Christmas in the Hood by Nikki Turner Page A

Temptations’ version of “Silent Night.” Roberta wasn’t sure if she was hearing things during her drug-induced craze, but she thought she heard one of the Temptations tell baby Jesus to “relax his mind.” If her situation wasn’t so fucked up, she may have considered laughing, because a man telling Jesus to relax was funny as hell. “I don’t give a fuck about Christmas. The motherfucker better have my money by tomorrow or he can start looking for a wheel-chair because I’m breaking both his legs.”
    Carlos slammed the cordless phone down in its cradle, rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension, and looked up at Roberta. At least a shell of Roberta. His six-foot frame moved gracefully as he paced back and forth while looking at Roberta. He ran his hand across his short curly hair as he often did when he was in deep thought. Something was up with her. He intended to find out what it was, but he’d keep playing along like the fucking idiot she thought he was. So, since she asked for a loan of ten thousand dollars, he was going to give it to her. Now, whether she was telling the truth—about being in the process of refinancing her house and expecting the equity to be deposited three days before Christmas—had yet to be proved. Carlos had two weeks. So did Roberta.
    Carlos sat back down and asked smoothly, “You show my cousin a good time, Bobbie?” In exchange for the loan, Carlosasked Roberta to sex his cousin, who he said hadn’t had sex in a while. Roberta had let his fat fuck of a cousin pump into her upstairs for a good half hour, and, while a part of her was disgusted, she chose to focus on her goal—money for drugs.
    “Yes,” Roberta replied, thinking how much Carlos looked like the original Miami Vice star, Philip Michael Thomas. It was too bad his cousin hadn’t inherited such good looks.
    “Now, what did you need the money for?” Carlos asked, as he rested his right palm on a pile of money.
    Roberta licked her lips nervously and replied, “It’s just a loan until I refinance.”
    When Carlos looked as if he was going to renege on the deal, Roberta hastily added, “I have the appraisal paperwork right here in my purse. The amount more than covers the loan.”
    Roberta rummaged through her purse and produced a wad of crinkled-up papers. She handed them to Carlos for a quick glance. The papers were legit, but she didn’t want him to have too much time to think about it and change his mind.
    Carlos handed the appraisal papers back to Roberta and said, “Take the money.” He slid a stack of bills across his desk and watched her place the money in her bag, with what he thought were shaking hands.
    “Two weeks, Bobbie. Two goddamn weeks. Not a day more. You fuck around with my money, and I’m coming for whatever you hold near and dear,” he threatened.
    “Thank you, Carlos.”
    Carlos stared at her so intently that she felt like he knew she was getting higher than a helium-filled balloon released on awindy day. But he couldn’t have known. She was being ever so careful. Her own kids didn’t know, so there was no way Carlos could. She made certain to cover her tracks … literally.
    When the black cordless phone rang again, although it startled her, she was grateful for the interruption.
    Carlos jabbed his index finger in the air and said into the phone, “Either I get my money by Christmas Eve, or you tell that son of a bitch I’ll string him up by his balls and hang him on the Christmas tree downtown at the Monument. That will be his Merry-fucking-Christmas!”
    The life of a loan shark, Roberta thought to herself.
    Carlos stood angrily and walked to the lone window in the wood-paneled office. Christmas lights shone through the window and danced on the walls and the floor.
    It was the reflection of a blue blinking light that drew Roberta’s attention to the floor. The blue reflection that blinked right beside a black duffel bag. A bag filled to capacity with cold hard cash.
    Don’t