Magic Touch

by Treasure Hernandez

  * * *

  She was almost finished getting everything on the list. She rode down the escalator clutching her bags, feeling good that she was almost done. Simmy was going to make Cassandra proud and be her new go-to girl.

  Simmy stepped off the escalator, smiling. Her smile quickly faded when she heard it. It sounded like a stampede of wild elephants coming straight for her. “You! Don’t move!” Then she felt hands grabbing on her bags and tugging her in different directions. Before Simmy could react, her bags had been snatched from her hands, and she was being wrestled to the floor.

  “Wait. I didn’t . . . I didn’t do anything,” Simmy cried out as she was roughly thrown down. No one said another word. Not even to tell her what she’d done wrong. She was pulled up from the floor. Her cheeks flamed over the gawking crowd of shoppers who had stopped shopping to see her get bagged.

  “You have the wrong person. I have money,” Simmy pleaded. “Just look in my pocketbook. I have money! I didn’t do anything!”

  “Well, you should’ve used it to buy all the merchandise you snuck into those bags,” a fat white man dressed in plain clothes said snidely.

  “Let me guess, you’re here from the Brooklyn Zoo?” another man said, holding on to Simmy’s left arm while a female held on to her right.

  “That’s usually who we get out here stealing. All of the animals from Brooklyn. Can’t stay in your own fucking hood. Always got to come out here and fuck up our peaceful neighborhoods, don’t you?”

  Simmy hung her head. “I didn’t do anything. I have money,” she whimpered. No one listened. No one cared. It was all over now. She was no better than Jayla or Kyan, and now neither of them would have her on the outside to help them. She had failed them both.

  “Jones!”

  The correction officer’s booming voice startled Simmy. She stood up from the floor where she’d taken up residence sitting in a corner with her knees to her chest for the seven hours since she’d been transported to the Nassau County central booking lockup cell. Simmy stretched and tried to work the kinks out of her numb butt cheeks and her stiff legs.

  “Let’s go, Jones,” the officer demanded, using his keys to open the cell.

  Simmy stepped out, her eyes wide and wild. “Where?”

  “Be quiet and don’t ask no gotdamn questions,” the officer barked.

  Simmy snapped her lips shut.

  The officer grabbed her arm roughly. “Follow me and don’t talk. I got a headache, and I don’t want to hear your fucking mouth.”

  Simmy was led through a series of doors and hallways until finally, she was standing in a small room in front of a video monitor watching a judge.

  “Are you Simone Jones? Date of birth, February 27, 1998?” the judge asked.

  Simmy nodded her head. She looked over her shoulder and then at the ceiling, wondering how the judge knew she was there.

  “No, Miss Jones, you have to speak your answers and loud enough for the monitor’s speakers and the court reporter to pick it up. So, no nodding. I need to hear your answers loud and clear,” the judge chastised her.

  “Yes, I . . . I’m Simone Jones,” Simmy said, still bewildered.

  “I am a magistrate, which is different from a judge. I am the person who determines if your charges are serious enough to keep you or let you go before such time as you’d see a district judge. Do you understand that, Ms. Jones?”

  Simmy didn’t really know what the hell it all meant, but she wanted to go home, so she just agreed. “Yes,” Simmy spoke up this time.

  “It is my understanding you’ve been arrested and charged with grand larceny. It is also my understanding this is your first offense and that you are younger than eighteen; however, you are seventeen and just weeks away from your eighteenth birthday, which is old enough to be seen as an adult in the County of Nassau, should we so choose to move forward with the charges,” the judge droned on in a monotone voice, like she’d said those same lines a million times.

  “Um, I guess. I mean, sorry. Yes,” Simmy agreed.

  “It is my understanding that someone has come forward and offered to pay the County of Nassau a fine amount equal to or greater than the sum total of the merchandise you stole. That fine amount is $5,692.”

  What? Someone came forward to pay a fine? Simmy repeated in her head. Simmy didn’t know what to say to that. But, something told her to just say, “Yes.”

  “Ms. Jones, I will accept the fine payment as sufficient enough to let you go today. But, I will do so only on one condition,” the judge said.

  Simmy stared at the screen.

  “I am warning you never to come back to the County of Nassau to steal again, Ms. Jones. We will place your picture in the establishment you stole from, and you are banned from their property for a term of three years. Which means you are not allowed back, not even if you’re just there to browse. Do you understand that if you return to the County of Nassau and commit a crime, you will be arrested and held without the option to simply pay a fine and walk like you’re doing today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Released with final payment of the fine. Next.”

  Simmy’s shoulders slumped with relief, and she let out a long, cleansing breath. The anticipation of getting out of there had her knees knocking together.

  The officer led Simmy back through another maze of doors and hallways until they came to a large room crowded with desks and chairs. There were several women behind the desks, some typing, some on the phone, some speaking to people in front of their desks.

  “Sit down and wait for someone to call you to process you out,” the officer told her, pushing her down into a hard waiting room chair. “And stay the fuck out of Nassau County, idiot.”

  Simmy shook her head. Those officers acted so tough when they were behind those walls, but they were really little bitch-ass punks when that uniform came off.

  Simmy looked around trying to figure out how, out of the blue, her fine had gotten paid. Her mind raced with several possibilities. Maybe Doc had finally come through? No. That didn’t make sense. He hadn’t even called her back to give her Kyan’s stash; plus, he wouldn’t know she was out there anyway. It couldn’t have been Cassandra either. Simmy hadn’t told Cassandra where she was going to get the stuff from and, besides, as mean as that lady was, she would not be paying to get Simmy out. Kyan was locked up still, and so was Jayla. They had no way of knowing she was out on a mission. No one in Mummy Pat’s house cared enough about Simmy to put up that kind of money knowing they’d never get it back. Besides, she hadn’t spoken to any of her family since the Jalissa incident.

  Finally, an older black woman with long blond crochet braids and smooth mocha skin called Simmy to her desk.

  “Have a seat,” the lady said, pointing to another waiting room–style chair at the side of the desk. “Date of birth. Address. Phone number.”

  Simmy gave the woman Jayla’s address and her own cell phone number. The woman pecked a few keys on her computer keyboard and tapped her front tooth with her pen as she waited for something to print from the small, boxy printer sitting on the far left corner of her desk.

  “Sign here. This is your receipt for payment of the fine. Page two is stating that you agree to the terms of this release.”

  Simmy picked up a pen and scanned over the paperwork. She didn’t want to take too long and risk them pulling it back and taking her back to jail. Even after Simmy had signed the papers and given them back to the woman, she still hadn’t been able to see who’d paid the money.

  “I am going to return your property now,” the woman said, pulling out the tagged bags that held Simmy’s things. The woman set them on the desk, and Simmy reached for them. The woman put her hand on top of Simmy’s.

  “It is none of my business, sweetheart,” the woman said.

  Simmy paused and looked deep into the woman’s eyes.

  “But, you should consider yourself lucky. You are a beautiful young girl with your whole future ahead of yo
u. Don’t waste it like this. I see them start off young and pretty like you and they come through here over and over again until they look horrible and have no other choice but to stay stuck in the system. That’s what these white folks want, honey. They want us to have records so we can’t get ahead. Be smart. Go to school. This stuff, it ain’t worth it.” She gave Simmy a warm, motherly smile.

  Simmy smiled back. “Thank you.” That was all she could say. She knew that the woman was right. The paramedic who helped her the day Kyan was arrested sprang to mind. She had pretty much told her the same thing as this lady. She wondered if maybe God was trying to tell her something.

  As much as she wanted to lead normal life, that just wasn’t something she could do right now. Her desire didn’t change the fact that she needed money to survive on her own and to help Kyan and Jayla. There was no way she would walk away from them and leave them caught up in the system. The system had already claimed her parents and left her feeling like an orphan. What other way was she supposed to survive? Simmy guessed that was all part of the white folks’ plans too: devastate the black family by removing the parents and you leave entire communities failing. In her case, it was definitely ringing true.

  After Simmy got her property back, the first thing she did was dig down into her bag. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you,” when she verified that Jayla’s money was still there just like she’d left it.

  “That’s all, Miss Jones. Good luck,” the lady said, finally dismissing Simmy.

  Simmy stepped through the door and into a crowded hallway. She was dazed and confused, and she was sure she probably resembled a baby deer standing in oncoming traffic.

  There were people posted up around the walls, people on cell phones sounding like they were trying to figure things out for their locked-up loved ones, and some just sitting, wearing that desperate look of misery.

  Simmy wanted to get home. This, just like her entire life lately, had played out like her worst nightmare. Simmy headed for the exit but paused when she heard her name.

  “Simone? Simone Jones?”

  Simmy spun around so fast she almost toppled over. Her eyebrows dipped into the center of her face as her head whipped around. Who would know her out there to be calling her name?

  “Right here. Over here.”

  Simmy’s face really contorted in confusion now when she saw who had called out her name. A tall, gorgeous dude with smooth caramel skin, a close-cut fade that was perfectly lined up, and a neatly trimmed goatee was walking toward her wearing a smooth grin like he’d known her all of their lives.

  “Simone Jones.” He chuckled.

  “Do I know you?” Simmy asked, her tone so low she was half whispering.

  “Not yet. But you will soon,” the dude said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Alex. Nice to meet you in person.”

  Simmy squinted, and suddenly she remembered seeing him in the store before she got bagged. He had been walking with the pretty girl who’d helped Simmy get those Gucci T-shirts.

  “Simone,” Simmy said, shaking his hand weakly. “But, I guess you already know that since you screamed out my whole government just now.”

  Alex laughed. “I was the one who paid your fine for you, sweetheart. I definitely know your name.”

  “But why? Why did you pay it? You don’t even know me,” Simmy said, suspicion in her tone. She didn’t know whether to regard him as a stranger or a savior.

  “Well, let’s just say I knew of you for a while,” Alex told her. “I know people you know and people who know you,” he said cryptically, then laughed. It was a weasel laugh that you’d expect a conman to have. It definitely didn’t go with Alex’s handsome face.

  Simmy tilted her head. “Know me?” She chuckled nervously, although she didn’t find it funny. She shook her head side to side. “That’s impossible. I don’t know many people.”

  “Well, I know your cousin Jayla,” Alex finally revealed. “So I guess you could say I know you by association. I’m surprised she never mentioned me. We kind of go way back.” Alex smiled and looked like he was recalling some wonderful memories in his mind.

  Simmy’s scowl eased, and her shoulders relaxed. “But, Jayla didn’t know I got bagged. So how did you?”

  “I just happened to be around today, and I recognized you. Y’all came to the club a few times, and I could never forget a gorgeous face like yours. I guess it’s a lucky thing for you that I always remember a pretty face.”

  Simmy relaxed even more now. Any friend of Jayla’s could definitely be a friend of hers, especially at a time like this. Simmy’s eyes drank Alex in. He was older than her; she estimated he had to be in his mid to late twenties. She settled on twenty-seven as his age. She took a quick inventory of his wears: Rolex watch, Balmain jeans, Buschemi boots, Moncler coat. Definitely somebody who might run in the same circles as Jayla.

  “Thank you for paying that fine. I swear, I’ll pay you back,” Simmy said.

  “Nah, I’m not looking for you to pay me back. Take that as a gift,” Alex said, parting a sly grin.

  Simmy blushed and shifted on her feet. She couldn’t help but be attracted to him. Any woman with eyes would’ve been.

  “I tell you what; let me give you a ride back to the city. We can agree to stay in touch. You know, so I can check up on Jayla from time to time.”

  “That’s cool,” Simmy agreed. Right away a pang of guilt stabbed through her gut and Kyan’s handsome face popped into her mind. Simmy tried to convince herself she wasn’t really attracted to Alex and that she was just being polite since he’d done her a big favor.

  “Good. Then let’s get the hell out of this prejudiced-ass Nassau County,” Alex said, pushing the door open for her.

  Simmy tried not to look too impressed with Alex’s gleaming white 2015 Range Rover, but she couldn’t lie; the vehicle was the epitome of luxury. The huge low-profile tires with the matching white rims inside gave the vehicle that extra something that said, “I’m lit. Notice me.”

  Alex was a perfect gentleman and opened the passenger side door for Simmy. Kyan always opened the door for her too. Unbeknownst to both men, the gesture struck a chord with her because it was something else her father had always warned her about. “If a man doesn’t open the car door for you to get in and out, don’t you ever think of dating him. It means he doesn’t value you or women in general.” Her father had preached that from the time she was a little girl. Simmy was secretly happy that Alex had opened the car door for her.

  “So, you just go around paying fines for girls and getting them out of lockup?” Simmy asked, laughing. “I mean, I’m not being ungrateful or anything, but I’m just saying, it is kind of strange.”

  Alex got comfortable behind the steering wheel of his ride and exhaled.

  He laughed too. “Here you go again, looking a gift horse in the mouth,” he said, shaking his head, still smiling. “Nah, I don’t go around trolling jails for pretty girls like you who get themselves knocked but, like I said before, it was lucky for you I peeped game and saw those plainclothes mu’fuckas tailing you through the store all day. I don’t know how you ain’t notice them. You must’ve been on a crazy mission, too focused on getting your shit that you did not see them. Either that or you’re just that much of an amateur. They were obvious as shit. Man, I wanted to tell you before they got you, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough,” Alex said smoothly. “When I saw them running toward you, I was like, ‘Damn, baby girl got pinched. Now I’m gonna have to help a sister out.’ They even gave me a hard time with that. I had to do a bunch of paying just to find out your information to pay the damn fine.”

  Simmy was quiet for a few minutes. She thought about what he said. Simmy didn’t know if she was lucky or if it wasn’t a coincidence at all. She shook off the suspicious thoughts. She was just grateful she was out. She couldn’t imagine what Kyan would think if he had to hear that she’d been locked up for boosting after he’d warned her about going back to doing that.
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br />   “It was my first time being out there by myself. Me and Jayla usually tag team and work off of each other. But, I guess you already know Jayla ain’t around right now. I needed money, so I took the chance,” Simmy confessed, immediately feeling like she’d said too much.

  “Yeah, I could tell you wasn’t used to being alone. I could also tell you still fucking with Jayla’s style and that old-fashioned shit she be on. I tried to tell that girl there’s a whole new world of hustle out there. But Jayla is hardheaded,” Alex said. He looked over at Simmy, seemingly gauging her reaction.

  “Old-fashioned? You think having bags that disable the sensors is old-fashioned? Jayla got that stuff down to a science. Trust me, she may be hardheaded like you said, but she’s the best at her craft.”

  “Baby girl, let me tell you something. Boosting is old-fashioned. Period. I’m saying, why be sneaking and putting shit up your back, down your pants, and in foil-lined bags—one of the oldest tricks in the book, by the way—when you can just walk right up to the counters and buy shit like them white folks do it?”

  Simmy crinkled her brow. “Well, that takes money.”

  “Or credit cards,” Alex said. “C’mon, young’un, there’s another way to get your hustle on. It’s much easier, smoother, and pays a hell of a lot better. Shit, there’s a few different ways to make real money out here these days, but that’s just an example of how easy it could be,” Alex said.

  Simmy sat up a little straighter in the passenger seat and turned slightly toward Alex. Her ears were tuned in to his every word. Especially if he was talking about a way to make money.

  “Ah. Now you’re getting interested. I’m glad I finally have your attention.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Simmy answered a little too quickly. All she could think about was making money to stay afloat and help her people out. Alex didn’t have to know all of that, though. Besides, she didn’t know him like that anyway.