Everyone turns and looks at me. And before I can remind myself I am not Charles Bronson or Angelina Jolie and this is not a movie—this is a real gun—I take the pistol from Lori’s hand. It is cold and heavy. I feel sick to my stomach.
“A’right, Cheerleader!” Lori claps.
“She still has to do it,” Cracker adds.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t,” Natice says.
“Jesus, Natice! Next time we’ll leave your ass at home. A’right?” Lori says.
“Yes, do me the favor!”
Lori tells me to wait until a car pulls in front of the ATM. There have to be at least two people in the vehicle. One of the passengers has to be female, or both passengers have to be old. Lastly, she warns me that if there are two or more guys in the car, I hold off.
“Lori!” Natice says. “C’mon, this is bullshit! Don’t make her do this!”
“Shut up, Natice!” Lori turns back to me. “Put the gun on whoever’s in the passenger seat and tell the driver as soon as you get the money you’ll be gone. You ain’t gonna shoot anyone. And make sure you take their phones before you leave the car.”
Ronnie hands me a stocking. “Here, Cheerleader. It’s my mom’s. Hanes Her Way.”
“Yeah, extra large,” Cracker says.
“Hey, my momma’s big-boned.”
“Big-boned is another word for fat!”
I tighten my abdominal muscles and clench my jaw, fighting to keep the food I ate hours earlier from dislodging. I look at Natice in the rearview mirror. She holds my eyes and shakes her head, warning me. I consider handing the gun back to Lori, and as if reading my mind, Lori says, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Cheerleader. No one’s holding a gun to your head.” She laughs, and I hate her even more.
There is no longer any doubt Lori, Cracker, Ronnie, and maybe even Natice were involved in that store robbery and my sister’s death. It is more than a gut feeling. I have proof Lori commits crimes and owns a gun. I am holding it in my hand.
I say nothing as we sit in the dark, waiting for a car to arrive. Lori mentions Vince having a party that night. Ronnie yawns. Cracker complains about how hot it is in my car. I wonder if this is what went on before they entered that store and shot my sister to death.
Lori shouts, “Show time!”
A car pulls off the highway and heads toward the bank’s ATM. My heart is beating so fast I feel like it is going to explode out of my chest like an alien baby.
“We got a couple of blue hairs tonight!” Ronnie yells, laughing.
I look closer and see somebody’s grandparents inside the car. I wonder where Detective Thoms is. How is he going to bring them in on some other charge when he is not even around? Is he even watching them? How is it that they are still committing crimes? Then it hits me—they’re not. I’m the one who is about to commit a crime.
“Get ready, Cheerleader.” Lori says.
The car’s brake lights go on. I don’t think I can do this.
“Now!” Lori shouts.
I fly out of the car like a racehorse whose gate has been opened and sprint toward the car, holding the gun firmly in my hand and praying nobody will get hurt. I see the old man waiting for his wife to pull something out of her purse. Neither of them sees me as I grab the back door handle and jump inside. The last thought I have before I enter their car is, I cannot believe I am doing this.
I slam the door closed behind me, and the elderly couple jumps, startled by my presence. “There’s a group of girls, and they have guns!” I say, panicked.
The old woman’s eyes frantically search the dark parking lot.
“They want money. Please, just go to the ATM. Take out money, and everything will be okay.” I keep the gun pressed against the seat. I have no intention of using it.
The old woman looks at me in a way I have never seen before. It’s a look filled with terror and hate. “Leave this car now, young woman!”
“Please, just go to the ATM and get money. They have guns!”
“Get out of this car!” the husband screams at me with bulging eyes.
The woman reaches into her handbag for her cell phone, and I quickly grab her wrist. It feels weak and brittle in my grasp. “Please, don’t!”
Her husband grabs hold of my arm. “Let go of her!” He punches me in the face, awkwardly, but I hold onto his wife, desperate to stop her from making a call.
Her hand fights to open the phone.
“Please! I don’t want to hurt you!” I let go of the gun and grab the old woman with both hands.
The phone falls to the floor.
“Get out!” Her husband strikes me again in the face. I know I should leave the car, but I don’t. And that’s when the door next to me flies open.
A nylon stocking covers a face. I know immediately it’s Cracker. “Go to the fucking ATM! Now! Or I blow a hole in her!” A gun is aimed directly at his wife’s head.
“Walter!” the old woman cries.
“Now, old man! Fucking do it!”
“Please!” I beg him.
Perhaps it’s the desperate look in my eyes or the gun pressed to his wife’s head. Whatever the reason, the old man finally exits the car. The old woman begs for Cracker to lower the gun, but this only makes Cracker angrier. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
I hate Cracker even more. The old woman is shaking. I think she is going to drop dead of a heart attack. Please, God, help this woman! I scream inside my head. I want to do something, but there is nothing I can do.
The old man approaches the ATM. His hand trembles as he slides his card into the machine and hits a few numbers. No money disperses.
“What the fuck is he doing!” Cracker says.
The old man’s panicked eyes stare back at us. He doesn’t know his PIN number. He must have forgotten it. His wife quietly sobs. I look at the gun being held to her head. I want to take it. I want to get the hell out of that car. I reach down by my foot and pick Lori’s gun up off the floor. I think about holding it up to Cracker and demanding that she let go of this woman. But I don’t. I am too scared. The old man tries again. My stiffened muscles relax some as I see money emerge from the slot.
A moment later, the old man is back inside the car. He holds out a wad of twenties to Cracker in his shaking fist. “Take it!”
Cracker grabs the cash and bolts out the door, leaving me behind. I sit there watching the old man comfort his crying wife.
“I’m sorry.” I jump out of the car.
Ronnie speeds down a back road, and a second later, we merge onto the highway. Cracker rips off the stocking.
“I told you! I fucking told you!” Natice keeps repeating.
“What the hell took you so long?” Lori yells.
“He forgot his pin number!” Cracker says.
Ronnie laughs. “Damn, Cracker, those old folks probably shit their Depends!”
I still have Lori’s gun in my hand. I think about shooting Cracker in the head. I hate her with every ounce of my body. I want her to see how it feels to have a gun shoved in her face. I want her dead. But before I can do anything, Natice takes the gun from my trembling hand.
“You guys are assholes. You know that?” Natice says.
“Relax, Natty, we were just having fun. Right, Cheerleader?” Lori smiles at me.
Natice shoots Lori a dark stare. “I needed the money from a delivery, not some fuckin’ ATM robbery, okay?”
“Cracker, give Natice my share,” Lori says.
Cracker is about to hand Natice a stack of twenties.
“I don’t want it!” Natice shoves the money away.
“Natty has principles,” Ronnie says.
“Don’t worry. We’re gonna make a delivery. Just needed to make sure Cheerleader wasn’t no girl scout, if you know what I mean.” Lori eyes me.
“Really? A fucking cop? Next time, just ask the fucking girl. Ally, you a cop?” Natice asks.
I look at Natice as if she is joking and remain silent.
“She didn’t say it,” Cracker says.
“I’m not a fucking cop.” I notice I’m still trembling.
Chapter 27
For the remainder of the drive back to Cantor, Natice and I don’t say a word while Lori, Cracker, and Ronnie laugh about the robbery and joke as if this is a normal Saturday night. When we reach Vince’s house, cars line the street, and music roars from inside.
“Shit, I’m ready to party!” Ronnie hops out of the car with Cracker.
“Natty, you coming?” Lori says.
Natice doesn’t answer.
“Oh, don’t be mad, Natty. Come have a fuckin’ drink.”
“Gimme a fuckin’ minute,” Natice tells her.
“No hard feelings, Cheerleader.” Lori looks at me over her shoulder. “Hell, why don’t you come in too? You could use a drink.” She smiles then gets out of the car and catches up with Cracker and Ronnie. I stare after Lori, wishing she and Cracker were dead.
“Ally, if I had known Lori was gonna do that, I swear to God I would’a told you. I never would’ve gone,” Natice says.
“I know.”
“You a’right?”
I think I am anything but all right. But I now know Lori and Cracker own guns. More than anything, I want inside Vince’s house. “Let’s go in.”
“You sure?” Natice asks.
“Yeah. Lori’s right. I need a drink.”
Natice hesitates. “A’right. Let’s do it.” She pops open the door, and we step out of the car. When we reach Vince’s front door, Natice stops me. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I always wanted to hold a gun.” I force a smile.
“Shit.” Natice wags her head. “I need a fuckin’ drink too.”
Natice pushes open the front door, and the smell of marijuana and cigarette smoke hit me before I even step inside. Rap music blasts, and the entire downstairs is filled with thuggish guys and girls dressed in short skirts, high heels, and tops that barely cover their breasts.
As I follow Natice in search of alcohol, I keep thinking about the old woman. I can’t get the image of her crying out of my head.
“Hold up.” Natice stops and directs us toward a sofa, where a group of guys in baseball caps and football jerseys are sitting.
“What up, fellas?” Natice says, getting into party mode.
One dark-skinned guy smiles. “What up, my beautiful black diamond?” He puts a hand on her ass. Then he notices me. “Damn, lullaby. What crib you crawl out’a?”
Natice pushes him away. “Go fishin’ somewhere else. She ain’t interested in you.”
Another guy looks up from a plate. “Yeah, she wants a real man. Twelve inches.” He grabs his cock then snorts two thick lines of white powder.
Natice sits down next to him. “Don’t be stingy. Share the wealth.”
The dark-skinned guy offers her a small square dish with a row of white lines. “Hell, baby. Jus’ call me Willy Wonka ‘cause I got your golden ticket.”
Natice bends over a line, places a finger over one nostril, and makes the line disappear up the other.
“Magic,” one of the guys says. As he laughs, the whites of his eyes double in size, and his extremely dark, dilated pupils focus on me. “What about you, lullaby? Want some candy?” He offers me the plate.
“I’m good.”
He grins, a gold tooth showing. “Yeah, you are.” Then he greedily snorts it himself.
I look up and see Lori, Cracker, and Ronnie at a dining room table with Vince and a few other guys, including Natice’s good-looking cousin, Tray. They’re playing cards and drinking beer. “Your cousin’s here,” I say to Natice, wanting to be sitting at that table. “Wanna join them?”
Natice looks over at the table and sees Tray, along with Lori and the others. “Sure.”
We grab some beers and head toward them.
When we arrive at the table, Lori whispers something in Vince’s ear. Their eyes are fixed on me, and I suddenly wish I were invisible.
“Move it,” Natice says to Tray, motioning his arm out of the way so she can sit down.
“Oww. Shit, Natice! Your bony black ass hurts,” Tray hollers, sliding over to give her room on the chair.
Natice slaps his head. “Shut up. Ally, sit here.”
I take the empty seat next to Natice and quickly guzzle some beer.
“What up?” Natice says to the group, sampling a fry from Tray’s plate.
Vince looks over at me and takes a drag from his cigarette. “It’s Cheerleader, right?”
It is the first time Vince has spoken directly to me. “Yeah.” My voice cracks.
“I heard you had a lil’ fun tonight.” He scratches his shoulder.
“Yeah. I made an old lady shit her Depends.” I take another sip of my beer.
“You didn’t make anyone do shit!” Cracker yells. “Fuckin’ welfare bitch wants in the game but can’t step up to the plate!”
Vince laughs. “Don’t let these bitches scare you. They just rotten.”
Lori leans over and kisses Vince’s lips. “Rotten to the core.”
“You a hell of a ball player, though. Where you learn to play like that?” Vince asks me, dealing a hand of cards to the guys.
“Summer camp.”
“Is that right? Shit, I never could afford no summer ball. What about you, Tray? Your folks send you to camp?”
Tray stares at his cards, not bothering to look up. “Nah, man.”
“And now you want to be a driver?” Vince smiles at me.
“I could use the cash.”
“Hell yeah. We can all use cash. But who the fuck are you?” His eyes bulge with anger. Then he laughs, aware he has scared me. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m jus’ messin’ with you.”
“Jesus, what the fuck is with you all tonight?” Natice slams a hand on the table. “Leave the damn girl alone. Christ!”
“Oh, Natty, the Tin Man got nothin’ on you, does he?” Vince says.
Natice displays her middle finger.
“Cheerleader better hope those old folks didn’t get a good look at her face,” Cracker says. “Po Po be lookin’ for you!” She and Lori laugh.
“See, Ally? They rotten to the core.” Vince shuffles the cards. “Who up for a game?”
“I got a game we can play,” I say.
“We ain’t interested in your fuckin’ game,” Cracker says.
“No. You’ll like it, Cracker. It involves a gun. Anyone have one I can borrow?”
Tray holds up two. Probably 9mm. “Shit, which one you want, baby?”
I look across at Cracker, knowing she’s holding. “Neither. I want Cracker’s .38.”
Tray looks at me curiously. “Shit… a’right.” He tucks his gun away.
“Fuck off,” Cracker says.
Vince looks amused. “Nah. Giv’er your shit.”
Cracker reluctantly hands me her revolver.
All eyes are on me. And maybe it’s the booze, or the weed, or that ever since Jenny’s death, I have struggled to want to live, but I feel nothing, only hate, as I empty all the bullets, except for one. “You wanna go first?” I spin the chamber and lock it.
“This girl ain’t playing. Where’d you get her, Lori?” Vince asks. But Lori remains silent. A few of the guys laugh. They think I’m joking, but I’m not. I hardly notice them. My attention is on Cracker.
“Fine. I’ll go first,” I say.
“Yeah, right,” Cracker spits back.
“Yo, Ally, this ain’t cool,” Natice says.
Vince waves Natice away. “Yes, it is. This shit’s very cool! Let the girls
play!”
“Bullshit. She ain’t gonna do it,” Cracker says as if I am bluffing.
I look her dead in the eyes and with every ounce of hatred pumping through me I say, “If I do it, you do it?”
“A’right. You go first.”
I place the gun to my temple.
“Ally, put the gun down!!” Natice yells.
Cracker holds my stare. “She ain’t gonna do it.”
The others watch with amusement. The guys continue to make noise. Ronnie throws a hand over her face. “Cheerleader is wacked!”
Natice reaches for the gun. But she’s too late.
I pull the trigger, and there’s a click.
The guys erupt in laughter.
“Oh, shit!” Vince bangs the table with his fists. “Fuck! I like Cheerleader!”
Ronnie uncovers her face. “No, she didn’t! No, she didn’t! This snatch is wacked!”
I hold out the gun to Cracker. “Your turn.”
“She thinks we’re stupid. How much you wanna bet there ain’t no bullet in there?” Cracker says.
I open the chamber. One bullet rests inside. “Your turn.” I wait for Cracker to take the gun.
Vince rubs his hands together as if he is about to enjoy a good meal. “Come on, Cracker! You up, girl. You up! Now serving!” He drum rolls the table.
“Yo, this is not cool.” Natice’s eyes dart nervously around the table.
Lori takes a pull off her cigarette. “Don’t worry, Cracker ain’t gonna do it. She’s too chicken.”
Cracker angrily responds by taking the gun from my hand. “Fuck you. Gimme it.” She gives the barrel a spin and jokingly places it under her chin.
“Cracker, put the gun down!” Lori yells.
Vince pushes Lori’s hand away. “Nah. Let Cracker play!”
Ronnie stuffs her face with food. “Cracker, no one wants to see your ugly pale ass splattered across the wall!” Ronnie rises to take the gun, and Cracker slaps her hand away.
“This is stupid,” Natice yells. “Cracker! Put the fuckin’ gun down!”
Cracker looks across the table at me.
“Do it,” I say.
And that’s when I see it in her eyes. She is a coward.
“Fuck this. I’m too pretty to die.” Cracker drops the revolver on the table.
Girl on Point Page 14