inside. Each room had its own television. The bathroom was huge marble down and looked brand new. I stepped in there, took a deep breath and figured maybe after the kids went to sleep we could room-service some Cristal and sip it while we took a bubble bath together in the Jacuzzi. I needed something to relieve all my pressure and why not get with the man I always wanted.
“You four can take this bed,” Midnight said, pointing to the bedroom.“I’ll sleep in the living room. We’ll be here for the next three days, so get comfortable, and chill. You three, don’t make a mess,” he said with a certain joking tenderness that must be reserved only for children.
“Three days!” I hollered with my hand on my hips. “Can I talk to you a minute, please?” I pointed toward the living room. He rejected my order, turned the television to the Disney Channel for my sleepy sisters and then came into the living room at his own pace.
“What is this shit about three days? I have one dress with me, the one I’m wearing. The three little bears have no clothes and already have spilled shit all over themselves. My mother’s in the hospital. I want to see her. I need to know what’s going on. I’m not down with this
Mission Impossible
shit. And, as for that shit you were talking in the car about women crying when shit breaks down, that’s bullshit! I’m a fighter. I’ve held heat before and I know how to use it. I can cut a bitch with my razor so fast and so clean she wouldn’t even know what happened until she bled to death. The problem with you, Midnight, is you think you know every goddamn thing. What you’re not understanding is that I can help. I can be your right-hand man. Just let me know what’s up, what’s going on?”
Nothing moved except Midnight’s jawbone, something Mama said was a definite sign of a man’s anger. He reached in his back pocket, pulled out a stack of bills. “First thing in the morning I’ll take you out to get some clothes. Don’t worry. I realize you’re a high maintenance bitch. Gotta keep you up in the style you’re accustomed to. How many fighters do you know find themselves in the middle of the goddamn war and all the fuck they think about is fashion and the clothes on their back. Hell no, you won’t ever be my right-hand man.”
I was impressed with the big stack of bills and excited about going shopping. I wondered if this was his money or if Santiaga had given it to him and he knew all along that he had orders to take me shopping. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Maybe he was using his own money, but knew Santiaga would pay him back.
“Okay, one last question,” I pushed, knowing I was aggravating him yet enjoying the attention. “What clothes are we going to wear out to go shopping in the morning when all of our stuff is dirty? … Never mind. I know—the laundry service.”
As I pushed 8 to call down to the laundry room he put his finger on the phone, disconnecting my call. With a muscular hand on myshoulder, he said sarcastically, “Think like you come from the projects. Take your clothes off and wash them in the sink. Hang ’em up by the heater to dry. You know how to wash clothes, don’t you? The laundry service is closed now. It’s almost midnight.”
After stripping the three bears and tossing their clothes in the sink, I put them under the sheets and blankets. I talked to them about the things we were going to do tomorrow and assured them that everything was okay. They knocked out to sleep one by one like clockwork. I slipped off my dress and stood checking myself out in the bathroom mirror. Thank God I listened to Mamma’s advice about always have nice clean sexy underwear. If I was a tackhead, I could of got caught out here with some beat-up drawers on my ass, with a shit stain and a big old hole in ’em. Just the thought cracked me up. I peeled off my panties, undid my bra, and put them in the sink. I stepped in the shower and let the warm water turn
“You four can take this bed,” Midnight said, pointing to the bedroom.“I’ll sleep in the living room. We’ll be here for the next three days, so get comfortable, and chill. You three, don’t make a mess,” he said with a certain joking tenderness that must be reserved only for children.
“Three days!” I hollered with my hand on my hips. “Can I talk to you a minute, please?” I pointed toward the living room. He rejected my order, turned the television to the Disney Channel for my sleepy sisters and then came into the living room at his own pace.
“What is this shit about three days? I have one dress with me, the one I’m wearing. The three little bears have no clothes and already have spilled shit all over themselves. My mother’s in the hospital. I want to see her. I need to know what’s going on. I’m not down with this
Mission Impossible
shit. And, as for that shit you were talking in the car about women crying when shit breaks down, that’s bullshit! I’m a fighter. I’ve held heat before and I know how to use it. I can cut a bitch with my razor so fast and so clean she wouldn’t even know what happened until she bled to death. The problem with you, Midnight, is you think you know every goddamn thing. What you’re not understanding is that I can help. I can be your right-hand man. Just let me know what’s up, what’s going on?”
Nothing moved except Midnight’s jawbone, something Mama said was a definite sign of a man’s anger. He reached in his back pocket, pulled out a stack of bills. “First thing in the morning I’ll take you out to get some clothes. Don’t worry. I realize you’re a high maintenance bitch. Gotta keep you up in the style you’re accustomed to. How many fighters do you know find themselves in the middle of the goddamn war and all the fuck they think about is fashion and the clothes on their back. Hell no, you won’t ever be my right-hand man.”
I was impressed with the big stack of bills and excited about going shopping. I wondered if this was his money or if Santiaga had given it to him and he knew all along that he had orders to take me shopping. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Maybe he was using his own money, but knew Santiaga would pay him back.
“Okay, one last question,” I pushed, knowing I was aggravating him yet enjoying the attention. “What clothes are we going to wear out to go shopping in the morning when all of our stuff is dirty? … Never mind. I know—the laundry service.”
As I pushed 8 to call down to the laundry room he put his finger on the phone, disconnecting my call. With a muscular hand on myshoulder, he said sarcastically, “Think like you come from the projects. Take your clothes off and wash them in the sink. Hang ’em up by the heater to dry. You know how to wash clothes, don’t you? The laundry service is closed now. It’s almost midnight.”
After stripping the three bears and tossing their clothes in the sink, I put them under the sheets and blankets. I talked to them about the things we were going to do tomorrow and assured them that everything was okay. They knocked out to sleep one by one like clockwork. I slipped off my dress and stood checking myself out in the bathroom mirror. Thank God I listened to Mamma’s advice about always have nice clean sexy underwear. If I was a tackhead, I could of got caught out here with some beat-up drawers on my ass, with a shit stain and a big old hole in ’em. Just the thought cracked me up. I peeled off my panties, undid my bra, and put them in the sink. I stepped in the shower and let the warm water turn
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