Girl on Point

by Cheryl Guerriero

  Lori finishes with a kick to Tonya’s head.

  Natice has already tired and stopped seconds ago.

  Cracker stands, breathing heavily and staring evilly at me.

  I step closer to Tonya’s body and see that her face is covered in blood. I worry I was too late and Tonya is already dead until she moans. Blood bubbles as the air escapes her lips.

  Lori takes off the bloody brass knuckles and tucks them into her jeans. She starts to walk away then stops, pulls out a gun, and fires four shots into Tonya’s body. “Fade out, bitch!”

  Natice stands in shock, staring at Tonya’s dead body. She turns on Lori, crazed. “You lying motherfucker! You said no shooting!” She lunges at Lori.

  Tray steps in and grabs hold of Natice.

  “You said no fucking guns!” Natice screams, fighting to hit Lori.

  Lori stands defiantly, without any remorse. “She got what she deserved, Natice.”

  “Natty, calm down!” Tray holds onto a hysterical Natice.

  “Let go of me!” She fights like an animal to break free then finally falls limp in Tray’s arms and crumbles to the ground in tears.

  “Get her the fuck outta here!” Vince yells.

  Tray picks Natice up off the ground and sits her in the front seat of the Oldsmobile. Lori and Cracker hop into the backseat. I drive off feeling sick to my stomach.

  “You said no shooting!” Natice sobs.

  I reach the end of the warehouse buildings, when I hit the brakes, open the door, and vomit.

  Natice gets out and starts walking in the dark.

  “Natice! Natice!” Lori yells, chasing after her.

  Natice turns and yells in Lori’s face. “You said no shooting!”

  “She got what she deserved, Natty! She killed Ronnie!”

  “I don’t care! You blew her brains out right in front of us!”

  “You don’t care? Ronnie was your girl! Your sister! Maybe you could’a let Ronnie down, but I couldn’t!”

  I wipe spit from my mouth and watch Lori take the gun she has just killed Tonya with and hold it out for Natice. “You need to lock this up.”

  Natice shoves the gun away. “Get rid of it yourself!” Natice turns to walk away.

  Lori grabs Natice’s arm. “I ain’t playin’, Natice. Take the gun, and lock it up. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m not askin’ you.”

  Natice weighs the decision, and just when it appears she is not going to do it, she takes the gun from Lori’s hand. “This is the last time.”

  Chapter 51

  We all get back in the car, and Lori tells me to drive to Vince’s house. When I get there, I learn that, as with all the robberies, Lori had Tonya’s murder mapped out in advance.

  “Anyone asks where we were tonight, we were at Vince’s playing poker,” Lori says. “Got that?”

  “Shit, I won fifty bucks tonight.” Cracker puffs out her chest and steps out of the car.

  “Natty, you gonna be a’right?” Lori asks.

  Natice shakes her head. “I’m done. I can’t do this shit no more.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.” Lori looks at me, and I can see she is mad that I didn’t join in on the beating. “You understand we were playing poker all night, right, Cheerleader?”

  I nod my head. “From eight ‘til now, right?” I hold her stare with pure hatred in my eyes.

  Lori smiles. “Right. Now put the gun in the fuckin’ glove compartment.” Without thinking, I bend down, feel for the gun under Natice’s seat, and toss it into the glove compartment.

  Lori steps onto the curb. “Make sure Natice brings it inside her house. You got that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do we know she’s going to?” Cracker says. “She didn’t do shit tonight! Jus’ stood there and watched! For all we know she’s gonna call the cops.”

  “Fuck you, Cracker.”

  “No. Fuck you! You’re a sneaky, no-good bitch!” She turns to Lori. “I don’t trust her! I’m telling you, not one fuckin’ bit!”

  “Shut the fuck up, Cracker!” Lori shouts. “I swear to God! I don’t need this shit right now! Jus’ shut the fuck up!”

  “I’m telling you, don’t trust her!” Cracker yells.

  “Trust me with what? The gun? If I was gonna call the cops, they’d be here already, you dumb ugly bitch!”

  “What’d you call me?” Cracker says. “Get the fuck outta the car! You’re dead!”

  “I’ll do it!” Natice shouts. “I’ll lock it up! I’ll put it away! Just go!”

  “I ain’t going anywhere! Get outta the car, Cheerleader!”

  “Everyone shut up!” Lori yells. “I swear to God! Not another fuckin’ word, Cracker!” Lori’s face is red, and she looks fit to kill again as Cracker finally silences. Lori takes a moment to calm down before leaning into the car. “Natice, make sure you do.”

  Natice simply stares out the window.

  “Natty, you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I heard you!”

  Lori gives me another harsh glance. “I got two people who said you were in on the shooting, in case you’re thinkin’ otherwise. You got that, Cheerleader?”

  “I thought we were playing poker?” I hate her even more.

  “Exactly.” Lori turns to Cracker. “Fuckin’ move!”

  Cracker shoots me a last lethal look before walking off with Lori. The two disappear inside Vince’s house. I sit with the engine running in the driveway.

  Natice looks over at me. “I wish I was like you, Ally. I wish I could put it to my head and just pull the trigger.”

  I was too much in shock back at the warehouse to have it register, but then it hits me—I’ve witnessed Lori commit first-degree murder, and I have the murder weapon, possibly the same one she used to kill my sister. Lori’s going away for the rest of her life.

  “Lori, fuckin’ A! How do you do that and not care!” Natice cries.

  “You act like it surprises you, like it’s the first time Lori’s ever killed someone,” I say angrily.

  “It is!” Natice shouts.

  I don’t believe Natice, but if I’m wrong and she is telling the truth, that leaves Cracker as the person who killed my sister. “I guess Lori was right then. Tonya got what she deserved.”

  “You took someone’s life. Do you deserve to die? Maybe I should kill you! Drunk driving—that’s murder!” Natice screams.

  “Maybe you should,” I say, unafraid.

  Natice breaks into tears and throws her hands over her face. “Fuck! How do you sleep at night?”

  “I don’t.”

  I leave Lori’s house and find a liquor store that is open twenty-four hours. I don’t bother to ask Natice if she wants anything as I go inside the store and grab two forty-ouncers. I head to the checkout counter, and when the guy behind it asks for ID, I hand him a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and he lets me walk out with the beer.

  I don’t want to go to the motel, and Natice doesn’t want to go home, so we drive around for hours. At one point, a police cruiser pulls up next to me. Two cops are sitting inside. I think about stepping out of the car and telling the officers about the murder I witnessed and the gun in my glove compartment. But I simply watch them drive off ahead of me.

  From there, I drive to the place in Cantor that I hate the most: the convenience store where Jenny was shot and killed. Natice doesn’t say a word as I park and stare at the store. The sun is beginning to rise, and a man has just arrived to open the store. I wonder if he knew Jose Gutierrez, the man who was shot and killed along with my sister.

  “Nice summer vacation,” Natice says, her eyes wet with tears. “When you go home, will you take me with you?”

  “Who says it’s any better where I’m from?”

  Natice wipes at her tears and focuses on the store. “When I was lit
tle, my mom used to take me here once a week. She’d let me pick out one candy bar. One day, I got greedy and wanted two. So I stole one, slipped it right into my pocket. It was a Snickers bar. She caught me eating it later and made me go back to the store and pay the owner. I started crying when I handed him the empty wrapper and a dollar. For being honest, the man told me to keep my dollar.” Tears well up in her eyes. “If you could be anywhere or doing anything, right now, Ally, what would it be?”

  I remain silent and think about Jenny. It would be driving around in my Jeep with her, listening to music, not doing anything at all.

  “Man, I’d be five years old. Five years old and sitting on my mom’s lap. I’d stay there forever,” Natice says.

  I decide right then it is time for me to go home. I’ve been a witness to murder, and I have the murder weapon. Lori Silva will go to prison for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 52

  It’s eight-thirty in the morning when Natice and I arrive at her house—more than twelve hours since this night began.

  Natice takes the gun out of the glove compartment and turns to me. “You comin’? I don’t want to be alone. I’m afraid of what I’ll do.”

  “Sure.” I’m worried about Natice, but mostly I want that gun. And wherever Natice puts it, I hope more evidence will be found.

  “I need to take a shower and wash these clothes,” Natice tells me as we enter her bedroom.

  I notice a speck of blood on her forearm. Her cell phone rings.

  “Fuckin’ Lori.” Natice eyes the screen on her phone. “Dammit, go away!” She ignores the call. “Ally, help me move the desk.”

  I watch Natice set the gun down on her dresser and help her move the desk a foot away from the wall.

  “That’s good.” Natice grabs a ballpoint pen off the desk, rolls up a corner of the rug, and uses the pen to pry up a loose floorboard. Underneath is a hole. “Gimme the gun.”

  I grab the gun off the dresser and hand it to Natice, who hides it deep inside the hole. She snaps the floorboard back into place, rolls the carpet over it, and we return the desk to its original position.

  “You need the bathroom before I take a shower?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I just want the gun and to get the hell out of there.

  Natice is about to leave when her phone rings again.

  I think for sure she’s going to ignore the call, but Natice picks up. “What? I just put it away!” She turns quiet, and her expression changes as she listens to Lori. “Uh-huh.” She looks at me. “No… yeah, I’m sure. I gotta go. ‘Cause I gotta take a shower! I’ll call you after.” She hangs up and stares down at the floor, grabbing at her hair. Her eyes shift to me, and it’s eerily familiar. I’ve seen that look a thousand times before, etched on the faces of the kids in my high school, all of them staring at me, not knowing what to say, but their eyes spoke volumes. A mixture of sadness and pity. Natice has that same look in her eyes when she says in a broken voice, “Lori wants us to go over to her house.”

  I don’t know exactly what Lori said to Natice, but something tells me if I go to Lori’s house, I’m dead. Maybe Mark finally told Lori who I am.

  “I won’t be long.” Natice leaves the room.

  I notice her phone is still in her hand.

  I quickly push the desk aside, move the carpet, grab the pen, and pry back the floorboard. It takes me longer than Natice to pop the piece of wood up, but when I do, I reach down and immediately find the gun. I put it down next to me and feel around some more, hoping to find something else that may be used against Lori. And that’s when I hear a creak—Natice stands in the doorway watching me.

  “You never killed anyone drunk driving, did you?”

  I don’t answer, but I don’t need to. Natice knows the truth.

  “Good, that’s good. You never want that feeling inside you.”

  I stand up, holding the gun, wondering what Natice is thinking.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I want you to know I never meant for it to happen.”

  “You didn’t kill Tonya. Lori did.”

  “I ain’t talking about that. Lori didn’t… she didn’t kill her… it was an accident. No one was supposed to get hurt…”

  A tortured look fills Natice’s face, and I slowly begin to understand what she is trying to tell me. “Who didn’t she kill?” I know in my gut what she is about to say. Every muscle in my body tightens. Oxygen drains from my lungs. Gradually, I feel the weight of a hand pressing down on my heart, twisting it, turning it, yanking it from my chest, tearing the life out of me. I shake my head no, not wanting Natice to continue. My knees go weak. Please, God, please don’t let her say Jenny’s name. Please, don’t let it be Natice who killed her.

  “We were only supposed to use the guns to threaten him, but the dude wouldn’t give Cracker the money. She just… shot him. Blew him away. And… and I heard a crash. I turned and… I was startled…”

  Natice starts sobbing, and I can barely understand her.

  “The gun went off… I didn’t mean to shoot her, Alex!” she screams, saying my name for the first time. “I just… I just turned and…” She cries hysterically, and I can barely see her. My own tears blind me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to hurt her!”

  Natice takes a step toward me, and I raise the gun and aim it at her. “You didn’t hurt her, Natice! You killed her!”

  Natice stands in front of me sobbing. “I know. Please… forgive me…”

  But I can’t. I suddenly hate Natice. My arm is shaking as I fight to see her through my tears.

  “I’m so sorry!” Natice cries.

  My finger tenses on the trigger. I so badly want to pull it. If it had been Cracker or Lori, I would have emptied the gun. But it’s Natice, someone who became my friend, someone I love. The gun shakes in my hand.

  “Why? Why did you have to kill her?” I yell, wishing for the millionth time I’d never sent Jenny into that store. Wishing she were alive today. Wishing I could do it over. Wishing I could be with her one more time. I want my sister back so badly it hurts.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” Natice cries, waiting for me to pull the trigger.

  But I can’t shoot Natice.

  I lower the gun and collapse onto the bed. I sit there crying, feeling alone, more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life. Natice sits down next to me. She stares at me and wipes the tears from her eyes. She looks scared.

  “Alex, Lori knows who you are. You need to go home.”

  Mark, I think, must have finally turned over on me. But I am wrong.

  “Cracker broke into your motel room an hour ago. She found your driver’s license, a bunch of other shit, and showed it to Lori,” Natice says.

  I walk out of Natice’s bedroom without saying goodbye or asking anything else. I simply leave her crying and numbly exit her house. This is not how this was meant to end. Natice Gentry was not supposed to have killed my sister. It was supposed to have been Lori or Cracker, not her. I had been looking for evidence in all the wrong places, when it was right at my feet the entire time: Natice’s mood swings, her anger, drowning her feelings with cocaine, her wanting to escape. I should have seen the signs. She was carrying around a black hole of guilt. Just like me.

  I have my evidence with Natice’s confession, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. It makes me feel worse.

  Chapter 53

  I walk to my car, hearing police sirens going off in the neighborhood, trying to make sense of everything that has happened, when Mark’s Mustang comes racing down the street. I know one thing. Mark is not behind the wheel. I hurry into the Olds, throw it into reverse, and I’m struck hard from behind. My head slams into the steering wheel, and I sit there feeling dizzy as blood pours down my forehead. I reach for the door handle as it flies open.

  “Hundred bucks I
kick your ass!” Cracker says as she and Lori yank me out of the car.

  They throw me to the ground. The police sirens grow even louder, sounding as if they are right on top of us.

  “You ain’t so smart now!” Cracker’s sneaker connects with my face. Then Lori presses a revolver to my head. It’s Cracker’s gun. I lie motionless.

  “Go ahead. Do it.” I hold Lori’s hateful stare.

  Before she can respond, three police cruisers and an unmarked car pull up to Natice’s house. Thoms and Moreno spring from the unmarked car as a team of cops jump out of the cruisers. They have their guns trained on Lori and Cracker.

  “Drop it, Lori!” Thoms orders. But she doesn’t. Lori turns and aims her gun on Thoms.

  “Drop it!” a police officer shouts.

  I watch from the ground as Lori stands, ready to pull the trigger. This is what she always wanted. This is what she said she would do if she ever got the chance: shoot and kill Detective Thoms.

  “Hold your fire!” Thoms orders, holding up his hand, waiting for Lori to lower the gun.

  “Fuck you!” Lori yells.

  Another cop trains his Glock on Cracker, who stands beside her. “Step away! Hands up!”

  Cracker raises her hands, walks away from Lori, and is promptly thrown to the ground by two cops. She is handcuffed as Lori remains standing, aiming the gun at Thoms.

  “Don’t do it, Lori! Put the gun down!” Thoms orders.

  Lori takes a step toward him.

  “Hold your fire!” Thoms yells.

  He’s dead. She’s going to shoot him.

  But Lori breaks into tears and drops the gun.

  Cops swarm her and bring her to her knees. One of the officers seizes the gun. Cracker is dragged toward a cop car, fighting and kicking as they shove her into the backseat and slam the door closed. Today, she turned eighteen.

  Thoms walks over to me. “Is anyone else in the house?”

  I don’t answer. I wonder why Natice hasn’t come out yet. Then I remember what she said to me earlier: “Don’t leave me alone, Alex, I’m afraid of what I’ll do.” Natice has carried the guilt of killing my sister for eight months. She has been in as much pain as I have been in. And she is alone in the house with a loaded gun. “I wish I was like you, Alex. I wish I could pull the trigger.”