by Pete, Eric
“Dash?” I asked, stunned at the possibility.
Harris nodded.
“I’ll see you at home. C’mon, baby. We’ll see Grandpa later.” Knowing the implications, I hurried Mariah away from the potential war zone.
I drove back to our home in Far Rockaway more uneasy than I’d ever felt. Paris had been sent off somewhere after a whispered meeting with Harris and my brothers. Rio was missing, as far as I knew, and no one wanted to give me a straight answer. Now, after a major drug shipment had turned up missing, my father was meeting with a man he’d rather see dead than breathe the same air with him. Strange times calling for strange alliances—and me being left on the sidelines. I didn’t know what to do. Not only was my husband pushing me away, but now my family might be doing the same. Again, I thought of Tony. He made me feel wanted.
I smiled at Mariah, turning up the volume on her Dora the Explorer DVD. The sounds of childhood innocence came from the backseat, while in my mind I worried, with the knowledge that life seemed to be changing for all of us.
Rio
40
“It has been three days since you arrived here, and we have treated you well. So, I must ask, when you last saw him, how was my son?” Alejandro asked from behind his desk at the auto dealership. Same M.O. as LC, except this place sold Chevys. He was a volume dealer in more ways than one, with lollipop-colored Camaros and big trucks stretching as far as the eye could see on his lot. Alejandro snagged a few cashews from the glass bowl in front of him and plopped them in his mouth as he waited for my response.
“He was good. Said for you to hurry up and get this straightened out. He wants to come home. Misses his mom’s home cooking,” I replied, making up shit off the top of my dome. What kid didn’t like his mom’s cooking?
“Hmm. That’s interesting—especially since she is a terrible cook. Sometimes I question that boy’s sense.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of code he was trying to relay to you. All I know is that’s what he said before I left,” I offered, not missing a beat after fumbling on my ad-lib.
“Perhaps,” he said as he tried to read my bullshit.
“You wanna share what it means, then?” I raised my eyebrows, continuing to perpetuate my game.
“Maybe later,” he said as he attempted to be coy. The pudgy, balding motherfucker was acting like I’d given him some valuable intel, when I’d just pulled it out of the air. Dumb ass. Then that dumb ass got right to the real point of our meeting. “Your father thinks I stole his dope. That I double-crossed him.”
“I’m not an expert on these things, but look at it from his side and you might agree. Why don’t you just give him his stuff back and call it a day? I mean, here I am on the West Coast, and I’m stuck down here in L.A., when I could be in San Fran, partying like it’s 1999.”
“You are young. You’re strange,” he said, making a whistling sound and motioning with his hand in a way I didn’t like. Another homophobe. Just like LC. I was getting sick and tired of being surrounded by people threatened by my sexuality. I was probably more of a man than half these motherfuckers. “I gave your father my word. A true man would understand that should be enough.”
“I know men lie. Gay or straight... if that’s what you’re getting at,” I said, giving back the same wagging hand gesture. “LC doesn’t like this any more than you, and the sooner the two of you can reach a resolution, the sooner I can head back to my fabulous life in New York. And your son can be back chowing down on his mom’s awful cooking.”
Alejandro let out a hearty laugh, not really appropriate for what I’d just said, and suddenly my two escorts appeared in his office. I figured it was a sign of some sort. They’d already frisked me for weapons and removed my phone, so I assumed this might be when my torture or beat down commenced. Give them a chance to get back in the wife beaters they preferred, instead of the suits they were wearing at the moment.
As I contemplated what was to come, all I could think was, Lawd, not the face. Don’t mess with the moneymaker, gurrl. Okay, maybe not the most appropriate thought for a time like this, but what can I say? I’m vain.
Alejandro said, “To show you that I don’t run things the same as LC, I want you to enjoy your stay in L.A. Go. Have fun. Wherever you like Except, my men will accompany you, never leaving your side. This is still, after all, a sticky business situation we find ourselves in.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. My pretty face—and my life—were safe for now. So then why were these two goons staring me down? If their expressions were any indication, this trip was not going to be all fun and games.
“Despite that, I have to go with my gut,” Alejandro added, downing another cashew, right before his jovial eyes went cold with a menacing glare. “And my gut’s telling me all’s not well with dear Miguel. So, I’m giving LC forty-eight hours to let me speak with my son. I no hear from mi hijo, then these two gentlemen will start cutting body parts, and we will send them to LC until I have my son back. Comprende?”
“Si,” I replied casually, hoping to mask my nervousness. In truth, I was scared shitless. LC had better work this situation out in a hurry.
“Good, good,” he said heartily. “Until then, enjoy yourself as my guest. Eat. Drink. Be merry.”
In other words, enjoy yourself as best you can, because tomorrow there’s a good damn chance you shall die.
As scared as I was, I still couldn’t resist playing with my two new best friends a little. “Okay,” I said, “but I hope your boys don’t mind gay bars, because I plan on visiting The Pink Lion, picking up a pretty young thing, and getting laid.”
Both men glanced at each other, then turned to their boss. It was quite obvious they wanted no part of a club like The Pink Lion.
“Take him where he wants to go, but don’t let him out of your sight.”
As Alejandro had promised, they treated me as well as could be expected; but the clock was ticking, and I could feel the pressure mounting as Alejandro demanded answers from LC back in New York. The dirty looks and less than hospitable attitudes of my escorts were evident, and it made me nervous as hell. I didn’t want to die. I tried to console myself with the thought that at least the weather was nicer out here. And the shopping was off the hook! Oh, and all the fine wannabe actors swarming around meant I had plenty to look at to keep my mind off my current predicament.
“Got anything to say?” my de facto chauffeur asked as he pulled the black Suburban with darkly tinted windows to a stop. His eyes were like daggers in the rearview mirror.
I felt as though he was asking me for any last words before I was sentenced to death. “I don’t know what else to say,” I said with a shrug. “I just want to enjoy my stay out here while our bosses have their Doctor Phil moment.”
“Just have your boss turn over Miguel, puta, or I’ll be the one to kill you myself,” the more angry one, seated next to me, snarled. It was obvious he’d hacked a body or two in his time.
“If I had that kind of power, I wouldn’t be here with you two handsome gentlemen. Oh, and I’m being sarcastic when I call you handsome. Just so you know. Now... can we go inside, please?”
Before exiting the vehicle, both men were sure to remind me that they were packing.
“Roger that,” I said as I sarcastically saluted. We had parked a block away and made the trek up Santa Monica Boulevard so as not to run the risk of a nosy valet discovering the rest of their arsenal.
“How do you know about this place?” one of them asked as they trailed behind me, hands on triggers, no doubt.
“I heard about it online and always wanted to see it. Somewhere I can have some fun,” I replied, leaving off the unspoken before I die. I continued to step lively down the sidewalk. I would play my role and go along with LC’s plan as long as possible, but I had to start thinking about a last-minute escape. The problem was that I was more MacGruber than MacGyver. I guess that was the real reason Pop chose me. If I didn’t make it out alive, the orga
nization wouldn’t lose a beat. That old softy. In my case, it was business before family.
“Fuckin’ maricón,” one of them muttered when he realized just how out there and flamboyant The Pink Lion was.
“Yo’ mama,” I commented back. “Ain’t been out to West Hollywood much, huh?”
If they weren’t so dangerous, I would’ve laughed at the impotent expressions on their otherwise hardened faces. Rather than enter The Pink Lion, one of the hottest gay clubs in Cali from what my friends had told me, one of my chaperones went for his cell. He probably wanted to call for further instructions.
“They got me,” I said to the doorman, quickly entering. I figured they wouldn’t dare create too much of a scene in front of everybody.
“Uh... they’re at the right place?” the doorman asked as the two Mexicans in suits broke out into a shoving match and started cursing in Spanish.
“Yeah, they’re just having a lovers’ spat,” I lied as he watched the two of them argue. I didn’t speak more than a few words of Spanish, but I assumed they were fretting about catching cooties or something if they followed me inside.
I took in the European-themed interior, bathed in red lights, and observed the couples on the dance floor and the onlookers on the second-floor balcony. If I weren’t so stressed, a pretty brotha like me could do some damage in here. It took all my might not to try to blend into the crowd and escape out another exit; but I was unarmed and alone, so I knew my chances of a successful escape were slim to none. When his men came rushing in, I was standing there waiting on them, acting nonchalant and playing my part in this fucked-up shit.
“This shit ain’t cool, homeboy,” our driver said, looking like he wanted to swing on me just for making him come inside.
“Relax. This ain’t prison, like you’re used to, muchacho. Nobody’s going up in your ass without your permission. And looking like you, you’d have a hard time anyway,” I taunted, so glad I could make them uncomfortable for a change.
“Alejandro said to let you do your thing, but I say we ain’t staying for long.”
“Soon as I find a little playmate for the night, we out. Meanwhile, you guys need to relax while I go get me a drink.”
They motioned for me to go ahead, taking strategic positions, with their backs to the walls, so as to keep me in their direct lines of sight at all times.
“Ciroc and cran. Two of ‘em,” I requested of the bartender over Usher’s “DJ Got Us Fallin’in Love” mixed in with some Swedish House Mafia dance track.
As my drinks were brought to me, I saw a face that didn’t belong. Not because he wasn’t attractive, but because I knew him from New York. Italian boys always caught my eye. It took me a moment to recognize him, but when I did, I took my two drinks, which were originally both for me, and made my way to where he sat.
“Here,” I said as I bumped his arm. “I bought this one for you.”
When he noticed it was me, his eyes lit up. We’d chatted from time to time but never hooked up. Now that I was a dead man walking, I thoroughly regretted it.
“Oh my God! Rio!” he yelled over the music. “What are you doing here?”
“Just visiting. You know how I do. If there’s a party...,” I joked, maintaining pretense. “And you?”
“Business,” he said with a sigh as he gladly took my drink, giving up on his attempts to get the bartender’s attention. “But I had to slip away. Mix in a little pleasure.” I knew what he meant by “slip away.” From our talks back in New York, I recalled that he was leading a double life, even though we never got too deep into what he did or from whom he hid his true sexual orientation.
“Well, cheers,” I said, clinking glasses with him. For the life of me, I still couldn’t remember my friend’s name, but I continued to smile. It was welcome company, no doubt.
My two shadows grimaced at my flirting, choosing to look away in disdain as long as they knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“How long you in L.A.?” he asked just as I remembered his name—Martino. At least that was what he’d told me.
“Till tomorrow. And you?”
“Not sure. Waiting on instructions from my boss,” he said, his Long Island accent broadcasting loud and clear from his vocal cords despite the pounding bass in the club.
“Your boss. You sound like a gangster,” I teased, deepening my voice.
“I don’t like those terms,” he responded, looking down momentarily into his glass. “I prefer ‘businessman.’ I ain’t into breakin’ kneecaps ’n stuff. Unless absolutely necessary.”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t know you were dangerous like that, Martino.”
“Does that bother you? That I might be a little dangerous?” he asked sincerely.
“Ooooh, no. I like danger. Like it a lot,” I said with a big grin. “Makes things more interesting. Why didn’t you tell me before?” I reached out and caressed his shoulder and bicep in a reassuring way. Also, I just wanted to touch him and feel his sculpted arms. So sue me.
“Back home I gotta be more discreet. Y’know, my people wouldn’t appreciate my ...”
“Lifestyle?” I said, completing his thought for him. I’d heard the term enough times from my pops.
“Yeah. Not so understanding. And I like livin’, y’know?” he admitted, with a little bit of nervous laughter escaping. It felt like I was his priest or something.
“Well, relax, ‘cause I ain’t tellin’no one. Lips sealed’n all,” I commented, being a bit suggestive at the end.
“Good,” he said with a grin of his own. “Where are you staying?”
“Wherever I choose to lay my head,” I answered, knowing it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Oh, because I was—” Martino stopped mid-sentence.
“What’s wrong?”
“Those two men over there...”
“Where?” I followed his gaze and nearly panicked when I realized that he was referring to Alejandro’s men.
“The two Mexicans. In the suits.”
“Oh... what about them?” Shit. I’d thought I was heading at least toward a blow job in the bathroom with Martino, but now their presence was cramping my style.
“They must be following me.”
“You?” I asked, stunned. “Why?”
“Things. Stuff with their boss. They must be onto me ... somehow,” he said, panic showing for the first time. “Look, I gotta get outta here before they find me. Now.”
His sense of urgency swept over me. It made my hands tremble ever so slightly, and I almost dropped my glass.
“Let me help you,” I said, my mind racing. What the hell had I stumbled into? I needed to know more. I had a feeling that my life depended on it.
Orlando
41
It had been seventy-two hours since Miguel’s death, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was just a matter of time before all hell broke loose. From what I could see when my newly assigned driver and bodyguard turned into the garage at Uncle Lou’s auto repair shop, that time was now. To make matters worse, I’d just received a blocked call from Ruby, during which she proceeded to drop a bomb on my head.
“Orlando, did you hear me?” Ruby asked, her accent heavier than ever.
“Yeah, I heard you,” I said, though her words went in one ear and out the other. I was too preoccupied with the scene of carnage before me as I got out of the car.
“What happened?” I yelled.
“Motherfuckers sprayed us, O!” Junior yelled, his T-shirt smeared in crimson as he and Sihad carried the still body from his bullet-riddled and smoking Trans Am.
“Orlando... I’m pregnant,” Ruby repeated again. This time I heard her. The noise and commotion continued around me, but I tuned it out. Ruby’s words hit me like a left hook.
I turned away from my brother. “Are you sure?”
“Orlando! What are you doing?” Junior yelled, bringing my attention back to the situation at hand.
“Of course I’m sure,” Ruby answe
red at almost the same time as Junior’s grunt. “I know my body. I’m two weeks late, and I’m never late. This isn’t my first time being pregnant, Orlando.”
“I have to call you back. We’ve got sort of an emergency here, but we’ll deal with it, baby. Trust me.” I was supremely shocked but unable to process the news at the moment. There was far too much chaos for even me to handle.
“Orlando!” Junior yelled.
“Deal with it?” Ruby snapped, her disgust far from concealed. “Fuck you. I knew I shouldn’t have called you. You’re just like the rest. Don’t worry. I’ll deal with the baby on my own.”
I wanted to apologize, tell her that it had just come out wrong, but Uncle Lou, LC’s brother, lay dead on the ground at my feet. His eyes were still open and they were accusing me. Junior knelt down and closed them with his bloodstained fingers.
Without a good-bye, I hit the button to end my call. I was undoubtedly doing damage to my budding relationship, but I couldn’t concern myself with that now.
“What happened?” I asked Junior.
“We were hittin’ the streets. Like you said to do,” Junior replied, still out of breath. “We were out there searching for our stolen shit. One of Lou’s boys had a tip, so he went with me to check it out. Lou felt he needed to be out there again, you know, trying to help as best he could. He knew how bad things were. The tip turned out to be a dead end, so we came back to the shop—and this happened. They were laying for us, O. No doubt this was a setup.”
“Who did it?” I asked.
“Dunno, bro. Old car pulled alongside us when we were parked. They just unloaded on us. We had no time to react. Couldn’t even see their faces or nothin’. I was too busy tending to Lou, otherwise I woulda chased ’em.”
“What the fuck are we doin’?” Sihad yelled, taking shit hard. Boy probably thought he was immune from such violence since coming up from the ranks. “My boys talkin’ about defectin’, and now our own people settin’ us up and sellin’ us out. Who the fuck is in charge around here, anyway?”