Uptown Thief Read Free

“They’re made outta some indestructible type of patent leather. Wind, rain, sleet, snow. Nothing fucks them up.”
    â€œI need a pair like that,” Jody said. “What are they, Jimmy Choos?”
    â€œNo way,” said Tyesha. “Those are Vera Wangs, right, Marisol?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Marisol said.
    â€œHow can you not know?” Tyesha asked. “Take off the damn shoe and check the label.”
    â€œThat’s the thing,” Marisol said. “I got them from this lady who sells shoes outta her trunk. She cuts out the designer labels and charges twenty-nine ninety-nine.”
    â€œI love deals like that,” Tyesha said.
    Marisol smiled. “My mami always told me that finding a bargain is God telling you He wants you to have nice things.” Her mother had described it like a signpost on the way to the good life. And occasionally Marisol saw her mother create the bargain herself by switching the price tags. Or in a big store she would take advantage of a missing inventory tag. This was also God, her mother had explained, because God created the opportunity.
    Her mother was always cool and discreet. She never boosted any item unless it was a sure thing. Once she’d left her raggedy sneakers in the box at a department store and walked out wearing snakeskin stilettos under her custodian’s uniform. She left the store with her head held high, children in tow. After they got back to their one-bedroom apartment on the Lower East Side, her mother told them never to steal from people. Only stores.
    â€œSo, where does your girl sell the kickstunners outta her trunk?” Tyesha asked.
    â€œSometimes she’s at West Twenty-seventh and—”
    The van rumbled and tilted.
    â€œWhat the fuck?” said Jody.
    Marisol swung the back door open and sprinted out. The van was being lifted up onto a tow truck by a short, barrel-chested guy.
    Jody balled her fists and advanced, but Marisol grabbed Jody by the hood of her jacket and pulled her back. “I’ll handle this.”
    The baby started to cry.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” Marisol asked the tow guy.
    â€œWe’re repossessing the van for nonpayment,” he said. He pulled a lever, and the chains began to pull the van up onto the back of the truck.
    â€œBullshit,” Marisol said, over the baby’s wailing. “Our account is up to date.” She bounced up and down, and the movement quieted the baby. Tyesha and Jody stood behind Marisol with their arms crossed. Several girls came out of the clinic and joined them.
    â€œI just tow who they say. Tell your boss we’re taking the van.”
    â€œI am the boss,” Marisol said. “And if you wrongfully remove this vehicle, I’ll sue your company in a heartbeat.”
    â€œYou tell his stupid ass, Marisol,” said Nalissa, a young woman with hair dyed bright carrot red. “Defiende lo tuyo!”
    The guy shut everything off and the van stopped moving. By then it was halfway up onto the truck bed. He stalked around to the cab and pulled out a cell phone.
    â€œCrazy Spanish bitch,” he muttered.
    â€œThat’s crazy Puerto Rican bitch,” Marisol yelled back. “Learn your geography.”
    â€œCrazy Spanish bitch?” Nalissa said. “I’m a show you a crazy Dominican bitch!” She lunged toward the driver, but Tyesha and Jody grabbed her arms.
    â€œCálmate , Nalissa ,” Marisol said. “I got this.”
    With all the noise, the baby began to squirm and fuss. Marisol pulled him out and held him to her chest. He reached up and played with the locket around her neck.
    â€œYeah, papi ,” she said, opening the locket to reveal a little girl with two puffy blond pigtails and a missing front tooth. “You see that girl? That’s Cristina, my baby sister.”
    Cristina was six years younger and had been more like a daughter in many ways. Now