not the same without you around.”

  I bet.

  “How’s Bacardi?”

  “Miserable,” Charlie said. “She’s still broke and drinking; don’t know what to do wit’ herself. But I’m really happy for you, Chanel. You definitely makin’ sumthin’ out ya life, fo’ real.”

  “Thank you.”

  Although Chanel was cautious about Charlie’s unexpected hospitality, being the little sister of the three, she yearned to be wanted and accepted by her sisters. There was a part of her that wanted their approval—and she wanted to show off somewhat.

  “So, is Mateo treatin’ you okay?”

  “Things are great.”

  “Love is a wonderful thing, ain’t it?”

  “It is, Charlie. I’m happy.”

  “You sound happy. But, baby sis, I called because I want to truly apologize to you for everything I put you through. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I guess . . . I guess I was jealous of you.”

  “You were jealous of me?” Chanel asked with doubt. “Why?”

  “You’re a beautiful black woman with the perfect skin tone, and you’re smart and humble. You’re so many things that I’m not.”

  Chanel didn’t know what to say. Was it true? Was Charlie really jealous of her all these years?

  “Listen, can we just talk?”

  “We’re talking now, Charlie.”

  “I mean, can we come over—Claire and I—to sit down and have a sisterly talk? I really want that, Chanel—to end the beef between us,” Charlie said with conviction.

  “I never had any beef with you or Claire,” said Chanel sincerely.

  “I know. It was us being the assholes all the time. But let’s start over, okay? You and I.”

  Chanel remained silent for a moment, contemplating the offer. It sounded genuine. She wanted to build a bond with her sisters, and she was naïve to believe that it could actually happen.

  She sighed through the phone and finally said, “Okay. I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Cool. Just give me your address and we’ll come have some sister time,” Charlie said with some giddiness in her voice.

  “Okay, but only you and Claire. No one else.”

  “I promise, Chanel. It will only be us two.”

  Chanel smiled. She gave Charlie the address, and Charlie promised again that it would only be her and Claire. Although Mateo was clear that he didn’t want anyone to know where they lived, Chanel felt this was an exception. These were her sisters. They weren’t close, but she finally felt like one of them. She finally felt that they were going to have a sisterly relationship.

  The following afternoon, Charlie and Claire walked through the front door of Chanel’s new home. Right away, they were wide-eyed and impressed.

  “Damn, Chanel, ya man got you living nice. Shit! I ain’t mad at y’all,” Claire said.

  “Y’all like it?”

  “Shit, I love it. I wish I was living here,” Claire said.

  Chanel smiled.

  Like she’d promised, Charlie only brought Claire to the apartment. Things looked like they were going to work out. Chanel didn’t feel threatened by them. They came in peace—so she wanted to believe.

  “Y’all hungry?” she asked them.

  “Yes.”

  “You cooking?” Charlie asked.

  “Of course. I got y’all.”

  Charlie and Claire shrugged. They were ready to eat.

  The girls followed Chanel into the kitchen, and it was a lot bigger than their ghetto kitchen in Brooklyn. The place had the latest amenities. Charlie rubbed the granite countertops and opened and closed the new microwave.

  They continued their oohs and ahhs.

  “Damn, girl, I know you be cooking like some five course meals in this kitchen,” Charlie said.

  “I try,” Chanel replied, being modest.

  But Chanel finally had something that was worth their praise.

  While Chanel got started cooking up a meal in the kitchen, her sisters reclined in the living room and took advantage of the high-end home theater system. It was a beauty, from the 60” flat screen TV, to the Sony stereo system, and the latest Xbox below the TV. Mateo was like a big kid with his toys.

  Charlie took it all in. Everything from wall to wall, it was all valuable stuff. While Chanel was busy in the kitchen, Charlie took it upon herself to sneak inside the master bedroom to briefly snoop around. She glanced inside Chanel’s closet and saw the expensive outfits and shoes and jackets and coats. She opened a few drawers and saw gleaming jewelry, trinkets, more clothes, and even some cash.

  She wondered if Mateo had a safe somewhere on the premises. A nigga like him, he had to.

  Charlie nodded. She was pleased with everything she saw, and she was ready to get back to God with the information.

  She was leaving out the bedroom and coming down the hallway when she bumped into Chanel.

  “What you doing, Charlie?”

  “Oh, I was just looking for the bathroom, that’s all. You know for a Bronx place, this shit is huge,” Charlie said.

  “It is, right? You do get your money’s worth in the Bronx. But the bathroom is the door to your left.”

  Charlie smiled. “Thank you.”

  The sisters’ evening continued smoothly. Chanel cooked a healthy and delicious meal of baked chicken, green beans, and brown rice. Charlie and Claire devoured her cooking like they hadn’t eaten in months. They weren’t getting home cooked meals at their place. Bacardi wasn’t the devoted cook in the kitchen, and Butch was mostly gone for days at a time. They suspected that he’d started drinking again, or worse.

  The two sisters praised Chanel’s cooking. They were full and content. Chanel made her home their home, and she treated them with kindness and forgiveness. They’d spent the entire day together talking, laughi
ng, watching movies, and gossiping. Chanel felt like she had formed some kind of bond with her two sisters. As the day progressed, she grew more comfortable around them, and it felt like Charlie’s reaching out was genuine.

  Night came, and it was time for Claire and Charlie to leave. Chanel offered them to stay the night, but Charlie refused.

  “We intruded on your life too much already,” said Charlie.

  “It’s cool. I can use the company.”

  “Nah, we gotta go, but it’s been fun,” Charlie said.

  “I enjoyed it,” said Claire.

  “Me too.”

  Chanel hugged her sisters goodbye. Ironically, she didn’t want to see them leave. As they were about to exit the front door, Charlie turned to Chanel with an afterthought, saying to her, “Hey, don’t mention to your man that we came by.”

  Chanel became somewhat baffled by the request. “Why not?”

  “Because he seems real protective of you. Let’s just keep this day between us—our little secret. I don’t want to create any problems between y’all,” Charlie explained.

  To Chanel, it sounded like a genuine explanation. Mateo already told her that he didn’t want anyone to know where they lived.

  Chanel nodded. “Okay.”

  Charlie smiled. She hugged her little sister one last time and left.

  It was a day that Chanel was never going to forget. Besides meeting Mateo, this special day with her sisters was one of the best days of her life.

  The following day, Mateo gave her a call to check up on her. They talked briefly, and she told him about her sisters coming by for a visit. She was going to be his wife, and she didn’t want to keep anything from him.

  “What, Chanel? Why? I told you, don’t let anyone know where we stay at,” he fussed.

  “But they’re my sisters, Mateo, and I got lonely.”

  He sighed profoundly, knowing Chanel was still naïve about a few things.

  “It’s okay, I understand,” he said. “I just want you to be careful.”

  “I will.”

  But he knew it wasn’t okay. There was something about Charlie and God that really rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t trust those two at all, and knowing that Charlie had been to their home, a feeling of anxiety and trouble crept upon him.