Christmas in the Hood (8 page)

Between school and her part-time job, Gigi barely had time to hustle, so she was relieved now that winter break had arrived and she could focus on making money at night. She thought about taking time off from her job in a local dentist’s office, but she didn’t want to arouse Grandma’s suspicion.

By the time Andrew made it in, she had fallen asleep, and when she got up the next morning, he was already gone—if he had come home at all.

Chapter Four

G
randma looked much better the next day. Gigi made her some bacon and eggs and kept her company while she ate, all the while thinking of how she could make more money.

It had occurred to Gigi the night before that she was wasting her time trying to sell crack or coke in her Bronx neighborhood. The block was already saturated with hustlers. She had to go to where the big money was—Manhattan—but she didn’t know how she could get access to the people who had the kind of cash she needed.

She was so deep in thought it took her a second to notice the box wrapped in red paper Grandma had placed on her breakfast plate.

“Grandma, whose gift is that?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Grandma said, unable to contain her denture-filled smile.

“Yes, you do,” Gigi said excitedly. “Is it for me?”

“Open it and find out,” Grandma urged, looking just as excited. “Oh, my God, is this what I think it is, Grandma?” Gigi asked as she peered into the box. She had ripped the bow off and tore off the paper without waiting for her to answer.

Gigi’s face lit up as she spotted a shiny gold chain with a Lazarus medallion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at Grandma.

“Thank you,” she said, barely getting the words out as she started to choke up.

Gigi knew her grandmother understood just how much the Lazarus chain meant to her. Grandma was a God-fearing Catholic and had always taught Gigi that Saint Lazarus would protect her from all evil.

“You’re welcome,” Grandma answered. “Christmas came early.”

Every year Grandma surprised Gigi and Andrew with an early Christmas present, and every year Gigi was genuinely surprised.

Gigi gave her grandma a long bear hug, then gestured for help putting the chain on. Once it was on, she admired herself in the mirror. “It’s beautiful,” she said, gently stroking the chain. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” Gigi said suddenly.

“Sure do,” Grandma said, “but it’s still not as much as I love you. I’d do anything for my grandbabies.”

“And I’d do anything for you, Grandma,” Gigi said.

Grandma’s words gave Gigi the motivation to get on her grind, and at that moment an idea hit her.

A young white guy, Scott, from her accounting class worked down on Wall Street as a junior broker with a bunch of big spenders. According to him, his business associates worked hard and partied even harder, especially when it came to snorting coke.

Gigi found Scott’s number in her spiral notebook and gave him a call. She told Scott she had something for him but couldn’t talk about it over the phone. He invited her to stop by his office.

She made sure Grandma was settled, then she grabbed her backpack and headed out. As Gigi waited for the train, she wondered how many customers Scott would introduce her to. No matter what, she knew she had to make it happen.

The panoramic windows in the brokerage firm’s office gave a great view of Manhattan’s skyscraper-filled skyline. Entering Scott’s cubicle, Gigi noticed Scott appeared stressed out, even
though it was barely eleven a.m. Only twenty-two years old, he looked more like thirty-two.

“You okay?” she asked, trying to appear concerned.

Scott looked at her strangely. “Why you ask?”

“Just noticed you seemed a little stressed,” she said.

“Shit … my performance rate has fallen short the last two months. Now, my boss is riding my ass. If I don’t turn things around quick, my job’s down the toilet.”

Gigi nodded understandingly. “It’ll work out.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I know you didn’t come all this way to play Dr. Phil.”

“Whatever.” Gigi chuckled.

Scott smiled slightly, motioning to a chair. “Take a load off. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.”

Gigi sat down.

“For you to be in the city and it ain’t even a school day, this must be important.”

“You know it,” Gigi said as she unzipped the backpack and pulled out a glassine bag filled with a gram of powdered cocaine. “I got coke for sale.”

Scott’s face, redder than a ripe tomato, suddenly brightened. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? What’s the damage?”

“For you … a hundred.”

He reached into his pocket, retrieved his wallet, and pulled out five crisp twenty-dollar bills, handing them to her. “This stuff good, right?” he asked.

“The best.”

“Okay, then let’s see what you’re working with,” he said, finally managing a full smile.

Gigi tossed him the glassine bag.

Scott tapped some coke onto a glass coaster resting on his desk and used a business card to cut up two lines. Using a rolled-up fifty he snorted a line. Welcoming the oncoming high, he tilted his head back for a few moments.

“Oh yeah, Gigi,” Scott said, straightening up. “Best believe I have quite a few friends that’d love to make your acquaintance. Unless you wanna introduce me straight to your connect.”

She gave him a small smile. “If I did that, you wouldn’t need me.”

Scott stood and stretched his arms. “Give me a few minutes while I see how many takers we have,” he said, before hurrying out of the cubicle.

Gigi breathed a sigh of relief. She had made her first sale, and it looked like a few more sales were on the way.

With Scott hooking her up with more customers, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly. By the time she made it home that evening, she had made almost three thousand dollars, and she had a bunch of business cards from various Wall Street brokers. She had a feeling she was going to get a lot of repeat business.

Apparently Wall Street stressed out a lot of its employees because in a week’s time Gigi had dozens of repeat customers, and after reupping twice she had managed to put away almost thirteen thousand dollars.

Andrew hadn’t been so lucky. He had managed to make only a thousand dollars, despite Gigi’s advice to move his business out of the Bronx. One night, in frustration, Gigi decided to accompany Andrew to see why he wasn’t making much money.

That night, Andrew headed out to one of his usual spots. He
posted up on the corner of 141st Street and Saint Ann’s in front of the corner bodega, trying to knock off a bundle.

“Got that fire, mami,” Andrew said to a passing woman who looked like she could have been a fiend or a wino.

The woman looked interested and staggered over to him. “Yo, baby, give me another free hit,” she begged as though Gigi wasn’t there. “I’ll make you feel good again.”

Andrew looked embarrassed. “Not tonight,” he said, pushing her on down the street.

“So that’s why you haven’t been making money,” Gigi said angrily. “You’ve been giving the shit away?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andrew said, gazing down the street.

“You gotta stay focused. We’re out here for Grandma.”

He offered a few more passersby product, and only one agreed.

After Gigi calmed down a little, she focused on the task at hand. “Have you sold any of the coke?” she asked.

Andrew shrugged. “A little,” he said. “It’s too hard to move. Fiends checking for that rock.”

Gigi popped him upside the head. “Have you lost your mind?” she asked. “The coke ain’t moving ’cause you’re pushing it to these junkies who can’t afford it. I told you you gotta hit Manhattan where them white folks at,” she said. “You claim to be a hustler, but you sure getting hustled. You’re probably giving away more product than you selling.”

Andrew looked at the ground guiltily.

“Did you forget we’re doing this for Grandma?”

Before he could respond, a shadow fell over them.

“Get yo’ faggot ass up off my corna, nigga,” a dark-skinned
man in his early twenties demanded as he strode up to Andrew. A black do-rag covered his nappy afro, and the latest urban fashion hung off his medium-build frame.

“Fuck you, Rob,” Andrew shouted. “This ain’t yo corner, bitch!”

Without warning, Rob slugged Andrew in the mouth. The impact sent Andrew stumbling backward into the brick wall of the grocery store, which was the only thing that kept him from falling flat on his ass. Gigi stared in shock for a moment before she rushed over to aid her cousin.

Before she could check to see if he was okay, Andrew pushed her aside and pulled a knife out of his back pocket, flicked open the blade, and charged Rob, who tried to sidestep him. He still managed to plunge the blade halfway into Rob’s left thigh.

“Ahhhhh … shit,” Rob said, staring down at the blood trickling from the gaping hole in his pant leg. “Why the fuck you stab me, muthafucka?” He covered his wound with his hand, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Gigi grabbed her cousin’s arm.

Stepping between the trio, Chico seemed to pop up out of thin air.

“Both y’all niggas betta stop causin’ a scene on my block.” Chico pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and slid it into Rob’s free hand. “Go get that stitched up.”

“This shit ain’t over,” Rob warned, shooting Andrew a death stare.

Chico decided to send a warning of his own. “Don’t even think ’bout retaliating or you gonna deal wit’ me. You hear me, Rob?”

Rob nodded reluctantly.

“Now take yo’ ass to the hospital,” Chico ordered, staring Rob down. “And you better catch a bad case of amnesia when they ask you what happened.”

With his head hung low, Rob limped over to the curb and hailed the first gypsy cab to pass by. He climbed into the back-seat, still holding his wounded leg.

“That nigga’s getting his,” Andrew snapped, still clutching the knife tightly. “Watch.”

“Put that away. What’s wrong with you?” Chico asked, grabbing the knife from him and tossing it into the sewage drain on the corner.

“I didn’t come out looking for problems,” Andrew fumed. “That nigga put his hands on me. Tryin’ to put fear in my heart. Fuck that. I’ll stab his ass again.”

“Just chill,” Gigi demanded. “You too hardheaded.”

Chico added his two cents. “I’m telling you for yo’ own good, leave that shit alone.”

Andrew balled up both fists angrily. “Long as he don’t say shit, it’s all good.”

“You too hardheaded and ambitious,” Chico said. “I gotta keep my eye on you. Next thing you know you’ll be coming for my spot,” he said playfully. “Do Grandma even know you out here pumping?”

Andrew stared at the ground.

“Do she?” Chico asked forcefully.

“Nah.”

“A’ight, then take y’all asses upstairs.”

“Look, Chico, you know Grandma’s very sick,” Gigi blurted
out. “When the cops raided the crib, they took the money she had saved for the surgery.”

“Damn. Why didn’t she tell me?” Chico replied, rubbing his chin.

“You know how she is.”

“How much the operation cost again?”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

Chico’s mouth seemed wired shut for a moment or two. “When she need it?”

“Before January fourth.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Chico assured her before turning to Andrew. “I don’t wanna see you on this corner. Stick to that stoop of yours like a fly on shit.”

“Whatever,” Andrew snapped, as if he wasn’t frightened by Chico’s ruthless reputation.

“Never take my kindness for weakness. You family, and I’d never cause you no real harm,” Chico said, anger flashing in his eyes. “But I’ll slap fire out yo’ ass if you disrespect me again.”

Andrew had the good sense to look nervous. “My bad,” he said, before walking off with Gigi.

Chapter Five

T
he week leading up to Christmas, Gigi worked harder than she had ever worked before. Although she knew Andrew was doing the best he could, she realized he was fine selling to the
dope fiends on their block while she was determined to sell to a higher clientele.

Through sheer determination she had already managed to stack eighteen thousand dollars, thanks to the stockbrokers, which left them only seven grand shy of their goal.

With only three days left until Christmas Day, Gigi and Grandma lay sleeping one night when they were awakened by a gunshot in the apartment.

Not knowing what was happening in the living room, Gigi knew her cousin was in trouble because he was asleep on the couch when she last saw him. She dashed into Andrew’s room, searching for the gun her cousin kept hidden there.

Gigi heard the intruder bump into the wall as he ran past Andrew’s room toward the front door. The intruder yelled “Fuck, fuck!” as he struggled with the locks. Just as she found the gun under the mattress, she heard the apartment door slam into the wall as the man made his escape. She turned in time to see Andrew fly by. Clutching the .45 tightly, she quickly followed, ready to bust her gun if necessary.

The intruder hit the stairwell like a bat out of hell, almost tripping as he descended the staircase, two steps at a time. Andrew busted through the stairwell door just as the intruder reached the half landing. Raising a .380, Andrew let off two rounds that just missed their mark. The man barely dodged death as he dipped around the partition separating the lower staircase from the upper one.

Dashing out the building the intruder almost knocked over a fiend and leaped into a black sedan idling at the curb. The car squealed off before the intruder could shut the door.

Flying onto the stoop, Andrew took aim at the car disappearing down the street and unloaded the rest of the clip.

Hearing the wail of police sirens in the distance, Gigi knew it was just a matter of time before the cops pulled up. She grabbed Andrew by the shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she yelled, running back inside the building. “We gotta get rid of the drugs before the cops get here.”

As they reached the second-floor hallway, Grandma was standing halfway in the apartment doorway and halfway in the hall.