The House that Hustle Built, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  Cash lit a cigarette and thought about a life different from his. What if he hadn’t been born into poverty? What if his mother was more of a caring, loving mother while he was growing up, and his pops was a hard-working, established man in the community? What if his parents didn’t do drugs? What would his life be like? Would he have to steal cars to feed himself? Would he be a whoremonger if his mother wasn’t a slut, sucking dick and selling her body in the home while he was young and around to witness it?

  Since Cash was a boy, he’d pretty much learned how to take care of himself, knowing the streets. But there was more out there, right? Sometimes he wished he had grown up like the Cosbys.

  The truth about him was that he was a womanizing, crack-dealing, murderous car thief with limited friends, if any at all, and a souring reputation. He had done so much hell on earth, it had started to come back on him. Everywhere he went, he carried a gun, sometimes two. Could he continue to live his life in fear and take chances with Pearla, knowing that any moment, death could be right around the corner?

  He finished off his Newport and flicked it out of the window. He continued watching his pops from the short distance. He put the car into drive and slowly proceeded closer to his pops. He rolled down the driver’s window and hollered, “Hey, Pops, what’s good?”

  Ray-Ray spun around and saw Cash in the Lexus. He smiled widely, always excited to see his son. “There go my boy! There go my favorite son!”

  “Your only son,” Cash corrected.

  “If I had more than one son, then you would still be my favorite son.”

  Cash laughed.

  Ray-Ray said, “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You okay?”

  “I’m good, Pops. Get inside, let’s go for a ride. Let me take you to get something to eat.”

  Ray-Ray looked reluctant. He was enjoying his day on the corner.

  Cash looked around his surroundings, making sure there wasn’t any creeping threat. Everything looked okay.

  “Why don’t you come spend a day on the corner with your old man?”

  “I want to take you out to eat, Pops. My treat. C’mon, let’s go. You know I’m not taking no for an answer.” Cash hurriedly hid the pistol underneath his seat. He didn’t want his pops to see the gun and worry about him. He just wanted to spend some quality time with his father.

  Ray-Ray stared at his son and relented. “I can’t say no to you, Cash.” He danced his way toward the car, looking jovial like always. He opened the door and slid inside.

  Cash decided to take his father to Olive Garden over at the Gateway Center right off the Belt Parkway. Ray-Ray hadn’t been to a nice restaurant in a long while. The two men walked into the restaurant, where the hostess greeted them.

  “Two please,” Cash said to the petite woman.

  Though Cash was well dressed and clean-shaven, his father’s clothes were tattered and he smelled of alcohol. The young girl shot a foul look at Ray-Ray.

  They followed the girl into the restaurant to their table, a window booth in the corner. It was early afternoon on a weekday, so there wasn’t much of a crowd inside. They sat opposite each other, and the first thing Ray-Ray ordered was a drink.

  Cash looked at his father and asked, “Pop, you ever thought about leaving town?”

  “Leave New York and go where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Why would you want to leave this city? It has everything we need here. You don’t love your home anymore?”

  Cash looked reflective. “I just feel like it’s time for a change.”

  “Change? You in trouble, Cash?”

  Cash didn’t answer his father. He turned away, looking weighty with thought. He trusted Ray-Ray. He could talk to his father about anything, but Cash felt that what he was going through was a little too much for his father to handle.

  “Nah, I’m not in any trouble,” he lied.

  “If you are, you know you can talk to me.”

  “I know, Pop. That’s why I love you.”

  “I love you too, son.”

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are y’all ready to order?” the waitress said, standing in front of them with her pad and her pen. She was slim and cute, long hair with a long smile. She was definitely an attractive woman.

  Ray-Ray smiled and immediately started to spread his charm. “Damn, you’re pretty. I should be buying you lunch,” he said to the blushing waitress.

  Cash chuckled at his father’s words.

  “You know, you’re too pretty to work,” Ray-Ray continued. “I think America’s Top Model definitely misplaced one of their contestants.”

  Ray-Ray was on a roll.

  The waitress continued to laugh and blush. “You’re too much,” she said. His tattered appearance didn’t matter anymore.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Cash said.

  The two locked eyes. It was clear in her eyes that she found Cash attractive too.

  “What will y’all gentlemen be having today?”

  “I know what I want, but it might not be on the menu,” Ray-Ray said.

  “Pop, you need to stop.”

  “Hey, I’m a man that speaks my mind and goes after what he likes.”

  “Well, stay focused on the menu.”

  “I’ll try, son. But it’s hard to focus when you have a beautiful celebrity standing in front of you. After this lunch, I’m gonna need your autograph, because you’re a star in my eyes. Beyoncé don’t have shit on you.”

  Cash said, “Have you ever tried to be normal once?”

  “I tried being normal once—worst ten minutes of my entire life.”

  The waitress started to laugh, and so did Cash. His father was taking his mind off the streets, and away from his troubles. He definitely could count on Ray-Ray to make him laugh, or make him think wisely.

  Cash ordered shrimp alfredo. Ray-Ray got grilled chicken flatbread.

  “She’s pretty, huh?” Ray-Ray said, referring to their waitress.

  “Yeah. You already made that clear to her a few times.”

  “Hey, you have to make it clear; the squeaky chain’ll always get the oil.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Pops.”

  Ray-Ray asked, “You have a new girl in your life?”

  “Nah, I’m single right now.”

  “What about that girl you were dating a few months back? What’s her name?”

  “You mean Pearla?”

  “Yeah, I liked her. She was beautiful and smart. How’d ya fuck that up?”

  “Just being me, Pop,” Cash answered dryly.

  “Yeah, I know that feeling. But, hey, they come and go, or we push ’em out with our bullshit. But the good thing about this city, they’re everywhere, even serving your meals. You should ask her out.”

  For the first time in a long time, Cash wasn’t thinking with his dick. Normally, he would have been all over the waitress, smooth-talking her, but he had a lot on his mind. It hadn’t even come to him to hit on that bitch.

  The waitress brought out their food. It all looked delicious. “Enjoy, fellows,” she said.

  “Oh, we will,” Ray-Ray said. “And I love a restaurant with a lovely view,” he added, looking her up and down, smiling.

  “He doesn’t stop, does he?” she said to Cash, smiling.

  “He’s like the Energizer Bunny—he keeps going and going.”

  “And where’s your energy?” she asked him.

  He laughed. Another first, he was speechless. The waitress showed off a welcoming smile his way and walked off.

  “I think she likes you,” Ray-Ray said.

  Cash took his time eating his food. He wasn’t in any rush to leave. He was enjoying talking to his father. Sometimes, he felt he would never see the man again. Fond family moments with his parents were so rare, they a
lmost didn’t exist at all.

  “Pops, you remember that time when you took me fishing in Long Island? I was like ten or eleven.”

  Ray-Ray went back into his collection of memories, but he couldn’t recall that moment. It had been so long ago, and the drugs and alcohol had damn near eaten away all of his brain cells.

  “I’m tryin’ to remember,” he said.

  Cash continued on with his story. “Yo, I was so excited. We went to some local bay in the white people area with our fishing poles and bait, and we were out there all day trying to catch something. I was getting impatient, but you told me that if we wait long enough, we’ll catch something. I think between us both, we caught three fish.”

  “I guess we weren’t much of fishermen,” Ray-Ray said.

  “We weren’t, but I still had a great time. We listened to music and ate sandwiches. It was just you and me.”

  “You and me,” Ray-Ray uttered.

  Cash wanted to remember something joyful, other than reminiscing about sex, whores, stealing cars, and selling drugs. Most of his unforgettable memories were illicit and freakish. He was a boy who had to grow up fast. He’d done a lot, and been through a lot.

  “What is it, Cash? You want me to take you fishing again?”

  “No, I just wanted to do something special for you.”

  “This is nice. Thank you.”

  “It’s cool.”

  As they continued to eat and share a father-and-son moment, the waitress came by their table to check up on them. Ray-Ray flirted with her nonstop, and she subtly flirted with Cash.

  When dinner was done, both men stood up from the table. The bill was forty-five dollars. Cash pulled out a wad of cash.

  Ray-Ray uttered, “Whoa! Look at Mr. Money here. What you do? Rob a bank?”

  “I just came into some money.”

  “Well, can I come into it too?”

  Cash peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and placed it on the table. He and his father started to walk away. They came across the waitress. He said, “Keep the change.”

  She quickly passed him her number and said, “Call me.”

  Cash placed the waitress’s number into his pocket.

  Ray-Ray smiled, proud of his son. “That’s my boy.”

  The men exited the franchise with full bellies after their hearty talk. Cash enjoyed the moment. He stared at his father and said, “We need to be different, Pop. Do something different.”

  “What you mean? Leave town and start over somewhere else? In a different city?”

  “What’s wrong wit’ that?”

  “Look at me, son. I’m too old to start over anywhere. All I know is New York, nothing else. My memories are here, my peoples are here, and some of the best pussy I ever had is here, though that was a hundred years ago. I love this city. I can make my living here. Though it’s little, it’s still something to me.”

  “Well, it ain’t never too late for change.”

  “The only change I need right now is to get back on my corner and start entertaining my clientele. I know they’re missing me already.”

  Cash shook his head. He felt his father was being stubborn. But it was his choice. He was seriously thinking about leaving New York for good—to take the money he’d made, find a new town and start over. Too many niggas wanted him dead, and he still didn’t know who’d contracted the first hit on him and Pearla. Or who killed his former best friend, Petey Jay. There was too much going on, and too many enemies flowing from different directions. He no longer felt safe anywhere in the city.

  Cash and Ray-Ray climbed into the car and drove back to Brownsville. When they arrived back on Dumont Avenue, before Ray-Ray got out the car, Cash slipped him a few hundred-dollar bills and said, “You take good care of yourself, Pops. Be safe out here.”

  “Same to you, Cash. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Pops.”

  Ray-Ray smiled at his son and then stepped out of the car.

  Cash lingered in his car for a moment, observing his father, who went to occupy his spot in front of the bodega and carry on with his one-man song and dance. Then he drove away with an uneasy feeling about his father still residing in Brownsville, especially with Kwan in town.

  Nine

  Pearla strutted out of her house on a sunny day looking conservative in a well-tailored outfit that flattered her figure but wasn’t too revealing or flashy. Her jewelry was modest and tasteful, a necklace of pearl strands and a diamond tennis bracelet, and her long black hair was in a neat bun.

  She slid into her sleek Benz, started the engine, and checked her appearance in the sun visor. She was looking flawless. She put the car in drive and sped off. Today she had to tend to some business with the fifteen grand she had on her, plus other valuables. Bimmy had come by the house the other day to drop off the money as Hassan had instructed, and he didn’t look too happy about it.

  Pearla hit the freeway and headed toward the city, to the bank, one of her many stops for the day. Lower Manhattan was congested with daytime traffic and frantic with people. The towering skyscrapers were an indication of wealth and power. It was a town made of money and partnerships. Manhattan, especially Lower Manhattan, was an iconic place for her. She loved money and success.

  She parked her Benz inside one of the pricey garages that dotted the area and walked toward the National Savings Bank on Broadway in her Louboutin shoes to meet with Ralph Prestano, one of the bank managers. He was a tall, lean white man with short, curly black hair and a friendly personality. The Harvard graduate was dressed nicely in a three-piece suit.

  The moment he spotted Pearla walking through the front doors, he made it his personal business to go over and greet her. “Pearla, it’s always good to see you,” he said.

  “Hey, Ralph.”

  The two shook hands.

  “What brings you back so soon? Another deposit?”

  “Of course. A girl always has to put something toward her future.” She pointed toward the small black satchel she was carrying.

  “I understand. Follow me.”

  He guided her toward the rear of the bank, and they walked into the vault, with its many safety deposit boxes. She signed some paperwork, presenting the proper signature needed and presented her key. Ralph presented his key too. He went to two boxes that she had. He placed his key into the lock and turned, partially opening the box.

  Pearla followed suit, inserting her key into the boxes and opening them completely, gaining access to the goodies inside them both.

  Ralph smiled. “I’ll let you carry on with your business alone.” He walked out of the bank vault, giving Pearla some privacy.

  Pearla removed the long rectangular containers, set them on a nearby table, and opened them both. Inside one was one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash. The other had jewelry, important documents, her passport, and pictures of her and Cash. The jewelry in the box was worth half a million alone. Her whole life was in it. She wasn’t taking any chances. If anything were to happen, she would have a lot to fall back on. Most of the money she’d saved from scams she’d implemented; the rest was from Hassan, who had been very generous to her over the months.

  She removed a ten-thousand-dollar stack and placed it into the safety deposit box with the rest of the loot. She took a few more pieces of jewelry from the satchel and put them in the second box with the rest. It was a pretty thing to see. She smiled. She had enough saved for a rainy day.

  She spent less than fifteen minutes inside the bank vault. Some of her time was spent looking at pictures of her and Cash during happier times when they were together. One picture was of them at Coney Island, another was of them hugged up on the block, one was in a nice restaurant, and the others were various photos of them together throughout the city.

  Pearla secured everything in the boxes and placed them back into their locations. Sh
e and the manager locked them with their keys and walked out of the vault.

  “Was everything satisfactory?” he asked her.

  “Yes, it was.”

  He smiled. It was clear that he liked her. “Next time then,” he said.

  “Next time.” Pearla turned and strutted out of the bank, leaving Ralph’s eyes lingering on her backside.

  She jumped into her Benz and sped to the high-end stores on Fifth Avenue. Fifth Avenue was the Mecca of shopping. From block to block, north to south, it was a shopper’s paradise. Over the years, she’d tried to shop in every last one of them. She had a thirst for fine fashion and knack for style.

  She climbed out of her Benz clutching her Fendi purse in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. She went into the Chanel store. They had it all: luxury jackets, apparel and more. She walked into the store with some of their items.

  “Hello, can I help you?” one of the female workers asked.

  “Yes, I’m simply here to return some items,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sad to hear that. What items do you want to return? And why?”

  “You see, there’s been a little mix-up between my husband and me. It recently was my birthday, and though I like to treat myself, my husband went and treated me to the same thing I recently bought. He definitely knows my style.” Pearla removed the pumpkin-colored jacket and a Chanel purse and placed them on the counter. The two items combined were worth $15,000.

  The lady inspected the items. The price tags were still on both items and they were untouched, brand-new still. “Well, happy belated birthday, and I assure you, we’ll get you taken care of.”

  Pearla smiled. She didn’t need the extra money, but she planned on returning everything that Hassan had purchased for her—well, mostly everything. She had a receipt for everything. Pearla had always been a meticulous girl. She knew how to work the system. Shoplifting was once her forte.