by Tiana Laveen
“This is already paid for in advance. Get your stuff out of the car if you have anything in there.”
“You can’t take my car until I get some answers on what is going on. You could be any ol’ body.”
“Don’t give me a hard time. I’m not giving you a song and dance, just doing my job.”
“You’re about to be doing that Tik Tok, ‘I’m a Savage’ mothafuckin’ dance as you tryna get my foot out of yo’ ass, if you don’t tell me why in the hell you’re trying to tow my car away!” He has made me go complete Loud Ass Black woman on him! I have tried, Lord knows I did, to stay cool and keep my composure! Mothafuckas be trying it!
He huffed, then nonchalantly reached for a clipboard, and flipped through the paperwork. “You’re getting some scheduled repairs at Martinez Pérez Auto shop in Little Havana on West Flagler Street. Says here they’ll have your car back to you in forty-eight hours, and everything is squared away.”
“Little Havana? That’s a whole hour away. I never scheduled this.” She stood there dumbfounded. Then, it hit her… Wait a minute… Didn’t Viper say his uncle and father have a shop in Little Havana? HE DID! Her body heated with an emotion she wasn’t quite sure how to identify, let alone speak of.
“You said your boss told you to do this. Who is your boss?”
The driver chuckled.
“You know who he is…” And then the man got right back to work.
I can’t get my car into the dealership, and there are other repairs that need to be made which I can’t afford right now. I need this taken care of. I am damn sure not taking it back to my other mechanic; he messed up. Viper did know what he was talking about. I looked it up online and he was right. There was in fact a recall of those parts. How he knew that off the top of his head is crazy to me… I don’t have a lot of expendable money right now. I spent almost every dime tryna get myself and Troy away from that neighborhood and him into a good school system. If I let Viper do this, he’ll want something in return though. I know his type. I’ve been around street dudes, thugs, drug dealers and the like my whole damn life. They try to butter you up, then bam! The bullshit starts. This motherfucker thinks he’s slick. First it was the Lyft service, now this…
Shit, I need my car fixed, though! I can’t keep paying for driving services like I have been, or having my friends pick up Troy in the mornings, then take him to the babysitter when I have to work late. Okay, I’m going to allow this, but this is the last favor I’m going to let him do for me. Men always want something in return, and it usually involves our bodies. That man is a whole motherfucking Latin King – that’s nothin’ to play with. I ain’t fuckin’, suckin’, or trickin’ for nobody.
I know what I’ll do… I’ll pay him back the money when I can. That’ll be in a few weeks, easy. Yeah. This is the last favor. THE LAST!
She ran through all of her thoughts, trying to figure out how the hell to proceed. But truly, there was only one thing left to do.
She quickly grabbed two tote bags she typically used for groceries out of the back of the trunk and began to fill them with a few of her items and Troy’s toys that were lying about.
Just then, a white Toyota Camry pulled up and out popped Troy, sporting his fresh fade haircut and crisp white shirt and jeans. He waved to his little blond-haired friend, Anderson, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Thank you, Katie, for dropping him off today. I appreciate it.” She offered a wave and a forced smile as the tow truck driver continued making a racket in the background.
“No problem, Majesty! See ya tomorrow.” The woman threw a quizzical look at the tow truck, judging her, thinking her car was being towed for non-payment no doubt. As Katie drove off, Majesty couldn’t help but notice one of her neighbors’ curtains moving. A wave of embarrassment washed over her. Several years ago, while living in downtown Miami, she’d been evicted from her apartment. To add insult to injury, as she’d been moving out with her then toddler son, a tow truck had pulled up to take her parked Mazda. She’d watched helplessly as her vehicle had been towed away, and her home gone. Though that exact scenario wasn’t happening again, and she’d come a long way, her body and heart didn’t seem to know that. It was almost as if it were happening all over again. The memories swelled within her, forcing her to relive the trauma.
“Mama… don’t you hear me?” Troy grabbed her wrist and shook it. “I said I gotta B on my math homework today.”
“A B? Oh… Well, that’s still good, honey.”
“Ms. Pritchel said you was wrong on two of the answers, but right on the others. I expected better from you, Mama. You let me down.”
“Huh? Boy, hush!” She didn’t miss the silly smirk on his face. “I told you to stop telling your teacher that I’m helping you with your homework like that! You were supposed to let her know I helped, not do it for you!”
“But I didn’t want her to think I got the problems wrong, Mama. I wanted her to know it was you that got ’em wrong.”
“You didn’t get any of them wrong, and you didn’t get any right, because you didn’t understand any of it. That’s why I did what I did. I probably was rushing, trying to get it finished after I realized you weren’t understanding how I was trying to explain it to you. We’ll work on it some more tonight after my class. This time, we’ll do it together, and I won’t rush.”
“I don’t think I can trust you, Mama, because you got two of the answers wrong. Maybe you need help with the homework, too.”
“Thanks, Troy.” The boy giggled, knowing darn well what he’d done. “So you’re just gonna throw your mother under the bus like that?” She laughed and playfully swatted at him. “Come on, baby. Get in here and wash your hands. Dinner will be made in a little bit. You can eat a few apple slices until then. We need to go over those math timetables again since you seem to be struggling with them.” She turned to walk back inside, then paused. “Forty-eight hours it’ll be ready, right?”
“Yes, and they’ll drop it back off here, too. No need to make arrangements to come pick it up.” The man then dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s the number of the place. The owner’s name is Esteban Martinez.” The guy got in the truck, then drove off.
“Mama, will you pack my lunch for tomorrow? The food at school is nasty. ’Cept for Fridays. Fridays are Pizza Day.”
“Yes, baby… I’ll make you a peanut butter and jam sandwich, and toss in some chips and a Capri Sun. Come on, we have limited time and a lot to do…”
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s Raining Trained Cats and Dogs
I remember standing out in the rain when I was five.
I can think about it now, with an adult mind, but my vision on that day was a child’s. That made everything ten times harder, rougher.
My hair felt heavy, like a helmet against my head, my bones clung to an ungodly coolness, and my clothing glued itself to my skin like a second layer of flesh. I stood out in the rain with my big brother, Diego. We were safer out there, chancing catching pneumonia rather than being within those cursed walls. Inside my childhood home, the tiny house with the sloped roof rang sharp screams and the shattering of goblets and dishes that poured from the closed windows, beating on the glass panes and breaking free to reach our ears. Our belongings were being destroyed. We didn’t have much to begin with. Despite the queasiness and my body shivering, knees buckling, I remained standing. Twisted curse words and wishes of death drifted from the house. I could not turn up the music this time to block them out. I loved my music loud enough to drown out the demons. The music became my guardian angel, but she was nowhere to be found.
No song could kill the wicked witch of wretchedness. She refused to go under. I yearned for it to stop. To go away. Our parents were gasoline and fire. Their love was air, fanning the flames. Toxic kisses and codependency, fucking all morning, fighting, and screaming all night. We heard orgasms and calls to the police all in the same day. Freezing temperatures and rain. Their pain climbed the m
ountains of sound and stood on top of that peak, drenched in the blood of despair. At last, the screaming stopped. But only for a minute.
My father walked past one of the windows, his back hunched. He looked like a monster, only I knew him well, and he was not hiding in my closet or under my bed. His towering frame was like a looming dark shadow against the broken light. He was walking away now. Far away. He’d been walking away for years, only his feet hadn’t been moving. My mother, with her fragmented mind and festering dejection, pulled him back to her, blocking his way, grabbing him by his shirt. She sank her teeth into his arm, then slapped him with the strength of giants and drained his last bit of hope like a vampire.
He grabbed her, and I screamed out. Diego pulled me to him and placed his hand over my mouth. Silencing me. Made me hiss like a snake, for no words came out as he held my lips tight with his palm. My father dragged her through the house, out of view. Screaming. Laughing. Crying.
We stood out in the rain, our lives falling apart and disappearing into the blades of half dead grass. My mind drifted away, as it did when I watched a movie. I’d never seen my father do such a thing. Mi padre fought her. He beat her. We could not see, but we could feel and hear it as Mamá laughed and cursed him. Each blow to her tore at my heart. It felt like a ruptured rumble, a trickle of our souls melting away. Life in slow motion.
No one came to help us. No one interfered. In that moment, the house looked as if it were covered in a million spiky thorns, with wilted red roses that stunk of decay. I imagined it being crushed by the foliage, and the walls were folding in, smooshed down into the ground with the two of them inside of it. The thought gave me a sense of peace. Things got quiet, but I didn’t budge. I didn’t want to go in the house just yet. For some reason, I hesitated…
Diego and I seemed to have the same reservations, for he didn’t move a muscle, either. I was shivering and cold. Hungry, too. I hadn’t eaten in days. My stomach growled as though a bear cub lived inside of me, desperate to claw his way out. It hurt so badly that soon, I felt nothing at all. Just a dull ache. After a while, I didn’t feel that either. I just stood in the rain. Hungry for love but refusing to ever love again. How could that be? I was so young, and already, I hated it so much. If love made people act this way, I didn’t want it…
Dad came out the house, bursting from the front door with a black bag in his hand and a look of complete defeat and shame on his face. Yes, even at that age, I knew what shame looked like. The same face as when my cousin had been arrested by the police for murdering his wife’s son in a jealous rage.
Tears fell from his eyes. The scars on his face were blurred with moisture, softening his appearance. I had only seen Dad cry at his father’s funeral. Su padre fue el pilar de la familia. Dad bent down and kissed me on the cheek, Diego on the forehead. He told us that he loved us. He then said he had to go before he killed her. We knew he meant it. I don’t remember what he said after that, but I watched him get in his car with that one bag and drive away. He drove off, abandoning us, and then, Diego and I looked at each other. Diego’s black hair was practically covering his eyes, and raindrops dangled from his earlobes and dripped from his nose. He couldn’t see me crying; it was raining. Or at least I thought he couldn’t.
Our parents never lived together again after that day.
Diego drew closer to the door, holding my hand tight, pulling me along. We hesitated in front of the same exit Dad had walked out of. He looked down at me and shook his head, almost in disgust. ‘I told you to stop that! No more! Wipe your face, Dominic. Never cry. Crying is a weakness. It’s for pussies. We have to be strong for Mamá.’ I wiped my face and the snot from my nose with the back of my wet hand, and he helped me get rid of the tears, too. When he was satisfied that I looked the part, we walked back into the house. He looked down at the floor, then picked me up in his arms; I had on no shoes. There was broken glass all over our small living room. Mamá was sobbing in her bed, a little ways down the hall.
We could hear her, make out her form. I know she had to have heard the crunching glass under Diego’s sandals. I know she heard us coming. She didn’t look at us for a long time. We stood quiet at her door, and then, she finally looked up from her bed. Her face had been shoved in the pillow as if she’d wanted to suffocate herself. Her eyes were flushed, her skin splotchy pale pink and yellow. Her black wavy hair was all over the place, her blue butterfly ankle tattoo vibrant against her flesh. Her red nightgown drooped down her shoulders, exposing her breast. She pointed to me and smiled. It was not a typical smile. Not joyous, or a happy-to-see-me smile. It was a gesture filled with oscuridad- darkness.
“I need you to go away.” Her smile faded away like an ink drop in a bucket of black dye, and more tears fell from her mahogany eyes. “I can’t look at you right now. Especially you, Dominic.” Her dark eyes tapered into slits. Te pareces a él.” She pointed at me. “Just look at you. I hate your father. Go away!”
I backed up, then fled into the room Diego and I shared. And I cried in silence. I sat in a corner; my eyes fixed on my reflection in a mirror above the dresser. A rosary hung from it. The beads were gleaming in colors of bright gold and blood red. It started to swing. I covered my mouth with my hands. My sight was blurred with hot tears of disbelief and fright. The rosary swung back and forth like a pendulum. How? Why? Who was moving it? I ignored the insects crawling around me, and the scurrying of mice. I ignored the odor of mildew and mold. I ignored the booming lightning, and the way my skin itched from the wet clothes. The rosary chain suddenly stopped moving, and then, I heard a broom slowly swaying from left to right, right to left. It was Diego, cleaning up our parents’ mess.
Diego always cleaned up the mess. Maybe that was why he eventually left me, as well? Or maybe he thought he was a mess that needed to be cleaned up, too…
Viper gasped as he suddenly awoke and sat up straight. He blinked, opened his eyes, and focused. Am I awake? I am. His muscles ached; an odd stiff pain radiated throughout his sweat-drenched body.
It was raining outside. I must’ve heard it in my dreams. He hated that nightmare. Only, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was true, one of many pages of his book of life. He closed his eyes and touched the gold chain around his neck, the cross pendant with Jesus nailed against it, his head wrapped in gold thorns. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He took a couple deep breaths, then reached for a bottle of water on his black marble nightstand and gulped it straight down.
He cleared his throat and grabbed his cellphone, taking note of several missed calls and voicemails. He was shocked to see how late in the day it was. 3:14 P.M. He yawned, stretched, then got out of bed. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, the dogs came for him.
“Yo, hey!” He grinned as he dropped to his knees and loved on them. “I slept late, huh? You had food and water. You were okay.” He rubbed them and scratched behind their ears. “You’ve got automatic feeders. Toys, too.” But he knew in his heart they wanted more. They wanted him.
After taking a quick shower, he got dressed in a pair of oversized overalls and his Nikes. He put his Los Angeles Dodgers snapback on his head then headed to the kitchen, only to be surrounded by his furry friends once again. “Mis perros están enamorados de mí!” He made himself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and peered out his window. The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was coming out. He always likened the sun as being a woman. She, too, had awakened late. Shoving a handful of dog treats in his pocket, he retrieved their three leashes from the foyer area. They pranced about, excited as ever.
“No accidents today. Good.” He’d trained them to go out of a special dog door that led into the backyard. It was rather small, so they had to move their bodies just so – to exit and enter, and it had a special lock. He’d also installed an electric fence, as well as a dog hut for shelter in case of a sudden downpour. He set the alarm and opened the front door. The air was scented with the promise of another bout of rain. He inhaled, exhaled, then started
walking. It was strangely quiet outside, so different from Little Havana and the various places he’d visited throughout his lifetime.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as Sarge paused to sniff a tree trunk. The other two joined in. A piss sniff fest.
“Hola, Marie.” He yanked the leash, forcing Sarge to come closer. “¿Cómo estás?”
“No lo estoy haciendo bien, Viper.”
He paused.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay physically?”
“Physically, yes.” She took a labored breath, as if she could barely breathe.
“Is it Stacks? It’s Stacks, isn’t it? Is he in trouble?”
“No, Viper. Stacks is fine. I was told you came by and had a talk with him and some of the others. From what I understand and see, they’re following your orders. I’m calling because Javier got into a fight with Dice.”
Javier and King Dice had never liked one another. Ego. Pride. Competition. It had begun due to a woman many years ago, but the animosity never ended, even after she’d left. When it came to internal Nation fighting, they were at the top of the tier, always at each other’s throats. Javier was immature, but very good at tattooing and getting fast money.
“I thought Dice had moved to California to be with his wife’s family? I haven’t seen him in months.”
“He came back last week. I meant to tell you. It wasn’t planned. He had a falling out with his wife’s father. Everything was fine for a couple of days, then they went out drinking.”
He rolled his eyes, then began walking the dogs again.
“Javier can’t control his alcohol. Su lengua se afloja. Belleza!” he hollered, then whistled. She’d snarled at a cat on someone’s porch then tried to make a mad dash towards it. “Belleza. Sit.” The dog immediately stopped pulling the leash and sat down, still as a soldier. “So, I take it, this time, things went too far, and Javier is in trouble?”