“Oh,” she said as she sat down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … I should have asked…”
“It’s quite all right,” Sandoza said. “What do you have?”
“The Alchemist,” she responded as she turned to the first page.
The clock ticked away, transforming morning to afternoon and soon to early evening, but the pair sat in the same spot as China read each chapter. Her voice was like a melody to him, the plot of the story intrigued him, pulling him in and making him hope that it wouldn’t soon end. By the time it she finished it was well into the night. She had only stopped to stretch her legs and use the bathroom. She stopped briefly to make them lunch, but he picked up, reading aloud where she had left off. By the time the story was told, he was so deep into it that he sat with his eyes closed and his hands folded atop the table as he pictured the words in his mind. She closed the book.
“Tan, that was a beautiful story, mija,” he said as he opened his eyes.
For a brief moment he seemed lost. A vulnerability dwelled in his gaze that told China he didn’t recognize her.
“It’s me, Ch—” She stopped herself and cleared her throat. “Jamie. Lisbon, are you okay?”
He shook the cobwebs from his mind and stood, slightly embarrassed. These things happened to him often. He would lose time, and it was happening more and more. He forgot names, places, memories that should have been his to keep forever.
“Is Tan your daughter?” China asked.
Sandoza nodded.
“How advanced is it?” China asked. “I feel like you haven’t painted the total picture for me regarding the Alzheimer’s.”
“It’s bad. Getting worse every day,” he admitted, with tears glistening in his eyes. He quickly squeezed them away as he pinched the bridge of his nose, composing himself.
“Are you afraid?” she asked, sympathetically. It was clear that he was too strong to be weak.
He didn’t answer, his pride wouldn’t let him. But the way his shoulders hung in despair told a story itself. “Sleep well, Jamie.”
“Good night,” she replied as she watched him retire for the night.
With a heavy heart, she cleaned up their space. She felt fucked-up inside. She knew that Sandoza wasn’t some old victim of a man who she had to protect, but no one deserved to be double-crossed by their own child. She was feeding him a sense of companionship only to betray his trust in the end. China was aware that Sandoza had lived his life as a gangster, but she still felt for him. Dying by the bullet would have been easier than losing control over his mind. To a man who called the shots for so many years, that had to be the worst fate God could hand down.
“Get out of your feelings,” China whispered to herself. Her life was on the line. She had no room to feel sorry for anyone but herself.
Chapter 9
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
The sound of the automatic machine gun cutting through the still night made China jump out of her sleep. She was frantic as she shot out of the bed. “Oh my God,” she whispered as her hands covered her mouth. She scrambled into her jeans. Her heart seemed to stop mid-beat. She scrambled to the closed door, not sure if she should stay behind its safety or try to run for her life. Her mind was envisioning a massacre or some Mafia hit. Maybe Cinco had decided to bum-rush his father’s estate and take the crown for himself. Would he kill her too? Am I in danger? What if they find me in here? Her thoughts ran wild as she cracked opened the door, peering out cautiously.
She half expected to see goons shooting it out in the hallway, but to her surprise, no one was there. She crept into the darkness of the hallway. Fear coursed through her veins, yet adrenaline urged her forward. What the hell did I get myself into? she thought. When she got to the landing of the steps, she frowned in confusion. Sandoza stood on the first floor. The door to the terrace was wide open and he was firing shots outside. The kickback from the AK-47 he held in his hands caused his shoulders to jerk as he shot wildly.
“You motherfuckers come to my home?!” he yelled, enraged. “Do you know who I am?!” His voice was filled with so much bravado … pride … China knew that he wouldn’t back down until he was lying in his own blood, victim of the gunfight. There was only one problem: There were no bullets flying back at him, no return fire, no other voices killing the tranquility of the beautiful night. Sandoza was shooting at nothing, at no one. China was terrified, more terrified than if there had been a real intruder. She slowly descended the steps as she went for the door. Her hand was on the doorknob, but she couldn’t move. If I leave here, Cinco will kill me. I can’t run. What am I going to go? she asked herself. She turned and walked cautiously over to the open terrace door. Her legs shook. She was sure that Sandoza was out of his mind and she had no idea how to defuse the situation. She wanted to run, but she was caught between two vicious gangsters, and more than her life was at stake. She hated being on Geppetto’s strings. If it were not for her mother’s safety, she would have taken the shitty hand that karma had dealt her. But instead, she was desperate to live. Desperate to resolve her debt to Cinco.
She wanted to call out his name but the loaded gun in his hand made her afraid to sneak up on him. But the banging on the door behind her caused his gaze to fall on her.
“Sandoza!” a voice of alarm shouted behind her. “Es Miguel! Abrir la puerta!”
“Who sent you?!” Sandoza shouted as he marched over to China, snatching her by her arm. The commotion at the front door had made him paranoid. His eyes were unrecognizable. A fire was ablaze in them like none she had ever seen in any man’s. She quivered as she stammered, “Please. Lisbon, it’s me. No one sent me.” There was no recognition in his eyes. He didn’t know her. He didn’t remember. He was having an Alzheimer’s episode, and with the gun in his hands, the result could be deadly.
“Tan? My sweet mija?” he asked, as his eyes teared with emotion. He loosened his grip as China put her hands up in defense. She could see his resolve softening, but his hand was still on the trigger. Mija? she thought. He thinks I’m his daughter.
“Yes, it’s me. Tan. I’m here,” China said sympathetically, as a tear slid down her cheek. The door burst open and Miguel rushed in, followed by two of Sandoza’s armed guards.
“Sandoza!” Miguel shouted in alarm.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Sandoza fired wildly at his men. “You come for me? You come to my home!”
China hit the floor, covering her ears as Sandoza attacked his own men.
“Don’t shoot!” Miguel said to the other men. “Don’t pull one fucking trigger!”
“Daddy! It’s me! It’s Tan!” China screamed, completely shaken as she looked at Miguel in fear.
Miguel frowned, confused, but quickly caught on. “Papa. She calls him Papa.”
“Papa, it’s me! Please. Stop. These men are your friends. No one is here to hurt you,” she pleaded. Sandoza’s magazine ran out and in the brief moment it took for him to reload it China stood up and got directly in his line of fire. “Papa! Listen to me. Its okay. These are my friends. Your friends, Papa. Uncle Miguel and the rest of your men. Its okay. Papa, look at me,” she said. She was no longer on the verge of crying, tears were flowing down her cheeks. She had never been so afraid. Not even when Cinco was exacting his sadistic torture on her. China had never seen someone so strong be completely unaware of the reality around them. Sandoza’s condition was far worse than she had imagined. He needed real help, a real caregiver. He was dying a mental death; it was only a matter of time before the physical body followed. That evil son of a bitch is plotting on a man who’s already dying the worst kind of death, she thought.
“Tan?” Sandoza said, the creases in his brow revealing his uncertainty.
“It’s me, Papa,” she reassured him. “Just put the gun down.” She reached her hand out slowly. “Just give it to me, Papa. It’s okay.” She spoke softly as she saw a change of emotion reflect in his eyes. He didn’t resist as she removed the gun from his hand
s. He enveloped her in the deepest hug, and she stiffened awkwardly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. Her heart ached for him. He was just a man dying a lonely death. Miguel stood. “Secure the grounds,” he told the other men.
Miguel rushed to Lisbon’s side, taking one arm as China took the other. “You just need some rest is all,” China said. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
Once Lisbon was inside his room, she turned to Miguel. “What the hell was that?” he asked.
“He just needs to sleep,” she said. For some reason she didn’t want to speak about Sandoza to Miguel. She didn’t know what he knew, and she didn’t want to be the one to tell details unknown. “I need to get something for him. I’ll be right back,” she said. China rushed to the examination room and rifled through the drawers and cabinets. “Okay, think … think,” she urged herself. Her brain was like an encyclopedia. She searched through her memory bank trying to remember the name of the medication she was supposed to inject to put Sandoza in a relaxed state. “Got it,” she said as she grabbed a liquid sedative and a needle. She hurried back to Sandoza’s side and injected him with the medication.
“What are you giving him?” Miguel asked.
“Just something to keep him out through the night. He will wake in the morning,” China said. “You can stay the night if you prefer.”
She only offered because she was afraid to be alone again if Sandoza flew off the deep end.
“I’ll give his son a call to come stay with him through the night. I’ll return in the morning. The guards will be around the perimeter of the estate. Take good care of him,” Miguel said.
She nodded as he headed out of the room. China followed him and locked the door securely behind him. When she was alone, she surveyed the damage done. There were shell casings all over the great room, shattered glass from windows that Sandoza had shot out. Her life had become something out of the movies. Only she didn’t see a happy ending.
* * *
China’s hands shook as she dialed her mother’s number. China desperately wanted to hear her voice. With Cinco’s threats looming over her head, China didn’t know if she would ever see her mother’s face again. As the phone rang in her ear, tears filled her eyes. She had rebelled for so long … had avoided calling her mother because she always thought she had time to repair things in the future. China had just wanted a little bit of room to grow, to learn, to fuck up, to come up, to fall off, to bounce back … she just wanted to live, but in doing so she and her mother had bumped heads. It didn’t erase the love, but now that China knew death was knocking at one of their doors, she regretted not heeding her mother’s advice. “Slow down,” she had warned. “The fast life will lead to nothing but trouble.” China hadn’t listened, and now her actions had put them both in jeopardy.
“Hello?”
The sound of her mother’s voice caused China to sob.
“China?”
China sniffled as she tried to catch her breath. She’d played tough behind Bree, but now that she was a solo player in the game, she was lost. “Ma,” she whispered. “Ma, I’m in trouble.”
Where are you, China? Whose number is this?” her mother asked.
“Ma, listen to me. You have to get out of the house. Don’t pack any bags. There are people watching you. They want to hurt you because of me. Just leave and don’t come back, Ma.”
“China, what are you talking about? You’re speaking too fast. Just slow down.…”
“I can’t slow down, Ma! Just listen. You need to get out of there. He wants me to kill someone. If I don’t, he’s going to kill you,” China said. She was frantic and speaking so quickly that she couldn’t keep up with herself.
“Kill someone? Who? China, what? Are you doing drugs again?” her mother asked.
“Ma! No! Just get out of there. Don’t make it look like you’re packing to leave, though. Just take your purse and your keys, Ma. Do it now. There will be someone following you. Don’t look back, and don’t act like you know. Just get to a place where they can’t follow you. Go to the airport and get a one-way…” China rambled as she tossed what little clothing she had into a duffel bag.
“Airport? China, where am I going? You have to tell me what’s going on,” her mother urged, full of concern.
“Go anywhere, Ma! Just go. They won’t be able to follow you through security. I’ll call your cell in a couple of days.” China hung up and finished packing. She flung the light bag over her shoulder and then looked in on Sandoza one last time. As she stood over him, she shook her head. She felt bad for leaving him there, incapacitated and confused. But this thing had gotten out of control. She couldn’t stay here. She had a gut feeling that even if she did everything Cinco asked of her, he would still kill her. She wasn’t going to wait around and find out. She turned to leave, but froze when she heard the front door open and them slam closed. Her eyes widened as her heart’s pace picked up. All six senses heightened as she listened to the heavy footsteps walk across the main level of the house. She knew who it was. It was the only person who had the balls to walk into Sandoza’s home uninvited … the only person who didn’t require an invitation. Cinco. Miguel had called him. She knew that he would come. She had hoped she would have more time to gather her things and flee before his arrival. She stepped into the hallway, knowing that he would be between her and the door. He stood at one end and she at the other. She felt like a deer in headlights.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
China looked down at the bag in her hands and then shook her head. “No, umm. Your dad, he … something happened tonight. I…”
Cinco closed the space between them in a flash, grabbing her arm roughly. “Looks to me like you’re running,” he said.
“I’m not. I swear I’m not.”
He pushed her towards the room where Sandoza lay in induced sleep.
“Prove it. Whatever you gonna do, do it now. It’s the perfect time. Miguel witnessed what happened today. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if he didn’t make it until the morning. He shot up his own shit. Shot at his men. Who is to say he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and shoot himself?” Cinco proposed. A sinister leer spread across his face as he pushed her into Sandoza’s room. “Thing is, now that I can kill him by the gun, why do I need you? I can put in this work myself,” he said.
He pulled a gun from his waistband at the small of his back and trained it on China. “Put one in you and then one in him,” Cinco said, standing directly next to Sandoza’s bed and moving the cold steel to his father’s temple. “And walk away with all this shit.”
China shook her head while fighting back tears.
“It won’t look like an accident,” China urged. She was simply buying time. She didn’t want to do this. Sandoza didn’t deserve this, but she didn’t deserve to die either. “Miguel saw me sedate your father. He will know that there was no way he could wake up out of this and shoot himself. The guards are still around the estate. As soon as they hear the shot, they’ll come running. Just stick to the plan.” She paused, exasperated, as she blew out a deep breath and swept her hair out of her face. “This was your idea. Please, just leave and let me do this the way you planned. So that it looks natural. Please, Cinco. Let me finish what I started. Let me earn my way out of this.”
Cinco paused and let out a chuckle. “Okay, bitch,” he said as he walked towards her. She tensed, and he seemed to revel in her discomfort. Her fear was palpable. She trembled and kept her gaze straight ahead, afraid to look Cinco in his eyes. He headed for the door, stopping directly in front of her, his presence looming over her. He intimidated her, frightened her. She wanted no part of Cinco. He snatched the bag from her hands and threw it to the ground. “It doesn’t matter where you run. There is no getting away from me. The only way you get to leave is if I let you go.”
She didn’t move until she heard the door close behind him, and when she did, she fell into a heap on the floor. When had hustling turned
into such a dangerous game? She had known that Cinco was trouble, but she had underestimated exactly how much. She was a young girl playing in a grown man’s arena, and now she was losing. All the money that had passed through her fingertips no longer seemed worth it. This path she had taken was a dark one, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
China sat in the same spot all night, her head spinning, her heart heavy as she watched the darkness of night change into day. Not until she heard Sandoza stir did she rise to her feet. She heard him groan and hurried to his bedside.
“Hold on. Relax. The medicine I gave you last night probably has you really drowsy,” she explained as she helped him sit up. “Last night was a really bad night,” she informed him. “You probably don’t remember.”
“I remember just fine,” Sandoza, interrupted. His voice was cold. He looked at her, his stern eyes burning into her as if she had suddenly become transparent. “My son hired you to kill me.”
His words stunned her, and she was visibly rattled as she took a few steps back, as if deciding whether to explain herself or to flee.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Lisbon, you were out of it last night. You took a gun to your own men. You don’t know what you’re saying. Paranoia is a symptom of the Alzheimer’s.” She was speaking so fast that she didn’t stop to breathe. Could she convince him that the truth was not the truth? She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was lucid and fully aware that he had invited a snake into his home.
“I don’t remember much about last night but I do remember lying here, unable to speak, unable to move, while you and my son plotted my death,” Sandoza said. “At first I thought I was dreaming. I thought I was imagining it. Even in this moment, if the look of admission on your face wasn’t so great, I would have thought I was going crazy. I am a good reader of people, Jamie. Or is it China? That is what he called you, right?”
Luxury and Larceny, Part 2 Page 5