by Brick
“Yeah, you do. Let’s hope these lessons aren’t like what I had to deal with as a child,” I grumbled while working on my shoes.
After we both finished dressing, we walked across the lush green grass of an immaculately cared-for garden. Ahead of us sat Mark in a golf cart. He watched us with a mischievous expression on his face. He sat with one boot-covered foot swinging from the side, and he leaned on the wheel of the cart as a huge black bag seemed to twitch next to him.
Shaking my head, I ran a hand over my hair. “Nigga is about to be on some next-level shit. Be warned.”
Kenya glanced up at me then looked back toward Mark. “I’ll kick his ass if he tries something.”
I chuckled then put my game face on. “Is that our target?” Jutting my chin toward the body, I heard another cart and I turned to see Caltrone stepping out of it. He had also changed. Like me, he wore a beater and dark jeans with boots. In his hand was a golf club and his face was marred by anger.
“Very astute, mijo,” he said. How he called me that sent a chill down my spine every time. “I see that you aren’t too out of the game,” he said, taking several aggressive strides toward the golf cart. “Set our target free, Marco.” Waiting, Caltrone stared our way with shades over his eyes. His jaw was tense and I just kept my distance.
“Show us how fast you can run, homie.” I heard Mark cackle as he drove the cart forward then pushed his bag out.
“Today’s lesson is this: are you a killer, mijo? Can you take down a man in cold blood? A woman? A child? Can your woman do the same?” he asked harshly.
I kept my eyes on my father and nodded watching the body of a young kid pick himself up and look our way with anger in his eyes. The boy looked to be maybe three years older than my daughter. He stood fisting his hands in front of him with his chin pointed up as if he was ready to buck up.
A sarcastic laugh left me as I sized the boy up then stopped in recognition. The kid matched the face that was on the tablet. Sharp, heated anger took over my thoughts and I strode forward.
“Hector?” I said not taking my eyes off him while moving forward.
“Sí, so tell me why you’re hesitating,” Caltrone said.
Rolling my shoulders, I walked forward, snatched away the golf club that was in my father’s hands, then headed toward Hector. “I’m not.”
As I approached, Hector stepped back. The closer I got, the farther he got until his eyes widened in fear and he turned to run. Hunkering low as if I were playing football I broke into a sprint with the golf club in the air. Swinging, I caught that little nigga on his leg, causing him to fall on his face. As he fell, so did my golf club as I shouted curses at him. Red was all I saw as I screamed at him and asked him what his part was in my daughter’s kidnapping.
“Don’t kill me, please. I was paid. I was paid,” Hector shouted between my punches.
When I heard the sound of a gun going off and then the sharp scream of Hector as he cradled his hand I knew Kenya was behind me. When she started shouting too, I knew she was just as angry as I was. I guessed we were passing our first test because my father watched on in pride.
Chapter 8
Kenya
“Oh, fuck,” Hector screamed out. “You shot me. This bitch shot me,” he yelled.
“Next time, I’m aiming to kill,” I spat. “I’m no longer in the mood to play around. Tell us something or you’re dead and I put that on everything.”
I was losing my patience with the whole thing. If we didn’t find Jewel soon I was liable to lose all grip on reality. I kept having images in my head of her being tortured and sexually assaulted. It was all threatening to drive me mad.
“Vete a la mierda! Perra estúpida,” Hector hurled at me. “Why you so worried about her now? Why are either of you so worried? Especially you, bendejo,” he then barked at Tone. “You’re the reason she ran off anyway. Ain’t nobody kidnapped her. She left willingly and all I was paid to do was pick her up in Miami and drive her to Mexico. Shit was easy. Bitch had all the papers she needed, passport and her ID. So nah, nigga, ain’t nobody kidnapped that young bitch.”
Hector was sweating now, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. I looked over at Tone and I could tell by the way his lips had thinned out and the way his jaw was set that he was about to walk over that thin gray line of sanity to lunacy.
“That young bitch, huh?” Tone repeated while shaking his head. He walked over to pick up the golf club he had dropped, looking at it like he was seeing it for the first time. I knew shit was about to go left.
“Who paid you?” I asked Hector.
He frowned at me, inched away from Tone like a slithering snake then, surprisingly, looked at Caltrone. “Hey, man. I don’t want to talk to this crazy bitch. I’ll tell y’all what you wanna know, but I ain’t talking to no cunt with a gun and shit,” he said then flinched when he thought Tone was walking toward him. “And I don’t want to talk to this nigga either. Way I heard it, he was a fucking asshole who always kept his daughter locked up and shit. I don’t wanna talk to you, nigga,” he spat at Tone. “Fuck you.”
I turned to look at Caltrone, who looked on with a curious gaze adorning his features. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. Something fragile in me was coming undone. But, before it could take root, I heard something crack. Then the yells and screams of Hector seemed to make my ears bleed. I turned swiftly then jumped back. With a deadpan look etched on his face, Tone beat Hector with that golf club. High above his head then a hard slam down on the sternum of Hector, Tone beat him. Hector’s chest went from blood red to bruised purple and black.
Each time Tone hit him, his body jerked like a fish flopping out of water. Hector tried to roll out of the way, but Tone just kept following him, swinging that golf club until it broke skin. Blood started to pool from the boy’s mouth as lesions, breaks, and tears in his skin decorated his upper body.
“Tone,” I called out to him.
He didn’t pay me any attention. That rage I’d seen in him the night he had attacked Johnny for hitting me was the same rage that encompassed his every move now.
“Pl . . . please, h . . . help me,” Hector barely got out as his wild eyes gazed at me.
I saw fear. I saw panic. I thought I saw the boy’s life flash before his eyes. He knew he was knocking on death’s door.
“Antonio,” I yelled again, this time louder, but to no avail.
He was gone and there was nothing I could do or say to stop him. I looked at Caltrone and Mark, knowing I would find no help there. Caltrone stood with his hands clasped in front of him and a posture that told me he wouldn’t be moved. Legs spread shoulder-width apart and shoulders squared, he looked on with pride. Mark stood there with a sick smirk on his face, one that told me he was surprised to see Tone snap but was elated to see it nonetheless.
“Now,” Tone said through deep breaths as he took one last swing. Hector was facedown by now, barely breathing but still trying to crawl away. “Two things: one, don’t ever call the mother of my child or my daughter a bitch again or I’ll flay your ass, nigga; and two, who paid you? Talk now and I’ll let you live . . . for a little while anyway.” Tone kicked Hector in his ribs then reached down to flip the boy over. I doubted Hector even knew where he was anymore.
“Shorty knew . . . This shorty knew my homie, Fallon. She asked Fal to do a pickup for her. Her name is Donna. Fal pulled out last minute and gave me the dough to do it.” Hector was wheezing now. He coughed, spit blood, then took a deep breath like it pained him to talk. His eyes rolled around until they rolled to the back of his head.
“And where can we find Fallon and Donna?” Caltrone asked coolly.
“North Houston, Greenspoint Area. Moonlake Mills Apartments,” Hector wheezed out.
“Thank you, Hector. I do believe your services are no longer needed,” Caltrone responded. “Kenya,” Caltrone called out to me.
I snapped my head up to look at him. “Yes.”
“No witnesses,�
�� was all he said.
I swallowed, as I knew what he wanted me to do. I turned my attention to Tone, who had an unreadable look on his face as he watched.
“Please,” Hector cried. “I . . . I got babies,” he pleaded. “I didn’t take her,” he cried. “She came on her own. I ain’t take her, I swear.”
“This nigga lying, sexy,” Mark’s voice cut in. “Let me show you something. Some shit I found on this nigga’s cell.”
Mark pulled from his golf cart the tablet Caltrone had given him earlier; then he strolled over to me. He took his time scrolling through the thing before landing on a video. “I sent the shit to my e-mail and downloaded it to the tablet just in case,” he said. He grinned like the Cheshire cat then pressed play. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he pointed to the video.
“No, don’t do that,” I heard Jewel’s voice cry. “No, stop, stop,” she wailed as a man kept trying to snatch the sheets she had covering her body.
My eyes widened. There she was, naked on a bed. There was apprehension in her eyes.
“Don’t be yelling, bitch. You knew what it was.” Hector’s voice could be heard in the background.
I didn’t know where they were, but the walls were shit green and the bed was unkempt. The red sheets were a bit dingy and Jewel looked about ready to jump out of her skin.
“Keith, what are you . . . What’s going on?” she asked, panic all in her voice.
“Shut up, Jewel. You said you was down for a nigga so be down for me. Let the crew hit. You owe me anyway.”
“No,” she yelled then tried to run from the room.
Hector chased her, slapped her, and then threw her back on the bed. She jumped back up and punched him in his face before he swung and his fist landed in her eye. The sight tightened my insides and made my muscles coil in my stomach.
The camera panned across the room and I saw two more guys walk in.
“Yo, Fal,” Hector called out, “told you this bitch was pretty. Keith been letting me watch him fuck shorty. Prettiest pussy you ever did see.”
I saw the two men speak to Keith, who was behind the camera so I couldn’t see his face. I swallowed hard, already knowing what was about to happen. When Jewel started screaming and Hector hopped his naked body between her thighs, I let out some kind of sound, something akin to a wounded animal. But when I saw Hector finish and the one called Fal flip my daughter over and sodomize my child, I lost all grips with humanity. So much so that I didn’t even see that Mark was getting a kick out of watching his cousin get raped. I was angry at myself because, for a moment, I felt some kind of remorse for Hector. My humanity made me feel for the children whose father would never come back home.
It all happened in a flash. Caltrone yelled for Tone not to watch the video, telling Mark to put the tablet away before Antonio could snatch it away. In the back of my mind, I slightly remembered Caltrone body-blocking Tone from Mark so he wouldn’t beat the boy down to get the tablet from him. Nobody was paying attention to me. I walked over to Hector and emptied the gun into him.
Each shot that rang out echoed in my mind. As my finger pulled the trigger, I felt a little more of my sanity melt away. I couldn’t get Jewel’s yells and screams out of my head. Couldn’t take away the images of my child’s body being violated over and over. I felt numb. Felt as if my humanity had left me. Once done, I dropped the gun on Hector’s chest and walked off. I didn’t know where I was going. Just knew the old Kenya was slowly dissipating.
* * *
Getting to the apartments Hector had given us took no time at all. I hadn’t uttered a word since I’d put bullets in Hector. The images of my daughter being raped haunted me. She may have left willingly but, clearly, the game had changed. Tone and his father had gotten into a heated argument. Something about not allowing him to see the video.
“Antonio, mijo, watch your tone with me. You don’t need to see that video,” Caltrone had yelled at his son.
“Fuck you. I heard her screaming,” Tone hollered, a wild look in his eyes. “I fucking heard her. I want to see—”
“Yo, Grandpops said no, nigga, so chill,” Mark had foolishly chided him.
Tone’s anger turned quickly. He went from being ready to square up with his old man to pummeling Mark’s face.
Somewhere in my mind, I remembered Mark’s brother, Frederick, trying to pull his uncle off his brother, which was his mistake. Tone had lost all of the mind he had left at that point and the only person who could bring him back was his father. I watched on, kind of like having an out-of-body experience, as Caltrone bear-hugged Tone and forced him backward. I didn’t even think Tone knew or cared that Frederick wasn’t trying to fight him. He was in a fit of rage and whoever was in his path could get got.
“Kenya,” he screamed out at me wildly as Caltrone forced him back. “What was on the video? Did they hurt her? What? Why? Is she okay, baby? Just tell me, is she okay?” he rattled off at me.
Pain was in his eyes. He was like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. Couldn’t tell him that our baby had been violated in the worst way. Wouldn’t tell him about the absolute fear in her eyes, the terror it was clear that she felt. No way would he ever know the wild, catlike way she was clawing and fighting until two men had to hold her down while another forced himself on her. So, I turned away from him. I turned away from his bloodshot eyes while his father was holding him back, and I walked away.
Now, Tone was angry at me. I could understand why. But I wished he could understand why I chose to remain silent.
“Shut the roads down,” Caltrone ordered into the phone.
Northborough Drive was where the apartment complex was. It was after ten o’clock at night and children still littered the street. The place smelled. Dumpsters were overflowing with trash. Broken-down cars sat about. She-men and he-bitches blurred the lines of male and female. Curtains hung haphazardly on windows. Blinds hung on by thin threads. This place looked as if God had forgotten about it. Caltrone was muttering under his breath in Spanish. He wasn’t pleased that he had to come to the slums. Even though he was in a face mask and latex gloves, being here didn’t agree with his OCD.
Building K was where we were to look. People watched on as two black vans rolled through. Most of the dope boys took off running for fear of us being the cops. Tone was out of the van before Mark could park it. Building K, door three was where he ran. There was no knocking. He stood back and then planted his booted foot right through the door, knocking it off its hinges.
A woman screamed, kids scrambled about, and a tall, brown-skinned male tried to jump from the front window. Tone quickly rushed in and snatched him by the collar of his shirt to yank him back in. Tone pulled the boy so hard he went flying back into a glass end table.
“Hey, I ain’t steal that shit, man. That was all Hector. I ain’t take the drugs,” the boy yelled.
The fool thought we were there about fucking drugs. That angered me. The fact that he didn’t readily assume someone would come to avenge Jewel made my blood run hot. Caltrone casually strolled in and looked around the place like it stank, because it did. It smelled of mold and old chicken grease. The furniture was tattered. From the front room, I could see the dirty kitchen, which looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. The floor was sticky, as the bottom of my combat boots made a tearing sound against the floor anytime I moved. Two children ran around with snotty noses and saggy diapers. They both looked too damn old to have pacifiers or to still be in diapers. A white girl who was built like the Michelin Man ran and snatched them up, trying to protect them as best she could.
Just looking at the filth of Fal’s home and the beaten down way his woman looked angered me. She looked diseased; and the fact that he had been fucking her then stuck his dick in my child made me grit my teeth.
“This isn’t about drugs, young man,” Caltrone said.
“Then what the fuck you niggas kicking down my door for?” Fal snapped, a wild look in
his eyes.
“This is life or death and you have only one time to answer incorrectly or I tell this man what you did to his daughter,” he said. “I’m going to say a name and you’re going to tell me if it rings a bell. Jewel Ortiz.”
Fal’s eyes widened at the mention of her name. He looked from me to Tone back to Caltrone before making a foolish attempt to get up and run for the window again.
Caltrone tsked then let his eyes roam around the dirty front room we were in. When several roaches made their way up the wall, he flinched like something hot had been thrown on him.
“Let’s make this quick,” he said. “Bring in the Judas Cradle,” he then told Frederick.
I didn’t move for fear I would kill the man before we got the information we needed. I didn’t know what a Judas Cradle was but I was sure if Caltrone wanted to use it, it was brutal.
“Tell me where Donna is,” Caltrone then said.
“Who?”
“Donna. The woman who asked you to pick up my granddaughter.”
“I don’t know where that bitch is. She dipped out about two days ago. Hey look, man, look. She was here all right, your granddaughter. But I told that nigga he had to get her up outta here.”
“Where did he take her?” Tone asked.
Fal bunched his face up like he was confused and then annoyed. “Fuck if I know. I just told that nigga he had to go. Too much fucking heat, especially when they kept fighting.”
Caltrone asked, “Who is he?”
“Man, I can’t tell you that. Them niggas will kill me. You don’t fuck with them. You don’t fuck with that family.”
I frowned then looked at Tone. That family? So, we were dealing with a whole family now? I didn’t understand.
“Father, I need to know what happened to Jewel,” Tone said, lips balled tightly. “Somebody tell me,” he yelled when Caltrone didn’t answer quick enough.
“This man raped your daughter, mijo. He was one of three,” Caltrone finally revealed. “Kenya already killed one.”