The February day is bitter cold.  Whirlwinds of snow whip through the trees that lurch back and forth in their icy sheaths as the relentless wind roars through the streets.

                Inside the impressive brick house, Sonny and his crew talk about the deals they just negotiated with some midtown gangs.  Relaxing and enjoying the ‘victory' conversation, Sonny barely acknowledges the sound of the doorbell.  Listening to his comrades excited banter, a slight frown crosses his ruggedly handsome face when the doorbell sounds again.  He rises from the arm of the overstuffed easy chair.  Sonny's muscular 6' 2" frame always commands attention.  He is impressive even when he's just answering the door.  He speaks through the storm door. 

                "Yeah, what do you want?"   It's almost a question. 

                Sonny eyes the young, black girl at his door.  Her wind blasted cheeks and nose are rosy compared to the rest of her honey colored face.  A few tendrils of  long, curly hair lash out from under her hat and temporarily force her eyes shut.  She grabs the hair, tucks it back under the hat, and looks up at Sonny.

                "I'm here about the job in the paper!" she yells through the wind. 

                Caught off guard by the color of  her eyes, Sonny doesn't respond immediately; instead, he stares deeply into her hazel-green eyes.  She clutches a flailing piece of paper and holds it up for Sonny to see. 

                "The job for housekeeper!" she explains.

                Even though she's shouting, between the noise of the boys and the gusting wind, Sonny can't hear her.  He opens the storm door, and immediately the wind snatches it out of his hand.  The frigid air attacks his body as he desperately reaches for the door.

                "Christ!  Come in!  Come on hurry up!"

                She is blocking his path to retrieve the door, and he isn't trying to actually step outside to get it.  She's not moving fast enough so he grabs her arm and pulls her in.  While Sonny is busy cursing the wind and closing the door, the girl stands motionless.  Apprehension sets in as she looks at the room full of white men.  She fights the urge to turn around and run.

                "Do you believe that wind!"  Sonny is talking to the girl and the room in general.  The girl turns around to face Sonny.  This time he speaks directly to her and bathes in her eyes.  "So, what's your name, and what do you want?  I couldn't hear, you know, 'cause of the wind." 

                "My name is Yvonne Williams, but people call me Vonnie."  Struggling with the wind and the sudden realization that she is stuck in a house with a bunch of strange men leaves Vonnie breathless.  She smiles despite her qualms and continues.  She shows Sonny the battered piece of newspaper again.  "I'm here about the ad in the paper for the housekeeping job."

                Sonny looks at her and takes the paper.  It is tattered and wet from the weather and comes apart in his hands.  He is tolerant and looks mildly amused.  He takes her hand and wipes the limp paper into her palm.  Her hopes begin to sink.  She is finding it hard to look Sonny in the eye. 

                "Well, uh," she falters, "this is 1127 Fulton Street isn't it?"  She continues on without giving Sonny an opportunity to answer.  "Because I can do the job...I got experience, and, and, references."

                Sonny is intrigued by this petite beauty.  So what if she is on the wrong street.  "And how many days a week are you available to do this job that you have experience for--"

                "And references," she eagerly chimes.

                "And references."  Sonny is having fun.

                "Well, the paper said it was live-in." 

                "Live in?"  Sonny starts paying attention.

                Snickers hail from the background guys.  She ignores them and focuses on Sonny's face.  She nervously bites her bottom lip as his face changes to a more solemn expression.

                "Yes--it says so right here in the paper."  She opens her hand revealing the pitiful piece of paper again.

                "Who sent you?"

                "Who sent me?"

                "Yeah.  I mean, is this a fuckin joke or something?  A live in housekeeper.  Right.  I don't have time for this."  His suspicious nature is creeping into play.  His whole attitude and posture is changing. 

                Vonnie can feel him turning on her.  Her composure is slipping.  "Look, Mister, I must have made a mistake--I was just answering this ad..."  She slowly starts working her way to the door. 

                The other men in the room watch Sonny and Vonnie like they're the prime time movie.  She is conscious of their eyes.  Sudden fear makes Vonnie lunge for the door knob.  A strong hand seizes her wrist.  She freezes.

                "So, you're just answering an ad."  Sonny loosens his grip.  "Alright, tell me a little about yourself."  A hint of a smile plays on Sonny's lips.  "How old are you; 'cause if you're not 21, I can't use you."

                She quickly weighs the situation.  He's either going to hire her or not.  He's either going to kill her or not.  She'll either get out or not.  But she's not going back to the hell she just came from without a fight.  Anything is better than that.

                "I'm legal working age.  I have ID."

                "Yeah?  Let me see it."

                She nervously rummages in her purse and finally pulls out a beat up Driving Permit.  Sonny takes it and looks at her.  The ID looks like something a kid tries to pass off to get into a bar or night club.  According to the card, Vonnie is nearly 23 years old.  It is obviously fake; obviously homemade.  He gives it back to her. 

                "I guess you need this job pretty bad to be out in weather like this."

                "Yes."

                "Where did you work before you came here?"

                "At Ameche's downtown."

                "And you left there because?"