A Deeper Love Inside (15 page)

“Oh shit, she needs water,” Riot said.

“We’re all soaked,” Tiny said.

“No, she needs water to drink. She’s dehydrated,” Riot explained.

Lil’ Man was just quiet, watching me. I imagined she was thinking I wasn’t tough enough. She must’ve been saying something like, “Take it like a man.” But I’m not a man. I’m a young, young girl.

“Which leg?” Riot asked me. I looked at my right leg.

Riot began to push both sets of my toes towards my head while my heels were pressed against the floor. She was pressing, then moving, my toes around, massaging my feet. “Point your toes toward your face,” Riot said softly. I liked that, even though I was painful and panicked, Riot was not panicked. Tiny was wiping away my sweat with her small, soft fingers. Suddenly the pain disappeared as swiftly as it came in the first place. They each stopped and stepped back as they felt and saw my legs and body relaxing. Slowly I got up.

“You okay?” Lil’ Man asked.

“I’m good,” I said.

“Walk back and forth. Hurry up,” Riot told me.

“For what?” I asked.

“Just do it. Pace!” Riot said, pointing her finger in a back-and-forth motion.

“You look like you got born in that toilet. Or like you gave birth down there,” Tiny said, giggling nervously.

“We all look wrecked,” Lil’ Man said.

“And we all stink,” I said, walking back and forth. Riot was squatting in the corner rocking with the movement of the moving truck, her jumper dripping. She was thinking.

“Six minutes,” Riot mumbled. Tiny and Lil’ Man took off their jumpers and began wringing the dirty water out.

“Don’t look at me,” Tiny said.

“Naked don’t mater. We all girls,” I said.

“It matters to me,” Lil’ Man said.

“See, I knew you was looking,” Tiny said in her baby voice and jumped back into her damp dirty jumper. As they did, the truck stopped suddenly, jerked once. We all tried to balance ourselves from falling. Two seconds later the heavy creaking metal back door was lifted.

“Seventeen minutes. I made it,” a young-faced, blue-eyed guy said. He was a worker I figured from his filthy boots, blue khakis, and dark blue shirt. He’s in the “doo-doo” business, I guessed. Looked like he worked hard and owned nothing. His plastic wristband on his cheap watch was a second away from snapping.

We were all jumping down now, jogging in a line behind Riot. We were used to staying and moving in a line formation. We were inside of an empty building—no, in a factory or some type of warehouse with no windows. We jogged into a room with walls made of cinder blocks.

The blue-eyed guy turned a knob, pulled a long hose off the wall and sprayed us with some type of foam even though we had our jumpers on. Tiny laughed nervously; Lil’ Man didn’t laugh at all. Riot began pulling up her sleeves and pants and rubbing herself with foam. We did the same.

The guy switched hoses and sprayed us with a second hose, all water. Riot took it from his hand and began spraying us instead. We spun around to get all the foam soap off. Then she used the hose to clean herself. Next Riot brought the hose close to my lips and said, “Sip some water. You might not get the chance until later tonight.” I held the hose, placing my hand next to hers, and gulped some down, maybe three glasses full, I thought.

The guy left and returned in seconds. He tossed a plastic bag to Riot.

“Turn around,” she told him. He did. She signaled us to undress. She threw us each a T-shirt and a cheap, thin no-name denim skirt from out the plastic bag. The kicks she tossed out were “skips,” the type you get your ass whipped for wearing back in Brooklyn. If it was all you had, you wouldn’t even dare come out to play. No double-Dutch, or hopscotch, or anything that would bring more attention to your feet.

We scrambled over the cheap sneakers, all try’na get the right fit. We weren’t dumb, though. We knew whatever it was we had to make it work, make it fit, quickly!

As Riot collected our dirty jumpers and put them all in the one plastic bag that we had just emptied, the rest of us started looking around at one another. Nothing was funnier than seeing Lil’ Man in a cheap micromini that revealed her bowleggedness. She was pulling at her tight tee, which wasn’t long enough to conceal her belly button, which was the only dark part on her extra-light skin.

When I checked myself, I got red cause my T-shirt had touch me written on it in tall, thin script. I was taking a snapshot of all of us in my mind. I never wanted to forget. Once I get back all my riches, I’ll be able to look back and laugh it off. Right now, I couldn’t even recognize myself as Porsche L. Santiaga, daughter of Ricky and Lana Santiaga.

A rhythmic knock came from the one closed metal door, like a break beat, and the sound bounced off the bricks. The guy who was still turned away from us went to open it. We all fell completely silent and scattered to the side-wall corner, like rats trying not to be seen or captured.

The blue-eyed guy opened the door but guarded the entrance with his body. A stuffed envelope was handed off through the small opening. The guy pulled it in and put his foot against the door while he counted the contents. Stacks—it had been almost three years since I had seen real money like that, especially not a stack or pile like what he was flipping through in the fat envelope. He pushed it in his back pocket and nodded his head to the left. Riot caught his signal and stepped right over, standing in front of him. I could tell by the way he
looked at her, different from the way he didn’t look at the rest of us, that he liked Riot a lot. Was he the boy she was planning to hook up with all along on festival day? Was he the reason she was crawling and barking like a dog on all fours with no resistance that day in the gym?

“I’ll see you soon, right?” he asked her.

“Depends. If you keep your word,” she said, giving him a serious look with no flirting mixed in it.

“So far, I’m doing alright,” he said.

“Yeah, because if you tell on us, you tell on yourself,” Riot said, looking into his eyes. He didn’t say nothing back. “It’s true what they say about us, you know,” Riot told him.

Then they were interrupted by another intense rap on the door. Riot ignored it.

“That we’re violent—a gang of girls who will attack without warning and murder our enemies if we don’t get our way.” She stared him down.

I didn’t know if she was trying to shut him down, the blue-eyed boy, or slow him down or turn him off or threaten him, but after she said that, he seemed to like her even more.

One by one, he let each of us out through a too-small opening of the door where he still held guard, as though he didn’t want to see what was going on, on the other side.

On the other side of the door and outside of the huge warehouse, a car was backed up to the door. The trunk was wide open so we couldn’t see what model of year, or type of car it was, or who was sitting inside.

“Climb in,” Riot said, nodding towards the trunk. We got in without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, you can breathe through that hole.” Riot pointed. We shifted around until we were lying side-by-side, fitting ourselves together like mismatched puzzle pieces. Riot reached and when she pulled her hand back, she was holding a gun. It was small, like Momma’s piece, the one Poppa brought her, with the pearl handle. Our eyes followed the burner. She handed it to Lil’ Man. They looked at one another like they both already knew what was up. As Riot lowered the trunk I realized she wasn’t jumping in with us. When her face disappeared, slowly I felt the seriousness of what was happening
and a little uneasy about not really knowing nothing about the details of this move we were making. She pushed the trunk closed.

The car sped. I could hear the wind pushing in and sucking out and swirling around our “breathing hole.” We were in a dark, closed-in, cramped space again. Unlike before, I was not laying in water. Our bodies were on top of a warm blanket with a fleece texture. It would’ve been perfect for the fall breeze, but we were speeding through the summer heat.

“Porsche, are you scared?” Tiny’s voice asked.

“No,” I said.

“In twenty-six minutes it will be one o’clock,” Tiny said.

“I know,” me, Lil’ Man, and Siri all said at the same time. We counted seconds and minutes. The top of the hour always meant something to us and for us. At one o’clock the festival would have been on for a full hour. There would be three hours, fifteen minutes, remaining—and then, of course, the head count. I could feel Siri’s heart beating heavy. I was lying between Siri and Tiny.

“Tiny, how long did you know about all of this?” I asked.

“About a month. Why you askin’?” she said.

“How ’bout you Lil’ Man?” I asked.

“Since last year around this time,” Lil Man said. “What difference do it make?” she added.

“How bout you, Porsche?” Tiny asked me.

“Late night, I just found out last night,” I told them truthfully.

“Don’t be mad,” Siri said to me.

“That’s cause you the baby,” Tiny said.

“Plus you a little crazy,” Lil’ Man laughed. “We had to be sure nothing slipped out, or the Diamond Needles would’ve of been fucked.” Lil’ Man disrespected.

Then the ride got silent.

I’m a “little crazy”! I repeated Lil’ Man’s words in my mind. “Who’s crazier than her?” I thought to myself. I mean, I understand the killing part, that someone hurt her mother real bad, so she sent him to the cemetery. I didn’t understand the rest, like how come she acted like a man, looked like a man, made everyone call her Lil’ Man. I didn’t understand why I once saw her holding her crotch like she had balls, diddy-boppin’ so hard she looked like she might fall sideways.
Why was she acting like she all about church, while she was getting sauced up in the bullshit sermon? I understood why she might not like men or want them for boyfriends after what her rapist father did to her mom. But if she hated men, why did she act just like ’em? Why did she become one?

I’m a little crazy.
Her insult repeated in my mind once more, and I laughed out loud.

“What’s funny?” Tiny asked.

“Nuphin,” I mumbled. I didn’t forget Lil’ Man had the gun.

“You acting like this shit was some little schoolyard secret that nobody told you. This shit is serious. Me, Rose Marie, Hamesha, Tiny-Tong, we were all about to get shipped out of juvy to do
real time.
You know what that’s like, waiting for the warden and them to snatch us up anytime she felt like it and send us into a worser hell, where we had to start all over again with bitches that’s madder and meaner than us?” Lil’ Man said.

I didn’t answer back.

“I’m serving out premeditated murder. You know what that means? Did you know that some killing is considered worse than other killing? Premeditated murder means I knew all along I was gonna kill somebody. I thought about it, planned it out, set it up, and then made it happen. It wasn’t an accident or incident or self-defense. I am considered the worse kind of murderer: murder one. I was to serve out the maximum,” Lil’ Man explained, but to me she was just bigging herself up, which wasn’t necessary. Then she started up again. What could I do? We were stuffed in a locked trunk together.

“Yesterday, July 19th, was Riot’s birthday. Did you know that? Today she would’ve become eligible to get transferred out of juvy. Once you become eligible for transfer, you got to serve your time on pins and needles, kiss the warden’s ass even more.
That shit is stressful.
So we bounced. And you
lucky you got to ride with us
,” Lil’ Man said. But I wasn’t lucky. I’m Diamond Needle number 11, and I was down with whatever we had jumping off, from the moment I agreed to be down.

“Porsche,” Tiny said, softly changing the tone of our talk. “Me and Lil’ Man bout to jump out. Hope you not scared to ride alone.”

“I’m not scared of shit,” I told her, still red at the way Lil’ Man was putting her words together.

“Alright, big girl, I’m just checking,” Tiny said in a light joking voice.

“Tiny! I thought you said it was safer on lockdown than in the real world,” I challenged her.

“I changed my mind,” was all she said.

I didn’t push any further. I figured the warden made Tiny make that decision when she forced her to strip in front of everyone.

“Where are you and Tiny going? Are you two staying together?” I asked.

“You digging too deep young-young,” Lil’ Man said. “Our drop-off is coming up. We flashing out. That’s all you need to know.”

“I’ll stay with her until I don’t want to no more,” Tiny said. “Right, Lil’ Man?”

“That’s right.
Ain’t nobody forcing nobody to do nothing.
But after you see how good I’m a treat you, you gonna wanna stay with me, watch,” Lil’ Man said. Tiny giggled.

“Is that love?” I asked Tiny.

“Damn, why you ask that?” Tiny said after a long pause.

“Cause I thought we could talk about anything,” I said softly.

“We could,” Tiny said swiftly, but she still didn’t answer if it was love.

“I don’t know too much about that, Porsche,” she said in an even softer voice than her normally soft way of speaking.

“Porsche don’t know shit about love either,” Lil’ Man said. “If someone loved any of us, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Her words were like bricks.

“Porsche, keep your mouth shut, that’s rule number one. Don’t repeat nothing you seen, or nothing you heard. Keep it in your chest,” Lil’ Man warned.

The car came to a stop. In seconds, someone knocked on the trunk. It popped open, no one was standing there, and Tiny and Lil’ Man leaped out. Swiftly, Lil’ Man slammed it shut. She wasn’t playing. She was in a worried hurry.

“Porsche, it was nice knowing you. You’re so pretty and a real cool
little girl. Don’t let nobody ruin you. It’s nice that you still believe in love,” Tiny said through the breathing hole.

“C’mon,” I heard Lil’ Man bossing her. The car sped away.

“It’s better when it’s only you and me,” Siri said. But now I was thinking of Lina. Did she get out? I loved her most of all the Diamond Needles.

• • •

We rode for two hours, or a bit more. I hoped it was long enough for me to reach close to New York City. I didn’t have no money. I didn’t know where I was, who was driving the car, who was riding in the seats, or whether the car was moving south, north, east, or west. I didn’t know the details of the plan, but I knew if I could get close to our Long Island mansion address where Momma was, nothing else would matter. If I could see her, hug her, spend only one week with her, if the authorities hunted me down and shot me through the back of my head, it would be okay, cause I’ll have had seven more days with Momma than I ever expected to have.