Primitivo

by Croft, Rose

  The summer afternoon sun was merciless on my back as we passed through the front door of the club. It was so different seeing the inside of this place during the day. The harsh fluorescent lights almost made your eyes hurt and pointed out how really old and broken down this establishment was. The darkness at least hid some things. Everyone hid secrets in the dark.

  We all gathered around the bar—two brawny bouncers, seven girls who were the regular dancers, Mia and two other waitresses, me, and Tito who was drumming his fingers impatiently against the bar top.

  Mr. Vargas tugged on his already ragged tie. His suit was clearly outdated. The collar of his shirt a little too wide. The fabric of his jacket was fraying on his sleeves. The cut of the pants flared at the bottom. His boots were too pointy and seemed to be crying out for a shoeshine.

  “Well,” he began and smoothed back his nonexistent hair, “I don’t know how to say this without it sounding bad.” He glanced nervously at Tito. “I sold the club.”

  “What?” I heard a few people grumble with a few loud exhales.

  “As of today, we’re closed.”

  “What happens now?” Linda, one of the dancers asked. “Will the new ownership keep us on? Reopen the place?”

  “No.” Mr. Vargas dropped his head and seemed to be fixated on the point of one of his boots. “They want to demolish the building and open up a shopping center.”

  “What about paying us? You still owe us money from the last pay period. You said you’d make it up to us this time.” Another dancer, Maria, huffed out with a hand on her hip.

  “I will. I need a little more time.”

  “Seems like you had plenty of time,” Tito cut in. “You should have the money now. Right? You just sold it.”

  “Yes. I will have the money. Make sure I have all of your addresses, and I can mail your checks.”

  “Naw, fuck that.” Tito shook his head and reached up to twist the bill of his hat to the back of his head. “You pay my girl, now.”

  Mr. Vargas held up his palms. “Calm down, I will.”

  Tito took my hand, pulling me with him as he approached an anxious Mr. Vargas. “Let’s take a walk to your office.” He spun the owner around and shoved him forward. We went to the back and stepped into a small room with an old wooden desk covered with papers—bills, bills, and more bills.

  Mr. Vargas quickly scooted around the desk and rifled through a drawer, pulling out a leather-covered notebook. He flipped it open and there were paper checks that were business-sized. It was very old-school. He handwrote our checks. Nobody did that anymore.

  “I’m writing it now.” His hand shook and he dropped the pen. He quickly grasped it again and started scribbling.

  “This check ain’t gonna bounce, right?” Tito plopped himself on the edge of the desk amid the mess.

  “No. Uh, it shouldn’t.” The way Mr. Vargas spoke didn’t sound too convincing.

  Tito yanked the notebook out of his hand and tossed it across the room. “I don’t believe you. Pay her in cash.”

  “I-I don’t have enough cash on me.”

  “You think I was born yesterday, old man? Pfft!” Tito laughed like this was all one big joke. Mr. Vargas started laughing nervously, until a fist slammed into his face, and it was all fun and games until someone got popped in the nose. Sadly, I wasn’t surprised. Tito huffed like the Incredible Hulk. “You think this shit’s funny? Go open the safe behind that old-ass picture on the wall.” Tito pointed to a black and white family portrait hanging on the wall that looked to be from another century.

  Mr. Vargas raised his eyes and his mouth trembled; he touched his nose. Blood seeped out of his nostrils. “What are—?”

  “Don’t play me, Vargas. You don’t think I haven’t already scoped out this room? And, really? Hanging a portrait over a safe isn’t that hard to figure out. You’re lucky nobody stole your money.” Tito grabbed one of the papers on the desk, crumbling it between his fingers and shoved it into Mr. Vargas’ chest. “Wipe your fuckin’ face.”

  The older man’s hands shook as he ran the paper under his nose. It crinkled with each movement. “There’s nothing in there. I don’t have any cash in the safe.”

  Tito rolled his lips together, cursing under his breath and reached behind him for the gun tucked in his pants. “You’re fuckin’ testing my patience, old man. I ain’t got time for this shit.” He pulled out his weapon and aimed it at his face. “Open the safe, now!”

  “Tito, stop,” I warned, but he didn’t bother giving me the time of day. He was in gangster mode and wouldn’t listen to the voice of reason.

  “Okay. Okay,” Mr. Vargas whined with hands up.

  “Now!” Tito repeated moving in on him like a predator with the gun at his temple.

  “Please. I will. Just put the gun down.” He rushed over to the portrait clumsily yanking it off the wall. He twisted the dial back and forth and finally opened the safe. There were a few stacks of bills and a wooden box. He grasped a stack and licked his finger before counting out hundred-dollar bills. “I owed you seven hundred sixty-eight dollars and thirty-two cents but rounded it up to eight hundred. This includes last month and this month.”

  “Double it,” Tito ordered.

  “What?”

  “You hard of hearing? You keep making me repeat myself. You didn’t include the interest that accrued and a late fee for not paying Sofía her full payment last month.” Tito yanked the stack out his hand and reached in the safe and grabbed another two bundles of cash. “There.”

  “That’s three thousand dollars! You said sixteen hundred,” Mr. Vargas protested.

  “You arguing with me? I’ll take another thousand if you don’t shut up.” Tito held out his gun to me. “Hold my shit. I need to count this first.” I gripped the handle too wrapped up in the ridiculousness of what was happening to think as he thumbed through the wad making sure he had the right amount. Satisfied he stuffed the money in the front of his jeans and took his gun back. “That includes the money you owed me, too.” He waved the gun at him. “Now, tell me who you sold the club to?”

  “MMG Management.”

  My eyes widened, but I glanced around the room trying to keep myself calm. Emilio’s company. The two M’s for Mendoza and G for Garcia. Vince, Emilio, and their cousin Adrian. That’s why he was at the club. He knew all along he was going to buy it.

  “Well, they’re gonna wish they’d put a little more thought into this when they decided to fuck with my territory.”

  “Tito, let’s go. You got what you came for.”

  “Why? You gotta be somewhere, Gatita? You ain’t got a jobby job no more.”

  “I’m tired.” I hoped to get Tito out of here before he worked himself up again and started plotting against Emilio’s company. “Besides…” I pointed to the closed door that someone was now pounding on. “Other people are waiting to get paid, too.”

  Tito tucked his piece into his back waistband. He smirked at Mr. Vargas. “You better close that safe before someone else is sniffing at your cash, too.”

  The older man scrambled to close the safe and arrange the portrait over it again. He tugged on his sleeves. “Uh, Tito, we need to meet up later.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Make sure you got cash. I’ll be in touch.” He slung his arm around me. “Let’s go, baby.” He bumped his head against mine. “You hungry? Man, this negotiating shit got my stomach growlin.’”

  “It’s your world, Scar, I’m just living in it.” I didn’t care what we did as long as he wasn’t thinking about wreaking havoc on Emilio. Hopefully, Tito would leave it alone. He had other places he could hang out. It’s not like he owned this territory.

  Sofia

  “Yo, Sleeping Beauty, wake up!” Tito burst into my room whistling.

  “Go away,” I groaned and pulled the sheets over my head.

  Soon the covers were yanked away. “The fuck? It’s five in the afternoon. You’ve been sleeping all damn day. It ain’t like you’re working nights anymo
re.”

  “What do you want?” It’d been a month since the club closed down. The only job I had was living with four horny guys who bossed me around all day. I served them beer, I cooked dinner, I played perfect hostess when all their friends came over to party or play dominoes. I watched with a sickening feeling when the girls came over and were subjected to abuse, degradation, and public pornographic displays of affection. Which wasn’t affectionate at all and half the time someone was capturing the acts on a cell phone to post on YouTube. All in the name of growing ES-22’s popularity.

  Tito stared down at my nightstand and grabbed the copper-colored prescription vial. “Damn, girl, how much of this shit do you take in a day?” He rattled it around.

  I reached out to take it from him, but he backed away. “Give it to me, Tito.”

  “Not until you tell me.”

  “Two. I took two today. Are you happy? You know it’s my mother’s birthday today. I needed something to take the edge off.” Yesterday was my son’s fourth birthday, and I felt like the lowest human in the world not being there for him. Instead, I hid under the covers like a coward and numbed the pain.

  He held it out to me but jerked it out of my reach again. “Do we have a problem here? I know you’re sad, but you need to watch yourself with these pills. You don’t want to become addicted.”

  Really? My drug-dealing cousin was giving me a public service announcement on addiction? I took one as I needed it. I didn’t take pills every day. But today, I needed them. Most days, I didn’t. Usually, I accepted the bitter heartache and pain of losing Emilio and Eric as my penance. “I know, Tito.”

  “Good. Don’t take anymore. Got it?” He set them on the table. “I don’t want to have you turnin’ into a damn zombie.” He swept his eyes over my tank top and shorts I wore to sleep in. “Get dressed,” he said thickly, while his eyes lingered on me. “We got shit to do.” He slowly backed away. “You got five minutes.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Tito always liked to keep you guessing about what crazy shit was going to happen. As soon as the door closed, I pulled a hoodie over my tank and traded out my shorts for some jeans and slipped on my Vans. I stopped by the nightstand and shoved the vial in my purse.

  “You alert?” Tito asked as I joined him, Bolivar, Luis, and German at the kitchen table. They all had their eyes glued to the laptop screen.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Why?”

  “You need to be the driver.”

  “Driver for who?” I cocked my head to the side with my hands shoved into the back pockets of my ripped skinny jeans.

  “You need to take German and Luis somewhere and wait in the car. They’ll fill you in on what to do as needed.” Tito eyed his boys and grinned as though they were all in on something leaving me clueless.

  “Whatever,” I said and sat down resigned to the fact I was nothing more than a minion in Tito’s circle. Not that I wanted to be in his circle. I had to get out of this somehow.

  “Hey, last time I checked you were still the cook around here.” Tito pulled out the blunt behind his ear. “Get to it. Chop chop.” He clapped his hands together.

  “Why aren’t you going with us?”

  “Damn, you’re questioning me like you’re my wife!” Tito laughed out sticking the blunt between his lips. “I got shit I need to take care of. You gonna miss me or something?” He cupped a hand over his mouth and flicked the lighter.

  I rolled my eyes and made my way to the refrigerator. “You do you, Scar.”

  “Do me?” He laughed louder. “I’d like to do you, girl.”

  “Ugh.” I stuck my head in the fridge, contemplating whether or not I could go to the garage and find something toxic I could slip into their food. If I killed them all, then maybe I would be home free.

  “Take a right on this next street.” Luis pointed as I slowed down at the yellow turn signal and downshifted. “Don’t strip the fuckin’ gears on my GTO! I just got this car outta the shop.”

  Besides doing all his gangster activities, Luis loved to work on cars. His cousin Rogelio owned an auto shop, and Luis and he had spent months rebuilding and restoring this car. “Aww, come on Luis, you taught me how to drive it. I wouldn’t harm your baby.”

  “Don’t get smart with me.” He squinted his eyes and leaned forward. “Pull in over here.” It was a half-empty parking lot next to a commercial building. “Park in the back away from any lights or cameras.” I did and shut off the engine.

  Luis held out his hand. “I don’t want you driving off without us.”

  I pulled the keys out of the ignition and dropped them in his palm. He got out and pushed the seat forward so German could slip out too. German slid a black backpack over his shoulder.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Stay in the car and wait.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Are we playing twenty fucking questions? We’re gonna tag some shit and leave. That’s all. Stay in the damn car. And put this on.” Luis tossed me a ski mask and slammed the door. He and German both donned their ski masks and adjusted their hoodies before loping off toward the building behind us. Great. Vandalism. What were we? Punks in high school who destroyed stuff because they were bored?

  I sat for a few minutes and even with the window rolled down it was still stuffy and humid with this stupid ski mask. Maybe I should take off my hoodie, but I knew better. Leave the hood on, keep your face covered, and don’t chance being recognized. Screw this. I rolled up the window since it was a vintage car without automatic windows and stepped out.

  I glanced around the parking lot leaning against the trunk. I parked far away from the parking lot lights, and cameras. Something was nagging at me. Why did this area look familiar? I narrowed my eyes and saw a white sign on a dark window of the building that said, Space Available. I started moving toward it cautiously with that funny feeling rumbling in my stomach. Like déjà vu. As I moved closer, I got a better look at the sign. For more information, contact MMG Management. Oh my God. This was what Tito was waiting for. To get back at Emilio for his stupid “not on my territory” bullshit. No! This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let them desecrate Emilio’s property and hurt his business because I knew this would only be the beginning for Tito. He would start terrorizing businesses until they up and moved somewhere else. Anytime people saw gang graffiti, they got scared. I couldn’t let Emilio lose money over Tito’s stupid so-called vendetta. I would go to jail before I allowed it to happen.

  I ran up to the window frantically searching for something heavy. I knew the buildings had alarm systems. Come on, work with me, isn’t there anything dense enough to break a window? I walked around to the front and hid back around the corner because German was several feet away shaking a can. Dammit! I had to do something. Finally, I saw a brick by the door of the available space. I ducked down and grabbed it and threw it at the glass door. The glass shattered and the alarms blared.

  “Shit!” I heard German or Luis yell from a distance. “Go around back through the alley!”

  I turned to run but slammed into a hard body.

  “Motherfucker!” The man growled and I struggled against him trying to break free, but he was big and too damn strong. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, you punk. You think that shit’s funny? Something to brag about to all your friends? It’s not gonna be funny when the cops get here, and your ass goes to jail.”

  All the fight in me died when I heard his voice. I peered up at him, and my heart tried to jump out of my chest. “Emilio?” I squeaked.

  “Who are you? How do you know my name?” he yelled because the sirens were so loud. He scanned my covered face, and his eyes narrowed. “No.” He ripped the ski mask off. “God no!” He shook his head as if just seeing me made him sick. “What the fuck?” He gripped me by the neck probably thinking I would take off which I wasn’t. I saw movement across the distance. Luis and German had made it to the car and were slipping
out the parking lot. Without me. I’m sure they’d let Tito know I didn’t follow orders. I was as good as screwed anyway. Perhaps jail was my best bet.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted and shook me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? Sorry! Are you mental? Sorry is when you’re late for dinner because of traffic. Sorry is when you forget to pick up something at the store. Do you not understand the difference?”

  I saw blue and red lights flashing as they sped into the parking lot. “Have fun in jail, Gatita.” He stared at me another minute before he dropped his hand from my neck. “Jesus Christ! Why would you do this?”

  “I wanted to get caught, okay? I was trying to help you although it looks bad.”

  “It looks real fucking bad.” Soon the alarm shut off and officers were approaching. “I don’t believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth anymore.”

  Two officers stood beside us. “I’m Officer Martinez and this is Officer Johnson. Can you tell us what happened?” Their eyes shifted between us waiting to file a report.

  “I did this. I threw a brick through the door over there.” I pointed as if no one could clearly see what’d happened. “I was trying to break in.”

  Emilio was silent, but his brows narrowed as I spoke.

  “I’m guilty arrest me.” I held my wrists out. I had this calm around me, and I didn’t understand why.

  The officer tilted her head and watched me like I was crazy. She turned to Emilio. “Sir? Who are you?”

  “I own this property.” Emilio shifted his stance and ran his hands over his face.

  “What the fuck happened?” I looked behind me and saw Emilio’s brother Vince stalking toward us with Adrian beside him adjusting his glasses. Adrian, the attorney. The voice of reason. I remembered how he was always the one who measured his words before he spoke. However, Emilio’s brother was an asshole. He’d never warmed up to me. As if the cosmic universe knew I was talking about him in my mind, he bit out, “Oh my God. This is a joke, right?” He barely gave me a glance as he spread his arms wide at his brother. “I told you, hermano, no fucking drama.”