“Mom, why?” I ask, sinking down onto the living room love seat.
“Cause you care for Lorenzo more than anything else. Always have, even when you were young. Soon as I found out he worked for Marcel, I tried to keep y'all apart.” She shakes her head. “You're so in love with love that you don't even understand the other side.”
“But Daddy, he got hurt on the job… He was in the hospital!” I need that shit to make sense. I had already lost the love of my life. Was barely clinging onto my fashion. My dreams ended soon as I heard daddy got hurt.
“Yes, Thomas did. And we brought him home early because the stupid factory refused to pay for any more of his treatment.”
“Ohhh…” I knew my parents were keeping something from me, that’s why I couldn’t focus on any of those designer contracts.
“The factory said he’d caused the injury. They said he had been drinking on the job.”
“But I had money! I would have helped,” I cry out to her, already knowing my Daddy, a Townsend, was too stubborn to take it. I had tons of money then, a few of the clothing companies had given me advances. But soon as Daddy got hurt, I wanted to come home. Momma downplayed the issue. Raphael wanted me to sign one of the contracts first. And I couldn’t think about designing anything with Daddy hurt. While all the contracts wanted sample products quickly.
“Mom,” I shake my head, “Please… This doesn’t make sense!”
But it does. We sit down on the couch and I sob into her arms.
“You didn't want to know that Lorenzo's crew ran through the place. When you came home for all those funerals, it was easier for you to think anybody had a bone to pick with Marcel and his goons. I just let you assume when it came to Thomas. Since he was technically kicked out of the hospital, he decided to go head over to his brother’s for some money to pay for the hospital bills. Marcel was gon’ get him some stronger pain meds. Wrong day.” She shrugs. “But I’m sure you always had it in the back of your mind, about Marcel and the guys.”
Shamefully, I nod. “I did... I know Lorenzo was mad at Uncle Marcel. But… half of Hoover hated Marcel. Daddy tho? Lorenzo! He did this. He killed my father!” Something in me wanted to say that Marcel had always been bad. We all knew that. So karma and Lorenzo got together and took his ass out. But Daddy?
“I hate that nigga. Lorenzo didn't deny it! Couldn't. If Uncle Marcel were alive, Big Bo any of my dudes were here, I’d tell them to–”
“Don't lie to yourself, Rock,” she cuts off my wishes for vengeance. I can hear every time momma told me to leave Lorenzo alone, since I was 12. All those times I went to him. He was my ears for any problem. He lay in my bed after watching scary movies when we were young. Dude was my first and true love.
Time to be a cold ass trick. Soon as thought, I hear my momma humming an old gospel song from church as she sits in the living room. Now what am I to do? God, I need to hate this man…
~~~
Later that night I get comfortable in my old bed, with my sleeping child. He'd cried himself that way. I check my missed calls. Deleting all the ones from the past couple days with Raphael. I'm in shock that he actually went in for counseling today and had the shrink leave a message. Then I listen to a few from Elisha. She sounded at a loss for words. And Lorenzo. That good for nothing thug left me a message.
“Lil’ mama, lemme explain. Gimme just one chance to talk to you,” he tried.
I erase all the calls and dial my husband.
“Rockwell, where are you?” Raphael sounds so concerned.
“At Momma’s.”
“What's the address?”
“Funny that I know exactly where your momma stay! Your uncle Vido! Your gramps! But you don't know where my momma–MY OWNLY FAMILY– lives.”
“Rockwell I haven't had anything for two days. I just want you to know I'm going to try. Honey, I love you.”
CLICK. I hang up in his face at that.
~~~
My life stopped revolving around designer things when I had a baby boy. Then sports became my life. Then that stressful store, paying back the advances on unused designer contracts, and tryna make it. Now I'm standing at the law firm signing papers. Feeling so alone in this life. Maybe momma was right about fucking with Lorenzo. I’ve prayed and prayed to God. My heart is gone.
“Gonna remodel?” My lawyer asks.
“Nope.”
“Whatcha going to do with all this money, Rockwell?”
I tap my lip. “Put it away for my son.”
“All of it?” My lawyer leans back in his chair, his pale blue eyes wide in shock.
“Every penny. Now will you draw up some divorce papers for me after you make arrangements for Junior to have the business insurance money when he’s older?”
“Well… I…”
I smile, knowing that he’s pretty good friends with Raphael. “Please just have the divorce papers ready to sign. If I don't sign them too soon, how long do I have?”
He tells me that he understands. “You’re not sure if you want to stay or not. Raphael can be a pill.”
I chuckle. “Maybe I just want to show them to Raphael a few times.”
“Yeah, keep Raphael on his toes.” Lil’ Mikey Ganza pats my hand. “I think that's a good idea. And if you decide to divorce, you'll have half the Ganza men falling for you, including my old man, Sal.”
“Tell Salvatore I said ‘hi.’”
I step out of the tiny office, knowing that Mikey’s eyes were plastered all over my ass as I went. My friend my ass. Mikey is as shady as it gets. Probably paid to pass the bar. I call Paula while walking down the street to my parallel-parked car.
“Sup boo?”
“I hope to God, I haven't given lil’ Mikey half a million dollars.”
“No ma'am. He's just holding papers and not stinky green ones. We’ll see if Raphael is a bad guy then and only then will the insurance money from your store be on the table.”
I sigh, thinking back to my allowing him to go with me to Italy. Yes, his family comes from money, but if I had signed those papers, gotten over my daddy’s death, I’d have been very wealthy… “And it will still be all Junior’s?”
“Of course, honey booboo. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.” Paula smiles through the phone. “If Mikey is a snitch, then I’m sure lil’ Mikey will call Raphael before reading those files anyway. So, he prolly still doesn’t even know that those insurance forms he received were false. Your real claim is ready. Come read it over, Junior’s name is sitting pretty on some dough, bay bay.” She sighs. “After all of this, guess I gotta find a law company that will take my ass.”
“Trick you graduated a while back, don’t think I don’t know you’re texting while pretending to read textbooks. What are you waiting for?”
“For you to give me a 100 percent employee discount.”
I hang up with a chuckle. Paula is still hopeful that I’ll reopen the store. Time to go home and we shall see if momma was right. Am I so enamored with love that I don't know my own husband loves me? Hell, me and Raphael have fucked each other over enough for five years. With Lorenzo, we had been childhood best friend. The Lord knows I loved Lorenzo soon as I laid eyes on him. Maybe it was all me? Maybe he never cared?
Chapter 51
BLU.
Life is different at Loveland Rehab. Lorenzo had dropped me off right before his plane was to leave. I knew he wanted to get out of town as soon as possible. I’m damn near his twin when it comes to love, and I know we both really fuck shit up. Anyway, he gave me a hug and told me to act right. Moms and my sisters all hugged and helped me get settled in. Even Popeye came by to give me more pictures of Phillip, a whole photo album.
So, I sigh and sit on the soft bed in this luxurious rehab, but no matter how much money Lorenzo blew on this place, no matter how comfortable it appears, these people want to purge my love for drugs.
I had never gotten past day two the last couple of times my brother got me into Loveland.
A counselor comes to chat with me. We talk about all the people I need to apologize to during my addiction. I snap, “Man, this damn list can go on forever!”
“Take life a day at a time,” says one of the other cokeheads in the group.
“Mannnn, fuck a day at a time.” I sigh, sitting back on the suede couch, can I do this. But I have that picture Popeye gave me of Phillip in my bedroom. My son will be the reason I survive.
~~~
Later that evening, I get the chance to use the phone. With the list of people I need to call, I start with the hard one. Rocky. Surprisingly, she answers.
“Yeah,” she sounds dead like she once did when she first returned from Italy, after Marcel and Thomas’ death.
“Rocky, sis, I’m so sorry…” I start to sob. This apologizing shit can kill me if it want to.
“Blu, I love you, girl. I just…”
“What, tell me?”
“Nothing.”
“Rockwell, you know my moms was tryna keep you from Lorenzo. You know we wanted the best for you. Even when I was mean to you... I apologize for that.”
“Listen, Blu, I understand why you were angry with me–”
“No,” I cut off Rockwell, needing her to know that my behavior was foul no matter what, but she tells me a story of why she never called back after Popeye came home. I knew Raphael’s shady ass wasn’t treating her right! Shoulda put a cap in his ass my damn self!
“Blu, so you know I wasn’t finna tell you. It had always been torture in the past for you not to tell Lorenzo, about me and even when Junior was born. I know how close y’all are, and I didn’t want Lorenzo to see me with two black eyes. Now before you speak, Blu,” Rocky pauses and my heart is bleeding for her. “I love you, you my sister. Forgive me for not being there for you, Phillip and Popeye. Blu, you have already been forgiven for being angry with me. But I don’t think I could ever forgive your brother. Hell, I even told Momma Rita I didn’t want to speak with her ever again. Lakitha has been texting me that you’re in rehab. So I wanted you, and only you, to know all the truth before all is said and done. I wish you the best at Loveland Rehab.” She sounds like she’s done with the Medina’s, each and every one of us.
“Thank you,” I sigh deeply. Though I know Rockwell loves us, but just doesn’t want to be around us no more, I have to add, “Rocky, one more thing…”
Chapter 52
LORENZO
Ayo meets me at a crab shack in Miami. Then Trek and Shamika come through, grab a few chairs and we all start grubbing.
Out of the blue, Shamika asks me, “But why are you here?”
“Got damn baby, I told you not to dig in. Ain't even sipped ya Moscato yet!” Trek shakes his head.
“Well, we all know I'm the love connection. Those Ganza’s ain’t even whispering on the streets these days. Last I heard, Rocky came with you to New York a few weeks ago. Lorenzo, you so far gone over that ass it ain't even funny. What?” She chuckles, pointing a crab leg at me. “I noticed Rockwell’s booty. And that donkey is hot. No homo. So either the booty needs to be here, or you need to be next to that booty.”
“Yeah,” Trek smiles
She elbows him. “Nigga you better be a blind man walking around.”
“Can't see nothing! Damn, Mika, you know Rock is like a little sister to me.” Trek chugs down his beer.
“Chuey ready to take over.” Ayo says.
“Yeah, and I know that Nacho was hella ready.” Trek shakes his head.
“Oh-fucking-well,” Shamika laughs. “Did you really have to make the nigga eat his balls?”
“Y'all I'm tryna eat,” Ayo cracks his crab legs. “That’s how these muthafuckin’ Colombians get down, Mika, you know that. So I always stay my ass in Miami, ain’t finna have this nigga coming after me.”
“Ain't gotta worry, y'all fam.” I shrug.
“And he finally speaks,” Shamika winks at me. “So back to Rockwell. Since the cat let go of ya tongue. When you going to go get her? Now if I could be a fly on the wall when y'all make up.”
“Ya wife a freak,” Ayo says.
“She’s my freak!” Trek snaps.
“Ain't nobody tryna start nothing boy,” Shamika rubs his back
“Damn right,” he replies, chest puffed up.
I finally speak, “I killed her father.”
“Nah, man.” Trek shakes his head. “One of us did. Not you.”
“Yeah, me. Soon as somebody opened the door, Thomas was standing there frozen. Shot ‘em before I even saw his face.”
Shamika sighs. “So how we going to get y'all back together? Like Santiago said. Y'all got history. Y'all loved each other from jump.”
“First thing, we gotta get this nigga to go back to The H,” Trek says.
“Shit that was how Chuey got so much clout and Nacho got jealous,” Ayo shakes his head, knowing I ain’t finna go back. Chuey can hold down The H for good this time.
“Nah, man I'm good here. I got a shipment coming into the pier soon. One of those commercial cruises, got me set with a bunch of white girls, if you know what I mean, so I’m staying.”
Ayo shakes his head. “Man you know I always got the white girls in Miami.”
Damn, this the problem with being too good at my shit. I trust Trek and Shamika to keep New York supply area on lock. Ayo can really handle Miami. I’m used to passing through to chill with a nigga but mainly stay in Colombia.
Chapter 53
ROCKWELL
Two weeks and a million rose petals later, I still can't get a good feel for my husband. Raphael’s walking short lengths without the cane now, and getting around well, trying to calm me over a reason he doesn’t know. He thinks I’m depressed about my store. Truthfully, my heart was meant to design clothes. Right now my brain is on me and my child moving somewhere sunny, like California.
One day, Raphael corners me for a candlelight lunch, of herb chicken and red wine, that he insisted Bonita has prepared for us while Junior was at preschool. The lame even lit the tapered candles after escorting me to the dining room table.
“You know I'm trying don't you?” he asks, green eyes searching mine for some type of emotion.
All I want to do is make plans to leave this man, to leave Hoover and everyone I know behind. But while I’m still working out the kinks, I smile. “Baby, go take your pain meds,” I finally say, trying not to feel so smothered by Raphael.
Another thing, Raphael won't touch any drugs, let alone the Tylenol 3s. He’s been trying to get me to go to counseling. Every evening he comes back with some tip or bit of advice from the psychiatrist.
“Rockwell,” he says, taking my hands across the table. “I love you.”
“Honey, you’re grimacing, I can see that you’re in pain.” My fingers untwine from him. “Let me go get the heating pad for your back.”
Soon as I’m out the room, I sprint up the stairs and to the farthest bathroom to throw up. It's the second time today. I lean against the marble counter thinking about what I cooked for breakfast. Raphael seems okay. None of the school faculty has called about Junior tossing up his cookies. What did I eat that didn’t sit well with my tummy?
Oh God. My heart stops. I'm pregnant. Raphael and I haven't had sex since before his hospital stay. Since before Lorenzo kidnapped me and Junior…At least two maybe three months ago.
I come back downstairs slowly. Raphael is still sitting at the dining table. I reach over and kiss his forehead. “Baby, I'll go get some stuff for a nice dinner tonight.” Yes, it sounds ridiculous with all the pretty food at the table already, but I add, “I'm cooking your favorite, since you had this beautiful lunch prepared for me.” Raphael can't even get a word out before I'm out the door and headed to the doctor’s office.
~~~
As I lay down on the medi
cal table, Dr. Myum puts cold jelly on my belly. She’s Middle Eastern, with a red dot on her forehead so I focus on that instead of her smile. Ain’t no reason to smile these days. ‘Jesus, please let me have a stomach virus. Let that be my punishment for messing around on my husband,’ I pray.
“Oh, Mrs. Bell, see those two little dots?” Dr. Myum’s smile gets even wider as she looks at the ultrasound screen.
“No.” I search the black screen with the green squiggles. “No, I don’t see a dot.”
“There’s one baby,” She moves the contraption over my belly and points on the screen, then moves it again, “and there’s the other, baby.”
“You mean the head and the feet, of the baby?” My hand goes to my chest, I lean up and all I want to do is wipe this crap off my belly and get to stepping.
“No Mrs. Bell, you’re having twins.” She finally gets my apprehension and adds, “Congratulations!”
I'm leaving the office with a bottle of Apple Cider and an ultrasound photo. Bring on the muthafuckin' champagne! It’s still winter, but the sun feels extra hot beaming down on me as I get into my Porsche Cayenne. My face is stone set into a frown. Rummaging through my purse, I snatch up my cell phone and take a snap shot of Lorenzo’s little bastard children, and then send it in a photo text message. I want to call him and be cruel, so I do.
This nigga answers mid-first ring, sounding all sexy, “Rocky…”
“Hey, Renz, don't worry about a DNA test. You got them super genes. These little bastards are yours just like Junior is! FYI: I’m not keeping these two! Just in case your stupid ass don’t know what all these stupid dots mean. You got lucky with twins!” I click the END button before he can reply. As my heartbeat comes down, I can't help but smile. If there’s one thing I know, Lorenzo loves family. Taking this from him, murdering his bastards’ kinda makes me feel good.
He calls right back. Again and again all the while I’m calling my primary doctor to schedule an abortion. I expect him to be at my house when I get there. Lorenzo has always been impulsive and it pops a hole in my big ego when I pull into the lot and he’s not there. My full heart shrivels back up again.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug Page 19