by Ty Marshall
“Everything’s fine,” she replied, offering a soothing rub on his chest.
“You sure? You not trying to sneak away again, are you?” he jokingly questioned.
“No, not at all. I’m actually looking forward to our fresh start,” she lied, not only to put his mind at ease but trying to convince herself that her love for California could be easily forgotten.
Bree kissed her on the forehead and nodded. A fresh start was exactly what they needed. But right now he needed at least another hour of sleep. Closing his eyes, once more he slipped back into a comfortable snooze.
The sound of shattering glass jolted them awake as a hail of gunfire abruptly came crashing through the windows. China screamed at the top of her lungs. Bree reacted quickly, grabbing her out of harm’s way, rolling off the bed and taking cover. A fusillade of shots ripped through the mattress, headboard, and sheetrock, sending splintered wood, money, and debris flying everywhere. A group of masked gunmen wielding high-powered assault rifles were shredding the motel room mercilessly, turning it into a death trap. Bree reached for his gun, but a bullet struck the lamp on the nightstand, bursting it into pieces that narrowly missed putting a hole in his hand or taking off a few fingers.
“Shit!” he shouted as a mixture of fear and adrenaline flowed through him.
Hearing the storm of bullets whizzing passed her head, China knew that she was going to die. Outnumbered, outgunned, and running out of time, she could only think of one person with the balls and arrogance to pull off such a brazen hit: Cinco. He was dead, but those were certainly his trained wolves bringing the reaper to their doorstep.
Bree was just looking for a way to survive, searching the room for an escape route. When his eyes landed on the adjoining room door, he knew he had found it. “Listen, ma, we got one way and one chance to get the fuck outta here. The door on your left leads to the room next door. We get through that door and out the bathroom window, we live. You understand me?”
China nodded her head as her sobs turned to whimpers. She took a peek up at the door to see what he was talking about.
Bree reached for his gun again. This time he was able to grab it, then they both began crawling toward the adjoining room door. The pain of her arms and legs being cut by the broken glass on the floor didn’t deter China one bit. The will to live was strong in both of them, motivating and pushing them toward the door. Suddenly the gunfire stopped, and Bree thought that the gunmen must be reloading. He knew this was their chance. They had to make a break for it now. He jumped to his feet, pulling China up with him all in one motion. Using all his strength, he crashed through the door into the next room. His shoulder throbbed, but the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins served as a painkiller. They quickly raced into the bathroom. Pushing the swinging window open, Bree assisted China through the window first, then prepared to follow. Out of nowhere, a masked gunman came rushing into the bathroom. Without hesitation, Bree lifted his weapon and squeezed, firing two shots, hitting the gunman in the chest. He didn’t stay around long enough to watch the body drop, vanishing through the window in an instant.
Chapter 3
Half naked, barefoot, and bleeding, Bree and China sprinted up the narrow alley behind the motel, hand and hand until they hit the street. Hightailing it north on Crenshaw Boulevard, never looking back or stopping until they had put a safe distance between them and the gunmen back at the motel. Convinced that they were out of harm’s way, Bree pulled China into a twenty-four-hour coin Laundromat in the middle of the block to catch their breath.
The place was empty except for two Mexican women with several bags of clothes. Bree and China headed straight toward the back, picking a few articles of clothing out of a dryer that had stopped on the way to the bathroom. Once they were inside, Bree closed the door, locking it behind them.
“Fuck!” he grunted under his breath, realizing that in narrowly escaping death, they had left all the getaway money back in the room. How far were they supposed to get flat broke?
“The money,” China said, realizing the same thing at the exact same time. “What are we gonna do now, Bree?” she sassed, giving off tons of attitude.
“Calm down. Let me think, let me think,” he said, walking in a circle.
“You need to hurry up and come up with something, ’cause we don’t have a lot of—”
“Shut up. I said let me think,” Bree said through clenched teeth, really wanting to yell but knowing he didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to them. They were back at square one with their worst fear confirmed. Cinco’s people were coming for them. He needed to come up with a plan to get them out of the city as safe and as fast as possible.
China moaned as the pain from the cuts on her arms and legs began to set in.
“Come here,” Bree said as he walked over to the sink and turned on the water. He snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the water. “Come here,” he repeated, causing China to move toward him. He gently began cleaning the blood off her limbs and wiping the cuts clean.
“That hurts,” she whined from the sting.
“Yo, I know how we can get some paper real quick. A partner of mine gotta chop shop out in Inglewood. I can jack a car, take it to him, and get the cash. Plus that puts us close to the airport. We can hop on a plane and be in New York in a few hours,” he explained.
“But you can’t be out there carjacking,” China said as she ripped off a few paper towels and began tending to his wounds. “We already got Cinco’s goons after us. We don’t need the police too.”
“Yeah, you right,” Bree said, reconsidering his plan. “I got a better idea. Here, put this on,” he said, tossing her a dress he’d grabbed out of the dryer.
China lifted the dress in front of her face, twisting up her nose at it. “I’m not wearing this dress. This shit is ugly.”
“Just put it on,” he insisted, slipping a shirt he’d grabbed over his head.
Bree slowly eased open the bathroom door, just enough to spy out through the small crack. The Laundromat was still fairly empty, perfect to put his plan in motion. Now all they needed was for the chance to present itself.
“What’s taking so long? Come on,” China whispered, growing impatient.
“Shh,” Bree said, turning back to face her, placing his finger over his lips. The key was to remain calm and wait for the precise moment to move. Moving reckless was what had them on the run. Every move made from here on out had to be done wisely. Focusing his attention back into the Laundromat, he observed a rail-thin black woman entering the establishment. She was struggling to carry an oversized laundry basket overflowing with clothes. This was the opportunity Bree was looking for.
“Now,” he said, exiting the bathroom and making a beeline toward the woman, with China following a few steps behind.
With the large basket obstructing her line of sight, she had no shot at avoiding Bree. He didn’t hesitate or break stride, crashing directly into her, spilling all her belongings to the floor.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” the woman cried, apologizing for her clumsiness, thinking she was at fault.
“No, I’m sorry,” Bree replied, turning on the charm and hiding his deception behind a sheepish smile. “I should’ve been paying more attention to where I was going. Let me help you,” he offered, squatting down to collect the clothes and placing them back in the basket.
“Oh, thank you so much. That’s so nice of you,” the woman complimented, then joined him in retrieving her things.
Distracted by Bree’s good looks and charisma, plus the fact that her dirty undergarments were sprawled everywhere, the woman never sensed China’s presence as she reached into her handbag, effortlessly commandeering her car keys. China hid them in her balled-up fist as she slipped out the door undetected. Bree exited the Laundromat a few moments later and she handed them over. Then she pointed to an old green minivan with a welcoming sliding door and a small basket of clothes on the seat.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Bree said, shaking his head at the pitiful means of transportation they had acquired. Still and all, it would have to do, and they wasted no time jumping into the van and peeling off.
* * *
Trying his best to push the minivan beyond its limits without drawing the attention of the cops, Bree exited the main street onto the access road, then floored the gas pedal. A few miles up the road, he turned into a parking lot, steering the van up to a small warehouse with a white roller garage door that read MIKE’S BODY PARTS & PAINT. To the untrained eye, the building resembled any other auto repair shop, but to those in the know, Mike’s was a chop shop. It was owned by a middle-aged Sudanese man, who along with his nephew ran an international auto theft ring. A career criminal, Bree had done plenty of business with them as a teenage carjacker before becoming one of Cinco’s mules. Looking at the building and thinking about his current situation, Bree wished he had never switched professions.
He blew the horn twice and waited for the garage door to open. The shop was in full swing when they pulled in. Workers with helmets on, sparks flying from wielding machines, and stripped-down vehicles were everywhere. It was a luxury car wasteland. The place foreign sports cars went to die. A graveyard minus the headstones, just a bunch of car emblems tossed in a pile.
China had only heard stories of places like this existing, and had never witnessed it firsthand. Her mouth fell open in amazement at a row of cars worth over a half of million dollars, waiting to be led to slaughter like chickens in a poultry plant. Even with her life hanging in the balance, she creamed her panties some, imagining herself behind the wheel of one of them. Her curiosity had been aroused, and she needed to know more about where she was. “How do you know about this place? And how do you know these people?”
“I used to do some work for one of the owners,” Bree said nonchalantly, knowing his lack of detail would infuriate her. “There he goes right there.” He pointed, hopping out of the van before China had the chance to reply.
“Suleiman,” Bree called out as he strode toward the man who was only a few years his senior.
Suleiman had thick wavy hair, a light-brown complexion with angular facial features, and long slender limbs. He was the nephew and second-in-command of the entire operation. Unlike his uncle, he was born in the States and had adapted to California’s gang culture. Wearing dickeys and T-shirts and carrying himself with hip-hop swag. “My nigga Bree. What it do? It’s been a minute,” he greeted with a pound before pausing midsentence, noticing his bare feet. “Where’s your shoes, bro?”
“Long story,” Bree answered.
“Wouldn’t have something to do with that money Cinco’s people got on your head, would it?”
Bree immediately reached for the gun in his waist, paranoid and on edge from the scene at the motel. He didn’t know who to trust, all he saw was mask, which meant everybody was a suspect. He refused to get caught slipping again.
Suleiman saw the look in his eye and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Nah, you know that ain’t my thing. I’m just putting you on,” he informed. “Word on the street is you and your girl is TOS—terminate on sight. If I was you, I’d get out of Dodge ASAP. It’s a lot of niggas fucked-up out here, they could use that money.”
Bree relaxed some, taking his hand off his gun. Suleiman was absolutely right, they should have been gone by now. “That’s what a nigga trying to do. That’s why I’m here.”
“What’s up? What you need?”
“I’m trying to see what I can get for that.” Bree pointed back at the minivan sticking out like a sore thumb in the garage of fine automobiles.
“What I’m supposed to do with that? I ain’t running no junkyard,” Suleiman joked.
“I just need something, anything,” Bree asked again, stopping just short of begging.
Suleiman rubbed his chin, letting it all sink it. Bree had brought him a lot of business in the past, but that was years ago. The current situation had nothing to do with Suleiman or his business, and he wasn’t a man inclined to do favors. But he had always liked Bree, so this one time only, he decided to extend the courtesy. “What size you wear, Bree?” he asked, pointing to his feet.
“A twelve.”
Suleiman disappeared into his office and retuned holding a pair of worn sneakers. “Here,” he said, offering them to Bree, who gladly accepted, placing them on his feet. “Now as far as helping you out, this is all I can do for you,” he declared, handing Bree a thousand dollars in cash. “But you can keep that piece-of-shit van.”
Bree was disappointed but didn’t voice it, just nodded his head, accepting the gift. He’d had hopes of a bigger score, but he would be leaving better than he came through the doors, and that’s all he really could ask for. A thousand dollars wouldn’t get them far, but it was a start. “Keep the van for me. Burn it, destroy it, I don’t care. It’s hot, and I got enough people after me, don’t need LA’s finest added to the list.”
“No doubt. I understand.” Suleiman nodded in agreement, then pounded Bree up.
China had stayed in the van the whole time, paying close attention to the exchange between the two men. She was growing more frustrated by the moment, wishing she could hear the words they were speaking, but she did her best to decipher their conversation through the hand gestures and facial expressions. She could tell by the look on Bree’s face as he walked toward her that things hadn’t gone as planned.
“C’mon, ma, we out,” he said, swinging open the door.
“What happened?” she inquired, jumping out of the car and following him out the front door of the shop.
* * *
“What happened back there, Bree?” China spoke up as she jogged to catch up with her clearly annoyed boyfriend. “Why are we walking? And where are we going?” His silence was deafening, but that didn’t stop China. She continued to press the issue. Finally at her limit, she stopped walking and screamed out his name. “Bree! Answer me right now, or I’m not moving another inch.”
Bree looked back over his shoulder. Seeing her standing still with her arms folded caused his blood to boil. This was not the time for one of her temper tantrums; her spoiled-little-rich-girl attitude was only aggravating the situation. “C’mon, we don’t have time for your shit,” he informed her, but she remained motionless, forcing him to turn and march back to her.
“I don’t care. I wanna know what happened back there,” she challenged.
China had gotten on his nerves, and his high yellow face grew red with frustration. “Listen, right now don’t none of that matter. All that matters is that we get the fuck out of California, by hook or by crook. I wouldn’t even be out here with my dick in the dirt if you hadn’t run off with my paper in the first place, so don’t start your shit. You gotta trust me. Stop working against me, and everything will be good. Now since you need to know, I only got a thousand dollars. So unless you got a better idea, we gonna have to hop on Amtrak instead of the plane.”
“What? Train?” China answered back, highly upset by the turn of events. “You mean to tell me we came all the way out here for nothing?”
“We had nothing, we got a thousand dollars now,” he reminded her, waving the cash in her face. “I ain’t about to stand here and argue with you, ma. You rolling or what? ’Cause here come the bus. You decide.” Leaving her to think about it, he crossed the street to the bus stop.
China knew there wasn’t much to think about and crossed the street just as the city bus pulled to a stop.
Chapter 4
“Union Station.” The bus driver announced the stop over the speaker.
Bree and China were already on their feet, waiting by the door for the bus to come to a complete stop. As soon as the doors swung open, they leaped from the bus and raced toward the historic railway station in downtown Los Angeles. Passing through the doors of the station was like being thrust back into time. The beautifully designed waiting room was straight out of the 1930s. The station was
overly crowded, with a flow of people entering, exiting, and racing for their trains, while others stood watching the boards showing the departures and arrivals. China kept a tight grip on Bree’s hand as they navigated the thick swarm of people, trying her best not to get separated. Approaching the departures board, Bree scanned for a train to Chicago and found that the next one was leaving within the hour. They would have to catch a connecting train from there to New York, then on to Canada. The grueling trip would take fifty-seven hours, three days in all, but would get them safely across the border, making it well worth it.
“C’mon, ma,” Bree said, nodding for them to get on the ticket line.
China followed behind, still holding on to his hand. The events of the day had her jittery; almost getting your head blown off will do that to you. The long line of people was now the only thing standing between her and the peace of mind she so desperately craved. Inside the chaotic herd of people, she found a small silver of hope to grab on to the way she had Bree’s hand. That crumb of optimism went a long way to soothe her fears. Distracted by the busy station and the crowd, China never noticed the men lurking in the distance. That false sense of hope was suddenly destroyed when one of the men tugged on her arm, attempting to grab her. When she turned around he was aiming a gun at her. “Bree, a gun!” China let out a loud, sharp, shrill cry.
The crowd erupted in a roar of panic and began scrambling around to escape harm. In the midst of the pandemonium and utter confusion, Bree and China were able to get lost in the mass of frightened travelers and away from the would-be gunmen. They raced toward the main exit but detoured, seeing two men waiting near a newsstand with guns bulging out of newspapers. A few policemen raced around the corner with their weapons drawn, looking to investigate the commotion. Their presence allowed Bree and China to escape out a side exit onto the street.
Bree noticed a dark SUV with blacked-out windows come to a screeching halt in the middle of the street and make a U-turn once it spotted them. “C’mon, China!” he shouted for her to keep up as they took off down the sidewalk with the SUV in pursuit, knocking people out of their way every few steps. No matter how fast they ran, they couldn’t seem to shake or outrun the SUV as the chase continued for blocks. Bree was becoming fatigued and knew he had to do something. He saw a mob of people and realized they were coming up on Grand Park. “Cut into the park,” he instructed. China followed, and they disappeared, blending in with the people attending an event in the park. Camouflaged by the crowd, they watched the SUV slow to a stop and the back passenger window lower slightly, but not enough to see who was in it. After a few minutes, the window went back up and the SUV pulled off.