Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 3

by K'Aliyah Knight

  “Damn, ma, now you fed me those vitamins all night, last night, but I might need some real food soon,” Lorenzo tells me while he grows in my hands.

  For a second, just seemingly out of the blue, that sadness rears itself in my mind. Lorenzo turns around. I take to the taut muscles of his chest and just stay there for a minute while tears silently stream down my face. He can’t see them mixed with shower water.

  But Lorenzo’s face warms with concern, “Sup, ma? You good?”

  “Yeah, why?” I ask trying to take away the sadness in my tone.

  “All of a sudden, you just got too quiet,” he says, handsome face full of emotion, and I love him even more for it.

  “Just thinking about us, how people have gotten into our lives. Bae, I'm even thinking about my own insecurities,” I say still leaning against his chest. I reassure him that we’re good with the tender touch of my lips to his.

  After we get out the shower, I make Lorenzo breakfast. Chorizo, eggs and luckily I have two tortillas to pull it all together. As he eats, I go to the room, push the wet hair from my forehead and sigh….

  Lorenzo

  Two seconds ago I was finna promise Rocky that I was out the game. It’s been on the tip of my tongue to tell Rockwell all night long, especially after she came clean about Chuey helping her murk that bitch, Janyca. So I was going to promise to be done. Out the game for life. No more hustling, I’m going square. I’ll be a lame ass for this girl.

  Then lil mama drops those papers onto the middle of the table. I place my fork onto the plate, look up at her head cocked to the side.

  “What's this ma?”

  “You already know, Renzo...” Rockwell says with even more fresh tears in her eyes. How the fuck can she cry so much? How the fuck have I caused my wife this much pain?

  “Man, we just talked about everything last night.” I let a heavy sigh take over. She told me exactly what Chuey meant to her. That muthafucka had intentions I know, but Rocky was just needing a friend when all alone in a new country.

  “Yes, we did, Lorenzo,” Rockwell says, just standing there. “You realized I didn't fuck Chuey; I realized you weren't going to marry Janyca and that the bitch was lying. Amongst other things and people coming between us.”

  “So you fucking that nigga who tried to step in here last night?” I ask, sliding my tongue across my teeth. I’m done wanting to murk my fucking baby mama. All the while, I was locked up in maximum penitentiary believing her and Chuey were getting down. Hell, I couldn’t even kill my bitch then. But I will body the dude offering to save a hoe late last night.

  “Nope. Never have I cheated.” Rocky comes to sit next to me. Her little hand pats my buff arm. “Look, this isn't me trying to be a bitch.”

  Rockwell touches the divorce paper. She says, “This is me trying to learn to be … me.”

  I glare at her, but it doesn’t faze Rockwell one bit. “Who gave you this shit, Mayté?”

  The waver of her eyes tells me yes. When my eyes darken, with ideas of how my tia will die, Rocky speaks up, “Yes, but if you touch Mayté all bets are off.”

  FUCK. “Ma, I fucking apologized for our baby, shooting at you and all the other bullshit I've done.”

  “Forgiven, Renzo. You accidentally killed my father, back in the day, so how can I not forgive you. I love you more than I've ever loved me. Now, you might hate my mentioning it, but Chuey helped me comprehend that. That I put you first. I never tried to go to him, except when it came to Janyca. Then when her father wanted revenge, I don’t know how the hell Chuey came to save me. Anyway, the other shit was a coincidence. Renzo, I love you but I need to part ways with you for me.”

  I take a deep breath. “Rocky, I'm getting out the game.”

  “Since day one you not grinding woulda been a dream. Renzo, just sign the papers. We can raise our children cordially, can't we?”

  Something wants me to tell my wife, fuck nah. I want to hold her captive, and keep her, and make sure no other dude fucks her and loves her, and make sure that she's always home when I need her and the kids need her, and...

  “Listen ma, I don't fucking like it but you moving back home?” I ask, deciding to let Rocky call the shots for a cool minute.

  “Last night, I didn't say yes to moving home. I just said I would be near. So you know what that means.”

  My jaw clinches, I take a moment. “A’ight. Just as long as you're near and you're safe. Rocky, being with you and being without you over so many years has taught me that I fucked up.” I grab the papers.

  They say if you love someone you gotta let ‘em go, right? I take the pen she hands over while looking the only girl I have ever loved deep into the eyes. She doesn’t stop me from scrawling my signature.

  I put the pen down, and rub my hands together, up for a challenge. I’ma get Rockwell back. This time I'm not finna fuck up.

  Yet for now, I do the hardest thing I've ever had to in my entire life... Letting my good girl go.

  Rockwell

  With each step I took toward the kitchen this morning, I held my breath. Was I really trying to put myself first? This has been the world’s longest romance and breakup session. I'm done. My heart can’t take anymore and it has been damn near hell since Mayte helped me get away from Lorenzo. In the past, it's always been him leaving. To Colombia when I was in high school. Then he fucked it up for us in college. Hell, I will say in my defense, I haven’t always been so weak. All the way through our relationship, I’ve tried to get rid of him. I’ve always known that Lorenzo had the key to my heart, and has been the only one that can break my heart.

  This is my first time putting the dagger in his heart and turning it... Not that I'm tryna kill this dude. It's just always been him getting over me.

  The moment Lorenzo took the pen from my hand, I still couldn't catch a fucking breath. Even now as I dress for the day, it feels like I'm drowning.

  There's rustling in the living room and I almost break my ankle scrambling to my feet from my low hanging mattress.

  Oh... Lorenzo's goons. About an hour ago, he made three of them stay while he left. We came to terms that I'd return home... or actually just in the general vicinity. I'd get a new job, save up funds. Then Lorenzo and I would go “halfsies” on my designer label. I told him about Nino. Renzo seemed to be trying his best because he didn't even tell me I couldn't work with dude. I, on my own accord, made the choice not to. I'm just going to wait, love on my babies much closer than I have been, and stack up enough cheddar to set my plans in motion. Lorenzo will be a silent partner and the contract that the muthafucka would have to sign in order for us to work together would ensure there'd be no problems. Yes, one day me and my soon to be ex-husband will be able to stomach each other long enough to talk financial business for my label. No sex involved. I internally chant that I do not need Lorenzo’s dick to be the reason why I smile. Damn, that makes me breath easy. Then I’m sneezing, allergic to this cheap home.

  I'm spending the day thanking the Jiménez family for a job and finishing one last assignment for Perez since he was backed up before I moved over from cleaner to seamstress. So I don't want to leave him hanging. Then the three goons are going to transport me back to the coast.

  ~~~

  As I work on the few orders that Perez has been backlogged for, I consider calling Nino. He was kind enough to listen to my proposal for the clothing line. I work on a bright red dress with torn ruffles and think about him, but something keeps telling me not to call. Shit, it's not like I've taken an advance paycheck from him like I did while married to that fucking Italian and living in Italy.

  While feeding the dress through the sowing machine, I decide that I don't owe Nino any reasoning why I have not decided to use his funds as an investment...

  But it's bad business not to—

  “Fuck,” I scream and Perez comes hobbling into the room.

  “Señorita Rocky, are you all right?”

  “Just being an idiota,” I say. I hold up my ble
eding thumb. I'm ruining the damn dress. “This never happens.”

  Perez is confused at what I’ve just spoken. He waves a hand then measures his words since I've been learning more Spanish, but he's too old to even consider trying to keep up with my Spanglish. “You go. You go. You trabaja duro—work hard.”

  Trabajar... To work. Okay, I think I got it. “But…”

  “No.” Perez shakes his head, while stepping toward a first aid kit on the counter. “I see you uhhhh... No see you and aye última vez que voy a verte—last time I will see you. Voy a perder sus hermoso rostro—I will miss your beautiful face.”

  I just smile and nod. This is even worse than when I used to get my nails done at the little Oriental place a block away from the projects. The more shit you add on like designs and diamonds, the more they want to talk to you. I don’t have the slightest idea what Perez is saying. One of the customers had to translate to him when I tried to tell him I could do more than wash clothes, back when I had began this second job.

  Perez wraps my thumb in a bandage. Then he helps me up. I realize that the old man is saying farewell. After I step outside of Perez’s store, the three goons are just standing around. I'm guessing these muthafuckas get paid too damn well to just stand there like statues. They walk me home in silence, since we all ate lunch with the Jiménez’s before Lorenzo left. They’ve been charging me next to nothing to live above them this entire time, for Mayté and trying to pay me for work when the family establishment doesn’t make much money anyway. They even allowed me the use of their car on the few times I met with Rita and my kids. My nigga tried to pay them hand over fist for keeping me safe, but they didn’t take his money. Lorenzo said he had a meeting, he’d preferred me to come back home with him. But I told him not until I thanked everyone who’d ever helped me.

  As I walk home with the goons at my side, I realize it’s just about time for me to go. I couldn’t return with Lorenzo without thanking the Jiménez family or doing that last one job for Perez. Tho, I did just fuck up on that last job while thinking about Nino. As the warm sun kisses my skin, my phone begins to buzz in my jeans pocket. Fucking Chuey, every waking hour on the hour. I only spoke to him that one time when he came out of a coma, because it had been two months and I didn’t think I’d ever hear him speak again. By now Chuey should know that he will never get my location, even though I understand that me being back on the coast will be sure to get his attention sooner or later.

  I step into the house and begin to pack the few knick-knacks that I want to take home. Someone knocks on the front door. I'm looking through my cellphone and notice that Lorenzo has called me repeatedly in the last half hour. This damn apartment and the damn reception.

  While opening my bedroom door I answer, “Renzo, I will be in your neck of the woods in a few—”

  I put the phone to my side and shout at one of his goons, “Hey don't knock on my damn door!”

  But instead of still looking through the peephole to see who is knocking, fragments of bullets come flying my way. A loud noise rips through my ears. Shit, I’ve been halfway deaf in my left ear, since Lorenzo thought he’d scare me shitless. But the sound is louder than an IMAX theatre. With a hole that has taken out his spine and entire middle portion of his body, the goon at the door goes soaring, along with splinters of wood.

  The phone slides through my fingers and it falls to the floor. As does the other two men, who were just getting ready to point their triggers. They drop to the ground before they can retaliate...

  Nino

  Santiago thought my fucking bitch was going to leave with Lorenzo last night or at the very least this morning. That's why he enlisted me. He thought I could follow Rocky back to the coast. He believed that me getting near her would be easier than him or even the grimy dudes that stayed on the Mendoza payroll.

  Nope. Nah. She didn't go home. So I sat. I watched. I waited. They had lunch at Jiménez Casa, with the owner’s family. Andres went inside to eat and keep an eye on her, as I stayed across the street. The muthafucka paid for every meal since he wanted to thank the family for helping keep his bitch safe. After seeing Zendaya--I mean Rocky fuck The Phantom last night, I’ve been dead inside.

  The thing I wanted more than vindicating my bitch? Killing that hoe for leaving me. Zennie didn't have to die... That bitch should have fought harder for her life, over fifteen years ago in that hotel room with Santi. She wanted it...

  Now back to Santiago. Since Lorenzo left without MY bitch, Santiago sent his team to go get her. I stand at the bottom of the steps as bullets pierce through the afternoon calmness of Rocky’s apartment upstairs. Inland people ain't used to that sound. The patrons inside of Jiménez Casa all begin to look around; eyes wide with fear. The people walking to various tiny stores up and down the street fade away quickly. Fear strikes. They run. If this had been the projects where I’d grown up, nobody would have moved, unless the bullets were meant for them.

  I start up the steps at the sound of a third drop, knowing that it has to be the last of Lorenzo's three goons that were left to keep Rockwell safe.

  Like I said, since Lorenzo didn’t take Rockwell with him, Santiago decided he didn’t need me. So I’m guessing they’re going to grab Rocky and take her to Santi.

  Well, this bitch is dead either way. But not at Santiago’s hands again....

  “Ven aca! Ven aca!” One of Santiago’s five goonies tells her to come toward them. They're backs are to me as they step inside, mobbing dirty. The main one has a sawed off shotgun that had to have ripped the door off the hinges. The other four have AK-47s.

  “We will not hurt you,” another says in Spanish. He's the last to step over the corpse at the door. “But we finna all get in that ass.”

  Even though Rockwell doesn't understand the words this muthafucka is leering at her. Since she's glancing this way, with fear in those honey eyes, she sees me. I'm at odds with myself for a nanosecond because no matter what Zendaya does, I'll always love my bitch.

  The thing is, nobody in this God forsaken world can talk to her like that. Or touch her. So as that look on her gorgeous face becomes grounded with ideas of me being a hero. That's exactly what I do.

  The two Glocks from my waistband come out. Giving power to both of my hands. My right hand goes straight at the back of the last thug’s head since he's just passing the door and there isn't much room for him in the living room.

  BACA.

  Brains and bone splatter outwards making my Zennie look like she just got her face painted, with dark red sprinkles like a warrior. I shoot the second one in the back and the next closest to the ass before the other two can turn around.

  Ass dude becomes my shield as my forearm brings him back. I hold him up about the neck, back to me. Damn, I'm wishing Zennie would pick up a muthafucking gun right about now, if this was tourist season almost twenty years ago. Yeah, little mama was a beast.

  As I hold ass dude to my chest, his torso is riddled with bullets. I bust one off on the fourth dude getting him in the neck. Number five begins to dive behind Rockwell with his Uzi in hand. My eyes widen. If he kills her before, I have the chance!

  Lorenzo

  The phone is glued to my ear. While Rockwell was promising to be near soon, I was tryna tell her to hide. Run somewhere and hide. How the fuck do I look telling my wife, who I. Am. Supposed. To. Protect. Go hide...? She had been so adamant on staying. Since I signed that fucking divorce paper, I put her feelings before my reality. Rocky has been lucky for over two months and being on her own, but now she’s marked.

  I'm numb to the bone, as the jet begins to make final descent. We had just gotten back to the coast, when I got the call that Santiago’s goons where in town. The pilot said we might not make it back inland with the level of gas we have. With a little bit of persuasion, he turns this muthafucka around. By the grace of God, we are here.

  I listen in on the sound of bullets. The shooting finally stops. I can't even fucking move. My body leans back as the Learjet
slows.

  “You thought I was here to help you?” The tone is slightly muffled. Rockwell must've dropped her cellphone when shit got hot. But I know that the voice belongs to Nino, the dude that wanted to keep her safe last night. That nigga ain’t looking out for her, and it’s less than 24 hours later. Her response is too soft to perceive.

  I know my wife is alive. I grip the headrest of the chair in front of me and get up. My goons are already getting out and taking the Escalades that we’d ordered by the tiny airport to be there upon arrival. Since Santiago is here, we prepare for the worst. I get into a sports car and mash out.

  Rockwell

  He starts to talk about Toi. I will always love and miss my little sister in law, but the shit he's saying doesn't make sense. The stench of copper blood begins to fill my nostrils as Nino places his gun to my cheek.

  “Ahhhhhh...” I scream. The barrel has to be burning a circle into my skin. I know this because besides the smell of death, burning skin is now fuming.

  “Will you be tighter than, Toi?” Nino asks.

  “Wh-what?” I ask, almost falling over one of the dead bodies behind me. Nino places a hand at the small of my back to steady me as my feet drown in blood and flesh. I stand still again. This fucking scene is gorier than the scariest Halloween maze. Almost every inch of the living room floor is waxed with blood and bodies, eight muthafucking bodies.

  He asks again...

  “Nino, I thought we were friends?” Well, probably not really friends but damn! There ain’t going to be me telling this muthafucka that he’s crazy. So I play on his craziness by asking, “Don't I remind you of Zennie?” The smile that's plastered on my face as I say her name almost fades.

  “Yeah, Zendaya. You're supposed to be mine. Why you let Santi do you like that?”

  “Nino, I don't understand...”

  He’s still dressed in the three-piece suit from the day before. Nino’s breath smells like his teeth haven't been washed as he steps even more into my personal space. Hi mind is clearly far gone. Nino says, “He fucked you. He violated you. He murdered you.”