by Brick
Stepping back, I rubbed the back of my neck while drinking my coffee. I was barefoot, chilling in black, low-riding, drawstring pants with no top on. On my bare, deep brown skin were marks from where I had either been shot, burned, or cut due to taking down a mark. Each indictor chilling on my back or arms. Now, how they were situated, I wasn’t embarrassed or nothing for anyone to see them. When they did, I calmly explained that I once was training for the military, but I couldn’t hack it, so I backed off that career path. I also explained that I once was homeless, and being on the streets of Atlanta can be hard.
That usually shut the person up and had them thinking about other things to ask me. Each mark was my trophy, and each one I inked up just because I wanted to dress up my reminder. Holding my hot coffee, I kept my eyes locked on Paul’s picture while thinking. If he was into killing and drugs, going after him could be something fun for me. Torturing him could be a prime choice for him, but cleanly taking him out would be the best thing.
I couldn’t afford anyone checking his body and seeing any indication of foul play, which had me thinking yet again. I could give him a lethal cocktail of drugs, but after poisoning the mayor, that now felt boring. I needed something different.
Tapping my cup in thought, I moved back to my computer, sat down, and continued reading up on my marks. Whatever I did next, I knew that it would be good. Now, the next thing on my list was trying to figure out why I was so attracted to a woman who attempted to beat my ass because she was scared of me.
“Because you’re fucked up, nigga,” I said aloud to myself in laughter.
On some real shit, I really was. I wasn’t sure when that switch in my brain clicked on to being into killing no-named people usually, but I was into that there thing. To me, there was no logical reason why I’d bring someone up into this insanity, but I was heavily thinking about it and thinking about Sabrina.
I guess I was on some hero shit with her. I saved her life, which was a first for me who takes out people. The power in that fueled me, but anyway, on to other things. A flashing notice popped up on my computer alerting me that one of my marks, who I had been working hard in tracking down, was on the move.
This dude was a Dutch South African diplomatic. I didn’t know why Senior Giulio wanted him out, but as I said, it wasn’t my job to ask; just do, and that’s what I had to do. I felt like being showy with this one because he had many enemies I had learned from my research on him. Putting on my clothes and yanking down my black skull cap, I moved around to grab my weapons. This one was going to be good for me.
I learned that this guy had ties to apartheid and with taking land from the people there and keeping it from black hands. Now, shit, I wasn’t about having agendas or whatnot, but after I learned that, I could see why the nigga had so many enemies. This shit made it more fun for me, and part of the reason why I moved out quickly to get him.
Homie was known for moving from place to place quickly as to not be easily threatened. Luckily for me, where he was going, there would be a large crowd, and I could move through it easily without detection. However, as I said, I wanted to be showy, so that’s what I planned on doing. I hopped in an unmarked white van and headed out. I ended up near the Cobb Energy Centre, a couple of blocks over, where, interesting enough, Senior Giulio’s wife was performing an operatic quartet representing South Africa, which I knew as supposedly buzzworthy around Atlanta.
Finding a spot where I could not be seen, I used high-powered, long-distance viewing binoculars to scope out the scene as cars upon cars pulled up to the red carpet that was outside the massive asymmetrical building. The wind and the weather were good to me. No wind, which meant I didn’t have to worry about my shots shifting in the wind. Earplugs in my ears as I listened to music, I continued waiting and watching. Limo after limo paused to let out stars, several political faces including Senior Giulio and son, and everyday wannabes. What had my attention and had me chuckling to myself was the sight of Sabrina with her father and stepmother around her.
Shorty was just a beacon for death, wasn’t she? This would be the second time that I had to take someone out close to her. I found it hilarious and ironic, all at the same time. But fuck it, she would get over it and get used to it, was my thought. She’d have to with working around undercover criminals.
As everyone snapped pictures and gloated, I noticed the South African flags attached to a stretch limo pulling up. It only took the man a few seconds to get out, grinning and lifting up a pasty hand as he waved. Which was good for me, because it helped me out where I was standing.
Whistling to the music, I aimed my Remington 700 5R with .300 Winchester Magnum ammo, made sure my target was in my direct line of vision, then pulled the trigger. What I could only assume were screams and shouts as women looked around frantically and men instinctively fell to the ground for cover satisfied the beast within me. I watched my mark’s head jerk back when the bullet met its mark. His guards scrambled and tried to shield him, to no avail. It was too late. The damage was done.
One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . then five for good measure, I took out his driver and four of his guards. They all fell tumbling down.
“Ashes to ashes,” I muttered, then went back to whistling.
Busta Rhymes began to spit some rhymes, and I bobbed to the music as my gloved hands smoothly broke down my rifle, packed it up, and I then walked away. See, I was blocks away from where the center was, but having the grade-A weapons I had, I was able to be showy and clean with my kills; besides, I made sure to plant several German patsies as my fall guys in this game. Each one of those faces on my board back home would now get an “X” crossed through them.
My night was good, though I kind of felt bad that Sabrina’s now wasn’t.
Chapter Five
Sabrina
August 2011 . . .
For a brief moment, my world had shattered again. I didn’t readily know what was going on. I heard a woman scream, blood splattered on my dress, and my father pulled me to the ground. Chaos ensued. Danny covered me with his body. Someone’s heeled foot almost drilled a hole through my hand. I yelled out in pain. My father yelled for Danny to get us out of there while Leo and his father rushed inside of the center. Everything after that went by in one huge blur.
“Jesus Christ,” my father murmured. “You okay, baby girl?”
I nodded. He asked the same thing of Kat. She was visibly shaken.
I looked at the speckles of blood on the cream silk gown I had on while cradling my hand against my chest. I’d been looking forward to a night out. After tangoing with the devil in the bathroom, I needed the reprieve.
“What just happened?” Kat asked my father.
She had tears in her eyes. The swelling and bruising of her eye were still visible under the makeup she had on, but not as much as before. She was trembling as she held on to my father’s hand. Danny and his security had ushered us into the back of the stretch Hummer limo so quickly that we barely saw what happened. Oddly, though, my father seemed calm.
“I-I don’t know,” he responded.
Knowing my father the way I did, I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying, just like I could tell he was lying about not knowing what happened.
Kat was panicking. “I heard a gunshot.”
“Be quiet,” Daddy snapped at her.
“Be quiet?” she repeated incredulously. “Be quiet? How dare you tell me to be quiet when I just saw a man dead at my feet! First, the mayor falls dead, and now a South African diplomat? Be quiet?”
My father backhanded her so quickly that even I gasped at the intensity of the hit. Kat screeched out, then grabbed her mouth where my father had struck her. Blood pooled through her fingers.
“Daddy,” I called out to him, appalled at his behavior.
His pensive look before had now turned to one of anger.
“I asked you to shut the fuck up. I asked you nicely the first time,” he said acidly to Kat as he frowned down at her
. “You won’t let me be nice to you lately, Kat. Why is that, huh? Now, again, be quiet.”
For as long as I’d known Kat, she’d been a spitfire. She had always been feisty, and to see this side of things between her and my father made me extremely uncomfortable. Daddy handed her his handkerchief so she could put it to her mouth, then pulled out his ringing cell to take a call. Tears rained down Kat’s high cheekbones. She sniffled, glanced up to see me watching her, then looked back down at her shoes as she wiped her mouth. Reason number one Daddy left my mama: she fought back.
“Everything okay over there, Leo?” Daddy asked into his cell. He nodded as if listening to instructions. “Okay. Let me get my wife and daughter tucked away safely, and I’ll meet you all down at the station . . . Right . . . Yes . . . Absolutely . . . See you then.”
Once Daddy finished his call, he tapped the partition. It rolled down slowly.
“Danny, take Kat to Sabrina’s home. Stay with them until I get back. You make sure that nobody comes to that top floor without security clearance, you hear me?”
Danny nodded like the robot he was. “Yes, sir.”
Daddy gave a curt nod, then gazed at me. “Good.”
I glanced back at Kat who sat stoically now. I wanted to tell Daddy that the night before, his security detail wasn’t worth shit since Marcel had so effortlessly gotten into my home, but I didn’t.
“Sorry about that,” I heard Daddy say.
For a moment, I thought he was talking to Kat, but when I looked up, his eyes were on me. Was he seriously apologizing to me and not his wife whose mouth he had almost caved in?
I nodded my response.
“Didn’t want you to have to see that,” he said to me as if he was discomfited I’d finally seen that part of him up close.
As kids, we’d heard the fights between him and Mama but had never seen them. All we had seen were the bruises Mama had tried, unsuccessfully most times, to hide. Daddy had the occasional battle scars as well. Mama never laid down to take an ass kicking. I felt bad for Kat.
“It won’t happen again will it, Katrina?” Daddy asked his wife.
His eyes were cool while he looked upon his wife. He was blaming her for him having to pimp smack her in front of me.
“No. No, it won’t happen again,” her voice soft and emotionless when she replied.
A few minutes later, Danny pulled up in front of the valet of my high-rise. Other members of the security team were already there. Daddy exited the limo first, took my hand and helped me out, then did the same for Kat. He kissed my cheek, then made Danny take me inside. I looked over my shoulder to see Daddy speaking to Kat. His right hand cupped the back of her neck as he kissed her forehead.
She was nodding and crying again. I had no idea what he was saying to her, but her spine was stiff, and she was beet red. I wanted to ask Danny if Daddy hit Kat a lot, but I knew he wouldn’t utter a bad word against my father. We waited by the elevator until Kat walked up. The ride up to my home was the most awkward and tense filled it had ever been between Kat and me. Once Danny had made sure the inside of my home was secure, he left Kat and me to our own devices and made his post just outside the door.
While I wanted to talk to Kat, it was clear she had no intentions of speaking to me. She made a mad dash for my guest room as soon as we were alone. After undressing and showering, I bagged my dress in plastic since it was splattered with blood and cooked dinner as it was obvious we wouldn’t be making our reservations for dinner later. I turned the news on to see what had happened.
“ . . . Yes, Richard, that is correct. Nieuwe Haarlem, who is a major political player in South Africa, has been shot. We’re not sure of his condition yet, but there is speculation that this may have been an assassination attempt as several of his guards and his driver have all been killed,” reporter Monica Hayes stated.
My eyes widened. “What the fuck?” I asked no one.
“This is not a good time for us. As you know, Mayor Kasim suffered a fatal heart attack just last evening, and, now, it is possible that Nieuwe Haarlem, a top South African diplomat, has been killed. That is purely speculation on my end, Richard, as far as his death, but I can say for certain, he has been shot.”
Richard looked perplexed on my TV as he frowned. “And several of his guards have been killed?”
Monica nodded. “Yes, that has been confirmed.”
“Our sister stations are reporting that sources have told them, this is being looked at as an assassination attempt, so your earlier assessment may be right. Please stay with us here at Fox 5 Atlanta as we keep you updated on this sudden turn of events.”
As the hours passed, the city of Atlanta was on lockdown. No flights were permitted in or out of the state. Major highways had been shut down. Police and military presence were strong. The president was said to be behind closed doors with top brass officials. And I felt as if I were in a John Grisham or James Patterson novel.
“Would you like something to eat?” I asked Kat once she emerged from the room.
“No,” she replied softly.
She had changed into a short pajama set that formed to her petite curves. There were always extra clothes in my guest room as sometimes Kat had to bunk here when Daddy was on the move. Kat was the complete opposite of my mother. My mother was a rich, dark shade of brown. Kat was so light people assumed she was of mixed race. My mother was tall and voluptuous. Kat was average height and petite. My mother had a mouth that could slice God Himself. I thought Kat was a hellcat in her own right, but I guess I had been wrong.
She gingerly sat on the love seat next to me. “Do you mind if I unmute this?” she asked me nodding toward the TV.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I wasn’t surprised she was interested in the news as I was sure everyone was. However, to keep peace of mind, I went back to going over the books for Mr. Giulio’s businesses.
“He’s dead, you know?” Kat said out of the blue.
“Who?” I asked.
“Nieuwe Haarlem.” She shook her head as she spoke.
“I figured as much. The leaders of the free world are just going through the motion with formalities now.”
“First Mayor Kasim is killed, now this.”
“Well, Mayor Kasim died of a heart attack. He was too young for that and seemed to be in great shape. You just never know when your heart will give out these days.”
Kat turned to look at me. She blinked once. The look she gave me was one that borderline suggested I had another head growing on my shoulder.
“You really believe he died of a heart attack, huh?” she asked.
“I mean . . . yeah, he—”
She tsked, then grunted. “Stop looking at the trees and see the forest, Sabrina.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
And I didn’t. I had no idea what Kat was talking about, and since she didn’t elaborate any further, I doubted I ever would.
“I’m sorry about punching you,” I said after an awkward moment of silence.
Kat had her arms folded tightly across her chest, left leg crossed over the right one, and she leaned away from me like she was afraid I had a deadly disease or something.
She gave a fake smile. “Don’t worry about it. You Lanfairs have been kicking my ass since I’ve known you.”
I figured that was sarcasm since it was clear that wasn’t the first time Daddy had hit her. Now her lip matched her eye, and for some reason, that bothered me. I didn’t attempt to make any more conversation with her after that. She kept her eyes on the news, and I kept working. A few hours later, Daddy showed up to get Kat, and I was alone again.
* * *
For the next two weeks, things in Metro Atlanta and around the world remained on high alert. A dignitary had been assassinated on American soil. The terror level was on orange. While the rest of the world was focused on what had happened to the diplomat, I was stuck in the back office of the deli with Marcel. I had a feeling that he liked the idea more than me.
As always, he was dressed in all black. The way his shirt fit him made me take notice of his physique. The black boots, a black belt buckle that held some kind of dream catcher on it, and the jeans, plain in nature, but he made them look good. His lips were plush, and I couldn’t help but always pay special attention to his eyes. They always called out to me.
“Is this it?” I asked once he had set the box of receipts in front of me, trying to keep my voice neutral so he wouldn’t be able to pick up on what I was thinking.
He nodded once. “Yup.”
I sighed heavily. “You guys kept a tally of things, important receipts, by keeping them in a box?”
“No. They keep receipts in a box. I keep track of my spending and incoming in this,” he said, then dropped a leather-bound book with the word “Receipts” in gold lettering on top. “Everything you find in the box I’ve kept track of it in there as well.”
“Have you guys ever heard of the digital age?”
“Senior Giulio isn’t too fond of change, and he likes to keep this as authentic as his old place back in Sicily. So, all this digital and tech stuff you’re used to won’t be found here. We do everything by hand.”
I shook my head. I’d run into the same problems at the carwash and the Laundromat, only neither of the managers there had thought to be as organized as Marcel was with the book.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Welcome.”
I was still kind of timid and jumpy around him. He had exerted that much control over me. But I realized he was right about the fact that I was always freaking out around him. I did need to stop that. Especially since I assumed I would be working around him from time to time because we were both employed by the Giulios. Daddy always told me that a person only had as much power over you as you allowed them to have. I believed that and respected it; still, Daddy didn’t know what I had seen this man do to another human being, and Daddy didn’t know how easy it had been for Marcel to break into my home.