The room was the size of the actual park in Leimert Park.
We tore up shit as we moved around his playground, pulled the big-screen off the wall, threw anything that wasn’t nailed down, but he wouldn’t let go of his blades.
An explosion came from behind us. A bullet hit a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall. Glass rained to the floor. Jake Ellis and I both jumped, looked back, and expected to see a well-armed league of bushwhackers here to protect their benefactor. I was ready to duck and dodge bullets.
It was Mrs. Garrett. She could barely stand but had her .380 in her right hand. It was a pretty gun, blushing pink with a handle made of pink swirling pearls, a sweet customized Ruger LCP made to look like a work of art. I wondered if it was loaded with pretty pink bullets too.
She used the doorframe to hold herself up. “Dickie Bird, put down the imported knives. Those are not toys. Those are stolen from Asia and you know those are very, very expensive.”
“I bought these.”
“I saw the invoice. From a man who stole them. Still stolen. Like everything else.”
“Where did you get a gun from, Elaine?”
“Gun fairy.”
“Doesn’t look real.”
The bald and wounded woman fired another shot, that one closer to her husband.
She repeated, “Sweetie, put the knives down. Next time I won’t miss.”
“You’re going to shoot me?”
“No, but you’re not going to cut up the man who saved me from drowning. I can’t let you do that. So, put the knives down or I will shoot you in your nuts just to hear you scream.”
He commanded, “Throw me that gun.”
“No.”
He snapped, “Give me the fucking gun.”
“You raped me.”
“Elaine.”
“You raped me like I was some drunk bitch behind a Dumpster.”
“A husband can’t rape his wife.”
“Your mantra.”
“It’s in the Bible.”
“I hated you before, but I really, really hate you now.”
“I love you. You just make me a little crazy. You drive me crazy, Apple Booty.”
Her voice weakened, her soft spot. “Don’t call me that.”
“I love you.”
She fired another shot into the bedroom’s 105-inch curved 4K TV, and that was like throwing a hundred grand in C-notes on a bed of fire. But like Garrett had said, when you didn’t make the money, its accoutrements had no value. Right now, Mrs. Garrett had lost her sweetness and was capable of burning this bitch down. I stepped to the side of her ire. And so did Jake Ellis.
Even a small woman, a demure woman, when enraged, terrified men like us.
The dam burst and she limped to and fro, waggling her gun, ranting.
“This house is nothing but a zoo, and you have been the zookeeper. I was your favorite pet animal. You kept me pretty, you fed me, just like I was an animal living in a cage. You bought me things like they were treats, gave me nice shoes like you were giving an animal an extra bone under the table. This is a zoo. A roadside zoo and not even a good zoo. Beautiful creatures caged in a roadside zoo made of marble and glass and bricks, where your possessions don’t have basic rights to freedom and everything else that makes their lives meaningful. This is a zoo where you beat animals when they don’t do what you want them to do or when they misbehave.”
“What can I do to fix this, Elaine? Talk to me. Fuck, Elaine, lower the damn gun.”
“I’m shaking. Can’t stop shaking now. I have been filled with anxiety for too long.”
“Elaine. I overreacted. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
She coughed like gallons of pool water were still in her lungs, coughed like she was rattling with pneumonia, then wiped her swollen lips, wiped her mouth, and spoke in a choppy, raspy, getting-sick voice. “You have . . . disappointed . . . me, Dickie Bird. Since our wedding day.”
Garrett said, “I’ll change the prenup. I will call and make it effective immediately.”
She fired again, shot and almost hit him. “Zookeeper. You brutalized me, treated me like chattel, worse than a mutt, like one of your commodities, and kicked me down the stairs. You’re the animal. You’re the dog. You’re the rabid two-legged dog. And you need to be put down.”
“I’ll change the goddamn prenup, Elaine.”
“I can change it myself.” She took a breath, felt her physical pain, touched her bald head, coughed a few more times, then looked at Garrett, tears in her beet-red eyes. “Dickie Bird, I can change it myself. With one bullet. Zookeeper, I can change everything with one bullet.”
Knives in hands, nowhere to go, the businessman tried to barter. “Elaine.”
Bloodied lips trembled. Tears rained from bloodred eyes. “You tried to drown me.”
Frustrated, Garrett clanged his blades together. “Elaine.”
“Knives. Down. Now. I’m in charge now, Dickie Bird. This dumb woman is in charge.”
“Bitch, give me the fuckin’ gun.”
She fired and hit him in the right shoulder. That surprised Garrett as much as it surprised me and Jake Ellis. Garrett exhaled, with the pain, the shock, and gradually dropped his weapons.
She said, “I wish I was a man for five minutes. I wish I was Suge Knight big so I could beat your ass the way I want to beat your ass, then throw you in that pool. But I’m not a big man. And neither are you. Having a dick doesn’t make a boy a man. I still bet I could beat your ass.”
“Can’t believe you fuckin’ shot me.”
“Sorry, not sorry.”
“Who taught you how to shoot a gun?”
“Compton, Dickie Bird. Surprise. Now, get ready to fight like a real man fights.”
Garrett said, “You shoot me and now you want to fight?”
“If I wasn’t hurting so bad, I’d fight you. I would drag you up and down those stairs.”
“Elaine. Give. Me. That. Fuckin’. Gun.”
“Shut up, Israel. Stop saying my name like I’m a child.”
“Lower the gun, Elaine. Don’t fucking shoot me again.”
“Now you know how I feel. Now you feel the pain I feel.”
“Shooting me is not called for. We argue. We fight. We don’t shoot each other.”
“You’ve done things to me before. But never like this. Never like this. You’ve slapped me. You’ve head-butted me before. I’ve made honest mistakes and you’ve thrown me against walls. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. Told myself that I was being a bad wife. Learned to lie to you to keep the peace. Had to lie to keep from being hit. Convinced myself I deserved it when you did get angry and take it out on me, said I deserved to be locked in my closet, that it was all my fault.”
“You get out of control. I only did what I had to do to get you to behave.”
“Like an animal in a zoo.”
“I never hit you out of anger, only to correct you.”
“I’m not a child. Don’t make it sound like I am a child, then sleep with me.”
“I only discipline you. You act like a shrew and bring the punishment on yourself.”
“Blame the victim. Everything you do is someone else’s fault. Everything about this marriage is a lie. When that memory shit shows up on Facebook, when it forces me to look at our post-prenup marriage pictures from years ago, I want to call and curse out Mark Zuckerberg.”
“Elaine.”
“Let me see you hit a man the way you hit me. Let me see you correct a man.”
“Elaine.”
“You might be a zookeeper, but I’m not an animal in a zoo.”
“You fucking shot me, with a gun my money paid for. You added insult to injury, and with me standing here bleeding to death, with your goons at your side, now you want me to fight?”
“Fight one of them, or catch some more lead.”
“So, now you’re the zookeeper.”
“No, I’m your wife. I’m your wife, same as I’ve been since I was duped and married you.”
“Elaine. You were never duped. How can you live like this and be duped?”
“I hear lead poisoning is bad for the health. As bad as the water in Flint, only quicker and with a lot less pain. I read that .380 bullets are very bad for the health. Even for animals like you.”
“Elaine. You’re better than this.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Don’t point that gun at me while you’re upset like that.”
“Fight. Or get shot again. Be glad I’m giving you a choice. We’re at a new altar. And I’m sorry, no attorney is going to magically appear so you can negotiate this postnuptial moment.”
Garrett motioned at me.
His wife shook her head, stopped the match, still crying. “No, zookeeper, not him.”
Garrett growled, “You gave me an option. . . . I choose to fight this one.”
“You didn’t give me an option on my wedding day. You gave me an ultimatum. You don’t get to choose. You fight who I say you fight, or get shot again. I’m making the rules now.”
He pointed at me like he was still in charge. “This one.”
She coughed again. “No, Dickie Bird. Fight the African. After they left today you went on and on and on talking about how you could have kicked his black ass. Only you didn’t use the word black. You called him the name of that Dick Gregory book a million times.”
Garrett winced, held his wounded arm. “Don’t do this, Elaine. For better or for worse.”
“Dickie Bird, I think I’m covered by our contract. Not doing this is not in my prenup.”
“Elaine. I’m shot. I need a damn doctor. You shot me.”
“Fight.”
“It won’t be a fair fight.”
“What’s fair to a man like you? What’s fair to a man who called his wife fat, old, ugly, and who was mean to her for fun? Unfair is the only kind of fight you know how to be in.”
His wife was younger, but she was in charge. She was half past dead, rocking in PTSD, and in charge. The oppressed housewife had conquered, risen, and that had been Garrett’s biggest fear. Garrett might as well have been trying to negotiate his bullshit with Judge Faith.
Mrs. Garrett held her side in agony. “I hope he kills you ten times.”
“Elaine. How much? Just tell me how much you want. Two, three million?”
“What?”
“How much do you want a year? Just tell me how much. I will make it retroactive.”
“I want nothing. I never wanted anything. But you hurt my feelings.”
“I can have it wired to an account that no one will have access to but you.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy. And children. You robbed me.”
“Elaine.”
“While I loved you, despite all of this, you have come up very short. I had faith. I was patient. Hoped you’d change. Hoped I wasn’t a fool. I bet the whole town is laughing at me like I’m silly, poor, foolish white trash from Compton. You haven’t put much love on the table, not like I did all these years. I did my best to be pretty enough, to be smart enough. I should have cheated on you a long time before, long before today, if a blow job is considered cheating.”
“You and the kaffir.”
“I have been depressed for so long. Sneaking to take pills. And ashamed to admit it.”
“While I sat at my dinner table.”
“You never should’ve talked down to me in front of them. I’d forgot what my momma’d taught me. Women’ll always have more value than men. I forgot my worth. Eggs are expensive and sperm is cheap. You can have this house, the cars, and your boat, Jesus of Lübeck, but you’ll never be worth more than me. Shit in a golden toilet still looks and smells like shit.”
“In my house.”
“I know it goes against the original marriage vows, the legal document I regrettably signed after that prenuptial agreement was forced on me, but I enjoyed cheating on you. That made me a bad Christian, and I’ll deal with that when I die and see Jesus, but I enjoyed it. About time I enjoyed something. Damn shame to live like this, to have all this, a life of silver and gold, and enjoy nothing in life.” She was coming apart. “All this shit because you called a man a word that you should’ve kept on the other side of your capped teeth. Well, I’m not stupid, and I know it’s more complicated than that, way more complicated, but even with you trying to rip off San Bernardino, I’ll say that was the spark. You have called black people that since I have known you. I told you years ago you’d one day say that to the wrong black man. Well, we’ve had that day. This has been the most awful day of my goddamn life. The most awful. And I can’t take another. I hope he kills you like you tried to kill me. I hope you feel like you’ve been kicked down stairs, raped, and get drowned in freezing water. Zookeeper, from this animal that you have kept in your magnificent cage, in this loveless marriage, I hope it takes a long time for you to see my Jesus.”
“Elaine.”
“Stop saying my name, Israel.”
“Four million a year. For every year we’ve been married.”
She fumed, offended and insulted as her words erupted: “I don’t know how many times I’ve slept with you as your wife, Dickie Bird. But right now, I know that’s over and done with. That bed. That bed right there. I hate that bed. I hated when you called me to come get in that bed with you. You might as well have had me upside down on a cross on Friday the thirteenth, because it felt like I was fucking Satan. All you ever did was sexualize me. You never saw me as an equal. I’m more than a sexual being. Women are more than sexual beings, Dickie Bird. I’m more than a cook and a maid. I was always scared. Afraid you’d get angry, that you’d do a few lines and have one Pabst Blue Ribbon too many and react to something I did, something you saw as wrong, and spend all night locked in my closet because I’d be afraid that you’d slap me again. You slapped me because I didn’t fold your T-shirts as good as they do at the stores in the mall. You slapped me because I made the bed and the sheets didn’t have hospital corners. I was a good wife. I’m intelligent, beautiful, brave, strong, supportive. And if you were wrong, if I corrected you, you slapped me. You hated that I was witty. Optimistic. Majestic. Loving. Nurturing. For that, you slapped me. We’re done. I want a divorce. I don’t know what life has for me next, but right now I know that I’m out of fucks. Zero fucks to give, you leathery piece of shit. You destroyed my hair. I put up with snoring, farting, cursing at children, burping, smoking, leaving the toilet seat up, had to put up with you watching the most disgusting porn, and you have the nerve . . . you cut off my hair. Why? How can one man be so evil?”
Wounded enforcers in the shadows, dead men by the pool, bullet holes in walls, furniture turned over, Garrett holding his arm, wincing, bleeding all over his beautiful beige carpet, and they fell into an argument. Jake Ellis was about to jump in. He had had enough, knew we were short on time, that this needed to be done, and Ghana was ready to put his paws on Garrett, but I didn’t let him interrupt the woman. I had learned a long time ago to stop interrupting women when they talked. Especially an angry woman with a pretty pink gun. Now wasn’t the time to shut down a woman who had just survived sexual assault, being beaten, kicked, slapped, humiliated, and almost drowned. If she wanted to curse him out until sunrise, I’d let her. If she shot that bastard in the head, I’d help her bury the body in Chino and do the same with the gun, then take bleach and scrub down this house top to bottom.
We were her sentries, our eyes on Garrett and those blades he would use as swinging guillotines, and that probably included using them on his wife, if he was given the chance.
“Elaine. I’m sorry. Let’s . . . let’s work on this marriage.”
; “I’m a fucking loser for marrying you.”
“I am bleeding to death and I am trying to apologize for everything . . . for everything.”
She let loose. “Zero fucks. Zero. Beyoncé got cheated on, and I got beat on. Men are trash and you are garbage made for the collector. I will never, never be in a relationship again. I’m done living this life. I am so fucking done. I’m tired. I am in so much pain, and I’m tired. Tired of . . . existing. I am out of this toxic relationship. Dickie Bird, I’m outta fucks. All fucks gone.”
A woman who had no fucks to give was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
She had had a lot to say, but now she signaled to us that she was finally done.
She’d unloaded years of rage.
Hands already in fists, Jake Ellis nodded. “This main event is about to be on.”
I added, “And if you touched one hair on my ex-wife’s head, if he doesn’t kill you, I will.”
My wounded compadre, Jake Ellis, regarded me. “Bruv, you mean the Eskimo?”
“Bro, it was Ethiopia, not the Eskimo.”
“She came back? When did I miss that?”
“Long story. She left my spot and Garrett sent his boys after her.”
“Why was she at your spot?”
“The blackmail problem.”
“She’s mixed up in this?”
“No. Just happened to be standing at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You were with the Eskimo, then ended up with Ethiopia?”
“Let it go for now.” I faced off with Garrett. “I need her to be safe. Untouched.”
Garrett considered me. “If you want her to be safe, stop the African. I will make that call. And after you’re done, the other offer stands. I’ll raise it to two hundred thousand. You can cash in tonight.”
Jake Ellis said, “Mayo, you’re going to make that call anyway.”
The wick of war had been lit. Jake Ellis shoved a bench out of the way, then went to the bed made for a king, grabbed two pillows, yanked the pillowcases off. He wrapped his hands with the pillowcases the best he could, like a champion wrapping his moneymakers before a title bout.
Mrs. Garrett coughed a handful of times, then fired another shot across the room.
Bad Men and Wicked Women Page 27