by S. A. Cosby
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” he howled as the CAT-wearing man dragged him out of the house by his thin arm. The third man went into the house as Kia and Darren were being forcibly walked to the car. Kia twisted and fought with everything she had in her, but it was no use. It was like trying to wrestle a mountain.
The big man stopped dragging her. He pulled her close and put his forearm around her neck. She felt something cold and hard against her temple. No one was moving. Kia craned her eyes toward the house. The third man was backing out of the house with his hands up. When he got to the bottom step he stopped.
Javon was standing on the porch holding a gun. It was a Beretta 9 mm 92 series. One of his father’s guns.
The big man gripped Kia tighter.
“Now you just wanna hold on a minute and put that gun down. You don’t want nobody to get hurt now, do you?” he asked.
Javon didn’t move. He held the gun straight with his free hand bracing his wrist. “No, I don’t. So, let my mama and my brother go,” he said. He didn’t stutter or whisper. He spoke with a loud, clear voice that was on the verge of changing.
“Look, son, you don’t know what to do with that,” the man said.
Javon never took his eyes off the big man. He clicked the safety off.
“Let my mama and my brother go,” he said.
The big man was still trying to make up his mind how to handle this situation when CAT Hat raised his gun and mumbled under his breath.
“Fuck this shit.”
Javon pointed the gun in his direction and pulled the trigger. The pistol jumped in his hand like it was alive. The man in the CAT dropped to a crouch. The bullet zipped over his head and shattered the headlight of the LTD. Javon kept pulling the trigger. He moved from the man in the hat to the man standing right in front of him. A red flower bloomed on the man’s chest as he fell like a marionette whose strings had been clipped. He never even reached for his gun.
The big man pulled his gun away from Kia’s head and pointed it at Javon. As soon as he did a bullet slammed into his neck. He pulled the trigger reflexively but without aiming. CAT Hat dived to the ground and crawled back toward the driver’s side of the LTD. He raised his gun and fired over the hood.
The big man staggered back to the LTD. His gun slipped from his grip and landed in the grass. He fell into the car with his legs still hanging out of the door. CAT Hat jumped in the driver’s seat. He started the car and pulled at the big man’s shirt, dragging him further into the car. Bullets cracked the windshield as he put the car in reverse. The big man’s feet dragged across the ground as they backed out of the yard and tore down the lane.
* * *
Javon kept pulling the trigger even though no more bullets came out of the gun.
“Javon!” Kia screamed.
“Javon, call 911!”
Javon kept pulling the trigger.
“Javon, call 911!” she screamed. Her eyes were bugging from her head. Her face and chest were covered with streaks of red. She was clutching Darren in her arms. It was then that Javon finally understood. He ran inside the house and went to his mama’s bedroom. Her cell phone was on the nightstand. He dropped the gun to the floor. He grabbed the phone and dialed 911. His mother’s screams echoed throughout the house.
“911, what is your emergency,” a robotic voice asked.
“Somebody shot my brother,” Javon said. He dropped the gun and started screaming too.
* * *
Kia sat in the waiting room directly under a television that was showing an advertisement for the hospital on a loop. The light from the fluorescent fixtures reflected off the white floor tiles. It was giving her a headache. Her eyes were stinging. She had cried all the way from the house to the emergency room. They wouldn’t let her sit in the back with Darren. She stared at him the whole way to the hospital through a small window in the cab of the ambulance. The driver had tried to get her to put on her seat belt, but she ignored him. She had to keep her eyes on him. If she kept looking at him, then he couldn’t die. She told herself that as they careened down the road. As long as she could see him, he wouldn’t die.
Kia put her head in her hands. Her chest was a nest of knots that were continually tightening. Jean rubbed her back as she stared at the floor through splayed fingers. He was only eight years old. Eight-year-olds aren’t supposed to die. They’re supposed to make stupid jokes and refuse to wash off a fake tattoo their brother gave them.
“Kia.”
She raised her head. Beauregard was running through the waiting room. He was calling her name. Not screaming it but using the full force of his deep baritone voice. When he came around the corner, he stopped five feet away from her. He looked like Hell warmed over. The left side of his face was one huge angry bruise. He had on a long-sleeve black Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt two sizes too big. A pair of oversized pants hung from his frame.
“Kia. What did they say?” he asked.
She glared at him. “You not even gonna ask what happened?” Kia asked.
Beauregard dropped his eyes. “I went to the house. I saw the bullet holes. I went next door. Linda told me. The car broke down. I would have been there, but the car broke down,” he said. She could barely hear him.
“Men came to our house. Men that were looking for you,” Kia said. She rose from her seat.
“I know. I tried to call but you didn’t answer,” Beauregard said.
“Don’t do that. Don’t you do that. If you hadn’t gone off with that white boy pulling some goddamn job, you wouldn’t have had to call,” Kia said. She spoke through bared teeth.
“Kia. Let’s go outside and talk,” Beauregard said.
“Talk about what, Beauregard? About how you fucked around with some gangsters and they came to our fucking house? You wanna talk about how I told you to sell that goddamned car? But you wouldn’t do it, would you? Because you didn’t want to get rid of your dear Daddy’s car. My son is on an operating table fighting for his life because you care more about a dead snitch than you do your own children. My other son is down at the police station because he had to shoot two people to keep them from taking his mama and his little brother. Do you get that, motherfucker? My son had to kill somebody today. But I guess you think that’s alright. It’s a Montage family tradition, right?”
Beauregard knew she was trying to hurt him. The only person who knew your weak spots better than the woman who raised you was the woman who shared your bed. But he took it. Took it like he had never taken it before because she was right. He had brought this horror down upon his family. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love them.
“They my sons too, Kia,” Beauregard said.
Kia stepped forward and slapped him. Her tiny hand caught him flush on his bruised cheek. Flashing lights appeared in front of his face. For a moment he felt something cold and alien bloom in his chest. He raised his right hand and curled it into a fist but only for a split second. He deserved that. That and so much more.
“Not today they ain’t. Today they my sons and I’ve got to protect them. Protect them from people like you,” Kia said. She pressed her body against his. Her limbs felt like steel wires. Her breath smelled of smoke and stomach acid.
“Kia, I’m not people. I’m their father.”
“Go,” she said.
“The car broke down. I would have been here, but the car broke down.”
“GOOOOO!” she shrieked. She pounded on his chest with her fists. When he tried to put his arms around her, she recoiled like he had the plague.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!”
“No, Kia please,” he said as he reached for her. She shrieked again. A raw guttural howl with no discernible words but in a language that was clearly understood.
Jean got up and pulled her into her bosom. Kia went limp in her sister’s arms. Jean guided her back to her seat.
“Beauregard, just go. I’ll call you when we hear something,” Jean said.
He turned around in a near perfect 360-degree circle. Th
e intake clerks, the nurses, the janitors, other patients, they were all gawking at them.
“The car broke down. I would have been here, but the car broke down. I fixed it and I came straight to the house. I fixed it,” he said under his breath. He said it again as he headed for the sliding glass doors. And again, as he walked toward the rust-covered Jeep sitting in the parking lot with a screwdriver jammed in the ignition. Beauregard got in and slammed the door. He began to scream and pounded his palms against the steering wheel. Every muscle in his body worked in concert with his diaphragm. His chest began to ache as he arched his back and howled. People walking across the parking lot lowered their heads and looked away as they hurried past the Jeep. The sound coming from that battered vehicle needed no explanation or translation.
It was the pure and unmistakable sound of despair.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Boonie unlocked the door to his house with one hand while balancing a six pack in the crook of his free arm. The sky was filled with streaks of magenta as the sun dipped below the horizon. As he stepped across the threshold, his guts jumped up into his mouth.
Beauregard was sitting in his leather recliner.
“Jesus, boy, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing in here?” Boonie asked.
Beauregard raised his head. “I fucked up, Boonie,” he said.
Boonie closed the door and got a good look at him.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“You was right. About Ronnie, about everything,” Beauregard said.
Boonie sat down on the couch that was perpendicular to the recliner. “Talk to me,” he said.
Beauregard gingerly ran his hand over his forehead. He told Boonie everything. The jewelry store, Lazy, the van, Kelvin, everything right up to what happened to Darren. Boonie listened quietly, never once interrupting or asking any questions. When Beauregard was done, Boonie got up, went into the kitchen and returned with a mason jar. He unscrewed the top, took a sip, and sat it on the coffee table between them.
“I’m so sorry, Bug. What you want us to do?” Boonie asked.
Beauregard turned his head and leaned his good cheek against the side of the chair. The surface was cool. Boonie’s central air unit was working overtime.
“You know, I used to think of myself as two people. Sometimes I was Bug and sometimes I was Beauregard. Beauregard had a wife and children. He ran a business and went to school plays. Bug … well, Bug, he robbed banks and armored cars. He drove 100 miles per hour on hairpin curves. Bug threw the people who killed his cousin in a car crusher. I tried to keep them apart, Beauregard and Bug. But my Daddy was right. You can’t be two types of beasts. Eventually one of the beasts gets loose and wrecks shop. Rips shit all to Hell,” he said.
He grabbed the mason jar and tossed it back. When he sat it down, nearly half of its contents were gone. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“They shot my boy, Boonie. They shot my boy because Bug fucked up and Beauregard wasn’t there to fix it.”
“We gonna fix it, Bug. You just tell me what you want us to do,” Boonie said.
Beauregard sat forward. “I’m gonna fix it. I might need a few favors.”
“Anything,” Boonie said.
“I parked up the road back down by that old house on Carver’s Lane. I need to get that car to the yard and get rid of it. Then I’m needing to borrow a vehicle. Can’t make no moves in my truck.”
“Okay, no problem. But what we gonna do about this Ronnie and Lazy situation?” Boonie asked, his voice full of malice.
Beauregard smiled. It didn’t go much farther than the edge of his mouth. “We ain’t gonna do nothing. I’m gonna find Ronnie and get that van back. There’s only two places he could be. He can’t just roll up on somebody to move that much swag. The way he moved them diamonds, I know he got a connection, but it’ll take a couple of days to set up a deal. I don’t think he’s dumb enough to be at his house. So that leaves Wonderland. Once I get the van back, I’m gonna call up Mr. Lazy.”
Boonie grunted.
“You can’t go up against these boys by yourself. Them fools up at Wonderland ain’t shit, but this Lazy fella is bad news.”
“I already got Kelvin killed.”
“And I ain’t gonna let you get killed. Anthony was like a brother to me, but you done become like a son. I can’t just let you go out here all alone like you some fucking cowboy. Your family needs you. Hell, I need ya, you stubborn son of a bitch,” Boonie said.
Beauregard leaned forward and stared in Boonie’s eyes.
“I’m already gone, Boonie. I know what you think my family needs, but I’m gonna tell you what I need. I need for you to do for my sons what you did for me. Be there. I think I understand why Daddy left now. Beauregard and Bug are the same person. And that person ain’t no good for a family.”
Boonie snatched off his cap and slapped it against his knee. “Stop talking that crazy shit. You they father. You’re Kia’s husband. They need you. You leave, and you make the same mistake Anthony made,” Boonie said. Spittle flew from his lips.
Beauregard stood. Boonie stood as well although it took him a bit longer to get to his feet. He jammed his stained cap back on his head.
“You don’t want to help me then I’ll go,” he said.
Boonie crossed his arms. “I would do anything for you. You know that. But I saw what Anthony leaving did to your Mama. What it did to you. I know he thought he was making the right decision, just like you do. But you were both wrong. Bug, look around. You the closest thing I got to family these days. Don’t do this,” Boonie said.
“This thing inside us. This thing in me. The thing that was in my Daddy. It’s like cancer. It gotta end with me, Boonie. Kia ain’t like my Mama. They won’t grow up fucked-up like I did. Javon ain’t going to juvie. He’ll get off with self-defense. And if Darren pulls through…” Beauregard swallowed hard. “When Darren pulls through, he and his brother and his sister are going to grow up and get out of Red Hill. They are going to go to college and fall in love. Have kids of their own. But the only way any of that happens is if I get ahold of Ronnie and Lazy. Now if you can help, I appreciate it. If you can’t, then get out the way. I’d appreciate that too,” Beauregard said.
Boonie breathed deeply through his mouth. His eyes moved past Beauregard to the wall behind the recliner. There were old photos in cheap frames on the wall. Boonie and his wife. The first day at the scrap yard. Him and Anthony posing next to Boonie’s ’67 Mercury Comet. His eyes moved back to Beauregard.
“Let’s go move the car. Then we can get straight on everything else,” Boonie said.
* * *
“Hey, Mama,” Beauregard said.
His mother trembled as her eyelids quivered. They rose slowly and Beauregard could see her mind working as she struggled to focus.
“You look like hell,” she said finally.
Beauregard chuckled. “I know.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after nine.”
“They let you in after visiting hours?”
“I didn’t give them much of a choice.”
Ella gave him a long sideways glance.
“What’s wrong? Did they tell you I only had a week left?”
“No. Hey Mama, you remember that time we picked all them blackberries out back of the trailer? We must have picked a gallon. Daddy came by later, brought me that knockoff G.I. Joe action figure. I think it was called Action Man or something? He stopped by with that and he helped us pick some of the blackberries. Then we went inside, and you made that cobbler. Remember that?”
“They must have told you I’m gonna die in an hour,” Ella said. Beauregard threw his head back and laughed. Ella shivered.
“God, you sound like your Daddy,” Ella said. Beauregard stopped laughing.
“Nah. I was just thinking. It wasn’t always bad. You know with you and me and Daddy. That day was nice. Wasn’t often we got to act like that.”
“Like what?”
“A family,” Beauregard said.
Ella stared straight ahead.
“You running, ain’t ya?” she said.
“Now why you say that?”
“Mothers know their children.”
“I’m not running. I just gotta take care of some things.”
“Huh. That’s what he used to say. Then one day something took care of him.”
Beauregard got out of his chair. He went to his mother’s bedside. He leaned over the railing and kissed her on her forehead.
“You can be as mean as a rattlesnake dipped in arsenic sometimes, but you’re my Mama and I love you,” he said into her ear. “I don’t expect you to say it back.” He gently ran his hand over her brow before heading for the door. Ella watched him walk out and turn down the hall. She licked her dry lips.
“Goodbye, Bug,” she whispered.
TWENTY-NINE
Reggie took another hit. He hadn’t done coke in a long time. He preferred the languid honey-drip high a taste of heroin provided. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Ann had coke, so he did coke. As soon as it hit his bloodstream, he remembered why he didn’t like it. Every inch of his skin increased in tactility by a thousand percent. Even the strands of his hair seemed to be receiving sensory input. Ann took the vial from him and poured out a thin line on the back of her hand. She snorted and immediately started rubbing her nose vigorously.
“Goddamn Almighty! That shit is potent,” she said.
“Uh huh,” Reggie said. His heart was Irish clog hopping in his chest.
“Come on. Let’s do something. Coke makes me horny.”
“What, you hungry?” Reggie asked.
Ann crinkled her nose and grabbed his crotch.
“No, I’m HORNY. We can eat after,” she cooed.
Reggie let her pull him on top of her. As he was letting her slide his pants down, he heard a commotion out front. That wasn’t unusual. Wonderland was nothing but one long commotion with momentary respites of peace and quiet.