Zero Degrees Part 1

Chapter 2



Rita Mae Bishop was a pleasant, and polite Southern woman with deep brown skin and an intransigent sense of morality. Born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, she had encountered evils of all shapes and sizes and managed somehow to remain a fairly decent human being. For Rita, all who knew her would do anything, because she was the ideal woman. A trustworthy, honest, God-fearing lady who listened to their problems without judgment, and who held a conversation without being a gossip. She graciously shared with man and woman alike and expected nothing in return.

As gratitude, Rita gave the boys who had helped unload the U-Haul a hundred dollars each before sending them on their way. Afterward she searched through the house and found Alexus in an upstairs bedroom. Looking through a box marked “A.C.”, which looked to be full of expensive designer bags that Juan Costilla had purchased for his only child.

“I thought you lost that,” said Rita, referring to the large leather Louis Vuitton shoulder bag that Alexus was lifting from the box. “We looked everywhere for that bag.”

“It was at Aunt Jenny’s house.” Alexus set the bag on the fresh tan carpet and instinctively contemplated calling her aunt Jennifer Costilla. ”Papi had left it there by accident. I went over and got it after he and Uncle Flako were arrested. After those punk ass FBI tore our house up.”

“Watch your mouth.” Rita crossed the room to the window. As she looked out at the neighboring house, images of the raid on the Spanish-style mini-mansion that she had shared with her ex-husband flashed through her mind.

They had seized nearly everything. Juan’s silver Bentley coupe. Rita’s pearly white Porsche Cayenne. The brand-new Mercedes-Benz E350 that Juan had purchased as Alexus’s birthday gift six months ago. Most of their clothes, all of their paintings, jewelry and furniture were gone. A kind-hearted DEA agent named Dewitt Larkson had allowed Rita and Alexus to pack an assortment of clothes and shoes into boxes shortly after the raid. “You’re an educated, and strong Black woman,” the agent had said. “I don’t know how you ended up in a relationship with Costilla, and honestly I don’t care to know. Just get away from here and stay away.” Larkson had went on to say that Rita’s bank account had not been frozen, which meant that Rita Mae Bishop had just under ninety thousand dollars to restart her life with. Eighteen grand had already been spent on the twenty percent down-payment for her new home.

“Why couldn’t we stay in Texas?” Alexus inquired. “It’s too cold here.”

The sound of her daughter’s voice shook Rita from her thoughts. She turned and sat on the window sill.

“Your cousins Bookie and Kenya live here,” said Rita. “I haven’t spent any time with your uncle Dennis since eighty-nine. He’s the only brother I have…. I miss him.”

Alexus knew that her mother was still profoundly saddened by the Hurricane Katrina disaster. It had claimed the lives of both Rita’s parents and her younger sister.

“Is Uncle Dennis coming over?” Alexus asked. She was seated Indian-style on the carpet, poring over the newspaper article that declared her father the “Costilla Cartel leader.”

“He’ll be here in” Rita pushed the sleeve of her New Orleans Saints sweatshirt and checked her rose gold Cartier watch “about three hours. He gets off work at three o’clock.”

Planting her hands in the carpet behind her, Alexus leaned back and stared up at Rita

“The newspaper says federal agents seized over two hundred kilograms of cocaine and seven million dollars in cash from Papi’s condo in Houston,” Alexus said.

“I know.”

“That’s a whole lot of money.”

“Yes, it is. Papi’s been rich for a long time. A very long time. When I met him at the Mardi gras back in ’91, I had just received my master’s degree from Harvard. The girls and I were out celebrating on the strip, looking awkward and out-of-place among all those half-naked girls, when your uncle Flake stumbled up to us, in a drunken stupor—“

“A what?”

“He was pissy drunk,” Rita said.

“Oh.” Alexus giggled.

“And he began feeling on my butt, making nasty little comments, with his breath smelling like sour salami.”

Alexus fell over in a fit of laughter

Struggling to suppress her own laughter, Rita continued: “I showed him how a real Baton Rouge girl can kick some tail. Didn’t even need my girls. I had him on the ground, kickin’ his head when your father pushed through the crowd with about ten big Mexican’s behind him. Once I explained to Papi what had happened, he had his goons help Flake to a silver Rolls-Royce that was parked up the street. Then he asked me to follow him and his ‘familia’ to the Marriott Hotel.”

“Well, did you?” Alexus raised her eyebrows, intrigued.”

“Of course I did! I mean, here I was, twenty-eight years old, single and fresh out of college, and I meet this well-dressed forty-year-old Mexican man with a three-car fleet of Rolls Royces—your grandmamma didn’t raise any fools.” Rita smiled at the memories. “He asked me to move in with him about a week later. Bought me an LS400 Lexus and a six-carat engagement ring shortly after that. We married on his parents’ ranch in Matamoras, Mexico, a year later, right after I had you.”

“Is that why you named me Alexus? Because of the car?”

Rita showed a conspiratorial grin as she started toward the bedroom door. “Come on,” she said. “We need to find a furniture store. I want to get as much done today as possible.”